Northwestern was known for its Communications program and I knew that I wanted to major in something where I would be able to use my innate ability to write and speak publicly. Mostly, I was good at mouth-ing off and could have taught an AP class in Bullshitting 101.
It was there in Chicago, nearly twelve years ago, during my senior year that my life 28/727
fell apart. Even with what happened, though, somehow I managed to finish up and graduate.
Three years after the nightmare senior year, while working in Chicago, I began an affair with an older woman named Lana Ford, who happened to be a broadcasting agent. I had taken a position as her intern and even though Lana was fifteen years older, she taught me everything she knew—in the boardroom and the bedroom. I would follow Lana around during the day while she met with clients and then we’d head back to her loft at night. I was closed out emotionally after what happened to me back at Northwestern anyway, so the fact that she was using me for sex and I was using her to get ahead suited me just fine. I didn’t want to feel my heart break ever again. I didn’t want to feel anything at all, for that matter.
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One day, Lana found out I took one of the other young female interns back to her loft, so she cut me loose. She had to know it wasn’t going anywhere romantically, but she was…understandably, very bitter. I thought she might try to sabotage me, but I immediately got another better internship, safely working under a male this time.
I eventually used the (non-sexual) experience I gained from watching Lana, to snag an actual junior agent job in the Chicago office of D.N. Westock. I worked my way up the ladder and began representing some major names in the Chicago area before being transferred to the Boston office. I requested the transfer to Boston four years ago after my father died suddenly of a heart attack.
I wish I could say the day my father died felt like was the worst day of my life, but I had already experienced that day eight years earlier.
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After I moved back to Boston, I was more determined than ever to forget everything that happened in Chicago. That is, until now. Four years after arriving back home, I now have to face my past again. I just couldn’t believe out of everywhere in the country, she was so geographically close to me. I have to see her again, if nothing else, just to stare at her beautiful face.
For now, I’d have to see Karyn.
“Hi hon. What took you so long?” Karyn asked sitting with her high heels crossed over my desk, clutching her usual venti non-fat two-pump vanilla latte. She handed me a now cold tall coffee.
I lied. “I had a meeting with a potential client outside of the city.”
“Anyone good?” She batted her eyelashes and twisted her straight blonde hair into a bun.
God, yes, someone good, I thought.
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“Yes, this one might have a lot of potential.” I immediately pictured Allison and lost all attention to what Karyn said in response. Allison was simply gorgeous and my girlfriend’s looks paled in comparison.
I thought about Allison’s features: small nose, full lips and straight long beautiful dark hair that landed in the middle of her back. She could easily pass for a model, except for her shorter height. And I mentioned her eyes… her eyes. They were unusually huge…a light green with speckles of gold.
There was something about those same eyes though that made me sad, sensing something in them that told me her life hasn’t been easy as of late. I couldn’t take my eyes of them, though. I did just long enough to glance down at that tight uniform that had her name stitched on the front of her perky breasts.
Karyn interrupted me from my stupor. “Where do you want to go eat 32/727
tonight…Sonsie?” She winked sarcastically.
She knew I hated going to those fancy places on Newbury Street. I was much more a takeout and Netflix kind of guy. Plus, I spent most afternoons wining and dining clients at frou-frou restaurants.
“Actually, I am thinking we should stay in tonight, I had a long day,” I said.
I was emotionally exhausted from the experience at the diner and wished I could just be alone tonight.
“Ok, whatever,” Karyn hissed, walking over to me to sit on my lap. Running her fingers through my hair, she asked, “Any word from WANY in New York? Didn’t you send my demo reel there last week?”
“Karyn, do you know how many agents are trying to get their clients that anchor gig? Believe me, if they are interested, we’ll hear from them. Personally, I think it’s a long shot for you. You have no desk experience, just street reporting. I think they are 33/727
looking for more of a bubbly type; it’s a morning show gig and babe…bubbly you are not.”
Karyn frowned, “Well, I want you to push for me anyway.”
Karyn was the I-team reporter for one of the Boston stations. While she was pretty, her tone on-air was serious and it pained her to smile. Not my usual type, she can be brass and cold, but deep down, I like to believe she is a good person. She came from a wealthy family in Darien, Connecticut and got her start based on the fact that her mother was a big broadcasting exec in New York. Her father was a brain surgeon and Karyn wanted for nothing growing up, having gone to private schools and private resorts her whole life…nothing like my childhood.
Dating Karyn was convenient, though.
She understood the industry and the demands of my job and she was available and attractive. She never seemed jealous when I 34/727
worked closely with young attractive wannabe TV stars, coaching them. Best of all, she didn’t push me to open up emotionally, something I haven’t done in years with a woman. Karyn didn’t seem to expect much, except keeping up appearances and sex. I was happy to oblige on the latter, but after a while with Karyn, the sex had become ordin-ary, without the chemistry that existed in the first months of dating. It was still good, just vanilla (like her predictable latte).
*** That night, Karyn and I got Thai food from the place on the corner of my street and later, she left to sleep at her apartment on the other side of Boston. She had to wake up early to work the morning show and introduce her exclusive investigative report on the rise in Chinatown massage parlors being used as fronts for prostitution. Just as well. I 35/727
wanted to be alone with my thoughts tonight.
It was bad enough that the entire time Karyn was going down on me, Allison was the only thing I could think about. How pathetic that I imagined it was her instead of Karyn and that it was the only way I could finish.
As I lay in bed, the moonlight was exquisite. Beacon Street was quieter than usual and that helped, because I had a lot on my mind tonight, namely deciding whether I would venture back to that diner ever again once I calmed down and whether I would open the can of worms that would emerge from that. I had to come up with a story if I were ever going to show my face again there.
I reached for my iPod and immediately searched for my smooth jazz play list, putting on some Diana Krall. I looked up at the ceiling, thinking about the woman who mesmerized me at the diner today, wishing I 36/727
could have met her under different circumstances and knowing that the truth would turn her world upside down.
CHAPTER 3
ALLISON
The train ride back to my apartment in Malden seemed to go by in a flash tonight.
Maybe it was all the fantasizing about Blue Eyes and his fifty-dollar bill. And of course, the number fifty leads to thoughts of the book I just read…which leads to thoughts of bondage and billionaires. That guy certainly could pass for a real-life Christian Grey.
Heck, he was better looking than the man I imagined when reading that delicious smut.
I blame my roommate Sonia for introducing me to my favorite pastime and escape: erotic romance novels. She knows I need a distraction from the year I have had.
Even a scandalous book could not keep my interest right now, though.
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My mind was all over the place as the train went underground and the darkness of the tunnel matched my depressive state.
Thinking about him almost made me miss my stop. What is wrong with me? So, a good-looking guy comes into the diner, leaves a big tip and walks out. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Maybe Sonia can analyze this for me.