by Angela Smith
“Listen, Jeanette. I didn’t do a damn thing to Sophie. She came over for Thanksgiving and everything was going fine until Bayani showed up. With me,” I said.
“Bayani? As in the hottest commodity in all of San Francisco? Actually, no, he’s the hottest commodity in all of fucking California! What was he doing with you and why were you spending Thanksgiving with our boss again?”
“It’s complicated, but trust me, I didn’t do anything to hurt Sophie. I didn’t even know she and Bayani had a past. I invited him as my guest to Sophie’s great-grandmother’s house and when he arrived and she realized he wasn’t there for her, she flipped her wig, threw a hissy fit and left. Last I knew she was having dinner at Tao in Vegas with a group of ex-strippers and some go-go dancers.”
“Seriously?!”
“Of course not! I haven’t heard from her since she left. None of us have.” I wondered to myself whether Bayani had heard from her but figured if he had he would have told me. At least I hoped he would tell me.
No matter which way you looked at it, I really didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, not ever.
“Well if that’s the truth then you better be prepared for massive backlash in the office next week. Sophia won’t fire you apparently but trust me, she will make your life hell. She’s like that and it’s not fun to be the subject of her wrath,” Jeanette said, sighing. “But do tell me how you and Mr. Hot Stuff got together…and what’s he like in bed?”
I had to laugh at Jeanette’s priorities. Even though I truthfully couldn’t tell her how Bayani was in bed, I felt protective of our relationship, however new and innocent it was. It felt like it was already being tainted and before long, someone else would step in and ruin it completely. I dreaded the thought of never seeing him again but if Sophie had her way – which she often did, by the sounds of it – then Bayani was hers and I was nothing but a blockade she needed to break down to get to him.
I was so glad to hang up the phone, with promises that I’d meet Jeanette over the weekend for coffee so we could discuss things more in depth. As if I really wanted to do that. But what choice did I have? Jeanette was my only possible friend in San Francisco so I needed to have her on my side. I couldn’t have her siding with Sophie. That would only make things worse for me in the long run. Plus, it wasn’t as if I did anything wrong. Bayani was a free agent as far as I could tell. Although I had a niggling suspicion when I first met him that he would go for beautiful girls like Sophie, I never actually thought that he would go for Sophie herself.
Heading home with a bag full of treats for Clara (who was still at Marisol’s. I was starting to think she had switched teams and decided Marisol was her owner!) I decided to stop in at the library to look up a few things that had been bothering me.
Apparently my family was originally from California and I had distant relatives in Orange County. I was hoping to find some reference books on my family and find out their past since I now had some free time. I kind of felt like all of my life I had been paying for someone else’s sins. I wasn’t sure who’s or how I came to be the person bearing the cross, but the things that had happened to me felt like they would never happen to anyone else. The spirit telling me I was going to die, the shadows that fell across walls in my home…they all had to add up to something, didn’t they? The library was rather quiet, as I hoped it would be, so I had free reign to do as I pleased without ten million other people jostling for information or resources from the already over-worked librarians.
I started my search in the reference area, where I picked up books on the early 1900’s and was able to look up people by name. My great-grandfather had lived in California and had changed his name multiple times. Though my grandparents talked about it sometimes, they never really gave me any reason as to why he had so many aliases.
As I read through book after book, looking for clues to my past, I stumbled upon one thing that tied my great-grandfather to our hometown. There was a mention of Hampton, where I grew up and lived until last year, in one of the reference books. According to folklore, the area was cursed and was part of the Bridgewater Triangle. This “triangle” was said by many to be haunted and cursed by a Native American who had his land stolen by settlers in the area many, many years ago. The book I was currently looking at said that my relative, Jose Amaral II, had bought land in this area. I assumed this to be our house, which was built by Jose (who at that time had changed his name yet again to John Bermudes) over one hundred years ago. Figuring that I should read more on this but not wanting to stay at the library any longer (my bum was tingling from sitting in the provided chair for too long!) I asked the librarian to copy the allotted pages for me so I could take them home.
“Are you looking for information on the Bridgewater Triangle?” she asked, scanning over the information I was copying.
“Well, I am now, yes. Before now, I didn’t even know it truly existed!” I said.
“Oh yes, it exists alright! I’ve read quite a bit on it as I’m fascinated with that type of thing. It’s spooky to think that people living in this area now don’t know its dark past…”
“It is, isn’t it?” I remarked after being handed my copies and grabbing my bag. I couldn’t help but wonder if all of my pain and suffering in life had something to do with an outside source – possibly researching this Bridgewater Triangle more would give me the leads I needed.
I met with Jeanette on Sunday afternoon for brunch at a sweet little outdoor café near the shore. I had never been to this place but it seemed decent enough from the outside. It was a bit rundown, possibly from being so close to the water all year round but inside it was very eclectic; with mismatched chairs and tables, brightly painted walls and rows upon rows of pretty seashells mounted on shelves in the back. I found this all to be very soothing since I loved the beach and anything to do with it.
Jeanette and I split a Sea Cucumber Sandwich (which didn’t actually have any real sea cucumber in it, thank goodness!) and ordered two of the house specialty called Coral Reef Beer (a unique alcohol-free spin on root beer). Both items were absolutely heaven for my parched taste buds! Once our food had been served, we chatted about our weekend, our plans for the holidays and of course, the elephant in the room, Bayani.
“Girl, don’t you realize how lucky you are to have scored a man like him?” Jeanette asked me, to which I replied that I knew just how lucky I was every time I saw him. He was like a breath of fresh air for me, a new beginning when I didn’t know if I could ever start again. Everything about our relationship screamed Fairytale but I knew better than to believe in happy endings just yet. I had already had enough broken dreams and Fairytale wishes come crashing down on me for one lifetime, I didn’t need any more. Not that Bayani would break my heart, but one couldn’t be too cautious.
After listening to Jeanette chatter on and on and on for what seemed like ages, I eventually pulled myself away from the table citing an urgent need to see Clara since I hadn’t seen her much the last few days. I was really starting to miss her little button nose and smiley brown eyes. I was even starting to miss her chewing on my designer shoes, which had to be a sign I was delusional. Who would miss that? Extracting myself from Jeanette’s grasp when she was on a roll seemed impossible but eventually she let me go (thank God!) and I made my way back to The Painted Ladies. I was so impressed when I saw a photo of the exquisite row of homes on a postcard in a shop. I felt protective of the beautiful home that Marisol had so kindly welcomed me into and was glad that such a gem was getting the recognition it deserved.
Marisol was vacuuming the sitting room floor when I walked in which was really a sight to see considering she was such an advanced age. Most days she seemed to have more energy than me! It must have been hard for her to do physical work though, as her back was quite literally one big hump. When I asked her what exactly had happened she told me that she and her family – who were of German descent – were living in Hamburg during WWII when she was captured by the Nazi�
�s and put to work in an ammunition factory. When she refused to make things that were going to kill innocent men, women and children, the Nazi’s removed her and put her into a labor camp. During this time, many people died from malnutrition, horrid working conditions and general mistreatment. Sadly, Marisol suffered a horrific injury when a large box fell on her, breaking her back. The Nazi’s never treated her for her injury, thus her back stood broken and humped for the rest of her life. I couldn’t imagine what pain she went through during that time and praised her silently for being so strong-willed and determined to go on. Even the memories, which had to be quite vivid and gruesome, of the planes dropping toys for children and cigarettes for men only to spatter bombs on the same area when they came to retrieve them, couldn’t keep her spirit down. She was, I was learning, one of the most amazing women I had ever met. A little stubborn, but amazing nonetheless.
I offered to help with the housework, even though there was a housekeeper to do such things but Marisol was having none of it.
“What do you want me to do, sit on the couch and twiddle my thumbs all day, darling? I need to be active, it’s what keeps this healthy,” she said tapping her head in reference to her mind. I could understand her desire to stay fit and limber, at her age she needed all the exercise she could get.
“I’m glad you’re here though, my love. Your grandfather has been poking his nose into my thoughts once again this afternoon. Apparently, he’s been spying on the people you surround yourself with – does he have nothing to do in heaven? Don’t they have chess or bingo or something to keep busy? My God, you’d think he was a professional dick, wouldn’t you?” I smiled and nodded. My grandfather, the dick. Though I knew the term meant detective, I found it amusing when she referred to him that way. I could almost picture him in his study, pouring over information in an effort to solve a mystery.
“Anywho, he has informed me that someone is hatching a plan to divert your path. He can’t tell me who because apparently he can’t pass on names – some conduct code of Heaven, I’m presuming – but he just wanted me to warn you because he knows you hate change. Though he did say you’ll have a chance to explore more of the twenties on your own…whatever that means.”
I suspected that this person trying to divert me was none other than Sophie who would do anything to divert me from being with Bayani. I hoped that the result wouldn’t be us breaking up, but since I had no clues as to what her plans actually were, I had to play it by ear and wait for her to drop a bomb of her own, quickly and swiftly detonating my happy little life.
Chapter Seven
On Monday morning, I dreaded going to the office. Bayani had texted to say he would pick me up and we could go in together to present a united front, but I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. Should I really be rubbing my victory in Sophie’s face? It would be like rubbing salt in a raw wound (not too pleasant, let me tell you!) I gave in though when Bayani said that we had nothing to be ashamed of. If Sophie wanted to fire him, she could, he’d said. He was quite adamant that she was not going to bully him into hiding his relationship with me.
So, at 8:30 a.m. Bayani arrived. He waved to my postman (who was pleased to see that I had found someone nice for myself and seemed to be hanging around my door less and less these days) before bounding up the stairs kissing me quickly and then exclaiming that we needed to leave or we would be late.
The last thing I wanted to do was be late. I think that would create more of a scene than anything else. Can you imagine us parading through the doors, me tottering in high heels, Bayani in his smart suit and tie, making an effort to fly under the radar but failing miserably? We might as well stick signs on our backs that read “We’re together. Get over it!” but of course that would get us in trouble no doubt. Ugh. Office politics. Sometimes they sucked (OK, most of the time they sucked!)
Upon arrival, I grabbed Bayani’s hand and gave him a gentle squeeze of support knowing that this was going to be just as difficult for him as for me. Although, people always did tend to favor handsome men when it came to relationship woes, didn’t they? Everyone was pinning me as the bad guy (or bad girl, in this case) yet Bayani was walking away scot free and able to pick up any woman he wanted if we split up. Even Sophie would no doubt forgive him for dating me. It would be like a little blip in their relationship history but nothing to get angry over in her eyes. She would feel as though she won the prize goat at that point. The gloating bitch.
I couldn’t really blame him, though. That wouldn’t be fair as he hadn’t exactly asked for Sophie to hit on him had he? It’s not like you can pick and choose who you fall for. That’s all pre-determined by fate. Yes, that’s right. Everything is pre-determined by fate. I liked the idea of that. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? Saving Clara, meeting Marisol, almost getting run over by a gorgeous guy in a BMW…all down to fate. And timing, of course. I could have been hit by a bald-headed octogenarian with a beer belly and smelly breath. But fate did me good– for once.
The office was exceptionally quiet today with only a few people back from Thanksgiving break and in working mode. Bayani and I didn’t hold hands as we walked across the office floor but it was still quite obvious that we were together, I thought. For one thing, his hand kept trying to slip under my blouse as we walked. I must have looked like I was either twitching or swatting flies – neither of which was a good look for me – as I tried in vain to get him to behave. What a naughty boy he was turning out to be this morning!
When we reached my office he kissed me publicly, whispered something sultry and sexy in my ear (which I won’t disclose here because I’m a lady and I don’t kiss and tell) then left for his own desk. He didn’t have an office, just yet, since he was more like a regular writer than an editor or director. It was still odd to think that I was his boss and my boss was his ex-lover. Awkward stuff to wrap your head around, I’ll tell you. Especially first thing in the morning when you haven’t even had any caffeine yet.
I had so much work to do today and was finally getting into the swing of things by putting together a draft for my first feature (it was going to be on the ankle-length skirt which was making a comeback for some reason. Though I couldn’t see why. The only reason to wear an ankle length skirt in my book would be if you had cankles, which I definitely did not.)
Around 10:30 Lena popped her head in the door. I still hadn’t figured out if she was nice, mean or a little bit of both. She reminded me a bit of a dog I used to have, oddly enough also named Lena, who was slightly ditzy and did stupid things but never meant anything by them. If this Lena in front of me ever were transformed into a dog, that was who she would be for sure.
Once I stopped picturing Lena as a dog (I was stuck on whether she should be a Golden Lab or a German Shepherd) I realized that she was actually speaking and telling me something important. Oops.
“I’m sorry, Lena, what was that you just said?”
“I. Said. Sophia. Wants. To. See. You. In. Her. Office. NOW,” she repeated as if she were talking to an imbicile. Which she wasn’t. Obviously.
I immediately changed my mind on her future as a dog. She wouldn’t be either of the aforementioned breeds because they were too nice and loyal in that order. No, she’d be something small with a weird name like a rat terrier because she reminded me of a rat. She really did. All long pointy nose and bucked teeth, the only thing she was missing was the fur. Satisfied with my conclusion, I got up with what can only be described as a smug look on my face. Ha! Take that Lena-the-rat-terrier! You don’t know what I’m thinking and never will!
“Are you all right? Why are you smiling like you just escaped the loony bin?” she said, tilting her head quizzically (just like a dog would do if it were trying to understand something. More proof she was more canine than woman).
“Oh yes, I’m perfect. Just popping off to see Sophia now, Rat…I mean, Lena.” Shit. I almost called her ratty! My uncanny ability to remember people’s nicknames but not their real names was sometimes detrim
ental. Like just now for instance.
Leaving Lena behind I headed to Sophie’s office, winking at Bayani as I passed. I’m telling you those lessons on how to be a Flapper were really paying off. I felt like a sex kitten minus the sex. It was very empowering to not give a shit. I can see why it became so popular back in the day.
“Sophia, you asked to see me?” I said entering the dungeon, er, office, of the Queen Bitch herself.
“Yes, Autumn. Have a seat, we have some things to discuss…” I’m sure we did but did we really have to do it here and now and on a Monday morning for God’s sake?
“Sophia, if this is about the other day I’m…”
“No, it’s not,” she said, cutting me off bitterly and slapping her solid oak desk for emphasis. “This is about your new assignment. I’ve had a think and spoke with our board of directors and we’ve decided that you’re the perfect candidate to go to New York for three to four weeks on an exploratory mission. We want you to find out what’s hot there and tell our readers about it here.” Did I hear her right? Did she just say she was sending me to NEW YORK?
“Excuse me, did you say New York? Is that a city in California or something?”
“Don’t play games, Autumn. You know damn well that New York is the fashion and financial capital of the world. There’s only one New York and it’s clear across the country. It’s 2,906 miles away to be exact,” she said, stealing my smug smile right off my face.
“And why am I being sent to New York again? I’m only just finding my feet here and you expect me to fly across the country to research clothes?” I was incredulous, mainly because I knew what she was playing at. She wanted me out of the picture so that she could have time to try and win Bayani over once again. What a fucking bitch!
I wouldn’t let her win, I just couldn’t. I’d be a disgrace to women worldwide if I let this hussy steal my man right out from under my fingers. However, I couldn’t exactly turn down a free trip to New York, either. How thrilling would that be? And at Christmas to boot!