Mysterious Boyfriends

Chapter 11

Adrianna: Me, Regarding Me, Again

I was too angry to drive. And if I wanted to be honest, too pleasantly pleased to drive. I decided to call Angela. She didn't answer her phone. I realized it was probably too noisy to hear it ring. I texted her, telling her to call me. When she did I told her to get her butt out to my car.

"Angela, what the hell where you thinking?" I yelled before she even got settled into the passenger seat.

She had the grace to look a little chastised and chagrined.

"Well..." Angela said.

"That's a gross violation of boundaries, privacy, respect, I can't even think of what the hell else it's a violation of but it's a violation of something."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Angela said. "But he was hot, and you have to admit, he's perfect for you."

"I will admit no such thing." It was probably true but I wasn't going to admit it. "That's not the point. The point is that you should have asked me before you did something like that. If I wanted to put an ad up on the internet I would have done it myself."

"I know."

"I'm a public figure. I have a career. You used a photo we... God damn it."

"I know, I know. I was wrong."

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was just thinking that Burt and I are so happy I want you to be that happy."

"I am that happy!" I yelled.

"I want you to be that happy with someone. Laura's with someone, Melanie's with someone, Shay's with someone, this way we can all go out together."

"We can all go out together without me being with a man," I said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, but you want a man."

I balled my hands into fists, then relaxed them and grabbed my hair, and then tightened them again.

"I'm not getting through to you."

"Just because the means were wrong doesn't mean that the ends aren't right."

"Aargh," I said.

"Come on, you have to see that guy again."

"No."

"Why?"

I banged my fist against the steering wheel.

"Tell me one good reason that you shouldn't," Angela said.

"Because you set me up with him under false pretenses," I said.

"Okay, besides that."

I couldn't think of one.

"There you go," she said. "I have spent a lot of time looking through those ads weeding out crazies and boring people to find you one guy worthy of you. This guy can hold an email conversation, he's handsome, he must be talented to support himself doing what he's doing, he's super educated from the best schools, he's even tall and I know you are crazy about guys being tall. Are you going to give him a chance or what?"

"No," I said. "Or what. And I don't want to even think about what email conversations might have gone on between the two of you with you as fake me."

I blew out a stream of air blowing a lock of hair straight up. "I'm not going to give him a chance. Just to teach you a lesson." But I knew I wasn't telling the truth. I wouldn't be able to stay away from him.

"I've learned my lesson," Angela said. "But you are only hurting yourself."

I didn't say anything.

"What's he like?" Angela asked.

"I don't know really," I said.

"What did you talk about?"

"How pissed off I was at you. I am at you."

She laughed.

"What else?"

"That's it basically. I told him I wasn't interested in seeing anyone right now and that was about it. I was wildly attracted to him but I didn't let it show. He smelled like... I don't know... a lush forest I just wanted to roll around in and he had this energy buzzing through him like if I touched him I could run a marathon and keep going forever." I sighed. "Oh, well."

"Do you want his Match.com info so you can write to him yourself?"

"No..." I said, but my voice didn't sound like I said a real no with conviction to me.

"At least write him to thank him for coming out."

"No," I said. "I said thank you to him."

"Suit yourself," Angela said.

She got out of the car and slammed the door.

I showed her, right?

So why did I feel like poop?

Chapter 12

Adrianna: Regarding Angela

The next day my phone rang. It was Angela.

"I need to come over," she said.

"Sure," I said. "I've got gumbo cooking."

I had been practicing piano, getting back to basics, working on scales, arpeggios, and Hayden. Matchbox had been listening intensely for the first forty-five minutes and I was glad for the audience. After he fell asleep I lost some enthusiasm. I had been at it for over an hour and was ready for an interruption.

Angela's pale skin had two bright spots redder that a Santa Clause suit in the middle of her cheeks when I let her in.

"I'm fuming," she said without any opener.

"So I see," I said.

"He's not an accountant, he's a secretary."

"What??!!"

"Yup. Not even really a secretary, more of a mail-sorting clerk."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"No."

"Yes," I said. "You are."

"No. I'm serious."

"How did you find out?"

"Melanie's cousin's best friend, Tyrone?"

"Ah-huh," I said.

"He works in the mail room with him."

I put my hands over my face. "Angie, lying in a relationship is not good. This is why you don't sleep with someone on the first date or move in with them in the first week. Damn. What did he say when you asked him about it?"

Angela's phone rang. She looked at her cell phone screen. "It's Laura. I'm too angry to answer it." She put her phone back in her pocket.

"So what did Burt say?"

"I haven't spoken to him yet. I'm too mad. I'm afraid I might rip him a new one."

"I know you," I said. "You

are

going to rip him a new one,"

"Yeah, probably. But I want to do it delicately."

I didn't know what to say. "Maybe he's embarrassed? Maybe he was going to tell you later?"

"We're engaged!" Angela said. "Later should be now. This is horrible."

"I thought you were pre-engaged," I said.

"No," she said. "We're using the dinner ring as an engagement ring."

My phone rang. It was Laura.

"Can I come over?" She said. She sounded like she was crying. "I can't reach Angela.

"She's here," I said. "Come on over."

I hung up.

I looked at Angela. "Laura's coming over, is that okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Maybe it will help me get my mind off myself."

We sat at the kitchen table with me stroking Angela's hand softly to keep her calm until Laura got there. When Laura arrived it was obvious she had been crying. When she saw me she broke into fresh tears.

"Oh, God," I said. I hugged her and then lead her over to the table.

Angela talked first while Laura calmed down. Angela got even more agitated explaining it the second time, and I had to admit, it sounded even worse when she was describing it to Laura than when she was telling me about it. It sounded downright duplicitous.

"If he lies about that he'll lie about everything," Laura said. "I mean it's his job." She had stopped crying but her eyes were still wet. "What are you going to do?"

That's where we both stared at Angela. "I don't know. It doesn't matter to me if he's a clerk, or a secretary, or an accountant, or a doorman. I love him. But I just can't believe this. He's so open and honest and sweet."

"Well, I think you should talk to him. At least give him a chance to explain before you jump to any conclusions." Laura said. "He might have been an accountant and his job was downsized and he's ashamed about it. Who knows?"

"Right, right," Angela said.

"Maybe he's working two shifts," I said. "Some hours as an accountant and some doing secretarial and clerk work."

"I hadn't thought of that," Angela said.

Angela looked at me. I shrugged. "Laura's right about having to just ask him," I said. "You're going on what Tyrone said. You have to hear what Burt says."

Angela nodded. "Thanks. You're right."

I went to the stove and scooped out big colorful bowls of gumbo and placed them on the table.

Angela grimaced.

"It will be okay," I said gesturing to the food. I gave a taste to Matchbox and he ate it.

"Let's hear Laura's story," I said.

Then Angela and I both looked at Laura.

"Okay," I said. "Tell us."

"I logged on to Peter's Facebook."

"Oh boy," I said.

"You mean, as him?" Angela said.

"Uh-huh," Laura said, and tears began to roll again.

"I hate that thing," I said.

"And he's talking to three different women," Laura said. "Women from his old job. They were thanking him for meeting them and making them feel so much better."

Angela and I both looked at her.

"Y'all don't get it," Laura said.

"What?" Angela said.

"He told this one woman she had a nice smile!"

"Well did she?"

"Yes," Laura said, "But that's not the point."

We looked at her.

"He's setting himself up as their emotional 'go-to' friend."

"So?" Angela said.

"Well," Laura said. "That's how he bagged me."

Chapter 13

Adrianna: Regarding Angela and Laura

The Virgin Islands beckoned. I had been psyched about this trip for days while listening to daily dilemmas. Now it was time to prepare and pack and leave.

"How come we all don't get to go to the Caribbean twice a year for work?" Laura asked.

"Perks of being a rock and roll star," I said.

"Hey, I'm a rock and roll star," Laura said.

"Yeah, but..." I said.

"I know, I know, you're a rock and roll star on a whole other level, right?"

"No, I'm a rock and roll star who went to the trouble to try and book a gig in the Virgin Islands. So now I get to go play the tour dates that were supposed to happen a few weeks ago."

"Whatever, next time see if you can bag extra tickets and accommodations for the whole gang."

"Hhmph," I said. "It wasn't like I didn't invite y'all."

Shayla, who had thought about coming decided not to because Jennifer was arriving in town. Melanie, who had thought about coming, got a modeling gig in New York and couldn't come. Angela, who had said she would come would absolutely not leave Burt. Laura, who had gotten a part-time job at a gas station called Le Cheap couldn't afford it. So I was going alone to three beautiful islands to sing about happiness and romance.

I was glad to be going to beautiful beaches and warm weather and making good money. I was also glad to have some physical distance from Angela and Laura's boyfriend drama. So life was good but going to the islands alone made me think of my long-haired mystery man for the umpteenth time since he walked me to the car outside of Mercury Lounge.

Angela called me while I was in the airport. She didn't even say hello but picked up as if we were in the middle of a conversation and she had assumed that I must have her on my mind.

"Burt really is a certified accountant," she said.

"Um, that's good," I said.

"He pointed out that he never said he worked as an accountant," Angela said. "He just said he worked for Anderson and Wentworth."

I thought about it. "Tricky, very tricky."

"But truthful," Angela said.

I resisted the urge to sigh in her ear.

"He does clerking, some secretarial, and some mail sorting," Angela said. "And usually full-time accounting during tax season."

"Ah," I said.

"And his pay rate varies accordingly."

"Ah," I said again.

"So he didn't lie," she said.

"Good," I said.

"At all!"

"Okay," I said.

"Hooray!"

"Um-hum."

"So he's off the hook," Angela said.

"Ah-hah."

"They promised to promote him to full-time accountant as soon as a job opens so he figured that it might happen any day and was just hoping it would happen the day before we met which is why he didn't mention it."

"Ah," I said.

"I can love him again."

"You never stopped loving him," I pointed out. Lusting after him, I mean.

"Right," she said.

"Listen, I should go, I'm in the airport," I said.

"Right," she said. "I just thought you'd want to know as soon as I knew."

"I'm happy for you."

"Okay, bye," Angela said and hung up.

"Jeez," I said to no one in particular. "I'm glad I'm not dating."

Famous last words.

I received a few phone messages from Laura but I simply texted her to ask if she could wait until I got back to the mainland to update me on any stories and was glad when she said yes.

I found a small underprivileged school in St. Thomas and gave a free lesson on basic music theory and a brief classical piano concert the day before I was supposed to come home. I extended my trip an extra few hours to take in a section of Puerto Rico I'd never been to before and came back to New Orleans feeling like I'd been away a month rather than an extended long weekend.

One of the first things I did when I got back was visit Laura at the gas station. The place was dead so I stayed in the convenience store part and talked to her.

"Peter agreed to drop off Facebook altogether," was the first thing Laura said to me. "He explained that these three women had such low self-esteem he felt obligated to say things to bring them up, he wasn't really flirting or trying to start something."

"Ah-huh," I said. I was beginning to feel like this was my main response to all my friends.

I had bought a pre-made ham sandwich from the gas stations' cooler and I was eating it while Laura talked. I was eating it really slowly so I looked like a patron instead of just a loiterer.

"He said he liked helping them so much maybe he'd go back to school for counseling."

"Hhm," I said.

"Don't you think that's great?"

"Argh," I said. "I never comment on anyone's career plans. If you think that's great than I think that's great."

"Well I think that's great," Laura said.

"Then I do too," I said.

"So everything is hunky-dory, and his friends are going to play Bob Marley and Travis Tritt tunes at our wedding, and his mom said she would lend me her dress if I wanted, although I don't know if I do. So I think everything is great and life is just grand."

"Okay," I said.

"I decided we're going to have fried chicken wings for the wedding. We can make them ourselves to save money."

Oh God help us.

Chapter 14

Adrianna: Regarding the Mystery Man

I supposed it was only a matter of time before I found myself on the sidewalk outside of Bee's House of Blues. I had known approximately where it was. I guess my subconscious was wondering the streets, guiding my feet until I was staring at the poster of mystery man and his band. It was a black and white publicity shot. He was wearing a fedora, a long trench coat, dark glasses, and looked strait out of a Mickey Spillane novel. I reached out and touched the poster. The concerts were every Monday and Thursday. Shows started at 9:15 PM.

I could dress up and go. Look like a Mickey Spillane moll myself. I walked away thinking about it. The poster said the name of the band but not his name, so I still didn't know. Would it be so bad to show up? My chest pressed in on itself, the familiar sensation like an elephant was sitting on my heart, the one I always got when I was conflicted. I wanted to know this guy but I didn't want to step out on a limb even to go see him play when I hadn't been specifically invited. I said that I wasn't looking right now. That was true, wasn't it?

I walked around mulling it over. Why don't the right decisions just pop out at me? I decided going home and eating coffee ice cream might help.

It didn't. The next night I decided eating more coffee ice cream might make the choice a little clearer. Over 1,000 calories later I was still conflicted.

Early the next evening Laura and Peter hosted a game night at their apartment. Shayla and Jennifer came. It was the first time I had seen Jennifer in a while. She beat everyone at Yatzee, Trivial Pursuit, and draw-and-act your charades proving again that she's sharper than the rest of us. Jennifer regaled us of stories of her life up North with the trials and tribulations of catty colleagues, snow storms, and back-stabbing producers. Then she had us laughing until I had tears rolling down my face.

I had to admit it was good to have her back with the gang.

Angela and Burt were all over each other during the whole night, kissing at every right answer (theirs and everyone else's). I couldn't decide if this was sweet, disgusting, or both.

Claude was in town from New York, so everyone was paired up but me. It didn't bother me until later in the night when we got to games where everyone needed a partner.

"See," Angela said. "You should let me write to that hottie again, apologize for blowing him off and invite him to one of your shows."

I must have wavered because she said. "I'll do it tomorrow."

"You can't write as me! That's what started this mess."

"Okay," Angela said. "I'll write as you."

"No, wait, wait," I blinked, confused. "That's the same thing."

"I mean, I'll write as me writing for you," Angela said.

"No, I didn't give you permission to do that either," I said.

"What did I miss? What are you talking about?" Jennifer asked.

I gave Angela the stare of death. "You tell her, Miss Meddler."

Angela told her. We were all silent for a moment.

"Harrumph," was all I said.

"So, she has to get together with this guy, I mean he is, like if you ordered a perfect match from a...wait, well, I kinda did. Anyway..."

I growled. Everyone ignored me.

"When's your next show?" Angela said. "Thursday at One Eyed Ted's right?"

"Yes, but..."

"So I'll invite him to that," Angela said.
"He can't come," I said. "He plays at Bee's every Thursday." Oops. I slammed my hand over my mouth.

"Whoa-hoa," Angela said. "Someone who is 'not interested' has been doing some snooping. Busy every Thursday eh? So where is he playing on Friday? Maybe I can get the two of you on a double bill."

"Cut it out, Angela," I said. "I can find my own dates."

"But none as scrumptious as him I bet."

I hate it when you're right.

"Lay off, I said I'll find my own dates."

"Go ahead then, I dare you."

Chapter 15

Adrianna: Regarding Angela

The next weeks seemed to get better and better for both Angela and Laura. Burt said he was going to get the permanent promotion to accountant. Peter found a job as an assistant insurance agent, something he had never done before but both he and Laura were very excited about.

Laura started hosting bi-weekly "Hillbilly Concerts" in her apartment and inviting people and then passing a donation basket and earning money that way.

I, believe it or not, found a renewed love in cooking (a miracle in and of itself) and ended up having both couples over frequently. I enjoyed watching them bask in each other's cooing. I found a high school student who was willing to do the dishes (even when the whole gang had come over) in exchange for frequent guitar lessons which made it all worth it for me.

In the back of my mind, the mystery man lurked, and I admit to sometimes letting him into my dreams, both innocent and racy.

For the time being I was content watching all my friends in their happily snuggled pairs. I had my imagination to keep me company at night. I told myself repeatedly that that was more than enough.

While Angela and Burt hadn't set a wedding date yet, they were thinking sometime in the late fall, when the weather would be perfect. (The fact that I thought the fall of next year would be more sane was a fact that I kept to myself.)

Then Angela's mother decided that Angela should get married on July 4th.

"You do know it's hot in New Orleans in July," I said trying to keep my voice neutral.

"There is no talking to her," Angela drawled. "I wanted an outdoor quiet wedding in November but it looks like we're having fireworks in July."

More and more my daily calls with Angela focused around her discussions with her mother.

Angela's mother was had been an event planner before Angela was born and went back to work when Angela was in high school. A few years ago she was diagnosed with lupus and hadn't worked since. Angela's mom had gone into full swing preparation mode making a guest list of two hundred and reserving the most expensive hall in all of New Orleans. The fact that Angela wanted a simple beach wedding with twenty guests was not getting through to Maria, Angela's mother.