The Alex Chronicles:Girlfriends & Secrets (2 page)

Turns
out, all those times he was proposing to me, he had a side piece in
Long Beach. He
’
d tapped
that piece so much he slipped up one night and forgot to suit up.
So when he wanted to get back together he confessed. Like the idiot
head I was, I took him back. He even introduced me to his side
piece and their son.

Here I
was saving myself, and he was out tapping anything with a pulse. I
didn
’
t tell my
girlfriends that Jonathan and I were engaged. I just told them we
were back together. They all said they were shocked that I took him
back. They didn
’
t
understand that I saw something in him they didn
’
t.

This time
was different. We went engagement ring shopping and were making
wedding plans. Jonathan agreed to counseling, and I was even
warming up to the idea of marriage and being a step mother. I still
wasn
’
t happy about
having his side piece, I mean ex-side piece, in our lives, but she
came with the kid.

The last
time he proposed, we didn
’
t tell anyone. Instead, he gave me an ultimatum,
“
Marry me when I return from my
conference in two weeks. If you back out, it
’
s over for good.
”
I still hear those words replaying in my
head, followed by a sharp chill in my bones.

I knew my
friends didn
’
t approve
of my marrying Jonathan, so I decided to do something impulsive. I
packed a bag and bought a first class ticket to Milan to surprise
my fianc
é
. Oh man,
it
’
s been over ten
years, and it
’
s still
difficult to tell this story. I knew he
’
d be in Milan another week for the conference. My
plan was to surprise him and elope after his conference, and then
do something small with our family and friends when we
returned.

The day before I was to leave to surprise
Jonathan, I got a phone call from one of his friends who was
attending the conference. Jonathan had had a massive heart attack
and died. I was devastated. My girlfriends rallied and helped me,
despite their feelings about Jonathan.

Instead of planning a wedding, I planned his
funeral.

I never
told anyone, not even my mother, that I was planning to surprise
him and elope. I still have the plane ticket. I
don
’
t know why, but I
keep it in my bag. If I had married him when he first asked, he
wouldn
’
t have been
alone. It hurts me to know he died alone. I should have been
there.

I have
been trying to heal, and my girlfriends keep telling me
it
’
s time to move on. I
have in a way. It
’
s been
over ten years and there have been a few men, but nothing
serious.

Bless my
friend, Dionne. She
’
s
made it her mission to find someone for me. I really wish
she
’
d stop trying,
because she
’
s not good
at it. I was dating this very handsome media consultant named
Quentin Burke. On paper we were perfect for each other, but I think
it was poor timing and no chemistry. Those two things and that
meddling mother of his, were the reason we broke up. I think we
lasted about six months. We
’
re still friends. In fact, he
’
s my publicist.

I
introduced him to Dionne. The sparks flew and a few months later,
they were married. Ever since I planted a good man into her life,
she feels the need to do the same for me. I really wish
she
’
d stop, but she
won
’
t. After her last
little matchmaking effort, I threatened to cancel our
friendship.

She invited me to dinner with her and Quentin
and left out one very important detail. When I arrived, Quentin met
me at the door with a glass of wine.

“
I
’
m sorry, I
didn
’
t know.
”

I
didn
’
t understand what
he meant. I took the glass, stepped inside and sitting on the sofa
talking to Dionne was a shiny yellow brother with a pony tail
hanging down his back. Dionne looked up and noticed I was heading
out the door. She jumped up, walked over and pulled me over to the
sofa and introduced me to my "date".

When he
stood up, it was even worse. He was wearing a powder blue suit,
navy blue shirt with the buttons undone to reveal his Mr. T gold
chain collection sitting on a bed of tight black curls. I
don
’
t like hairy men. I
turned the glass up finishing the fine red wine in one gulp. This
definitely would have been a good time to start drinking hard
liquor. Saying I was a little pissed with Dionne would have been
like calling a broken leg a sprain.

I looked
at Dionne wondering what she could have been thinking. I looked
down at my "date
’
s
”
feet, and
staring back at me were light blue patent leather brogues and
matching socks. I didn
’
t
know what to think, but I knew what to say. I just
didn
’
t want to say it
out loud.

“
Excuse
me.
”
I put my empty
glass on the table and hurried down to the powder room.
“
Okay God, I know
Dionne meant well, but
…
really
…
what was she thinking?
”
I let out a sigh, touched up my lipstick and took
that long walk out to the worst blind date of my life.

“
Are you
all right Alex?
”
Dionne
asked.

I
couldn
’
t believe she
stood there with a smile on her face asking me if I was all right?
Of course I wasn
’
t all
right! I stood staring at one of my best friends, wondering at what
point did she think setting me up with a black Smurf was a good
idea.

“
I
’
m...
”
Quentin handed me another glass
of wine.
“
Thank
you.
”

“
Sorry,
it
’
s not something
stronger,
”
Quentin
whispered.

“
So am
I.
”
I turned up the
glass and gulped half in one swallow.
“
I
’
m
sorry, I didn
’
t get your
name.
”

“
Eddie.
”

During dinner, Eddie the black Smurf sat
sneering at me like I was a piece of cornbread he wanted to slop up
with some greens. I looked across the table at this person my
friend set me up with, and wondered how much longer I would have to
endure this fiasco. Watching him eat was almost as disturbing as
looking at him in that light blue suit. I closed my eyes and
pretended I was someplace else.

In my
mind, I was on a remote island with a hot, sexy, dark chocolate
man. He was feeding me strawberries, the juice running down the
side of my mouth He gently caught the sweet juice with his soft,
full lips. If Dionne was going to fix me up, why
couldn
’
t it have been
with the man in my fantasy, instead of Eddie the black Smurf? When
I opened my eyes, Eddie the Smurf, was still talking incessantly
about his ex-wife and his massive alimony payments.

My phone
rang, breaking the spell of my fantasy. I jumped up and ran into
the kitchen to answer the call. Once in the kitchen, I turned the
ringer off. It wasn
’
t a
real call, but my
“
911
dating emergency call".

When I
was in the powder room earlier, I had set a "911 dating
alert.
”
That
’
s when you
set the alarm on your phone to ring at a certain time. Once you
pick up
“
the call" you
become an Academy Award winning actress, and recite your escape
monologue. My cousin Taylor hipped me to that little trick, and
over the years I got very good at using it. So tonight, when I saw
the black Smurf, I knew what I had to do.

“
Okay
…
no, I
understand
…
uh
huh
…
I
’
ll be right there.
”
I went back into the dining room, made my
apologies and left.

Before
Dionne got with Quentin, she dated... let
’
s just say... she always managed
to
…
she
’
s a sweet
heart, but
…
it seemed she
was always dating someone else
’
s Boaz. Like the guy who only wore Los Angeles Lakers
attire. He didn
’
t care
if it was basketball season or not. And when the occasion called
for something a little
“
more dressy
”
, he
broke out his favorite purple suit and accessorized it with a white
and yellow striped shirt and Lakers tie. I caught a glimpse of the
jacket lining once. Inside he had the entire Lakers starting
line-up hand painted on the lining. I had one word for him and it
wasn
’
t
“
Fantastic
”
. It was
“
Fanatical". Dionne thought he was the one...her
Boaz. That
’
s if Boaz was
a basketball fanatic and a tacky dresser. His idea of a romantic
night out was to take her to his favorite sports bar,
“
Nothin
’
But Net
”
for happy hour. They got along great until she
disagreed with him over the Lakers draft choice. He dropped her
like a long distance three pointer...
“
swish".

She
’
s my girl,
but I couldn
’
t take
another day listening to her blame herself for her relationship
falling apart. So, I arranged a little impromptu meeting between
her and Quentin at the store. They hit it off ,and now three years
later she
’
s trying to do
the same thing for me.

_________________________

If my
girlfriends knew about my plans to elope with Jonathan they
wouldn
’
t be too
surprised. However, if they knew my other secret,
they
’
d be pissed and
would stop speaking to me. It
’
s my secret, and I
’
d be pissed if one of my best friends had kept something
like that hidden from me for over twenty years.

What
’
s my
secret? All I
’
ll say is,
I have the power to destroy one of the wealthiest families on the
West Coast. That power could also cost me my life. But if pushed,
that
’
s a risk I might be
willing to take.

SO YOU WANT TO KNOW
who I am. I like my privacy and inviting strangers into my
personal space isn’t something I normally do. However, my friends
talked me into doing this, so I’ll acquiesce. I’m Chloe Jacobs. I’d
like to say my marriage to an idiot head is my secret, but it’s
not. In fact, I’m looking for a support group for women like me.
Smart women who have fallen prey to a tight behind, carved chest
and a tongue and lips that…yes, I was weak. But in my defense, he
caught me at a weak moment, at least that’s what I keep telling
myself.

As I was
saying, I know my husband
’
s an idiot head, and I think I
’
ve done a good job of keeping it a secret.
However, there are days when I want to hire the Goodyear blimp or
buy a commercial during the Super Bowl, and share it with the
world.

I have no one but myself to blame for my
situation. There have been a couple of men in my life that I truly
loved. The first was my college sweetheart, Benny. I still get
tingles when I think about him.

Benny and
I had a strange relationship. We only dated during the summer. He
was not what my parents wanted for me, but he was what I wanted.
You know the story, rich girl sees the not rich boy and they fall
in love. I spent two months every summer at my
grandfather
’
s place in
North Carolina. Benny
’
s
family sent him down to help his grandparents with their farm. I
met him in town and that was it.

We made a
pact to spend two months together every summer. We agreed there
would be no questions about relationships that happened while we
were apart. The summer after my senior year, when I went to visit
my grandfather, Benny wasn
’
t there. His grandfather had died and his grandmother sold
the farm and moved away. So I never knew what happened to him. He
was my first and no, that
’
s not my secret. I also believe he was my great love, and
I
’
ve been trying to find
what I had with him in every man since. I often wonder what
happened to Benny.

In a poor attempt to get over my broken
heart, I spent the next couple of years goofing off and being a
typical rich kid. My father got tired of my behavior and threatened
to cut me off. I settled down, got involved in the family business
and started dating someone from my childhood, Xavier Randall.

After a
few years of dating, Xavier and I got engaged. On paper he was
perfect...model good looks, an affluent family, and good
upbringing. He had an excellent career as an attorney in his
father
’
s law firm. His
mother chaired all the prestigious committees and was very
well-connected socially. Among those in our circle, it had always
been assumed we were the
“
perfect
”
couple,
destined for marriage. Honestly though, we were the most perfect
imperfect couple. Only one of us was in the relationship for love
and it wasn
’
t
Xavier.