Jackpot! (10 page)

Revenge can be so gratifying, I thought. “Well, it was nice seeing you guys,” I shouted enthusiastically, “Nice meeting you, Emma!” Then, with a wave and a smile, I was off.

I practically ran down the block, the entire way wondering how the hell, after experiencing Emma, I could be doing what I was about to do. I was on my way to meet Max, get back together with him, and then get married and pregnant a.s.a.p. Was I going to have an Emma soon? The thought of that was making me crave a Xanax in a huge way.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like kids. Even with what Emma had just done I thought she was cute. It was just that I was afraid of them. Having a child seemed like being out of control of a lot of things; something I wasn’t very good at. And let’s not forget the drilling in my head by my ex that I wasn’t meant to be a mom. “I was too selfish. I liked my freedom, my independence.” Looking back, I realized he was talking about himself.
He
was selfish.
He
liked his freedom,
his
independence. He also liked to sleep with other women (which I didn’t know at the time) so that gave him little time for kids. And even though I realized the damage he’d done to my mental state, it was hard to recondition myself that maybe I
could
be a good mother.

When I reached the entrance of
Topo Gigio
, I pulled out my Bobbi Brown Truffle lipstick and reapplied. I realized I was sweating, combination nerves and Emma. Once inside, the smell of good old fashioned Italian cooking should have been appealing to me. Instead, I felt nauseous. I looked around the room and saw Max, already seated and drinking a glass of wine. He waved me over. It was funny. This was sort of déjà-vu of the
Morton’s
night, only for some reason, Max didn’t look nervous. He appeared relaxed.

I took a deep breath and approached his table. This was going to be torturous. I was going to have to apologize, stroke Max’s ego and perhaps even grovel to get him back. Not that I thought it would be difficult. I was sure he’d get back together with me. Nonetheless, I would have to falsely admit I made a mistake and then tell Max I loved him, which was also untrue.

“Hi, sweetie,” I said, just before kissing Max’s cheek and sitting down across from him.

Surprisingly, his reception was cool, almost cocky. “Hi,” was all he said. It was obvious his defenses were up, and now I realized that selling the idea of getting back together might take some effort.

Max promptly ordered me a glass of Shiraz, and I joked to the waiter (I wasn’t really joking) “a big glass please.”

The waiter rolled his eyes and Max didn’t laugh. It was so awkward, I wanted to shoot myself.

After a few moments, Max finally threw me a bone. “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know,” he said, his tone semi-sweet.

“Thanks,” I smiled back, humbleness in my voice.

After another moment of awkward silence, Max blurted out, “You want to get back together, don’t you?”

I suddenly felt amazingly relieved. “Oh Max, thank you for making this easy. I could hug you!”

“No problem,” is all he said.

Things couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable. “Look, I realize I’ve hurt you deeply. But can you find forgiveness in your heart?”

He didn’t answer. He just sat there staring at me. Was he deciding what to say? What to do? This was absolutely brutal!

Lucky for me, a minute later my drink arrived, which I gulped down almost entirely in one sip. When I put down the glass, Max had a smirk on his face.

“Please talk to me, Max. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The next thing I heard was a woman’s voice. “Took forever to find a spot!” she exclaimed. Was she talking to
us?
I was confused.

I turned and saw that a big-boned, slightly overweight blonde had appeared at our table. She kissed Max on the lips and sat down. “You must be Jamie!” she exclaimed, as she stuck out her hand to shake mine, “I’m Bonnie. I’ve seen you on WGB. You’re adorable!”

Suddenly I was dizzy, and the wine had little to do with it. Bonnie was joining us for dinner? Things were fuzzy. What exactly was going on?

“Hi,” I managed to say. I looked at Max, waiting for an explanation. All I got, though, was a polite smile, which pretty much expressed the joy he was getting from this whole situation.

What happened next took things to an even more bizarre level. “So,” said Bonnie, taking her left ring finger and practically pushing it into my face, “What do you think?”

My mouth was hanging wide open. This chick was showing me her engagement ring! Even more shocking, it was the exact three-carat oval diamond ring Max had given me just days earlier.
My
ring was now sitting on Bonnie’s pudgy finger.

I turned to Max, almost afraid to look at him, and asked gently, “You’re engaged?”

Max then got the satisfaction he must have been dreaming about for days. “Yup,” he said in a most self-assured voice, “Bonnie is the perfect woman for me.” Then he put his arm around his girl and looked right into my eyes. The happy couple was glowing and smiling at me for what seemed like ten minutes.

In all the years I’d known Max, I’d never met Bonnie. And Bonnie had never known I was the reason Max broke up with her. Max and I had met through my ex-husband, John. John was a trader at the Chicago Board of Trade and Max was one of his clients. It was actually through Max that I found out John was cheating on me. I had been suspicious, but never had proof until one day.

“Honey,” said my husband in a most sincere voice, “I won’t be around tonight. I’m meeting Max for dinner at
Tavern on Rush.
”

“Really?” I asked him in the disappointed tone I now used so often, “Again?”

“Listen, Jamie, I’m trying to make money for us and that means working. Do you think I want to go to dinner with Max? It’s work, not fun. Don’t you think I would rather be with you?”

“Of course,” I answered, although not quite convinced. John’s words sounded so rehearsed and at the time, what I really felt like saying is, “No. I think you’re full of shit.” I held back, however, and decided to take his word for it, rationalizing the situation by reminding myself that Max was one of John’s biggest clients, and that it would be good for John to wine and dine this guy, who I knew had tons of money and loved to trade.

So instead of acting like a needy wife, I decided to make some plans of my own for the night. After all, just because my guy wasn’t available, it didn’t mean I had to sit home. I called a couple of girlfriends and made plans to meet them for dinner at
Sunda
, a hip new place in River North.

That evening, decked out in my best
Hudson’s
, a gold halter top, and three inch heels, I headed to the restaurant. While waiting for my friends to arrive, I ordered a dirty martini. Just as I put the rim of the glass to my lips, I got the shock of my life. There was Max, standing a few feet away. My eyes wide, my body frozen, and my mouth wide open, I knew instantly that tonight’s events were setting the stage for the beginning of the end of John and me. I took a deep breath and walked over to Max.

“Hi,” I said, praying Max would tell me they had a change of plans, that John was here, and that he was in the bathroom. I knew that was a fantasy, though.

“Jamie, hello!” Max replied, “Are you meeting John here?” He obviously had no clue that he was my husband’s alibi for the night.

Tears instantly filled my eyes.

“Oh my God,” said a confused Max, “What’s wrong?”

I told Max about the lie.

“Are you kidding me?” he responded. He seemed really angry.

As I began to cry, Max comforted me. I could tell how sincerely upset he was about the situation. It was so strange. Max made me feel very calm. He felt like a big brother to me that night, staying with me until my friends arrived, and then per my wishes, putting me in a cab. Max also offered to cancel his plans and go somewhere with me and talk, but I declined. Instead I went home and waited for my scumbag of a husband to walk in the door, which he did at 3:00 a.m. Actually he didn’t walk in, he staggered in.

I waited until the next morning to confront the very hung-over jerk, and after a lot of screaming, yelling, arguing and saying cruel things to each other, we decided we needed time apart. John moved out two days later, and shockingly, I barely heard from him again, except for a few random phone calls regarding legal documents that had to be signed. I found out later that John’s cheating had been going on almost the entire time we’d known each other.

A few days after John left, Max called.

“John told me you guys split up,” he began, “I want you to know that I closed my account with him. I will never do business with John or his firm, ever again.”

“Really?” I asked, feeling both surprised and impressed by his decision.

“Absolutely,” Max answered, “Knowing what I know now, I have a hard time trusting that guy. And trust is pretty darn important when you’re playing with the kind of money I play with.”

Max’s voice was soft and gentle and it made me feel relaxed and at ease. Also, the fact that he had more money than anyone I knew made me feel safe with him. Not that money was a huge priority, but after what I’d just been through, wealth and stability seemed to go up on my list of important qualities in a guy.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I soon found myself very attracted to Max. He made me feel like a little girl with a security blanket. He wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but he was a big guy. He wasn’t witty and charming, but he was kind and gentle. And he wasn’t sexy, but he was someone I could depend on. So when he asked me out for lunch I agreed, making it clear to him that I knew he had a girlfriend and our relationship had to stay strictly platonic, which was convenient for me since I wasn’t interested in dating him (or anyone) anyhow.

Lunch led to another lunch the following week, which led to coffee a few days later, and then to dinner, a few days after that. Max and I were becoming friends but nothing more, mostly because there was no attraction on my part, but largely due to Bonnie, who he was planning to marry. So why was Max continuing to pursue me? It wasn’t like he was cheating on Bonnie, yet Bonnie knew nothing about our relationship. And although it seemed a little bit wrong, I didn’t care that much because I liked my new friend, and as long as we weren’t physical with each other, technically there was no issue.

I needed Max’s friendship. He listened, he cared, and he made me feel good about myself. He idolized me, and that was such a foreign feeling. And according to my mother, who was Max’s number one fan from day one, it was healthy.

Our get-togethers continued platonic for a couple months, until one night. I invited him to the U2 concert at Soldier Field. Someone at the station had gotten a bunch of free tickets and had offered two to me. For some reason, I really wanted to take Max. We had a great time. I was surprised at how much fun he could be. I was also impressed (and shocked) that he knew most of the songs.

After the concert, we decided to continue the festivities, hitting the bars until they closed. I couldn’t believe it. Straight-laced, nerdy Max was actually really fun. I found myself having a great time. Max wasn’t a stud or anything, but he was tall and big, and when I was next to him I felt protected. And after a few cocktails, and the lonely feeling of not having had sex for almost six months, I felt attracted to him. We ended up in bed that night.

Now, I have to admit, part of me felt sick about being “the other woman.” I had been so disgusted by my cheating, slimy husband, and now I was just like one of the many women who slept with him when she knew he was married. Bimbo was the word that kept coming into my brain to describe myself. I also felt sorry for Bonnie, because she was me. She would find out that her boyfriend cheated on her, breaking a bond of trust that could never be repaired.

But when Max told me the next morning that he was breaking up with her, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with me, I felt a little bit better.

“Jamie,” he said, holding my hands, “Even if I never met you, the fact that I was able to form a friendship with another women like I have with you, has made me realize that my emotional connection with Bonnie is lacking. I promise you, even if I’d never met you, I’d be ending the relationship.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He gave me a big grin and said, “I don’t feel the spark with her. And every time I see
you,
I can barely breathe.”

That day, Max drove over to Bonnie’s place and broke up with her.

“Bonnie,” he said holding her hand, “You know how much I love you, it’s just that I need some time to go out there and have fun. I hope you understand.”

Naturally, Bonnie was devastated. According to Max, however, she did make a bold statement. “You go out there and date around. I’m okay with that. You know why?” She looked him right in the eyes and said, “Because I guarantee you’ll be back.”

As fate would have it, and surprising to all three of us, Bonnie had turned out to be right. Here I was, sitting at a table with her, staring at the hand-me-down engagement ring.

Physically, Bonnie was nothing like Max had described her. Max made her sound like she was three hundred pounds and looked like Valerie Bertinelli (but blonde) pre Jenny Craig. I couldn’t have disagreed more. The woman sitting next to me had a nice body. Yes, Bonnie was a bigger girl, but she was very attractive. Plus, she was dressed well, had good hair with nice highlights, and was extremely well accessorized with three long silver chains around her neck and her Philip Stein watch.