Ten Years Later

by Lisa Marie Latino

  “Fancy seeing you here,” I smiled, immediately regretting my choice of words.

  Miguel’s eyes lit up. “Twice in one day. How did I get so lucky?” He leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek, a gesture that almost shot me up to the moon. “Have a seat! How was the rest of your day?”

  “Great!” I exclaimed, forgetting all about the Ruby drama and my disaster date. I climbed on the black leather-bound barstool next to him. “How about yours?”

  “Besides the fact that I wrecked my diet by eating all of your friend’s desserts? Pretty good,” Miguel laughed. “I seriously haven’t had something so good in my entire life! I’ll definitely spread the word to my friends, family, and teammates.”

  I put a hand over my chest; I was moved by his kindness. “That would mean so much. Thank you. Katie just started the business a month ago, so that kind of publicity would be huge!”

  “Of course! Anything I can do to help, let me know,” Miguel replied. “Would you like a drink?”

  Miguel Martinez just offered to buy me a drink! I’m going to have an alcoholic beverage with Miguel Martinez!” the fifteen-year-old in me shrieked. “Sure! I’ll have a Kettle One and club soda with a lemon and lime, please.”

  “Hey, that’s my drink!” Miguel laughed. “I’ve never had it with both a lemon AND a lime, though. I’ll try it.” Miguel lifted up his left arm to get the attention of the bartender. I quietly gasped when I noticed the wedding band he was wearing earlier today was not around his finger. AND he was here, alone?

  Very interesting…

  After he had put our drink order in, he turned his attention back to me. “Thank you so much for e-mailing me the interview. I already sent it to my mom back home in Florida, she loved it.”

  “Aw, that’s so cute,” I gushed. “I was wondering why you wanted it. Most of the guys we have on don’t request anything.”

  “Yea, she collects all my stuff. She’s got big binders of all my magazine articles and newspaper clippings. She has hard drives full of my radio and TV appearances as well.”

  “Keeping track of all your stuff must be a full-time job for her,” I commented.

  “Ha! Something like that!” Miguel laughed. “We are super tight. I’m sure you are close to your mom, but when it comes to mothers and sons, there is no bigger bond.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” I muttered.

  The bartender placed the drinks in front of us. I noticed that the glasses were double in size from what I was being served earlier. That would mean these are drinks 3 and 4 for the evening, which was still young. I made a mental note to pace myself.

  “Cheers, to new friends,” Miguel said, looking deep into my eyes.

  Friends? I gripped the glass tighter to prevent it from dropping. “To new friends,” I repeated. We each took a big gulp out of our extra-large glasses, while managing to not break eye contact.

  Miguel smacked his lips together in approval. “I like the lemon-lime thing. It dilutes the taste of the vodka even more.”

  “See that? You learn something new every day,” I laughed.

  “You’re right,” Miguel replied, taking another big sip. “So tell me, what’s the story with your show? It seems like an interesting mix of personalities.”

  “You tell me,” I answered, setting my drink down. “What do you think? And then I’ll tell you if you are right or wrong.”

  “Okay,” Miguel began. “Tommy is a cool dude; he’s always been very fair to me throughout my career. He seems like a genuinely nice guy, but I can tell he’s got a dirty old man side to him. Whenever I listen, he’s always throwing in these little double entendres while making his points. It’s pretty funny actually.”

  Miguel listens to the show? That means he had to know who I was prior to today. My heart started pounding a little faster. “That just about sums Tommy up,” I nodded.

  “You are the cute, eager producer who works harder than you probably have to in order to please your bosses, who are dicks. You are too old to be doing what are you doing, but too young to be taken seriously. What are you, twenty-four?”

  “I wish,” I frowned. “I’m twenty-seven. I’ll be twenty-eight in January.”

  “You look young for your age. Shit, , to be twenty-seven again,” Miguel sighed. “Shit, to be in my twenties again, period!” He bitterly threw back another big swig of his drink.

  I smiled at his first sign of insecurity, although it didn’t surprise me. Age was a very big deal to athletes; in their minds they could play their respective sport forever, but their bodies could only maintain that level of performance for so long before they had to give way to newer, younger, faster talent. Miguel was thirty-four, so while he had a few years left in the tank, he was on the wrong side of his career. “So you pretty much figured Tommy and me out. What about Ruby?”

  “Ruby is just…fake,” Miguel frankly stated.

  My eyes widened at his candidness.

  “I don’t like to talk bad about anyone, but I just did not get a good vibe from her. She’s very condescending and jealous of you.”

  “Jealous of me?” I repeated.

  “She hates your guts! Come on, you know this,” Miguel laughed. “You are younger, prettier, and have a much better personality. She’s threatened.”

  “Well, she has nothing to worry about.” I rolled my eyes. “My boss worships the ground she walks on. It’s me he doesn’t like.”

  “You are better than that place, Carla. You know how many sports broadcasters I have met in my lifetime? You’ll be doing things in your career that Ruby can only dream of.”

  I couldn’t believe that I was getting a pep talk from Miguel Martinez. For a minute, I forgot who he was; I felt as if I was bullshitting with a longtime friend. “Well…I’d like for those things to start happening soon.”

  “They will.” Miguel held his empty glass up to the bartender, and he immediately made him another drink.

  “So, who are you here with?” Miguel asked, changing subjects.

  Ah, crap. I had totally forgotten about Drew! “Um...” I trailed off. Before I could explain, I saw my Big Bang Theory-reject date enter the bar area, frantically looking for me.

  “It’s a long story,” I began, covering my face with my right arm.

  “CARLA!” Drew shouted.

  Miguel looked dumbfounded as he studied Drew. “He’s with you?”

  “Not really…” My voice trailed off.

  Drew squeezed himself between Miguel and me. “What’s taking you so long? Did you ask for my autograph? I have to get home and study for a case,” he whined.

  “No, I didn’t get a chance to ask him yet,” I nervously laughed. What was I supposed to do now? There was no way I was going to admit to being on a date with this Neanderthal. I had to come up with something, pronto. “Miguel, I want you to meet my lawyer, Drew. He is the best insurance lawyer in the tri-state area! We met here to discuss my case.”

  Before Miguel could introduce himself, Drew cut in. “Why are you saying I’m your lawyer? I’m your date!”

  Miguel looked at me, dumbfounded. “Really?”

  If looks could kill, Drew would have been six feet under the very restaurant. “You were my dinner date to discuss my case,” I lied. “And you’re right; you aren’t my lawyer because...I haven’t hired you yet! I was interviewing you.” I grabbed my drink and fretfully sucked on my straw, not realizing until I got to the bottom that I inadvertently finished the rest of my vodka in one sitting.

  “Whatever,” Drew said, letting me off the hook. “I just want Miguel’s autograph.”

  Miguel quickly grabbed a bar napkin while taking a pen out of his pocket. “Here you go, buddy,” he said, scribbling his name.

  “Oh wow, thanks!” Drew exclaimed, shaking his hand feverishly.

  “Anytime.” Miguel smiled.

  Drew turned to me. “You know, there’s only one other thing I need before I leave.”

  I exhaled loudly. “What’s that?”

/>   “Well, I paid the bill while you were gone. Do you have thirty dollars to cover your drinks?”

  My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My vocal chords were paralyzed in astonishment.

  Miguel looked more offended than I probably did. “You are seriously going to make her pay, bro?”

  “Well, she ditched me tonight to hang out with you, so yes, she owes me money.” Drew leaned in closer to Miguel. “Between you and me, she really wasn’t a good date,” he whispered.

  “Um, I can hear you!” I yelled.

  “Well, it’s the truth!” Drew wailed.

  “You’re one to talk. You LIED on your profile and uploaded fake pictures!” I blurted out. Nice job blowing your own cover, Carla.

  “You guys met online?” Miguel smirked.

  “I didn’t lie. I AM a lawyer!” Drew defended.

  I took a deep breath to prevent my temper from spilling over. “Look, I’m sorry about the money, but I am not paying you. We met tonight under false pretenses; what goes around, comes around.”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s your punishment for being such bad company?” Drew shot back.

  “Don’t worry, honey; my karma’s already doomed,” I retorted.

  “Well…I hope you enjoy growing old alone with your twenty cats!” He turned to walk away, but something stopped him. “And go Yankees!” He cheered to Miguel. Then he mercifully stormed out of the restaurant.

  I blinked back tears. First, Katie made a fool out of me, then Ruby tried to bully me, and now Drew was probably going to go home and curse me with some black voodoo magic. To top it off, most of this unfolded in front of one of my favorite human beings on the planet!

  “He was…interesting,” Miguel finally quipped.

  “Extremely,” I deadpanned. “I am so, so sorry for all of this. I should go.” I grabbed my purse, but Miguel clutched my wrist.

  “You aren’t going anywhere!” he exclaimed. “I have a couple of friends meeting me here, and we will make sure your night turns around.” He motioned to the bartender to bring another round of vodkas.

  My head started spinning. Miguel wasn’t scared off by any of this? He was asking me to hang out?

  “Really?” I asked, astonished. “You don’t think I’m a freak?”

  “The people you choose to keep company with might be a little freakish, but you yourself are the furthest thing from a freak!” Miguel laughed. “I just can’t understand why a beautiful woman like you would resort to online dating. I would think you’d have guys lining up around your block.”

  I arched my eyebrow. “Maybe you don’t have me so figured out, after all.”

  ■ ■ ■

  A half hour later, Miguel’s two childhood friends from Florida, Dennis and Sebastian, met us at the bar, and they were a blast! After downing a few more rounds of drinks and some sushi platters, we piled into Miguel’s limo and club-hopped through the Meatpacking District. We received world-class VIP treatment wherever we went. What would Ruby Smith have to say about all of this?

  Actually, what would anyone have to say about all of this? It was a night like this that made me actually happy to still be a woman-child. The Mommy Dearest from high school I bumped into at Katie’s grand opening couldn’t do this. She met her husband; she had her kids, and her life is over, all by the age of twenty-seven. Bor-ing!

  “I bet you’ve never gone clubbing like this!” Miguel screamed in my ear as we danced to the techno.

  “Nooooo,” I giggled. I was very drunk at that point. I couldn’t even tell you what club we were at; the pulsating strobe light blended everything together. I felt as if the music was carrying me to a place far from there.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Miguel commented, holding me close. It felt incredible to be in his arms, and his saying things like that didn’t help my transient state.

  I slightly pulled away to look him in the eyes. “Really?” How could a creature so beautiful think the same of me?

  “I want to kiss you so badly,” he whispered. My body started to quake. I leaned into his ear to whisper the same to him, but something stopped me. It was the same something that had stopped me from going “all the way” with every guy leading up to Mark. As much as I wanted to make out with Miguel, I knew I couldn’t. How could I hook up with him knowing he was married, with three young children?

  “Aren’t you married?” I asked.

  “Carla, really?” Miguel said angrily, pulling away from me. “You know how to kill the mood.”

  I draped my arms around his neck and pulled him back close, desperate to recapture the moment. I again looked him in the eye. “If I didn’t know you were married I would be all over you right now. But I saw you with your ring today.”

  “No ring now,” he said, flashing his empty ring finger.

  “I know, but…”

  “What if I told you I was getting a divorce?”

  I wanted to believe that in the worst way. But how could I? “I would say you were lying.”

  “I’m lying?” He snapped his fingers towards Dennis, who immediately broke his embrace with some supermodel-looking girl, and ran over to us.

  “Dennis, am I getting a divorce?” Miguel shouted over the music. “Tell Carla what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, it was just finalized on Wednesday,” Dennis shrugged. “The news will hit the papers next week.”

  Miguel motioned for him to go back to his friend and looked at me smugly. “You see?” He hugged me close. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I have to wear the ring until next week. Then I’m publicly a free man.”

  I still wasn’t sold, but what superseded logic was the sensation I got from holding him. It was this crazy, magnetic, frantic feeling I’d never had with anyone before, not even Mark. As he lightly caressed my neck, my apprehension slowly faded away. I knew this was so wrong, but I didn’t care. Miguel unlocked something inside of me that had been dormant for so long, and for the first time in my life, I just wanted to go with it.

  Ever so slowly, he leaned in, and we started kissing. Slowly at first, but then it quickly grew deeper into the most amazing, wild, mind-blowing, passionate make-out session I’ve ever experienced.

  And together, we floated away into the night.

  14

  Day 120

  I gingerly opened my eyes and was greeted by the massive Empire State Building standing outside my window. I shot up in bed, realizing that I wasn’t home. My head immediately started pounding, and the room started spinning. I looked to my right and saw Miguel Martinez sprawled out next to me, shirtless and passed out.

  I froze. What did I do last night? I hurriedly lifted the comforter and breathed a sigh of relief as I noticed my clothes were still on. Then the details of last night started to flood back. The kisses, the passion, the intensity…the making out with a married man.

  I shakily studied my surroundings. The whole left wall was one big window, offering an awesome view of New York City. The actual space was the most luxurious I’ve ever seen--Persian white carpet, metallic gold wallpaper, and a cathedral ceiling that twinkled with tiny built-in lights (a waste of electricity, considering the copious amount of natural sunlight pouring in). A trippy, acoustic-electronica song played softly through the surround-sound speakers. The plasma television screen propped up on the wall in front of us matched the length of the bed, roughly about half the size of a football field. My mother would be in her glory if she saw all this.

  I winced at my last thought. Mom. I didn’t check in with her last night. She was going to killllll me.

  I noticed my iPhone screen projecting its light from the nightstand. I reached over to grab it. Sure enough, I had 23 missed calls and 15 text messages, mostly from Mom Cell. The others were from Katie and (surprisingly) Dante, warning me that my mother was “on the warpath.”

  I had two choices here. Since the damage had already been done, I could fall back asleep and deal with the fallout later, when my hangover subsided. That would buy me more time with Miguel, and
perhaps more fun…

  But then again, why delay the inevitable? I was wide awake anyway; I could call her, and then pass back out with a piece of mind. I threw the covers off of me and, iPhone in tow, climbed out of bed. I silently tip-toed out of the bedroom and roamed the long hallway. I didn’t want to be caught snooping around, so I entered the first room whose door was open, figuring it had to be vacant. When I saw what I’d entered into, I gasped.

  I felt as if I’d stepped inside the showroom of a high-end baby boutique—the room was painted a pale shade of blue, with wallpapered images of moons and stars trimming the walls. A rocking chair was situated by the bay window, overlooking the beautiful skyline. White, very expensive-looking baby furniture was assembled around the room, including a large crib against the far wall. Over the crib, in big fluffy letters, hung the name “Marco.” I panicked. What if the baby was sleeping in there? I held my breath as I tiptoed over and delicately peered over the cage. Luckily, no signs of Marco; I guess Miguel’s (ex?) wife and kids had gone away to their fifth home for the weekend.

  Another attack of dizziness hit my equilibrium, and I clutched onto the crib to keep me upright. I wanted to curl in a ball on the fluffy yellow carpet and pass out but decided the rocking chair would be a little more comfortable. I sluggishly crawled over to the window. Once I settled in, I started to brace myself for the earsplitting voice that would soon be addressing me. I took a deep breath and hit “home” on my speed dial.

  “Hello?” Mom answered in an unexpectedly hushed tone.

  “Hi Mom,” I said casually.

  “CARLA KATHERINE D’AGOSTINO, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Mom erupted. There it was. I grimaced and pulled the phone away from my ear.

  “I’m okay. I got a little drunk last night, and I slept at a friend’s house.” Hey, that wasn’t a lie.

  “WHOSE HOUSE?!”

  “Andrea’s,” I quickly responded without thinking (because naturally, the person to get hammered with on a Friday night would be my eight-months-pregnant friend). But Andrea didn’t call or text with a warning, so I figured she hadn’t spoken to my mom.