Fiction Friday - My Fair Gentleman

Genevieve reread the email as she drank her morning coffee: Don't you think it's time you brought him out into polite society? her sister was inquiring, above an e-vite to her daughter's production of Nutcracker Suite. She glanced across at Erich's browline showing above the Wall Street Journal. Was he ready for the ballet?

Instead of clicking Yes No or Unsure, she texted her sister: Why don't you come over tonight? 

Genevieve had met Erich outside a club. She and her cute, trendy friends had gotten into the club, while Erich - "K-Dab" to the buddies he was with - had been left outside the velvet rope. The girls had been talking and joking with the guys while they were outside, and she really thought he had something. 

Inside, after bouncing around to the thumping beat for a while, she confessed when they took a drink break, "I kinda miss K-Dab."

"What? That doofy guy outside? Are you insane?"

"Ugh. Sweetie, he can barely put a sentence together."

"Still, he was cute. Don't judge a hottie by his choice of slang. If he wasn't talking like a street-thug, you wouldn't think I was insane," Genevieve was suddenly on the defensive. For a guy she didn't really know.

"And if he wore clothes that didn't look third-hand."

"And if he looked employable." Cara was in HR. Judging employ-ability was her forte.

"That's it. I'm gonna get him in here. For all you know, he is employed," she shot at Cara. 

Minutes later he joined the trio in the VIP booth, paid for by Tiff, who made big bucks in the finance markets and liked to splurge when partying.

"Cara, Tiff, this is Erich," said Genevieve, already triumphant at having a reasonable name to present for the heretofore known "K-Dab".

"Erich. Join us," Said Tiff, waving to one end of the couch. "What's your poison?"

"Uh, 's'cool, y'know, beer, whatevs..." He looked and sounded totally out of place. The girls were trendy and educated, scornful of his street-style, and baffled by Genevieve's inexplicable attraction.

"It's not an attraction," she asserted after they'd left the club and Erich had rejoined his cronies in the street outside the club. "It's a fascination with the possibilities! Don't you see?"

"No."

"Never! Possibilities? He has possibilities to join a crime ring."

"Just because you think he talks too street. Let me fix that. What would you say?" They could tell that Professor Genevieve the linguist was serious. Cara and Tiff exchanged a smirk.

"We'll pay all expenses for a makeover, if you can train him to be a cultured human being instead of a thug."

He started living in Genevieve's guest room, learned better grammar, read literature, and after one month Cara and Tiff took him shopping. They returned impressed with his behavior, except for the moment he started chatting with an old pal they'd come across.

"Keep him away from those guys, or this whole thing will be a waste."

Here it was another month later, and Genevieve's sister was pushing her to show her progress. She looked at the evite. The ballet was two weeks away.

After her sister agreed to bring the family over that night to meet him, Genevieve said, "Erich, we'll have guests tonight. Be prepared." He lowered the paper, stared at her wide-eyed, gave a nod, and continued reading. She had trained him well, she thought. On their own. Could he handle random polite conversation without bringing up all the repulsive habits behind him? She'd soon find out.

The evening went swimmingly. He made good friends with Genevieve's niece, which made missing her ballet performance impossible. He was ready.

Two weeks later, Genevieve woke up without the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. Without any sounds of newspaper crinkling. He was gone. He proved himself at the ballet the night before, and cut out that night. 

He had seemed to appreciate the life he was learning to live, but now he disappeared without a trace. 

The apartment seemed empty. 

She'd grown accustomed to his face.

It's FICTION FRIDAY!

Clearly, today's story was inspired by "My Fair Lady" which  was the first musical I learned by heart. When I watched it recently, I started thinking of role reversal...

Every Friday I write a new flash fiction piece. If you have a writing prompt you'd like to see turned into a story, just leave it in a comment.