Jackpot! Page 7

  “Hi, sweetie,” I said, just before kissing Max’s cheek and sitting down across from him.

  Surprisingly, his reception was cool, almost cocky. “Hi,” was all he said. It was obvious his defenses were up, and now I realized that selling the idea of getting back together might take some effort.

  Max promptly ordered me a glass of Shiraz, and I joked to the waiter (I wasn’t really joking) “a big glass please.”

  The waiter rolled his eyes and Max didn’t laugh. It was so awkward, I wanted to shoot myself.

  After a few moments, Max finally threw me a bone. “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know,” he said, his tone semi-sweet.

  “Thanks,” I smiled back, humbleness in my voice.

  After another moment of awkward silence, Max blurted out, “You want to get back together, don’t you?”

  I suddenly felt amazingly relieved. “Oh Max, thank you for making this easy. I could hug you!”

  “No problem,” is all he said.

  Things couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable. “Look, I realize I’ve hurt you deeply. But can you find forgiveness in your heart?”

  He didn’t answer. He just sat there staring at me. Was he deciding what to say? What to do? This was absolutely brutal!

  Lucky for me, a minute later my drink arrived, which I gulped down almost entirely in one sip. When I put down the glass, Max had a smirk on his face.

  “Please talk to me, Max. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  The next thing I heard was a woman’s voice. “Took forever to find a spot!” she exclaimed. Was she talking to us? I was confused.

  I turned and saw that a big-boned, slightly overweight blonde had appeared at our table. She kissed Max on the lips and sat down. “You must be Jamie!” she exclaimed, as she stuck out her hand to shake mine, “I’m Bonnie. I’ve seen you on WGB. You’re adorable!”

  Suddenly I was dizzy, and the wine had little to do with it. Bonnie was joining us for dinner? Things were fuzzy. What exactly was going on?

  “Hi,” I managed to say. I looked at Max, waiting for an explanation. All I got, though, was a polite smile, which pretty much expressed the joy he was getting from this whole situation.

  What happened next took things to an even more bizarre level. “So,” said Bonnie, taking her left ring finger and practically pushing it into my face, “What do you think?”

  My mouth was hanging wide open. This chick was showing me her engagement ring! Even more shocking, it was the exact three-carat oval diamond ring Max had given me just days earlier. My ring was now sitting on Bonnie’s pudgy finger.

  I turned to Max, almost afraid to look at him, and asked gently, “You’re engaged?”

  Max then got the satisfaction he must have been dreaming about for days. “Yup,” he said in a most self-assured voice, “Bonnie is the perfect woman for me.” Then he put his arm around his girl and looked right into my eyes. The happy couple was glowing and smiling at me for what seemed like ten minutes.

  In all the years I’d known Max, I’d never met Bonnie. And Bonnie had never known I was the reason Max broke up with her. Max and I had met through my ex-husband, John. John was a trader at the Chicago Board of Trade and Max was one of his clients. It was actually through Max that I found out John was cheating on me. I had been suspicious, but never had proof until one day.

  “Honey,” said my husband in a most sincere voice, “I won’t be around tonight. I’m meeting Max for dinner at Tavern on Rush.”

  “Really?” I asked him in the disappointed tone I now used so often, “Again?”

  “Listen, Jamie, I’m trying to make money for us and that means working. Do you think I want to go to dinner with Max? It’s work, not fun. Don’t you think I would rather be with you?”

  “Of course,” I answered, although not quite convinced. John’s words sounded so rehearsed and at the time, what I really felt like saying is, “No. I think you’re full of shit.” I held back, however, and decided to take his word for it, rationalizing the situation by reminding myself that Max was one of John’s biggest clients, and that it would be good for John to wine and dine this guy, who I knew had tons of money and loved to trade.

  So instead of acting like a needy wife, I decided to make some plans of my own for the night. After all, just because my guy wasn’t available, it didn’t mean I had to sit home. I called a couple of girlfriends and made plans to meet them for dinner at Sunda, a hip new place in River North.

  That evening, decked out in my best Hudson’s, a gold halter top, and three inch heels, I headed to the restaurant. While waiting for my friends to arrive, I ordered a dirty martini. Just as I put the rim of the glass to my lips, I got the shock of my life. There was Max, standing a few feet away. My eyes wide, my body frozen, and my mouth wide open, I knew instantly that tonight’s events were setting the stage for the beginning of the end of John and me. I took a deep breath and walked over to Max.

  “Hi,” I said, praying Max would tell me they had a change of plans, that John was here, and that he was in the bathroom. I knew that was a fantasy, though.

  “Jamie, hello!” Max replied, “Are you meeting John here?” He obviously had no clue that he was my husband’s alibi for the night.

  Tears instantly filled my eyes.

  “Oh my God,” said a confused Max, “What’s wrong?”

  I told Max about the lie.

  “Are you kidding me?” he responded. He seemed really angry.

  As I began to cry, Max comforted me. I could tell how sincerely upset he was about the situation. It was so strange. Max made me feel very calm. He felt like a big brother to me that night, staying with me until my friends arrived, and then per my wishes, putting me in a cab. Max also offered to cancel his plans and go somewhere with me and talk, but I declined. Instead I went home and waited for my scumbag of a husband to walk in the door, which he did at 3:00 a.m. Actually he didn’t walk in, he staggered in.

  I waited until the next morning to confront the very hung-over jerk, and after a lot of screaming, yelling, arguing and saying cruel things to each other, we decided we needed time apart. John moved out two days later, and shockingly, I barely heard from him again, except for a few random phone calls regarding legal documents that had to be signed. I found out later that John’s cheating had been going on almost the entire time we’d known each other.

  A few days after John left, Max called.

  “John told me you guys split up,” he began, “I want you to know that I closed my account with him. I will never do business with John or his firm, ever again.”

  “Really?” I asked, feeling both surprised and impressed by his decision.

  “Absolutely,” Max answered, “Knowing what I know now, I have a hard time trusting that guy. And trust is pretty darn important when you’re playing with the kind of money I play with.”

  Max’s voice was soft and gentle and it made me feel relaxed and at ease. Also, the fact that he had more money than anyone I knew made me feel safe with him. Not that money was a huge priority, but after what I’d just been through, wealth and stability seemed to go up on my list of important qualities in a guy.

  I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I soon found myself very attracted to Max. He made me feel like a little girl with a security blanket. He wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but he was a big guy. He wasn’t witty and charming, but he was kind and gentle. And he wasn’t sexy, but he was someone I could depend on. So when he asked me out for lunch I agreed, making it clear to him that I knew he had a girlfriend and our relationship had to stay strictly platonic, which was convenient for me since I wasn’t interested in dating him (or anyone) anyhow.

  Lunch led to another lunch the following week, which led to coffee a few days later, and then to dinner, a few days after that. Max and I were becoming friends but nothing more, mostly because there was no attraction on my part, but largely due to Bonnie, who he was planning to marry. So why was Max continuing to pursue me? It wasn’t like he
was cheating on Bonnie, yet Bonnie knew nothing about our relationship. And although it seemed a little bit wrong, I didn’t care that much because I liked my new friend, and as long as we weren’t physical with each other, technically there was no issue.

  I needed Max’s friendship. He listened, he cared, and he made me feel good about myself. He idolized me, and that was such a foreign feeling. And according to my mother, who was Max’s number one fan from day one, it was healthy.

  Our get-togethers continued platonic for a couple months, until one night. I invited him to the U2 concert at Soldier Field. Someone at the station had gotten a bunch of free tickets and had offered two to me. For some reason, I really wanted to take Max. We had a great time. I was surprised at how much fun he could be. I was also impressed (and shocked) that he knew most of the songs.

  After the concert, we decided to continue the festivities, hitting the bars until they closed. I couldn’t believe it. Straight-laced, nerdy Max was actually really fun. I found myself having a great time. Max wasn’t a stud or anything, but he was tall and big, and when I was next to him I felt protected. And after a few cocktails, and the lonely feeling of not having had sex for almost six months, I felt attracted to him. We ended up in bed that night.

  Now, I have to admit, part of me felt sick about being “the other woman.” I had been so disgusted by my cheating, slimy husband, and now I was just like one of the many women who slept with him when she knew he was married. Bimbo was the word that kept coming into my brain to describe myself. I also felt sorry for Bonnie, because she was me. She would find out that her boyfriend cheated on her, breaking a bond of trust that could never be repaired.

  But when Max told me the next morning that he was breaking up with her, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with me, I felt a little bit better.

  “Jamie,” he said, holding my hands, “Even if I never met you, the fact that I was able to form a friendship with another women like I have with you, has made me realize that my emotional connection with Bonnie is lacking. I promise you, even if I’d never met you, I’d be ending the relationship.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” He gave me a big grin and said, “I don’t feel the spark with her. And every time I see you, I can barely breathe.”

  That day, Max drove over to Bonnie’s place and broke up with her.

  “Bonnie,” he said holding her hand, “You know how much I love you, it’s just that I need some time to go out there and have fun. I hope you understand.”

  Naturally, Bonnie was devastated. According to Max, however, she did make a bold statement. “You go out there and date around. I’m okay with that. You know why?” She looked him right in the eyes and said, “Because I guarantee you’ll be back.”

  As fate would have it, and surprising to all three of us, Bonnie had turned out to be right. Here I was, sitting at a table with her, staring at the hand-me-down engagement ring.

  Physically, Bonnie was nothing like Max had described her. Max made her sound like she was three hundred pounds and looked like Valerie Bertinelli (but blonde) pre Jenny Craig. I couldn’t have disagreed more. The woman sitting next to me had a nice body. Yes, Bonnie was a bigger girl, but she was very attractive. Plus, she was dressed well, had good hair with nice highlights, and was extremely well accessorized with three long silver chains around her neck and her Philip Stein watch.

  Max was waiting for my response to his news, and was enjoying it oh so much. The first thing I did was put my ring-less hand up to call for the waiter. He came right over and I ordered another wine.

  “Max, what do I want?” asked Bonnie.

  This was so typical. Bonnie listened to everything Max said. Even more peculiar, she actually did everything Max told her to do. Literally! When she arrived at the table and said, “Took forever to find a spot,” Bonnie didn’t mean for her own car, she meant for Max’s car. Max had actually asked her to drop him off at the restaurant and drive around looking for a spot while he came in to meet me. And she did it.

  “She’ll have the house Merlot,” Max told the waiter.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Bonnie asked excitedly, as she stuck my old ring about an inch from my face again. “Max told me you were the one who said we should get back together. You’re such a good friend to him! I’m so grateful I could kiss you!” she practically screamed.

  “Then do it,” said her commander.

  So Bonnie reached over, grabbed my face, and planted a huge kiss on my lips.

  I think I was more confused than shocked. All I could do was gaze at both my old boyfriend and his new fiancé. Max had a look of satisfaction on his face, and I realized just then how little I really knew him. He wasn’t the sweet, loveable guy I thought he was. He was out for blood.

  “You know what I love about Bonnie?” he gloated, “She goes along with anything I say.” Then he kissed her on the lips. “I love you pookie poo-poo.”

  “Not as much as I love you, pookie pee-pee,” Bonnie answered in a baby voice.

  Nausea came over me. Pookie what?

  “Pookie, I forgot my iphone in the car,” Max said lovingly, “Would you be a pookie poo and go get it?”

  “Anything for you, Poo.”

  What language were they speaking? I wondered. Pookinese?

  Bonnie got up and when she spoke again her voice went back to normal, since she was talking to both of us. “I might be awhile. I parked pretty far away.”

  “You’re the best, pookie,” Max yelled to her as she walked away. Alone at last. Max didn’t wait long before speaking. It was obvious he didn’t want to waste any precious gloating time.

  “Happy for me?” he asked me.

  “It’s only been a week!” I exclaimed.

  “Hey, you’re the one who said I should do it, remember?” “How could you give her my ring?”

  “Actually, it’s my ring. And now, it’s Bonnie’s ring.”

  I couldn’t even respond. All I could do was continue drinking. I was fresh out of things to say. I wasn’t hurt, I was surprised. And I wasn’t angry, I was bummed. Not because I lost Max, but because if I wanted Frankie’s money, I now had to go to plan B.

  I could feel Max staring at me as I gulped down the last bit of wine left in my glass. Now the glass was empty, literally and figuratively. Not half empty, all the way empty. That is, until I looked up and saw Drew Conrad walk into the place and sit down at the bar. Now the glass in my mind was suddenly half full. The wheels started to spin. My depression suddenly turned to optimism as I watched the gorgeous camera man sit down at the bar. Even better, the waiter appeared with another wine for me. Now the glass was completely full, literally and figuratively and I was feeling better by the second.

  “Thank you!” I said to the waiter with delight. Then I gulped down about half the glass. I was busy drinking, but I could hear Max mumbling something about me being a lush. But who cared what he was saying? I giggled to myself. I placed the glass down on the table and stood up.

  “Good-bye, pookie poo poo,” I smiled, “Have a nice life.”

  Max didn’t look happy to see me go. “You’re leaving?” Obviously he wasn’t done rubbing it in.

  I pulled out the Bobbi Brown Truffle again and put on another coat. Then I pulled my shoulders back, took a deep breath and said with all the confidence I could muster, “I’ve got work to do.” Then I headed to the bar to approach my prey.

  Chapter 10

  For me to dress up like a chocolate covered pretzel, obviously I was hurting for money. Yes, me, Danny Jacobson, history teacher at Martin Luther King High School, 34 year-old upstanding citizen, was now spending my weekends dressed in a pretzel costume, handing out chocolate covered pretzels on Michigan Avenue.

  I was working for Pretzel Perfection, a tiny, no-frills candy shop, but nonetheless, a gold mine. Vito, the owner, kept the door propped open and the smell of chocolate that came out of there was delicious enough to explain the constant line of customers.

/>   On the sidewalk in front of the shop was where I handed out the samples. It wasn’t a bad gig, except for the costume. I had to wear brown shoes, brown tights and a brown cap. The worst part was, around my middle was a big, thick pillow, shaped like a pretzel. The fabric was brown with multi-colored felt sprinkles pasted to it. I felt like a total idiot. Still, I needed the cash, so I did it.

  “Chocolate covered pretzels…the best in Chicago!” I shouted, trying unsuccessfully to be enthusiastic. “Pretzels…chocolate-covered… delicious!” I continued to call out in a monotone voice, as I handed two of the little packets to a young couple.

  How did I get here? I kept thinking while I worked. I’m a school teacher, one of the most respected professions out there, not to mention a gifted actor. Is dressing up like a chocolate covered pretzel the best job I can get? Would I ever get to play a respectable role? And now, with Jennifer gone, did I even have a chance at any roles?

  “Delicious chocolate-covered pretzels…” I continued, realizing at that moment I might be the only person on earth who didn’t like chocolate.

  All of a sudden, wearing a chef’s hat and an apron, Vito stormed out of the store.

  “Listen, I can hear you from in there,” he shouted in his thick Italian accent.

  “So?” I answered.

  “So you suck,” he replied angrily, “Get a little more excited, would you?” Before I could respond, Vito grabbed the samples out of my hands, took over and started soliciting.

  “Thick, chocolaty, creamy chocolate covered pretzels!” he shouted with extreme enthusiasm.

  Two women passing by responded instantly, taking the samples with delight.

  “Frighteningly fattening,” he continued, “but oh…so amazingly delicious!”