I Guess I'll Never Get To Call You Mine
SÉBASTIEN
“ALINE!” I screamed into the phone. “Do you know where Chuck is? Is he with you?” “What? No!” she said from the end of the other line. “Has something happened? Is he alright?” I cursed. “Can you be ready in five minutes? I’ll pick you up. We need to find him right now!”
Today is one of the worst days I ever had, and I thought that kidnapping attempt was bad enough. Jeff and I met up with an old friend today. J.S. seemed to be doing well. He’s a successful vet now, and he’s got a brilliant girlfriend whom he met regularly at The Queen Elizabeth from time to time. Of course, we asked to see a picture and when as soon as I laid my eyes on the girl’s face I’d wanted to puke. I left Jeff to deal with J.S. while I frantically tried to phone Chuck. It looks like he turned his cell off, because I couldn’t get hold of him. This is really, really bad. I knew something was up—the kidnapping, Chuck acting weird, and now THIS? For some crazy reason, I feel like this is all connected.
I sped into Aline’s driveway and honked. She practically flew down the steps and into the front passenger seat, her face creased with worry. “Seb,” she said. “Tell me what happened.” I pointed at J.S. in the backseat, whose face had turned the color of puce. Jeff is patting his shoulder comfortingly. They both looked like they were going to be sick. “Long story,” I said. “Are you sure he hasn’t contacted you?” She shook her head. “I asked my brothers, though, and it turns out that he sent a group text message saying that he’s going to the courthouse today and can’t be disturbed.” “Okay we’re going there right now!”
I broke every driving rule known to man while speeding toward that courthouse. By the time we arrived Jeff’s airbag has burst open (and punched him in the face), J.S. had puked all over the backseat, and two police cars were chasing me. I threw open the door, helped Aline haul J.S. to his feet, and ran inside the building as the cops arrived to arrest Jeff, who was still stuck inside the car thanks to that air bag. Normally I’d stay and help him of course but this is much more important and I’ll have to let Jeff take the blame for now.
“Is Chuck Comeau here?” I called out to the receptionist. She was listening to her iPod while reading a magazine and didn’t seem to hear me. I tugged off her earphones impatiently and before she could protest demanded to know where Chuck is. “The Simple Plan drummer?” she said, looking unimpressed. “He’s scheduled for seven thirty this morning. You were late. He’s already left now.” “Scheduled?” Aline said. “Scheduled for what?” “He’s not in some legal trouble, is he?” I said, my heart sinking. No wonder he’s been depressed.
“Legal trouble? Of course not, what are you talking about?” The receptionist looked at all of us as if we were the dumbest creatures she’d ever set her eyes on. “Surely you know that Mr. Comeau had married Ashley Massaro today.”
Today is one of the worst days I ever had, and I thought that kidnapping attempt was bad enough. Jeff and I met up with an old friend today. J.S. seemed to be doing well. He’s a successful vet now, and he’s got a brilliant girlfriend whom he met regularly at The Queen Elizabeth from time to time. Of course, we asked to see a picture and when as soon as I laid my eyes on the girl’s face I’d wanted to puke. I left Jeff to deal with J.S. while I frantically tried to phone Chuck. It looks like he turned his cell off, because I couldn’t get hold of him. This is really, really bad. I knew something was up—the kidnapping, Chuck acting weird, and now THIS? For some crazy reason, I feel like this is all connected.
I sped into Aline’s driveway and honked. She practically flew down the steps and into the front passenger seat, her face creased with worry. “Seb,” she said. “Tell me what happened.” I pointed at J.S. in the backseat, whose face had turned the color of puce. Jeff is patting his shoulder comfortingly. They both looked like they were going to be sick. “Long story,” I said. “Are you sure he hasn’t contacted you?” She shook her head. “I asked my brothers, though, and it turns out that he sent a group text message saying that he’s going to the courthouse today and can’t be disturbed.” “Okay we’re going there right now!”
I broke every driving rule known to man while speeding toward that courthouse. By the time we arrived Jeff’s airbag has burst open (and punched him in the face), J.S. had puked all over the backseat, and two police cars were chasing me. I threw open the door, helped Aline haul J.S. to his feet, and ran inside the building as the cops arrived to arrest Jeff, who was still stuck inside the car thanks to that air bag. Normally I’d stay and help him of course but this is much more important and I’ll have to let Jeff take the blame for now.
“Is Chuck Comeau here?” I called out to the receptionist. She was listening to her iPod while reading a magazine and didn’t seem to hear me. I tugged off her earphones impatiently and before she could protest demanded to know where Chuck is. “The Simple Plan drummer?” she said, looking unimpressed. “He’s scheduled for seven thirty this morning. You were late. He’s already left now.” “Scheduled?” Aline said. “Scheduled for what?” “He’s not in some legal trouble, is he?” I said, my heart sinking. No wonder he’s been depressed.
“Legal trouble? Of course not, what are you talking about?” The receptionist looked at all of us as if we were the dumbest creatures she’d ever set her eyes on. “Surely you know that Mr. Comeau had married Ashley Massaro today.”