The Vulgar Rich

"May I get you anything, Claudine?" Brad Schuyler's heart ached as he looked at Claudine with longing. She was so beautiful with her long hair, big eyes, and most of all her enormous brain. Before meeting Claudine, Brad had never realized how appealing a smart woman could be. Claudine had an opinion on everything and she was so sure that her opinions were right that Brad never found any reason to doubt her.

"No, I don't need a thing," Claudine responded sharply. "Brad, I'm having a hard time believing that you actually grew up in this mausoleum."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm having trouble believing that anyone could spend their early years in a house like this and not be psychically wounded," Claudine said. "This house is ridiculous. You have a five-stall garage, a heated floor in the kitchen and the living room is bigger than most bowling alleys."

Shame filled Brad. Claudine was right. His family home was an embarrassment of riches but he hadn't realized that until he'd met Claudine and she had opened her eyes. "I know..." he began but then stopped as the sound of high heels clicking across the marble floor in the foyer filled his ears. A moment later his mother entered the den.

"Hello, Brad, hello, Claudine. I'm glad I found both of you here. We're having more company for dinner tonight. Your cousin Tiffany and her boyfriend are joining us as well as her father and that girlfriend of his. Oh, and my boyfriend, Vlad."

"How nice," Claudine replied, "a family reunion. I'm curious to meet the rest of Brad's family so I'm sure this evening will be interesting. It's been quite enlightening to see how the top two percent of the country lives."

Mavis looked at her quizzically. "I'm not sure if I follow. What do you mean by the 'top two percent'?"

"The vulgar rich," Claudine patiently explained. "The people who control the wealth and who don't like to share their goodies.  The people who have five cars and four drivers in their family. The people who cheat on their taxes and underpay their workers. You know, people like you. I'm going to guess that your niece and the rest of your guests are a lot like you--rather shallow, right?" She smiled tightly. "I'm not trying to be rude, Mavis, but I'm afraid I don't have it in me to be dishonest. Brad can tell you that I'm almost pathologically honest."

"Isn't that wonderful, Mother?" Brad asked. "Claudine is so refreshing, isn't she?"

Mavis looked like she was about to start choking. "I suppose honesty works both ways, doesn't it, Claudine? You want me to be honest too, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Claudine insists that I'm always honest," Brad said. "That's why she broke up with me--I couldn't be totally honest with her but I'm working on it."

"He's come quite a long way," Claudine admitted. "Of course, now that I've seen what kind of environment he grew up in, I have a lot more compassion for him."

Mavis nodded. "That's good to know. I'll do my best to be completely honest with you and I'm going to start by asking that you take a shower before dinner tonight, wash your hair and wear something that doesn't look like it came out of a box of Goodwill rejects. Oh, and please wear deodorant and shoes too. We may be the vulgar rich but at least we don't look--and smell--like we grew up in a barn. I'll see you two later." Turning on her stiletto heels, Mavis marched out of the room.

Cringing, Brad waited for Claudine to explode but to his amazement, she laughed. "I like your mother more than I thought I would," she said. "As a matter of fact, I think we have a lot in common."

"Like what?" Brad asked as he mentally compared his overly-made up, completely unnatural mother with the plain woman sitting next to him.

Claudine put out her hand and rested it on Brad's knees. "For starters, we both love you."

Brad was pretty sure that his pounding heart was about to explode.