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Mysterious Boyfriends

By: MJRoberts





There is no underage sex anywhere in this story.

Also, thanks to all the readers who have reached out and become friends. For all those who have sent compliments, this story is for you!

Enjoy!

MJ



Chapter 1

Regarding Angela

Angela, Laura, and I were about to have our lives turned upside down. By men, of course. Faster than the streets flood in the French Quarter during a rain storm. 

Angela, my best friend, was first. She called me on Sunday. I hadn't talked to her on Saturday, which was weird, because I talked to her every day. Or, I should say more accurately, mostly she talked to me. We don't call her The Mouth for nothing. 

My name's Adrianna, my talents are that I'm really good at dieting to keep my body looking primo, hourglass voluptuous, and fit into my size 12, okay, oooocasionally sometimes size 14 clothes. I'm good at making the most of my hair, which is a gorgeous dark auburn and falls in thick waves three or four inches past my shoulders. And I'm good at singing. I kick ass at rock and roll, that's my real talent. That's good, because I'm pretty abysmal at just about everything else. 

Don't ask me to change a tire or balance my checkbook or make a soufflé. Actually, don't ask me to make anything more complicated than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I'm a sandwich kind of girl.

I'm a good friend. A really good friend. I'm not sure that's a talent though. 

My life is pretty simple. I focus on my music and my friends, and I never, ever expected that internet dating would put into motion the tangle of sex and danger that was barreling toward us.

Like everything in my life, Angela was bound to be in the middle of it all, and somehow also a catalyst.

Angela has two jobs. Angela works on an all talk radio internet station where she makes the most out of her mouthy talent. I mean I'm a talker but Angela is ridiculous. She's also funny, amazingly interesting, vivacious, talented, and, as I said, my best friend, so I'm very content to let her monopolize 95% of most of our conversations.

Besides, while she talks I do all my domestic chores, which, I can tell you, I'm as bad at as I am at car repair, basketball, and making soufflés. If it weren't for Angela my house would look like Hiroshima blew up in a junkyard.

Her other job is that she works part-time as a dispatcher at our local police station. It's a little out of character for her (except that she gets to talk and give orders). She got the job mostly because I bet her that she wouldn't do it.

Today, I was playing with my brand new golden retriever, when Angela called. I could tell it was her because the ring was a snippet of the old song "You're So Vain," by Carly Simon. I let it ring for an extra second while focusing on tug-of-war with Matchbox.

My puppy was a fluff ball that Angela unceremoniously dumped him in my lap last Tuesday, saying I desperately needed a dog for company since it had been so long since I'd had a man. I had named him Matchbox because he had let out a sharp happy snort when I accidentally dropped a toy car out of a cereal box. 

Conveniently, I was wearing my cell phone on a clip on the waistband of my jeans. I stood up as I answered it.

"You'll never guess what happened," Angela said.

"Aliens landed and made you a blonde," I said. She has light-strawberry red-head, with straight hair so fine that she has to keep it short.

"No, guess again."

"Ah..." I plugged in my Bluetooth, which gave me both hands free to fold my laundry. It made me harder for her to hear me though. (Why is it no matter what brand of Bluetooth I use I sound like I'm muddled underwater? Do I just have bad headset karma?) "One of your shows got picked up an additional somewhere?"

She sighed, a loud, huge sigh. "No." Her initial euphoric bubble for a second but resurrected in record time. "Guess again." 

I clicked my tongue against my teeth, thinking about her tone while separating shirts from socks from underwear. "You got laid?"

"YES!"

"Nooooo."

"Yes."

Now, one of Angela's shows gives advice about men. As a matter of fact it's called Don't Be Dumb. I have to tell you, she can give advice better than Dr. Ruth but she is the ultimate in do as I say but not as I do. It makes great entertainment for me and the gang though. 

"Angelaaaaaahhh..." Ah, crap. If I wasn't careful I was going to sound like her mother.

"I know, I know, but this is different."

I should sound excited right about now, I thought. But I couldn't muster it. "Okay Angie, tell me," I said.

"Well, I met him on the internet," Angela said.

"Hhmn," I muttered. "Where?"

"Match.com."

"Okay."

"His name is Burt," Angela said.

Oh, gag, I thought.

"I know what you're thinking, 'Oh, gag me', right?" Angela said.

Busted.

"Right? You did, right?" Angela said. "But that is the only thing that isn't amazing about him. He's gorgeous. I'm talking Hollywood leading man gorgeous. He emailed me on Friday and his emails were so sweet and poetic. Then I gave him my phone number and he texted me for an hour straight and those were so clever I had to meet him right away. He took me out to Le Chic downtown for dinner and we talked until it closed and then we went back to my place."

Ut-oh.

"Which you are probably thinking is a big ut-oh, but I knew it was okay because I promised you I wouldn't do anything on the first date. We talked until 6 am straight about everything and anything," Angela said. 

"Um-hum," I said. I had sorted all my laundry into piles by category and now I began to fold and hang. I hate doing laundry. I only do laundry when I'm on the phone with Angela because it makes the task more bearable for me.

I just remembered one other thing I'm good at. I'm good at avoiding commitment. Reeeeally good at it. Like big time. That might be my biggest talent of all.

In my mind I could see Angela pacing her small efficiency apartment waving her hands around. 

"And then from about 6am to 7:30am we just snuggled on the couch and held each other. Adriana, it was so magical. It was just the most magical thing you could possibly imagine."

"Mmn-hmn," I said. 

Angela always talks very fast. It's probably the only thing about her that isn't Louisiana. As she gets animated she begins to talk faster and faster. If she started talking any faster I was going to have to ask her to slow down.

"So then we watched the sun come up through that tiny stained glass window above my kitchenette. We just, you know, breathed together and watched the light in total silence. Then I kicked his behind out the door just like you'd have wanted me to." She paused.

"Aaaah-hmmn," I said.

"Because we agreed, after the last two guys..."

"Five," I interrupted. 

"...No sex on the first date."

"Right," I said.

"So I explained that, and he left, like the perfect gentleman he is," Angela said.

"Um-hum."

There was silence for a moment. Now all my folding was done except for the socks. All my hanging was done except for my jeans.

"So this was Saturday night?" I asked. 

"Um-hum," she said.

"So do you want to tell me how you ended up doing the horizontal salsa mambo between now and then?"

"Well, about 15 minutes later, Burt knocked on my door. He said, 'That was the most incredible night I ever had. I was too excited and wound up to drive so I walked around the block a few times and now I'm hungry. And I just don't want to be without you. Do you want to have breakfast?' And I said, 'Sure.' Then we went to Denny's and he bought me breakfast. After we had been eating a while he said 'You know, this is the second meal that I've bought you and it's now Sunday, a separate day, so I'd have to say that this is a second date.' 

I thought about it and I said, 'Well I guess it is.' Then he said, 'I should show you what my place is like and then we can talk some more. It's Sunday, what else do we have to do?' Then we went to his place and then once we were there we went at it like rabbits the whole day."

"In other words, he played you," I said.

"Yes! And it was glorious," Angela said.

"You are hopeless," I said.

"And in love."

"You are in lust. No one can be in love in less than twenty-four hours," I said.

"I'm looking at my watch now. I don't think it took me that long to fall in love."

"Cripses. This is going to be problematic. Tell me he's not as bad as Sven, or Quinton, or John."

"He's not," Angela said.

"Promise."

"I promise," she said.

Oh, God. Please don't let me have to stick a needle in my eye. "Okay Angela, I believe you."

Chapter 2

Regarding Laura

The next few days went by with only brief phone call check-ins from Angela telling me how she had met, ah-hem, quote, unquote "The One" and she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She sounded giddy and high and a few of our friends had called, worried about Angela's new enthusiasm. 

Shayla called but I let it roll over to voice mail. It was freakily cold for New Orleans, even for mid-February. I was reading a book, snuggled in under two layers of covers, and I so did not want to answer a phone. I'd had it with the freakin' phone.

It was nine pm on a Friday night. I had the whole weekend off, a rarity that only happens when the stars align (or bar owners screw me over) and my plan was to not come out until Monday morning at the earliest. My cute little pink flip phone beeped to let me know she had left a message. Of course she had.

Two minutes later a higher tone signaled that she left a text. I reached over to take a look.

Didn't chck my vm did u?

No I did not.

A minute later another text came through. 

U rding a book - R'nt u? I have som1 I wnt u to meet. Get ass out bd 2 ML stat. Be-iytch. ☺

I have someone I want you to meet. I considered ignoring this. I told myself what I always told myself when I was trying to motivate myself and I didn't want to go somewhere. 'You are not going to meet anyone new staying at home.' 

Then I told myself what my devil side always told me. 'I don't need to meet anyone else new. Three or four good girlfriends are plenty. That's enough to keep me happy. If there are no good men in all of New Orleans one day I'll move to another city or I'll be single for the rest of my life and either way is fine.' 

I went back to reading and a dull ache formed in my chest as it always does when I'm torn. Maybe I'll just ignore Shayla? I thought.

Another text came through.

Don't ignre me. Come. Don't make me come get u.

I grumbled but I got out of bed. This was a problem with being psychically connected with your friends. They knew when you when were thinking that their boyfriends were named after dumb Sesame street characters, when you were purposefully ignoring their phone calls, and when you were eating a second pint of triple threat Haagen Daas ice cream out of the container. (Which, hey is not so bad because did you know they made the containers smaller and are still charging the same price? So it's not like it's the same as eating two full pints. Okay, okay, it's a rationalization, I know.)

Anyway, I got out of bed, put on my best pair of jeans and a low cut shirt that showed off my Jessica Rabbit figure, hopped in my car, (a twenty year old Jaguar, yes a Jaguar, thank you) and went to ML, aka Mercury Lounge, the only bar in our neighborhood where the music is not too loud for my scarily sensitive hearing. 

I found a parking spot a few doors down and across the street from the club and zipped into the tight spot showing off daredevil parallel parking skills that would make any valet envious. (And the car owner of the cars parked in front and back of me scared to all get out if they had been watching.)

It took my eyes a second to adjust once I walked in to ML. The place was packed. Michelle, the bartender with pink hair and Beauregard, who used to be part-owner of ML before he sold it to the sleaze ball who currently ran it, were behind the bar hustling to keep up with drink orders. In the back left corner of the club, near the stage, were Angela, Shayla, and Melanie sitting with a woman I didn't know.

Melanie has that beautiful chocolate-mocha skin that is always flawless and never seems to age. She's five eleven and three quarters and as a decently successful model she earns more than Shayla, Angela, and I combined. Today she was wearing all white. She usually did as it set off her skin to perfection but today it was a blinding white it was like looking into a supernova, so it took me a minute to take my eyes off her and look at the other lady.

I have to tell you I was immediately crestfallen. I know Shayla didn't precisely say it in her text but I was sure she meant she was going to introduce me to a man. It had been two and a half years since my last relationship. 

I had gone on plenty of dates. Although I hadn't always (okay almost never until recently) made the most stellar choices I still got excited enough to put on great jeans and a good top at the thought of meeting a guy. 

I walked slowly toward the table. I thought my first sentence would have been, 'Hey I would have worn an old T-shirt if I knew you were a chick,' but I couldn't be sure it would come out funny and not rude so I kept my mouth shut.

"Adrianna," Melanie said. "This is Laura, from Alabama. Laura, this is Adrianna."

We looked at each other. She looked like what I had always thought Alabama would look like although I never met anyone from there. She looked a little bit like Rhea Perlman from that old sitcom, Cheers, except her hair was bleached so blonde it was almost white and she had about an inch of dark brown roots showing. Three of her bottom teeth overlapped, as if there was not enough room in her mouth for them, and her blue eyes, which were gorgeous, were just the tiny bit cross-eyed.

I held out my hand to her. "Hi."

She stood up to greet me.

"Hey," she said back.

She was almost as short as Angela, which is to say really short.

She smiled at me and her smile transformed her face. It lit her up until she was absolutely beautiful. She shook my hand firmly. Her hand was warm and dry and she gave me one firm pump up and down and good solid squeeze and then let go. 

In the moment we touched it was like we connected completely. I smiled at her, perhaps the most real smile I had ever given in my life up to that point. 

We both sat down in unison and scooted our chairs in each movement precisely timed to the microsecond like synchronized swimmers.

Angela gave me a look like I was the devil.

Well crap.

Angela was jealous.

"Y'all are going to be fast friends," Melanie said. "You have a ton of things in common."

"Like what?" I said. 

"We're both serial killers," Laura said.

"Sssh, no one knows," I said.

"It's okay to say, they always think you're joking," Laura said.

"The key is..." I said.

"To never take a trophy," we both said at once. I found this both delightful and creepy. 

"You are both hereby un-friended from my Facebook," Shayla said. "And you," she said looking at Laura and leaning away from her, "may never know where I live."

Laura rubbed her hands together in front of her. "My work here is done."

"So what else do we have in common?" I asked.

"You're both rock stars," Melanie said ticking off the items and holding up her fingers. 

"Hmph." This was from Laura. I never argue with this pronouncement.

"You've both recorded exactly three albums. You've have both briefly lived in Los Angeles and New York. You're both Southerners." I'm originally from Texas (the only real southern state) and Laura, apparently, is from Alabama. 

"You're both fabulously funny," Melanie said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said, "Get to the good part." 

"And nice," Melanie said, "and smart." Then she paused. "And you are both are going to marry musicians."

"WHAT!!" I said.

"Well, there is that," Laura said.

"Wait," Angela said, "That's me."

"No," Melanie said firmly pointing squarely at my chest. "You."

I put my hand on my chest and concentrated on ice cream, expensive cowboy boots, and deep breathing. I was worried I was going to hyperventilate. 

"You sprang that on me like that on purpose," I said. 

"Yes, ma'am," Melanie said. 

"Well, jeez," I said.

Melanie's mama, and grandmamma, and great-grandmamma are voodoo-priestesses. Famous ones. Rich, very good famous ones. Melanie's family has lived in New Orleans since before it was a state. Melanie's daddy is a well-off stock broker who came through one day for a torrid affair and Melanie was the result. She grew up partially in the French Quarter of New Orleans but mostly with her dad in New York. She struggled as a model there. Her mother called her back home one day out of the blue when she was twenty. Melanie told her to kiss off. But when her mother told her that her career would blossom like never before here, Melanie came back and we've been listening to the matriarchs read the signs ever since. But they'd never read them for me.

"Did you tell them about Burt yet?" I asked Angela looking to change the subject.

"No," she said. "I just got here about a minute before you did and we were just learning about Laura." 

"The serial killer," Shayla added. "The one who is here for Peter."

"Peter who?" I asked.

"Peter." Melanie said and jerked a finger at the back stage door of Mercury Lounge which, as if on cue, opened and in walked Peter carrying a djembe drum under each arm. 

"You have got to be kidding me," I said.

I looked at Laura with my stare of death which she shrugged off. "What can I say, I'm in love."

I felt a strange molten volcano strangling my intestines and bubbling up inside me. "Where did you meet him?"

"On the internet."

"Um-hum. Where?"

"Facebook."

"Um-humn."

"When? Hmn? Yesterday? The day before?" Tread carefully Adrianna, I told myself.

"No..." she sounded hurt. "Last week."

"Aaaaarrrrgghhh," I said.

"Judge not, lest ye be judged. Throw stones not, lest they land on your own foot," Laura said.

"From a bunt," said Shayla.

"Argh," I said. I was momentarily preoccupied watching Beau take a huge bag of trash out the back door. He was someone who knew everything that went on, good and bad, and he looked distracted and wary. Then I looked back at Laura. "Okay, I'm not sure I really want to hear this, but go ahead, hit me."

"So you see, it started like this..."

"No wait," I said. "First, someone tell me." I took a deep breath here. Deep in my heart of hearts I was afraid to ask but before the story started I had to know. I hadn't seen Peter in a long time. I hadn't heard a status update because he wasn't in my circle and I hadn't cared that much. I looked at Shayla. Peter was married to Shayla's first cousin Tracy. Two years ago I got daily reports that they were fighting. The reports stopped. I assumed it was because they decided to live with it because they decided it wasn't going to get better, or worse. "Shaaaayla. Alright my friend, tell me."

"Separated. Two weeks."

"Cripses. Ooooookaaay. Laura, you have the floor." Crazy lady. I'm glad you don't know where I live either.

"So. I know Facebook is basically a big waste of time, but I decided for my business I should start contacting more musicians. So, I friended James Ogles, and from there all his musician friends, including Jennifer Netes, and jacked all her friends, which included Shayla, and jacked all her friends, which included Peter. When I saw he played the djembe I wrote him because I want to learn the djembe..."

"Of course, he played you, with the 'djembe is a girl magnet card' thing," I said.

She ignored me.

"And then we texted all night."

How do guys who do not know how to hold a conversation learn how to do this? Do they have a Cyrano de Bergerac on the internet renting himself out to fool women?


Mysterious Boyfriends Ch. 02



ALL CHARACTERS IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS ARE OVER 18.

Characters are fictional.

Also, thanks to all the readers who have reached out and become friends. For all those who have sent compliments, this story is for you!

Enjoy!

MJ

*****

Chapter 6

Adrianna: Regarding Laura

Wednesday afternoon I got a text from Shayla. 

'OMG! Laura invited us to ML to show n tell. What do I do?'

I stared at my phone. I tried to remember the days of home phones. Jeez. While I was thinking of what to respond to Shayla I got a text from Laura saying how excited she was, and that she wanted to see all of us tonight. Was seven pm okay? I texted Laura that seven was fine. I texted Shayla that she should chill out and show up at seven.

Shayla, Melanie, and Laura were already at the table when I got there. Laura looked positively radiant.

"Did you see the video of Peter's proposal? Isn't that the most romantic thing y'all have ever seen?" Laura said.

We were all quiet for a moment, which made me think that Shayla must have also told Melanie about 'the speech'. Laura didn't seem to notice however as she had gotten up and done a quick twirl of joy.

"It was the most magical thing in the world," Laura said. "It's totally different from the first time when I was knocked up and my father had to go after Jeff with his shotgun and bring him back."

"What?" That was from Melanie. I thought she was kidding, so I smiled.

"Well," Laura had seated herself again and she scooted closer in to the table. "It's bound to be different right? Being sixteen and pregnant with an older guy you barely know who basically has to say he'll marry you isn't going to seem very romantic. Even though that's the only thing I have to compare it in real life I still think this was the most romantic proposal I've ever heard of, don't you?"

We just stared at her.

I saw my arch nemesis walk in and my face sqwunched up like I was sucking on a sour lemon.

"What?" Laura said.

I had a horrible taste in my mouth and was trying not to stare at the chubby mouth-breathing pig. I took a moment to calm myself.

"That's Bud Bear," Melanie said. "He moved here from Charleston. He's a thief and a cheat and at the top of Adrianna's shit list."

Laura looked at me. 

"He plays, ah-hem, 'music' and it's these pre-recorded musical tracks that he illegally downloads on his computer. Then he plays them while he is preforming and pretends it's him playing the guitar and singing. He jumps around stage to distract from the fact that an entire band sound is coming out of one person. He goes around to bars and venues and says that he can play for less than a band. Bud undercuts the band, puts four or five people out of work, and gets double or triple what each musician would make because there is only one of him. He does a terrible thing and it's a terrible show. But some bar owners go for it because it saves them money."

"What a sleaze ball!" Laura said.

"There are other rumors," Melanie said. "Cheating on women, sexual disease, drugs, fired from some of his day jobs for doctoring the books. But that was all in Charleston. Here as far as we know he's only screwed over musicians."

"The first person I've seen in New Orleans that I know to stay away from," Laura said, twisting in her seat to take a good look at his dark hair and beady eyes.

"Let's talk about something else," I said. "I'm sorry I interrupted you, Laura."

"I was going to say wasn't it the coolest thing to hear Peter propose to me? Wasn't that just the nicest speech you ever heard? I think it was a great idea that we recorded it and emailed it to all our friends and posted it on Facebook. Don't you?"

I'm quite a talker but I just wasn't sure what to say first.

"Well? Melanie?" 

Thank God she did not pick me.

"Anyone who wants to spend the rest of their life with you is filled with smarts and romantic splendor," Melanie said. 

Well done, Melanie.

"There. See?" Laura said.

"You got married when you were sixteen?" Shayla asked. I wasn't sure if she was just making conversation or she was thinking what I was thinking.

"Sure did. Dropped out of school, popped out my Scotty, became a full-time mom. My husband's a jerk but Scott is such a sweetheart I never could regret it."

The use of the present tense regarding the husband wasn't lost on the three of us. Melanie and Shayla looked at me. I looked back at them. How come I get the hard questions?

I got the last one, Melanie's expression said.

"Um, so." Are you still married? No, no. That's not the best way to phrase it. "How long were you married?"

"Twenty-four years."

"No..." Shayla, Melanie, and I all said at once.

"Yup, would you believe it? Twenty-four years. My son has four children. I'm a grandmother."

This last bit just flipped my lid beyond what I could take. I made a noise. "Byoingg-oing-oing-oing."

"I know," Laura said. "It baffles me too. But there it is." She took out her phone to show us pictures. 

"Oh, but first, I have to show you this incredible engagement ring that Peter gave me," Laura said.

Laura put her hand out in Melanie's and we all took a look at woven copper and gold ring with three tiny diamonds all in a row. Shayla's sharp intake of breath had us all looking at her.

"I know, I know, it's gorgeous, right?" Laura said.

Laura and Melanie bent their heads down together to stare at Laura's hand as I mouthed to Shayla, "What?"

Soundlessly Shayla mouthed back, "That's Tracy's ring."

Chapter 7

Adrianna: Regarding Angela

I admired that Shayla was portraying enough of an outer cool that she wasn't hurting Laura by raining on her parade. But I could tell that Shayla was stressing and I was stressing too.

When I'm stressed I eat, I oversleep, or I call Angela. There was no food on the table. I wasn't getting out of ML so easily to crawl back into bed. But option number three roared in to my head like a great big ball of need.

"Where's Angela?" I asked.

"I don't know," Laura said. "She was supposed to be here an hour ago." She put her hand in mine so I could oooh and aah over her ring. 

I felt bad, like the jambalaya I'd eaten was doing the tango in my stomach. I simply stared at the ring and was quiet. What the hell did I know? I didn't know what Tracy's ring looked like. Maybe he just liked the style. 

Laura took her hand out of mine and gave it to Shayla who looked like someone sent a poleax through her forehead. 

"I know," Laura said. "Unbelievable right? That someone would give something so beautiful to me? But here it is. Concrete proof that I am loooo-aaaah-ved."

Oh, crap. This just does not bode well, does it?

Just then Angela walked in. She was tightly tucked and curled under the arm of a man who looked like a combination of just got out of boot camp and a character in a Where's Waldo drawing. 

I half expected to see a book under one arm and a hunting rifle in the other. I immediately checked to see if he was wearing a plastic pocket protector. She looked up at him with an utter adoration that was raw Toll-house cookie gooey.

Ut-oh.

"Everybody, this is Burt."

"Hello, Ladies." His voice was surprisingly rich and deep. Burt was about 5'6", with military short light-brown hair, and tortoise-shell rim glasses. He smiled at each one of us in turn. He held out a chair for Angela.

"Sorry we're late," Angela said. "We were busy."

Burt blushed red from his neck to the roots of his hair. 

Melanie decided to be the one to give this guy the third degree. I was glad because I was already prejudiced against him. First, he'd gotten so neatly around Angela's new no sex on the first date rule. Then, he'd asked Melanie, who he hadn't even met yet, for money. Not the kind of facts that make me impartial. I was trying to appear neutral. I wasn't sure I could do it so I certainly didn't want to be the one asking twenty questions.

Melanie started nice and easy, by asking him his full name.

"Tallalamus Burt Caldwell."

We all stared at him.

"My first name is a combination of syllables of my parent's best friends' names, Tally, Al, and Remus," Burt said. "Burt was my grandfather's name. Caldwell was my mother's maiden name. My father changed his name to Caldwell when they got married. He figured after hundreds of years of women changing their names to match the man's name someone should do it the other way for a change. I don't love my middle name but considering my alternative is Tallalamus, it's not like I have much choice."

"Do you have a job?" Melanie asked.

"I work for an accounting firm."

"Siblings?"

"I have a twin, who has the bad grace to be two inches taller and have better hair. If that wasn't bad enough, he plays the sax better than I do and his name is, argh, Robert.

"I've never been married. I don't have any children. I grew up in Hawaii as a kid. We moved to Los Angeles when I was in ninth grade. No I don't know Brad Pitt.

"I'm crazy about Angela. There's no one else like her."

That's for sure.

"Every time I see her I light up all over."

I can see that.

"What firm do you work for?" Shayla asked.

"Anderson and Wentworth," Burt said.

Melanie whistled.

"Longest relationship?" That was Laura.

"Four years," Burt said.

"What happened," Laura asked.

"She became a born again Christian and I didn't."

The interrogation went on. His voice was melodious and his stories entertaining. He was handsome in that weird combination of strong and muscular yet geeky and intellectual at the same time. I could see why Angela liked him.

Angela waved her hand around and I caught sight of her ring. I was amazed I hadn't noticed it before now.

"Cripses!" Holy shit is more like it. "Wow."

"Wow is right," Melanie said.

"Double that," Laura said.

"It's a dinner ring," Angela said in a fake haughty English accent.

"What's a dinner ring?" Laura asked.

"It was what, in the Victorian era, gentlemen sometimes gave to their betrothed if they were paired up but wouldn't be engaged for a long time," Angela said.

"Sort of a pre-engagement engagement ring," Laura said.

"Exactly," Angela said.

"It's my great-aunt's. Was my great aunt's," Burt said.

"She gave it to us as a pre-wedding present," Angela said. "Isn't it sublime?"

I had to admit that it was. It was obviously turn of the century. It had ten thin gold bands that looked like waves wrapping around fourteen small diamonds. 

"It's like a sparkling ocean," Laura said.

That's exactly what I was thinking.

"It's beautiful. It really is," I said. "Congratulations." I looked at Burt. "I think a family heirloom is a wonderful, classy, thing to give a lady. This piece obviously has a lot of meaning to you and your family. I can't think of a more worth-while person to give it to."

Angela sniffed.

I slapped her gently on the shoulder. "Now stop that. It's true. You're certainly worth diamonds, and gold, and accolades, and love."

"And rubies, and money, and fame," Melanie said.

"And great sex, don't forget amazing noogie," Laurie said.

"Right," Shayla said. "We never forget that, not for a minute." 

"Cheers!" I said. But we only had waters on the table.

"Garcon," Shayla said. "Champaign! We're celebrating!"

"Damn straight we are," Laura said.

Well, I thought. Burt solved his ring problem. He came through nicely with that one didn't he? In fact, he came through with flying colors.

Chapter 8

Adrianna: Regarding Laura

My phone gave the high beep. Text. From Shayla. Crap.

Call me.

Double crap.

The phone rang. I looked at the ID. It was Shayla.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey yourself, Girlfriend. Guess what?"

I sighed.

"Please, let it be news about you," I said. "I don't need gossip."

"No," she said "It's not about me. "It's about Laura. And Tracy."

"Okay. Tell."

"Well, Tracy called me and told me that Peter called her and offered to pay her full price for her engagement ring, and she took it."

"Hhhm."

"And he apologized for asking for it back in the first place. Said he was wrong to have ever asked. Said he was impulsive and he was really sorry."

"Hhhmn."

"And he gave Tracy her wedding ring back and told her that she could do whatever she wanted with it, sell it, keep it, whatever."

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah, oh."

"Well, that's something at least. The numbskull."

"Right, but now listen to this. Then Laura called me and said that Peter asked her for her engagement ring back."

"What?"

"Wait, listen, it gets better. So Peter goes to a jeweler and has a piece custom-made that fits on to the ring in silver that looks like an 'L'. Subtle but classy. The lines of the 'L' hook over and under and around. So now the ring is the same, but different. Then he gives the ring back to Laura and proposes again. He says, 'I wanted a ring that was as special and different and unique as you are. One that you knew was meant especially for you and you alone. Beautiful and custom and something that really says you.' " 

"Hhm," I said.

"It's something that's meant to hook on the engagement ring permanently, but she could also wear by itself if she wanted."

I thought about it.

"So, he fixed the problem with Tracy. He gave Laura her own separate engagement ring, and maintained the first ring he gave her and made it even more special."

"Yup."

"Well, dang."

"Um-hum."

"You seen the piece yet?"

"Laura sent me a pic over her phone."

"How does it look?" I asked.

"Amazing," Shayla said.

"Wow," I said.

"Yeah, wow."

"Well, dang."

"Yeah, dang."

"So, he made an impulsive mistake in the throws of lust but he cleaned it up with love," I said. "And before it was gold and copper and now it's gold and copper and silver and it looks good, so he even had some taste."

"Looks like."

"I'm trying to see a flaw in this plan to see if he's still a jerk," I said.

We were both silent for a minute.

"I don't see one," I said.

"Me either," Shayla said.

"Well, there might be hope for them after all," I said.

"That's what I'm tellin' you," Shayla said.

Chapter 9

Me, Regarding Me: Adrianna

"We decided to pretend the canal was the Sienne and we were actually having a trip on the French Riviera," Angela said as she and Burt walked towards our table at ML. "Isn't it wonderful to be in love in France in March, Mon chéri?"

Shayla made a gagging sound.

"Just you wait, Shay," Angela said. "I heard through the corporate grapevine that they might send Jennifer back down here for a few months."

Shayla sat up straighter. 

"She probably doesn't even know yet herself, or maybe she just wanted to surprise you. I'd wager she'll be down here by the end of next week."

"Whoo-hoo!" Shayla pumped a fist in the air.

"Down, Girl," Melanie said.

"Who's Jennifer?" Laura asked.

Shayla's eyes glassed over in happy bliss.

"Oh, I see," Laura said.

"Jennifer's a big honcho in the parent company that owns the radio stations I work for," Angela said. "She came down here for nine months last year and made Shayla the happiest 90% lesbian -10% bisexual woman on earth."

Shayla smiled.

Peter walked in then. "What did I miss?" He said. He stole a chair from another table and scooted in close to Laura and put an arm around her.

Shayla updated him.

"So," Peter said. "My completely amazing love and I, and Angela and Burt are in pre-wedded bliss. Melanie has Claude in New York, who, jet setters that they are can see each other any time. Now Shayla has the sexy and super competent Jennifer back."

Peter looked at me. "That leaves you."

"I'm fine the way I am, thank you," I said. "I take my pleasure vicariously from y'all. Watching you is more than enough love for me."

"Everyone needs someone to love," Peter said.

"And I have y'all," I said.

Melanie pointed a finger at me. Then Angela pointed a finger at me. Then Laura pointed a finger at me. For one scary second, I felt like I was being stared down by the Witches of Eastwick. 

Shayla giggled and covered her mouth.

"Your time will come," Melanie said in a deep voice filled with the Voodoo sound of her grandmother.

"Just peachy," I said. 

"Garcon," Shayla said. "Get me a vodka martini."

"Me too," I said. "Make mine a double."

Chapter 10 

Regarding the Mystery

Despite extreme protests from Angela, I decided to pass on the drink and call it an early night. Having a powerful blonde, redhead, and an African American model point their fingers at you with ominous warning is enough to send even the bravest of the brave scurrying for cover.

I made it almost as far as the door to the bar. Walking in was a very tall guy, who looked a lot like the actor Sam Elliot when he was younger. He was crackling with a sexual energy and my breath caught.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I said back in the same friendly hello tone. I looked down and kept walking. I stepped around him and walked outside.

"Hey!" He called after me and followed me outside. "You! Pipes!"

I thought I heard a soft "Ut-oh" coming from Angela from our table but with all the bar noise I couldn't be sure.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Have we met?"

"Hey," he said. The word saying clear as day, 'That is not funny.'

"Hey, hey, hey," I sang. "Hey, hey, hey." I sang to a popular tune. "We keep this up we'll be great conversationalists."

He looked at me like I was a total asshole.

"I'm sorry. Are you a fan? I usually make a concerted effort to remember every fan I meet but if it was from a bigger concert maybe if you tell me what city it was in I'll remember." Although I really think I'd remember someone like you.

"If you were going to be like this why'd you invite me out here?" He said.

"Huh?"

It must have been my expression of utter confusion that got him. I think it dawned on us both at the same time. My expression of extreme pissed-offed-ness must have been really amusing because he burst out laughing.

"Would you like to go inside?" He said. He made a gallant sweeping motion toward the door of ML.

"I don't think so," I bit out through clenched teeth. "I'm likely to kill someone. A very particular someone."

"Well, maybe you should wait a minute before you lower the guillotine."

I was still grimacing and it occurred to me that it couldn't look pretty. I was also grinding my jaw. "Do you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Look at this." He took two pieces of paper out of his pocket. The first one was my profile for Match.com. My profile. The one that I didn't write. I growled. I actually growled. It was a low, guttural sound. One that started very low in my body and turned over, like a badly tuned muscle car, in my throat. I could tell I was baring teeth. If I were an animal with fangs they would have been out.

"Down girl."

That actually made me growl louder.

The picture she posted was one from a professional shoot we did for one of my album covers. One that we deemed too sexy to use. My face was getting red. Not because I was embarrassed. Because I was mad. "I'm going to strangle her." She will have no voice. She will not be able to talk for weeks. 

I looked up at this guy. "If you laugh, I will not be happy."

He stayed silent. At least he was smart.

I read through the profile quickly. I had to admit, it did sound like me. Witty, quirky, friendly, self-centered, obnoxious, caring, cute, sweet, open. The facts were completely accurate. Then I remembered. I slapped my forehead in the classic 'I should have had a V-8 motion.' Ten years ago, when Angela and I were both a little tipsy we'd discussed what we'd put on an internet profile if we were ever going to put one up. Damn.

"Why did you bring this?"

"It was so close to mine I thought it was weird. Maybe impossible. I was wondering if you read mine and then maybe changed yours to fit."




Mysterious Boyfriends Ch. 02



I realized there was a page under mine. Holy crap.

I flipped the page. The picture was of two almost identical guys, one with hair down to his shoulders and one with short hair.

"You're one of twins?" I asked.

"No, I have a brother who's 10 months younger than me."

"Wow, you're parents were busy."

"Yeah."

I looked at his profile. I took a sweeping glance at first. We both went to Berklee College of Music. We both went to the same grad school. We had the same majors, the same specialty concentrations. Four out of five of our favorite authors were the same. We listed the same musicians and movies. But what was eerie was that our taglines for our favorite things were almost exactly the same. Mine read 'Here's the way to my heart: Live music and travel, Baby, travel and live music.' 'His read 'The way to this man's heart isn't through his stomach: It's live travel and live music, oh baby, music and travel.' Angela had ended my profile with the signature, Have Pipes Will Travel. 

The thing was I remembered that drunken night those many moons ago with Angela I had said to her the way to my heart isn't through my stomach. (Which for me is pretty significant considering how much I love food.) Then I made up the music, travel, travel, music line. 

I looked up at this Sam-Elliot-but-sexier guy (if such a thing is humanly possible) in wonder. The urge to touch his arm, just to make contact, to stroke him and see what it felt like was stronger than the urge to have a beignet when I was starving hungry right before I went grocery shopping. The air was still crackling and was praying both that he didn't notice and that he did. Alarming and disconcerting. 

"Maybe she did change it to match yours," I said, although I didn't think so.

"Well then I guess she thinks we're a match," he said.

"I'm sorry. She shouldn't have done this," I said. I folded the pages in quarters and held them out to him. 

He shook his head.

I thought about the three of them pointing fingers at me. "I'm really not looking for someone right now. I'm sorry you came all the way out here for nothing."

I stared him down and tried to make my face as impassive as possible. 

His face however was easy to read. The corners of his mouth turned down and a wrinkle appeared in the middle of his forehead. It was a look between wanting and despair. His shoulders slumped slightly and his long hair covered his expression for a second, hiding the wanting that I had seen there. God he had great hair. Sort of a million shades of brown with one huge silver-grey streak on the left side cascading down framing his face.

"It wasn't for nothing," he said.

Then he smiled. I was lost, I knew it.

Damn her. Meddling, meddling, Angela.

"At least let me walk you to your car."

I nodded.

I pointed in the direction I had parked and we began to walk.

"I'm surprised I didn't see you at Berklee," he said. "You're only a few years behind me and I kept my eyes peeled for every beautiful girl on campus."

I liked the way he snaked the compliment in.

"I was songwriting a lot. I spent a lot of time in my dorm and in the studio."

"Still you had to walk to class; I'm surprised I didn't spot you."

"What do you do for work?" I asked, changing the topic. I hadn't meant to engage him in conversation, but here I was, doing just that. His profile had listed his profession as musician, but many people said that but actually had day jobs that paid most of the bills.

"I'm the head guitarist for the RH theatre," he said. 

I could feel my eyebrows rise. The RH theatre did an ongoing musical review of Delta music to packed houses every night.

"Then I play with a rock band, a blues band, and a jazz band. The blues band is at Bee's House of Blues twice a week and the jazz band plays the New Orleans Yacht Club brunches."

"This is my car," I said. I made a gesture to the small red Toyota that was the car I used when I wasn't touring.

He held his hand out to me.

I shook it. 

A tiny jolt of pleasure zinged up my arm and it took all my control not to let it show on my face.

"Sorry again for the mix up." I got in the car and quickly shut the door behind me. I didn't start the car but just stared at him pointedly until he waved and walked away.

The corner of my mouth quirked up. Played blues at Bee's and jazz at the Yacht Club. Those were great gigs. And now I knew where he'd be. Not that'd I go, necessarily.

I hoped I hadn't been rude. I just didn't want to start anything right now. 

I realized I still held his profile folded up in my hand. 

I hadn't even asked his name.

Dang.

#



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Mysterious Boyfriends Ch. 03



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.




Mysterious Boyfriends Ch. 03



Now, instead of having to listen to Angela gushing about Burt, I was listening to how Angela's mother wouldn't listen her.

"But you're not communicating with her," I said to Angela as I folded laundry, again. I spend a lot of time folding laundry. Between my workout clothes, my hang around and do errands clothes, and then my performing clothes, I can sometimes wear three outfits a day so I go through way too much laundry.

"You try and talk to her," Angela said. "I'm the only child. She's so excited. She lives for stuff like this. To hear her talk it's like she hasn't planned an event since 1492 and this is the best time of her life. She is totally getting off on it. It doesn't matter that I don't want 400 fake gold flowers on the wall."

"I'm trying to be sympathetic here," I said.

"Well," Angela said. "She is getting the best of the best. She is taking my input in general, and it will be gorgeous."

"Um-hum," I said.

"She wants doves released," Angela said.

"Good God," I said.

"And a twelve piece band," Angela said.

"Expensive," I said.

"And a huge flower arrangement in the center of each table, plus a mini bouquet at each place setting."

"Oh," was all I said. "Well it'll be grand alright." 

"She keeps thinking like this and Dad will have to take out a second mortgage on the house," Angela said.

"You're just going to have to put your foot down sometime, Angie," I said. "It's your life. You're never going to be what she wants you to be and having the wedding of her life is not going ..."

"I know, I know, but there is no changing this, trust me. She said we do it this way or we can't get married at all!"

I didn't say anything. 

"And I'm dieting, which is making me crabby," Angela said.

"Understandable," I said trying to sound compassionate. There was nothing I hated more than dieting.

"Whoever the photographer is he will only allowed to photograph me from the waist up."

I laughed.

"Angela, every bride is beautiful on their wedding day. I wouldn't worry about it. You'll have a big petticoat and train that will hide all flaws, real and imagined, and you'll look incredible. Now, tell me how I can help."

"You can call that sexy musician so you have a date. That way the photos will look symmetrical."

"God help me, you win." 

Chapter 16 

Adrianna: Regarding the Mystery Man

In the end I caved. I know I should have worn jeans and a nice T-shirt. But they say there's only one chance to make a first impression and I already blew my first impression. There's only one chance to make a first second impression. I wore a red sequin dress worthy of Jessica Rabbit that I had only worn once when I had a gig singing big band music on New Year's Eve two years ago. It had revealed a lot of cleavage and had a slit up the side that showed too much leg. I don't know what I was thinking. I was wearing red strappy shoes that matched. 

I went to Bee's and I sat in the back, hidden in the shadows.

I had only been in Bee's House of Blues once, when I was twenty-one. It hadn't changed much. His band was fantastic, sultry, and balanced, a salty taste in your mouth that made you want to lick your lips, close your eyes and just sway. He was playing an acoustic guitar that cost more than my house payment. I felt brave and sexy and wild. The dress had bolstered my confidence up until now. Then doubts set in. What the hell was I doing?

I closed my eyes and tilted my body so that I put my ears in the direction so I had the best possible angle to hear the music. I got lost in it until the set break and then I snapped back to attention. Now what? 

The house lights came up slightly and pop music flooded the club. My heart hammered in my throat. Would he see me? He turned his back to the audience tucking his guitars and microphone back further toward the wall. He walked off stage and to a side bar, still not seeing me. I waited.

Well? I decided to wait. People came up to him to congratulate him on his playing. Soon he was surrounded. I swirled my drink. I could saunter up and join them but it seemed to forward. I wanted him to come to me. I simply willed him to look my way but he was still mostly blocked from view. Then a couple moved away from him and all of a sudden he stared right at me and his eyes snapped wide. It was like in the movies when time slowed down. He put his drink down on the bar. He walked toward me and my heart began to thunder pound in my chest and up into my throat. Oh my God, I'm going to have to talk to him.

He got to my table made a fist and pounded his heart hard as if trying to restart it. "Oomph. You're trying to kill me."

I smiled. I remembered the line but I couldn't remember what movie it was from. But I took it as the complement it was. "Well, I wanted to make sure you remembered me."

"Trust me, Have Pipes Will Travel, I'll never forget you," he said. "I remember, you're not looking for anything right now. Did you just come to hear the music or do you have another reason for being here?"

"Well, I do actually. First, I want to apologize if I seemed rude at the bar the other day. You just completely caught me off guard and I was so mad at my friend I could have spit nails, hell maybe rail ties or lances. I don't think I really thanked you properly for taking the time to come out I was so surprised and turned around."

"Apology accepted."

"And I was curious to hear you play. Y'all are great."

"Thanks. We try," he said. God he had a great voice.

"But the real reason I'm here it that I need a date for a wedding. Two weddings actually."

"Yes, of course. I'd love to go to a wedding or two with you."

Chapter 17 

Adrianna: Regarding the Mystery Man

His name was, wait for it... his name was Adrian.

"You have got to be kidding me," I said.

"What's wrong with the name Adrian?" he said. "It's a good name. It means strong and faithful."

"I know what it means."

"Oh-kay," he said. 

"Didn't my friend tell you my name when she emailed you?"

"She just signed the emails with the letter 'A'."

That Angela. Tricky. Clever. Devious. 

"Argh." I mumbled to myself. "Really? Adrian?" It's just too weird to be true.

"So? What's your problem with the name Adrian?"

"It's just," I paused. "My name is Adrianna."

There was a pause. Then he burst out laughing.

"You're kidding me."

I smiled. "No."

"Adrian and Adrianna?" He said.

"I'm afraid so, so you see this will never work," I said. 

"We should get married."

I paled.

"We could get discounts on monograms with the letter 'A'. Our invitations could read 'The two Dri's cordially invite you." He tilted his head back and laughed.

I didn't realize how commitment phobic I was until I turned green and my dinner threatened to come up.

I put my hand over my mouth, I hoped daintily, and did some deep breathing.

"We could have a triple wedding all at once and save on the hall, the music, and the catering," Adrian said. He was looking at the ceiling picturing it in jest. Then he looked at me. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I..." I said but I didn't get any further. I fainted.

#



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Mysterious Boyfriends



"He was so funny, and witty, and he's so cute."

Barf, I thought. At least I didn't know Laura well enough for her to read my thoughts.

"So I just had to meet him. So I said, 'when can I meet you?' and he said, 'How about now?' and I thought, okay. So we looked on a map and picked the exact halfway point and got a hotel, with you know, no pressure."

Yeah, right.

"Well I tell you, I hopped in my little pick-up truck right then and there and drove twelve hours to the meeting point and the second I saw him he was so much cuter than his picture that the sparks just started flying..."

Double barf, I thought.

That I could barely get into the room before I had to start ripping his clothes off."

The world has gone mad. Mad, mad, mad. God help us all.

"So then I called in to work and told them I had the flu and I encouraged him to do the same. So, let's see. I friended him Friday night. Text-ed him all night Friday, drove all day Saturday, rode him like he was a mechanical bull going into retirement from Saturday 'til Wednesday. Then he said. 'I can't keep this up. I'm going to have to marry you so I don't have sex with you as often.' " 

She paused while the girls laughed. I just stared.

"And I said, 'Well okay. Where do you want to live?' He said, 'New Orleans, 'cause I heard that in Alabama your family tree goes straight up.' "

She paused for a minute so I could get the joke which I admit took me a minute because I was still trying to process what she was saying. I mean really. She did what?

"So I high-tailed it back home," Laura continued. "Packed up all the stuff from the trailer into my truck until it was overflowing and tied a tarp over it and drove 22 hours straight here. I came straight to ML because Peter told me that every other Friday is open mic night and he wants to show off for me. I'm a little high though from staying up for almost a day straight with just cat naps. Can't wait to see Peter's new place though, he said he got us a nice little efficiency in the Quarter."

"Aaaaahh..." I, usually the most eloquent, loquacious, talkative woman, I know (except maybe for Angela) was at a loss for words. I looked to my friends for help. They shrugged.

I liked this woman. I didn't want to burst her bubble. 

"We set a wedding date for April first. Will you be one of my bridesmaids?"

Good God no.

"Laura, I'm honored. But it's February. That's only two months away. That's not enough time to plan an engagement party let alone a wedding. Don't you think that might be rushing it a little?"

"When it's right it's right."

"But if it is right, then it can wait, too," I said. This is one reason why my friends love me. I'm an amazing counselor. I say it in just the right tone of voice. But this woman had not known me more than a few minutes, certainly not long enough to appreciate sanity from me. I wanted to help but I did not want to seem like I was dumping water on her head. Besides, she was in lust; there would be no talking to her. 

Usually I'm great at sensing what a person needs and what they don't and being there in just the right amount; saying just the right thing.

While I knew my friends love me for my counseling ability, one day it could also be why they'd hate me if I wasn't careful. I generally tried not to do what I wanted to do now which was shake the living shit out of this crazy woman.

"Sure it can," Laura said, "but why wait when we're on such a high of life now? Peter's work agreed to let us use their place for free. For FREE! And it will be super small so it's not like it will need a lot of planning. And April is over two months from now so it is not like we're rushing."

I took a deep breath. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. But she had just driven over 20 hours without sleep. She was going to watch a band perform and they were beginning to tune up. She would never hear much of what I said right now anyway.

I clasped her hand.

"Okay." I said. "I'm your friend. I'll always be by your side." Crazy person.

I looked over at Melanie for sympathy.

'You're next,' she mouthed.

Chapter 3

Regarding Angela and Laura

On the Monday the day after Angela and Burt had sex for the first time, Burt gave Angela his skull and spider ring off his pinky finger and said 'I love you forever' over and over. Angela in turn gave him a silver and turquoise toe ring to wear on his pinky finger. It was adjustable and it was the only ring she had that didn't have a huge fake girly looking ornament on it. They said that because they exchanged rings it was sort of like a friendly pre-engagement engagement and they laughed about it but in a serious way.

That same Monday, unbeknownst to any of us, Peter asked Tracy for her wedding rings back. While he had been gone for two weeks Tracy had no idea that he found and slept with someone else. So I only imagine her shock when he said something along the lines of, 'Oh, and by the way, those rings that I bought for you and gave to you as part of our life long vows and that you've been wearing for sixteen years, mind if I have them back?' She said no. He made his first fatal mistake when he said, 'Why what are you going to do with them?' She replied, 'What are you going to do with them?' Peter, being dense in the ways of women, and socializing in general said, 'I'm going to give them to my new fiancée.' Tracy, too shocked to believe he was serious, thinking he said that just to be cruel handed the rings over.

My February was not the most pleasant of months. (The same could be said of most of March.) That could be in part because Laura and Angela seemed set on seeing who could make me want to puke the most in the game of "Oh, isn't poooky-wooky the cutest-wootest ever." Angela always took the cake hands down, because Laura was so in lust her reports tended to be a little more devilish while Angela was more in the land of 'if this were anymore mushville, sponge cake would be my bedrock'.

I didn't mind that much. Partially because I reminded myself to stay sane with pity little sayings like, 'You can always take up drinking vodka,' (although I didn't drink) and 'Lesbian orgies rarely start or end with, 'Isn't snuggems the cutest-wootest poky-woky you've ever seen?' (Although I wasn't a lesbian) and partially because I was genuinely happy for Angela and happy (and worried) for Laura.

Part of the reason March did not march on and was not exactly a parade was because of the daily cheery texts from Melanie.

Beware.

Or

This could happen to you.

Or 

There's a musician out there with your name on him.

And

Somewhere the Jaws theme is playing 'Do do Do do, DodoDo DodoDo' just for you.

And finally 

We're going to the chapel and we're goin' get mar-r-ried...

I didn't know how to block texts on my phone so I finally had to tell her to quit it.

Burt was an accountant. He had a job at a huge firm but somehow didn't have money for a ring. He asked to borrow money from, wait for it, Melanie. He seemed to think that because she was a model, she would be dying to throw out money to everyone, even though they had never met. Burt, who hadn't met Melanie at this point, actually asked her to lend him money and he asked her over Facebook.

Melanie called me to relay these facts. I was in the walking into the doctor's office for my annual check-up (actually once every four years in my case), without my Bluetooth, which was charging. When she got to the part about him asking her for money I bit my tongue so hard it started bleeding. 

"Melanie," I lisped. "I'll hafe to call you back."

I checked in at the doctor's, got settled in a chair in the waiting room, and called her back, expecting a good bitch fest, but nooooo...Melanie was actually considering it. 

"It's not like I don't have the money," Melanie said. "He said he'd pay it back with a ten percent interest and we could draw up a contract."

Are you crazy! I took a deep breath. Counselors do not yell this at their patients. Of course I'm not a counselor and she's not my patient, she's my friend. Friends yell this at their girlfriends. But instead of yelling at her I tried to think of a more tactful thing to say. "This is not a good idea for a number of reasons." I scrambled trying to put them in order. 

"Angela will resent you no matter what happens," I said. "If you don't tell her, it's a secret between you two. If you do tell her, she will resent you even more than she already does because it will remind her that you are more famous and have more money. Angela will also hate it that you know that her boyfriend didn't have enough money to buy a ring. If Burt reneges and doesn't pay or doesn't pay on time, you'll be angry. On top of all this they've known each other for less than a week. When Angela changes her flavor of the month and Burt is still making payments to her friend it is going to get ugly."

"Hhmmn," Melanie said.

"Yeah, hmmn." I said.

"Still ten percent is ten percent," she said.

"Buy a bond. Fund a drug dealer," I said. "Flip a house."

"This guy seems very charming. He sounds crazy about her."

I gave up. 

"It's your money, Melanie. You can afford to lose it. But your friendship with Angela, can you afford to lose that?"

"That's him calling, what do I say?"

Melanie never asked for advice in her life, from anyone.

"Your call, Supergirl. Follow your heart."

Chapter 4

Regarding Laura

I spent all day Monday alternating between my bed, my bath, my porch, and my hammock. I finished re-reading one really good and very sexy book by J.R. Ward and started another by Marian Keyes when Shayla knocked on my door. 

I was in my bathrobe and fuzzy slippers that vaguely resembled Christmas stockings when I answered the door.

Matchbox jumped up and down. He nearly knocked me over when he saw who it was.

"You've ignored my phone calls and texts all day," she said.

"Hhmnthph," I said. I ran a hand through my hair. I'd gone to sleep when it was still wet, which assured that it was now standing up in odd waves and bumps. "I haven't recharged it, what's up?"

"Well... I need to catch you up," she said.

"Shay...really, how important is it?"

She looked crestfallen. 

"Come in, I'll bake," I said.

She made a face. Shayla was well aware where my talents lay and where they don't.

I love to bake. I hate to clean pans, but I love to bake goodies in those very convenient throw-away aluminum trays. I've read or created about 100 recipes that are really quick to make. Most of them aren't really that good but so far at least none of them are so horrible that you have to worry that they might kill you.

I buried my head in the refrigerator thinking of possibilities considering that I hadn't grocery shopped in a week. When I unearthed myself from the fridge with an armful of goodies, Shayla had set up a small laptop on my kitchen table.

I stared at her considering whether a stare of death or a stare of wariness was more warranted. I opted for the later.

"Whatever it is, don't start yet," I said.

I got out scone mix and corn meal from the pantry. I mixed eggs, buttermilk, corn meal, and the scone mix until I had a type of dough and began to roll it. I cut in blueberries and sliced pears and folded them into pretty twists. I washed my hands, tidied the mess I made and did a quick wipe down of the counters. Then I put my tray in the oven and sat down next to Shayla. 

I got up again. I made us both hot chocolate. I sat down next to her. My cup read 'Rock stars, move out of the way, Mega Star shooting upwards.' It had a picture of a microphone on a shooting star. Her cup read 'I'm sticking to Voodoo'. It had a picture of a rag doll with pins and needles stuck through the heart.

"Thanks," Shayla said.

"Okay, tell me," I said. I looked at her computer.

She pressed a button on her video and I saw Peter in a small beaten-down looking apartment. He was futzing with a digital video camera setting it up on a kitchen counter. There was some bouncing of the video and adjusting of focus and zoom of the frame, for a moment fingers came over the screen. Then finally I saw Laura sitting at the kitchen table, biting her bottom lip. She managed to look nervous and regal at the same time.

Peter came and sat next to her, very close, looked at the camera and then at her. He took out a folded and crumpled piece of paper.

"I wanted to make sure I said everything perfectly so I wrote it all down," he said. "You're the most wonderful person I ever met. You make me laugh, you make me smile. And I promise I'll never make you cry. You're magnificent. Your eyes are magnificent, your lips are magnificent, your toes are magnificent, and everything in between is magnificent. I love you. I loved you from the moment I saw you. So it's no wonder I want to marry you. I only want to be with you. Now, and always, and forever. So please be my wife."

Laura broke into tears and hugged him.

"So that's a yes?"

"That's a yes!" Laura said. "Hooray!"

They both waved at the camera and that was the end of the video.

"Sweet," I said.

"Uh-huh, sweet," Shayla said. "That's the exact speech he gave to Tracy sixteen years ago. Verbatim."

"Shit," I said.

"Yeah."

Shayla looked at me with a look that said 'Okay, I've told you, now you have to do something about it.'

"Unt-ah. Not on your life. No way, Jose´. I don't know what you're thinking but ah... not me."

"You're the one who's always saying if you weren't pursuing music you would want to be a therapist. How you are a natural counselor," Shayla said.

"How true, and as the group's natural counselor I have to tell you my counseling is for you to not stick your nose in this."

"We have to do something," Shayla said.

"Like what?" I asked.

Shayla touched her lips and looked up. She came up with zip.

"Exactly," I said. "You've got nothing. What Peter did is supremely tacky. It's uncouth. But it's not illegal."

"It shows to his character."

"It does," I said.

"And we're Laura's friends."

"We are."

"And that's slimy," Shayla said.

"Mmn-hmn."

"And lazy."

"Mmn."

"And...and...and..."

I waited.

"Well, foo," Shayla said.

"You said it, Sister."

"We have to warn her somehow."

"Of what? That a speech worked so well he thought he'd use it again?"

"Well, yeah."

"Shay. He's a married man. He's married, not divorced. Mar-ried. As in, married. He's only been separated for two weeks. Laura knows this. He slept with her after being separated from Tracy for a week. That right there says something about him. She's not thinking rationally. If you tell her that this is the same speech she used on Tracy how is that going to make her feel? About him and about you?"

Shayla just looked at me.

"So you're not going to do anything?"

"Me? Me? Why does it always have to be me? Why not Angela? She's the big mouth," I said.

"You're the big mouth."

"Oh."

"Well, okay," Shayla said. "I was just busting your chops. She's the big mouth, but you're the diplomat."

"You're just saying that because you want me to do something."

"Ah-hmmn."

"Shayla, Tracy's your cousin. You're the one who knows the speech is the same. What do you think is the right thing to do?"

"Maybe I could ask Laura to ask Peter how he came up with the speech?"

"It's getting too complicated for me, Shay. How's Tracy doing?"

"She's devastated, she had no idea he'd ever leave. She's absolutely crushed. And, wait for it, she's five weeks pregnant, and doesn't want to tell him."

"And you've been on my case about his engagement speech? Talk about burying the lead."

Chapter 5

Regarding Angela

I moved from Texas to New Orleans when I was in starting the eighth grade. Angela and I were assigned as biology partners (yes, bisecting a frog, as cliché as that seems) and have been best friends ever since.

Angela and I have a lot of things in common. We're both movie fanatics. (We can quote lines, actor's names and stats, directors, the production studios, year of releases, award won, etc.) We are both natural redheads. (Although hers is a beautiful light strawberry blonde and mine is a very dark mahogany that looks brown in dim light.) We both love music. (I prefer Rock n' Roll and she prefers Easy Listening but we both love all types and are music fanatics.) Most importantly, we both have an incredibly strong need to be famous that is a subtle vein underlying everything we say or do.

Angela is strikingly beautiful. She resembles Naomi Judd when she was younger. She has skin that is so white that she orders her make-up from a horror film movie effects company that specializes in vampires and dead people to get a shade ghostly enough for the proper shade of her porcelain radiant skin. Her blue eyes are the palest of skies. Her lashes are so long they curl back and touch the tops of her eyelids. She has the most symmetrical face I've ever seen, with a small pert nose, high cheek bones, and perfect white teeth.

You'd think that someone who was blessed with all that would have the kind of super high self-esteem that Angela projects. She probably would have if she had a killer body or an average body. But Angela was 4'11" and ½ and she wore a size 16 - 18 top and a size 24 bottom. Her last name was Rhineman but the kids at school had called her Rhino-woman. Angela felt deeply that world started and ended by how well she could hide her pear shape. 'It's not exactly a pear. It's really more of a 'I'm carrying two Harley Davidson satchels under each side of my skirt shape,' Angela often said.

So while Angela was a stellar actress, and so funny she would have made a great comedian, the two things in life she really wanted to be, she went into radio. 

I followed my dreams as a singer songwriter. I would never have the amazing physical beauty of either Angela or Melanie. I looked more or less like a girl-next-door type. I kept my hair shoulder length or a little longer. I worked out every day to keep my body toned. With help from make-up artists, wardrobe people, lighting specialists, and photographers I could look pretty good myself. But no one was going to use my face as a cast for new goddess dolls like they could with Angela.

Fortunately for Angela, she also had a great speaking voice. When she concentrated she could turn on the dulcet tones of a really great radio announcer. She had a job with an internet music station called Key-spade. She ran three half-hour shows. "Easy Fixes", which was an Adult Contemporary / Easy Listening station where callers could call in with problems that should have a simple fix to them; the "Don't Be Dumb" show, which played romantic tunes and gave out advice about men (yes, from Angela, God help y'all N'orleans) and Angela's Angels, a hard core Alternative station that made Metallica look gentle. It starred bands whose lyrics even I couldn't make out featuring music Angela detested.

Angela lived in Metaire, and the recording studio she used for her broadcasts was only five blocks away. Angela records from noon to one-thirty. Usually we talk once at about eleven thirty as we take our morning walks, and then again at around seven or eight o'clock. She tells me about her day - what "easy fixes" questions were called in and what she recommended, who requested four old Nine Inch Nails songs in row, etc. I tell her if I'm preparing for a gig, if I had a jam session, wrote a new song, or booked a tour date.

Burt was over her house every day. Apparently he worked east of the city. He got off at five o'clock and hoofed it over to her apartment by five thirty. The first day I called, he was singing in the background. Off key, but not altogether unpleasant. 

She talked for a while about how luscious Burt's body was and how great his personality was while he sang "The Time of My Life", the theme song from Dirty Dancing in the background. I ended the call realizing that we hadn't talked about her day, or mine, and I knew nothing more about Burt other than that he had an amazing broad chest, just the right amount of chest hair, a washboard stomach, a beautiful voice, etc.




Mysterious Boyfriends



"She's a grown woman, a grown well-balanced woman. She's learned from her past. She's knows what she's doing," I said out loud to myself.

Angela called me back, giggling. "And all his underwear is Calvin Klein! I love Calving Klein underwear!" Then she hung up.

Oh, God. Help me. This cannot be good.

# # #

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Copyright belongs to MJ Roberts 2014. Please do not reproduce without permission from the author. 



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