I type "singing telegram Pittsburgh" into the search bar. Several options pop up, but one catches my eye: "The Four Flats: Specializing in Personalized Musical Embarrassment Since 1996." Their website features photos of four middle-aged dudes of varying races in striped vests and boater hats, apparently delighting in making people squirm at office birthdays and retirement parties.
Perfect.
Next, I search for Brad Reid at Pittsburgh University. His faculty assistant page appears, complete with a smug-looking headshot and a list of his summer courses. I click through to the department schedule, and—bingo—he's giving a lecture on "Ethics in Modern Philosophy" tomorrow afternoon at 2 p.m. The irony is almost too perfect.
I dial the number from the quartet's website, explaining my request as Gordie watches me with his head tilted curiously.
"So let me get this straight," says the quartet leader, who introduces himself as Barney. "You want us to interrupt a university philosophy lecture to sing about what a cheating mooch this professor is?"
"Exactly." I grin, imagining Brad's face. "How much?" I give him the details—classroom location, time, Brad's description—and suggest "No Scrubs" by TLC as the song.
"Classic choice," Barney approves. "We'll prepare something special for the occasion."
I hang up just as the shower turns off. A few minutes later, Lena emerges in her bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel. She startles slightly when she sees me.
"Oh! I didn't hear you come in."
"Just got back," I say casually, closing my laptop. "How was work?"
"Fine." She doesn't quite meet my eyes. "Busy."
"Too busy for dinner tonight?" I try to keep my tone light.
She tightens the belt of her robe. I resist the urge to step into her space and pull it off her. My god, I am a sleaze. Lena says, "I really need to catch up on patient files. Rain check?"
There it is again—the same excuse. No wonder.
"Sure," I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "Maybe tomorrow night instead? We could order from that Thai place you like."
"Maybe." She shifts uncomfortably. "I should get dressed."
Before I can say anything else, she disappears down the hall, leaving me with Gordie and the increasing certainty that something is very wrong.
The next day, I'm practically vibrating with anticipation. I've arranged to "coincidentally" run into Lena at the training facility around 1:30, giving us just enough time to "spontaneously" decide to visit Brad's lecture. It's the perfect plan.
Except Lena doesn't show up for our "coincidental" meeting, despite my careful timing based on her schedule. By 1:40, I'm pacing the lobby, sending increasingly desperate texts.
Are you still at the facility?
I'm in the lobby if you want to grab coffee
Lena?
Finally, at 1:45, I get a response:
In a meeting with management. Can't talk now.
My heart sinks. The quartet is already en route. In fifteen minutes, they'll burst into Brad's classroom and deliver a musical humiliation that was supposed to be for both of us to witness.
For a brief moment, I consider calling them to cancel. But the thought of Brad's smug face stops me. No, this is happening, with or without Lena.
I race to my car and speed toward campus, hoping to at least document the moment for her. I park in someone’s reserved spot, leave my blinkers on, and manage to slip into the lecture hall just as the clock hits 2 PM. Brad is at the front, gesturing dramatically as he discusses something about categorical imperatives. The room is about half full, with students typing on laptops or staring vacantly at their phones.
And then, right on cue, the doors on the opposite side of the lecture hall swing open. Four men in matching striped vests and straw boater hats stride in, humming in perfect harmony.
Brad stops mid-sentence, confusion spreading across his face. "Excuse me, what is?—"
"Brad Reid?" the lead singer interrupts cheerfully.
