Lessons In Being A Flapper (12 page)

“Goodnight, Cupcake,” he said, tapping my nose with his finger in a playful manner. He then turned over and shut out the night light. I could tell by the rise and fall of his chest that he was out within minutes but I lay awake for hours thinking about what had just happened and how wonderfully exciting it
all was.

I
eventually must have drifted off and turned over because when I woke up the following morning, I felt the weight of Bayani’s hand on my stomach and could feel the warmth of his body behind me. I let myself lay there for a while, enjoying the moment of peace and serenity, before removing his hand – gently so as not to wake him – and heading to the en suite to get dressed and brush my teeth. Nothing was worse than greeting a new (potential) lover with nasty morning breath, I thought.

When I walked back into the bedroom, I saw the most glorious
sight: A shirtless and very buff Bayani stretching. As he put his hands above his head and closed his eyes, the muscles in his stomach tightened and his lean physique looked better than any man I had ever seen. Even Channing Tatum’s ripped torso in
Magic Mike
couldn’t compare. I couldn’t look away fast enough so Bayani caught me staring. He smiled a lazy smile, walked over and kissed my forehead and then asked me what my plans were for the day.

When I told him I didn’t have any, he asked if I’d like to go shopping with him. In my romantic haze I had completely forgotten that it was Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year. I agreed to go but said that I needed to go home and change first to which Bayani replied that I looked “beautiful as I was.”
Can I get a collective “awww” for that? He’s seriously so amazing that I just want to hug him and kiss him and well, you get the picture.

A
fter we said our goodbye’s to Marisol and decided to leave Clara where she was -- in her sleep number bed looking extremely pleased with herself – we headed off for the shops. I wasn’t sure if it was as crazy here as it was back home on Black Friday but if those lines were anything to go by, we’d be waiting for hours.

We were walking down the street, hand in hand, when my phone beeped with an incoming text. I checked it, worried that it was something to do with Clara or Marisol (I left
my number with Bernard just in case something happened) but was surprised to see it was from Jeanette.

“Call me ASAP. 911. Emergency
.”

Without another thought I dialed her number but deep down I already knew what the emergency was.
Here we go, I thought. The backlash begins.

I
was kind of pissed that I couldn’t even enjoy Black Friday. While I watched all of the other shoppers scurry about, I had to spend my time on the phone deflecting a missile that I knew had already been launched in my direction. Sophia O’Hara was on the warpath, it seemed, and her target was me.

“Oh. My. God. Autumn, what did you do?” Jeanette exclaimed when I called her from a Starbucks near my house. I had to tell Bayani that something had come up and that he needed to go on without me today even though I’d much rather be with him than on the phone discussing this bullshit.
Because that’s what it was, you know. A total and complete bunch of time-wasting rubbish. I didn’t do anything to Sophie, yet she was already making my life a living hell less than 24 hours after she found out I was with Bayani.

“I guess that
Sophia called Lena, who called Giselle, who called Mandy, who called me to say that Sophia was distraught over what you had done to her. When Lena suggested she fire you, Soph scoffed at the idea and said that she was “above revenge” and wouldn’t sacrifice a good working relationship over something that happened outside of the office. She wouldn’t even tell anyone what happened but by the sounds of it it’s pretty bad. So would you like to tell me your side of the story or would you rather I take a wild guess?”

See, I told you word spread fast around the office. It s
pread especially fast when the Queen Bitch was your boss and everyone wanted to please her to save their own tush.

“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 fro
m 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, someon
e 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 l
ook 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 up
on 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 ord
ered 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 seem
ed 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.