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“Well, yeah, I know you know the song. What are the words after ‘this something, this something, this dress. You would never guess . . .’—then what comes next?”
“Why?”
“Because every time I hear the song it sounds like you’re singing something, but I know it can’t be that.”
“What does it sound like?”
“Okay, this is really embarrassing, but you asked for it. Every time I hear the song, it sounds like you’re singing, ‘Armpit. Save me, Armpit. A damsel in distress.’?”
Kaira laughed. “‘Save me, Armpit’!” she exclaimed. “Why would I sing ‘Save me, Armpit’? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know!”
“I didn’t even know that was your name! I didn’t even know you when I recorded the song!”
“I know! I know you weren’t really singing that. I already told you that.”
“God, you’re even worse than me. I just wrote you a dumb letter. You’re delusional!”
“So are you going to tell me the real words or not?”
“I didn’t know there was anybody in the world named Armpit!”
“Will you humor me and tell me the words?”
Kaira recited the words. “‘These shoes, these jewels, this dress. A perfect picture of success. You would never guess . . .’?” She paused and said the next two words slowly and clearly. “‘I’m but a damsel in distress. Save me. I’m but a damsel in distress.’?”
“Well, that makes more sense,” Armpit agreed.
“You are so funny,” said Kaira. “Just hearing your voice. You don’t know how much I miss you.”
“Me too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I really do. I tried not to miss you too much, because I never thought I’d ever hear from you again, but once I got your letter, and now hearing you . . . It’s like your voice cuts right to my heart.”
“Aw, you are so sweet. You know what we should do? We’re going to be staying in San Francisco for three days this weekend. I’ll be doing a show there, a show in Marin, and one in Berkeley. You should come visit me!”
“Yeah, right, I’ll just hop on my private jet.”
“We fly people in all the time. A guitar player gets sick or something.”
“You’re serious.”
“I am serious. We’ll arrange everything. A limo will pick you up at your house and take you to the airport.”
“You’re serious?”
“Three days in San Francisco. Just you and me. What do you say?”
It was incomprehensible to him. She might as well have asked him if he wanted to fly to the moon. Which was probably why he said what he said.
“Sure, why not?”
25
“You have to t-tell your p-parents,” said Ginny.
