Carry-on Baggage: Our Nonstop Flight

by Bailey Thomas, Cynthia,Thomas, Peter,Short, Rochelle,Saunders, Keith

  We didn’t want to lay out all our cards and risk being kicked off the show, but had absolutely teetered on the very edge of disaster. It was one thing to lose a business on television, but another to lose your home and have your belongings put out on the street. Had one thing gone wrong or my check come one week later, our story would have probably had a much different ending.

  Getting the advance for our second season put us in a more peaceful place. We caught up every bill that was behind, and Noelle finally got to put a box of real Froot Loops in the grocery basket. People say money doesn’t make you happy, but being broke shole don’t either.

  After the smoke cleared from our financial combustion, Peter and I finally sat down and had a heart-to-heart talk. Months before, I wasn’t in the mood to talk about anything that didn’t have zeros behind it! I was more focused on our recovery than anything else. Quite honestly, I didn’t really miss the physical aspect of our relationship as much as I missed communicating with him. It was good to be able to have a conversation with my husband, less the river of anger. We weren’t back at booed up status, but we were talking to each other in complete sentences again.

  We both were in monster business mode and used a portion of the money to start new projects. When we lost our money, we lost our power. My priority was to create several outlets that would make us money, because money represented power and freedom. I started my agency and Peter opened a smaller lounge, bar ONE. I didn’t invest in it, but I held back money in case he ever needed emergency funds.

  Being in a phase where we barely had money to buy food and pay utilities was beyond frightening for me. Not coming from money, I had always been very careful with spending and managing it. I ran from being poor by living on a budget for most of my life, no matter how much money I made. I had to force myself to splurge on big-ticket items. Peter didn’t have that gene. It was hard for him to gauge when his tank was nearing E. He had the attitude that money would always come his way, no matter what.

  It was hard to change a fifty-year-old’s thought pattern, but I was willing to die trying. He now understands that he works best with a budget because it helps him be accountable. By the time he comes to me for his reserve, I know he’s exhausted every option, outside of robbing a convenient store. We’re both comfortable with my role as the house banker. Peter knows if I’m taking care of the money, we’ll always have some put back. He’s made it very clear to me that if he had millions, I would still be the house treasurer. It’s a formula that works for us.

  Dark times make the good times great! I never believed anything that emotionally and financially devastating could happen to me. I didn’t realize it, but I had taken many aspects of my life and fortune for granted. The rise and fall, and rise again, made me appreciate being able to fill up my tank without having to watch the gage. I remember the days of halting the pump at $10. I didn’t know that feeling before marrying Peter. In fact, I truly had forgotten how much things cost. The school of hard knocks taught me the price of an avocado and a gallon of gas.

  The human spirit can accomplish wonders when it’s backed into a corner. If we could win in business, it would also be a victory for our marriage. I had never run a company before opening my school, but I completely trusted Peter as a business man. Knowing my vulnerabilities, he did a great job of guiding me in launching my first venture. Staying in unison eventually got us back in the bedroom. My attraction to Peter had always been that he was a smart and a dangerous risk-taker. With him, you either hit the jackpot or lose it all to the house!

  Relief arrived the day I gave it all up to God and trusted that I was exactly where He wanted me to be. It took me a long time to surrender to the notion, but as I was able to let go, the battle got easier every day. My attitude about money has been forever altered. In our storm, my one extravagance was getting a manicure, but I would always get the basic service. To this day, I appreciate the luxury of being able to go in and have my nails done professionally, instead of doing them myself. I still get the regular and sometimes forget I can afford to pay that extra $15 for a deluxe.

  I love Peter for seeing me through my time of gloom. He kept nurturing and caring for me with the force of a tornado. There were moments when I couldn’t stand the sight of him. I had to argue, cry, shout and pray to get back to my place as his loving wife. It took a while, but I managed to completely forgive him and share in the responsibility of our failures. Peter never held a gun to my head or forced my hand to do anything. Everything I did, I had done willingly.

  Those dark days resulted in the highly favored existence we now share. Peter loved me at my best and worst. Anybody else would’ve left and stayed gone. I still don’t know how he did it, but I learned that Peter really and truly cannot be broken. I had his heart, and if anyone can break you, it’s the one you give your heart to. He taught me I’m a lot tougher than I thought I was. If I die tomorrow, the one thing I will know for sure is that Peter Thomas loved me.

  I am humbled.

  I am grateful.

  I am thankful.

  I am truly blessed!

  CHAPTER VII

  Overbooked

  Our Exes & Careers

  Cynthia’s Double-Booked

  Having worked as a model for most of my life, with each year getting better, I thought it was something I could do forever. I never contemplated life after modeling, until I became pregnant with Noelle. After learning of her impending arrival, everyone seemed to have more questions about my and Leon’s future together than we’d ever had ourselves. I was pressed about whether I’d become a stay-at-home mom, maintain residency in New York or move to California where Leon worked most of the time. Setting a wedding date would have made our parents extremely happy, but it had no bearing on our happiness.

  Leon and I thoroughly discussed becoming parents, and agreed we were responsible enough to raise a child outside of marriage. We weren’t just lovers – we were best friends who loved each other. I’m a straight fool anytime I’m in love. It puts me in a state where not much else matters. I could be living in a castle with a tower or a shack with an outhouse – as long as it’s real and with the right man, I’m good. Leon was a great dad and partner, but I never saw marriage as something that needed to occur just because we had a child. I remember taking the pregnancy test and asking myself if I could feed another mouth, even without Leon in the picture. The answer was yes.

  It’s a blessing to find someone you sincerely care about and enjoy spending your days with. You become bold enough to erase boundaries and allow your heart to have what it wants. From the first time I met Leon, I knew he was supposed to be in my life forever. Something spoke to me and said he would be the man to father my child. Everything about him felt so right; it didn’t even make sense. I loved his parents, his family and anything connected to him. From the time my e.p.t. revealed a positive result, I moved in with him. It felt incredible to take the journey of parenthood together.

  Before my pregnancy, my life had been dominated by my work and travel schedule. Once I became a mom, I wanted to be on the road less and in New York as often as possible. I treasured one-on-one quality time with Noelle, but I struggled to manage the balance of being home and working to maintain the lifestyle we had grown accustomed. The daily dilemma of deciding whether to continue working, get married or relocate out west started to take its toll on me. I had no formula to determine how much change in my life was necessary, just because I’d had a child.

  Leon became more consistent with the addition of a child to our equation, but motherhood changed me drastically. The fine, sexy, spontaneous Cynthia evaporated. Low-cut dresses went to the back of the closet and comfortable mom’s jeans became the order of the day. I was less of a fun girlfriend and more of a mom. I didn’t know how to be a lover and a mother at the same time. It was hard to turn off my mommy switch and get back to how Leon and I had been before our baby.

  Even
if we were on a romantic private island, I never allowed myself to be more than a stone’s throw from my cell phone. Leon would always tell me that he had a baby, but lost his girl. It was the shameful truth! The girl who would’ve jumped off a cliff with him and asked questions later, was gone. My life’s mission became being the best mom I could be, and Noelle was my single focus.

  By the time she was a year old, Leon and I had purchased a home together in Montclair, New Jersey. We were forced to take inventory of our relationship around the three-year mark. We pursued the answer to the nagging question of whether marriage would have organically occurred between us if there had been no Noelle. As partners, we knew we could not have been more compatible – both artists, Pisces and free spirits. We were attracted to the parts of ourselves that we saw in the other, but those same things ultimately contributed to our downfall.

  Our similarities made it easy to maintain harmony in our relationship, but over time, they became stagnating blockages. When two artists get together, there’s such a lack of contrast, they eventually start to drown in a sea of likeness. On the contrary, with an artist and an entrepreneur (like me and Peter), the multitude of differences force both to grow in new ways. The business mind pushes the artistic spirit beyond its comfort zone and vice versa. Visionaries often see creative people bigger than they’re able to see themselves. Left to our own devices, people like Leon and me would easily get stuck in a cycle of only doing what we liked or what felt good.

  My destiny was to take the passage of parenthood with Leon. The belief that our paths were supposed to intersect made it easier to walk away when I knew it was over. Leon was the man who brought out the jet off to Europe for a month and live off the land side of me. We did every single possible thing a couple in love could have done. Leon needed attention and special moments with me. I hated that I could no longer give him what he had signed up for.

  He was not a guy who could find contentment in sitting around the house twiddling his thumbs. He was a good man who always followed what was right; a flower child who loved life and venturing out into the world. He will never die of anything stress-related. He is a happy, peaceful man who lives a happy, peaceful life. He viewed marriage as an honorable next step, but it wasn’t the right move or right time for me.

  I thought that leaving him was the mature way of acknowledging that we were done. Looking back, it was very selfish, and I wished I’d used a more compassionate approach. My decision to breakup with him was agonizing, but I felt letting go would be doing him a favor. It turned out to be the best thing not only for me and Leon, but also for our child. Simply put, Noelle became the love of my life. He lost me to her, but sharing our precious daughter made me feel that I had not lost him.

  I’m a low-maintenance woman with complicated angles. I could never see myself in a relationship that didn’t work for both partners. I’d always tried to pick companions who held the same belief. My mode of operation was to walk in the front door of a relationship looking for the back door. I needed to know there would always be a way out of whatever I got into. My biggest fear is being blissfully stuck in anything – a hairstyle, job and most definitely a relationship. Most people stay long after it’s over because they find comfort in familiarity, good sex, financial security or fame. I only want to be where my soul tells me to take root. If a relationship does not add to my personal happiness, I no longer find it appealing.

  Truthfully, some part of my separation with Leon may have had to do with me being a loner at heart. I had traveled the world as a solo act, walked the streets of Paris by myself and actually enjoyed dinner and a movie without a plus one. Not being in a relationship wasn’t the kiss of death my single girlfriends made it out to be. Going through life without getting married or having a kid wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to a woman. I kept the attitude that it would be a blessing if it materialized, but if it didn’t…oh well! I admit, though, every now and again the thought of waking up old and alone would scare the crap out of me.

  Peter’s Double-Booked

  When the bottom dropped out of my and Cynthia’s banking accounts, it wasn’t my first trip to the trenches. After I had separated from the mother of my youngest child, Bryce Hernandez, I left Miami for the first time in eighteen years. Construction projects up and down South Beach had slowed business to a near halt. I lost all my money trying to wait out the storm, literally. After Hurricane Katrina struck in 2005, my beachside bar was losing money like a piggy bank with a hole in his belly. My landlord initiated a lease for a tenant who agreed to take over my space, as well as the one above it. In return, he gave me $100,000 to hand over my keys and evacuate. Sound familiar?

  I collected the money in two parts and used the first $50,000 to secure a lease on a hair salon for Bryce’s mom. She was a gorgeous woman and talented stylist with an incredible personality. Her clientele loved her enough to follow her wherever she went. I knew she was miserable working at the shop where she rented space, so I used the opportunity to capitalize on her beauty and make her the face of a new salon.

  We were cash poor, so it took me eight months to renovate a building that should have only taken three. I did all the teeth-grinding, grunge work and oversaw the shoestring budget for the project. My ex gave me hardly any appreciation for my sweat and sacrifice. I put my money and effort into creating something that would satisfy her needs, and she wouldn’t even dedicate time to scouting out a location.

  In relationships, I prefer doing things as a team. Working together allows both partners to feel a sense of achievement when success comes. I never liked lopsided equations, where one person did all the work, and the other took all the credit. In my eyes, couples who set goals, worked as a unit and appreciated each other’s talents, exemplified something solid. I was on my back by the time I discovered a lot of people aren’t wired that way. Ten years later, I’m still on the hook as a cosigner for my ex, but her position remains that I did nothing for her. Her lack of gratitude stabbed me in the heart and put me in an emotional dungeon.

  In the beginning, I was crazy about her. In the end, it was a Nightmare on Elm Street situation. When we met, everything on the business front was hot for me. After Katrina struck, I wasn’t bouncing like she was accustomed. Seeing her interest fade, made her seem fake and materialistic. While the contempt in our relationship intensified, we were building a business, a million-dollar home and expecting a baby. It had been twenty years since the birth of my first child, and I was excited when I found out she was carrying a boy. I never missed one doctor’s appointment.

  As tensions got tighter, we drifted further apart in our home life. My coping mechanism was to hold it all in. I had a tendency to internalize things, because I believed a man should never share certain details with a woman. It was a lethal mistake that would lead her to think she had him figured out and eventually make her feel entitled to start speaking on his behalf. I wasn’t cool with anybody talking for me, not even my woman. So I caught the brick, sucked it up and kept it all to myself.

  By the time Bryce was a year old, we had moved into our new home and her salon was about 90 percent done. So much irreversible shit had happened in the relationship, I had to go. She was going in a different direction and it wasn’t with me. When we officially made the split, she was already seeing someone else. Our breakup was nuts. I ran out of South Beach before I did something I knew I would regret for the rest of my life.

  Toronto was my first option. I’d made a name for myself there, and I knew it would be easy to set up meetings with key people. Years before, I’d held my “How Can I Be Down” music conference in Miami, and a quarter of the registrants were from Toronto. The conference featured A&R, publishing information and a panel of industry experts for people interested in the business. A friend who lived in Toronto encouraged me to come up and get my mojo back. It was a good look for me; especially since I wanted to get as far away as possible from my ex. I didn’t w
ant to be in the same city, state or country with her.

  While I was in Canada, she had her new guy move into the house we built together. I’d had plenty of experience knowing when a woman was done and didn’t want to be with a man anymore. Her actions motivated me to stay away for the next six months and work like hell. On the first day of my Toronto “How Can I Be Down” convention, the blizzard of 2006 hit. It stretched all the way down to New York City. It was a miracle that the conference was able to clear $60,000. It was just enough to get me back to the States and create a new lane.

  I still couldn’t see myself sharing the same area code with my ex, so I went to Los Angeles and spent time with my daughter Blaze and her mom. As much as I liked being around them, I wasn’t comfortable in my skin. Blaze’s mom gave me the impression that she wanted us to have another shot. I loved her deeply and didn’t want to hurt her, but I needed a clean slate. I didn’t belong in California. In March of 2007, I made my way to Atlanta.

  Cynthia’s City Pair

  Even though I wasn’t big on celebrating birthdays, I felt there was something monumental about turning forty. It was one of those seasons in my life that I knew I was on the verge of major change. Meeting Peter was the first time since Leon that I thought, “Okay, here comes another train I need to catch.” For years I had not been even remotely intrigued by a man, but my intuition told me Peter was different. My attraction and feelings toward him were undeniable, and I knew what it meant. The only problem was that he lived in Georgia, and I lived in New York.