Monday, November 3, 2014

And now arriving....

(Continued)

The pearl white limousine glistened as it pulled up in front of my house. When I lived in L.A., I used to see limousines all the time and never thought anything about it, but now, back at home, the idea of a limousine seemed pretentious. In the Midwest, we really don’t have a great deal of gown-wearing starlets attending gala events or the paparazzi to document the comings and goings of the locals, so limousines tend to signify weddings, funerals and transportation for group drinking events. Now, whenever I see one, I expect to see a gaggle of bridesmaids tumbling out of the limo into a drunken heap onto a downtown side walk followed by the inebriated bride-to-be adjusting her David’s Bridal polyester veil screaming, “Paaaaaarrrrrrty!!!!” Classy.

We all watched from the living room window as the car slowed to a halt. A gentleman with long silver hair tied back into a ponytail wearing a dark suit, sporting Roy Orbison-style sunglasses, got out from the driver’s seat and walked around to the rear passenger side door on the other side of the limo.

Watching the driver reminded me of when I had very long hair. At one time it was nearly to my waist. It actually looked good, but I was starting to see some gray coming in so I decided that, since the 80’s had been over for some time, it was the right moment to shear my locks. Gina used to love my long hair and had suggested I grow it out again. I had to remind her that long gray hair only worked if you were a wizard and you rode a horse to work.

Seeing the driver must have jarred Gina’s memory and she immediately said, “I told you to grow your hair again long before my Mother hired Xavier. I now see the err in my folic judgment.”

“Xavier?”

“Yeah, Xavier. He’s been my Mother’s driver for years! And I think I have heard him speak maybe 5 times in the last decade. He almost always just sits in the car and waits for her. God knows what he’s doing in there, but it’s probably best we don’t”

“Maybe he’s combing his hair.”

“And giving himself a French manicure,” Gina added wryly .

“So your Mother and Xavier aren’t……”

Hell no! I’m almost positive the last physical contact that man had with a vagina was birth.”

“Safe date?” I asked.

“Alarmingly so.”

Xavier opened the rear passenger door of the limo and out stretched a bronzed, sandal clad foot with hot pink toe nails. As Xavier extended his hand, a hot pink set of nails lay themselves on his palm as he assisted Gina and Laura’s Mom out of the car.

And there she stood. Her long, white-blonde hair cascaded over the shoulders of the cream colored pantsuit jacket. The pant's hems allowed for just a peak at the rhinestone bedazzled stilettos that allowed Graziella tower, even more so, over these suburban surroundings. 

“She looks like a photo negative of Cher!” I said.

“We affectionately refer to her as ‘Donatella’” Gina said without any affection in her voice whatsoever.

“I feel like I should have laid out a red carpet.”

“She would have liked that.”

To be continued………


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