Summer's Spell

Chapter 2 - The Social Misfit

Sheldon handed his keys to the valet driver outside the entrance of the ritzy Sandusky Hotel.

"Learn how to mingle, son, it's a networking skill that will serve you well," his father's words echoed in his mind.

Once inside the lobby foyer, Sheldon stared at his shiny leather shoes and sighed. He agreed to another one of those stuffy cocktail parties for no other purpose than to please his dad. He glanced at his Rolodex and anticipated a long night ahead.

Walter entered the room. Heads turned, nodded and smiled in acknowledgement. The ladies, most of them of a mature age, would flock to him as though he were a king in search of a queen. They donned their finest pearls and diamonds. Most of the full-figured women squeezed into much smaller-sized dresses, a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen, Sheldon thought.

The ladies approached Walter, one by one, hoping to receive a kiss on the hand. His smooth velvety voice and perfect diction spoke to their soul, making them feel as though they were the most important person in the world. "That gentleman is a dream come true," one said, with a sigh.

Walter continued to mingle, circulating throughout the room and captivating another clique, a group was of mixed gender and races. Sheldon watched with amazement as his Dad "worked the party." How is it he knows exactly what to say and continue to captivate?

His club soda in hand, Sheldon circled the room, feeling like a fish out of water. He attempted to engage in the cliques.

He stood outside the circle of the wine connoisseurs as they swished their palates with Chateau Haut Brion, and discussed their treasured wine collections. Sheldon had nothing in common with this group, as he was a beer kind of guy. He discretely walked away.

He then approached a group of his peers, engaging in "oneupman" conversations.

"I'm matriculating at Stanford next semester with a full scholarship," said one.

"Stamford is okay. I attended Stanford last year, but I transferred to Harvard. They offered me a scholarship, but I don't need it. With my lucrative portfolio, I have more money than I know what to do with," said another.

"I'm done with Harvard. I graduated cum laude, breezed through law school and now am working at the prestigious law firm of "Milford and Stafford," said yet another, shouting louder than the rest," ........He turned to Sheldon, "Hey, aren't you----?"

"Later guys," .....And where am I? Oh, I'm attending a local college, UP, the rock bottom of the "oneupman" scale............Maybe that's why Mom left us years ago. I didn't measure up to the rest of the kids. I was a ten-year-old with poor grades, diagnosed with ADD. Dad was a struggling realtor, short and balding. She was a beautiful successful financial analyst and a high society lady. We cramped her style. She never returned.......But it's her loss. Look at Dad now. And me? No change.

He smiled to himself and settled into a private corner on the other side of the room away from the crowd. The conversations were muffled by the smooth jazz saxophone. Leaning against the wall, he thought about the baseball game he was missing, the Mets versus the Cubs. I'm stuck here. What a bummer, Sheldon thought.

The wine connoisseurs were getting tipsy, wine spraying from the mouths as they cackled and giggled, while in an attempt to finish all the wine samples; The "oneupmangroup" was getting louder, almost to the point of a shouting match; Walter was singing in his sweet dulcet tone, "Happy Birthday" to the Mayor's wife. The ladies were swooning.

He tapped his drinking glass and checked the time. Across the room, two live barbie dolls shrieked with joy as they spotted Sheldon. "There's Walter's son!" One blonde, one brunette, both with poufy hair and leopard design dresses waved at him. Their high heels clicked against the shiny hardwood floor, their heavily applied Channel perfume assaulted his nose, as they approached him. The blonde invaded his personal space bubble So close, he felt her minty fresh breath against his cheek. Normally he would step back, but in this case, he didn't mind.

The blonde went on her monologue rant. Her words ran together like a nonstop train, only pausing to gasp for air. "My name is Sierra.I'm sure you've seen me on TV. I'm the girl in the Airbed mattress commercial posing in a pink night gown.It plays late at night.I'm sure you've seen it. I'm trying to break into acting.Maybe your father could-----"

He glanced at his Rolodex again, his eyes half shut. Must be the eighth inning. The Mets had been on a losing streak lately. I hope they can recover, he thought.

The brunette was up next with her silly interrogation rant. "It must be cool being Walter's son. Do you have your own yacht? You must------"

"Uh huh,.... yeah,.... right,..... okay." He was trying to remember who was going to be the starting pitcher for the Mets. A good pitcher will help them win. They need to break their losing streak.

The brunette tapped him on the shoulder. "Shelby?"

Who the heck is Shelby? But why not play along? It's best they don't know my name anyway, he thought. "What"?

"Then you'll do it? You'll take us for a spin in your Mercedes!?" The barbies let out ear-shattering shrieks.

"Uh,......uh huh. Excuse me, ladies." He spotted his father from across the room, and gave him a small wave. I did my part. Mingling task done, he thought as he sneaked out the back door.

Inside his yellow Mercedes, he took a moment to sit back, relax and enjoy the solitude. He turned on the ignition to the long-awaited smooth voice of the sports announcer. As he shifted the car in reverse, he spotted the two barbies outside the entry door. He cracked down the window and paused for a moment. "Shelby, where are you going?" they shouted.

Normally he would have eagerly accepted their invitation, despite the fact that these bimbo barbies were nothing more than annoying gold-digging opportunists. Still, they were hot, gorgeous babes. Maybe he should reconsider? No, he was in no mood to listen to their ramblings. And, oh yeah, he had a girlfriend. He should try to remain faithful. As he drove off, he chuckled at their frustrated shouting motions in his rear-view mirror.

He thought about Victoria as he drove through the city streets. Originally from South Carolina, Victoria was the quintessential southern belle. Silk and lace vintage dresses complemented her svelte figure. Her strawberry blonde hair, with its loose curls, softly cascaded to her shoulders, framing her full lips and doe-brown eyes.

Sheldon took an immediate fondness to her when they first met at one of those stuffy cocktail parties. Unlike the others, she saw him as who he was, Sheldon, and not just Walter's son. She listened without interrupting. When she did speak of herself, in her soft southern accent, she did so modestly. She treated everyone with respect, addressing them as "sir," or "ma'am. .

But there were issues that kept the relationship from moving forward. Sheldon discovered the words, "Victoria Marie Merrick" scribbled all across the pages of her notebook. That's something a ten-year-old would do. Dream on, he thought. It was also evident by her expression. She never mentioned the "L" word, but she had a habit of her batting eyes, titling her head sideways and posing, as if trying to "reel him in."

Another was the fact she did nothing all day other than read romance novels, shop, or visit the spa. Although she planned a career in fashion merchandising, she had not yet worked a day in her life. There was no need. Her wealthy parents provided for her.

Why all the shopping? Was she afraid of being seen in the same outfit twice? She would not say. Couldn't she at least make herself useful and cook for me? Isn't that what southern girls are supposed to do? he thought

She was spoiled rotten and that turned him off a bit. He preferred a woman who worked hard and wasn't concerned about breaking a nail. Yes, he admitted he was spoiled too. Even though he received an allowance from his Dad, he at least worked and paid his expenses.

He arrived home just in time to catch the last of the 9th inning on TV. As he walked toward his condo, the felt he buzz and vibration within his pocket.

"Hi. This is your Uncle Bob. You are all set to start next week. By the way, in case you haven't heard, the Mets won."

Sheldon clenched his fists and raised his arms twice in the air. "Yes! Yes!."