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.