Betrayed Ch. 10

"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed. "You acted completely surprised that Monday afternoon when I indicated I wasn't a 'cherry' anymore."

Angie winked and beamed a smile my way.

"I sure did, didn't I?" she cooed. "Pretty convincing, too, if I do say so myself. Anyway, while you were gone on your 'date', I sidled over to Dianna and complimented her on her new 'girlfriend'. She gushed about you, went on and on about the day the two of you had had, how you had spoiled her, how she was falling in love with you, and that she was going to transform you totally. She didn't tell me anything about the plot that night. She was stunned when I told her you were my boss. I offered to help in your transformation and she couldn't have said 'YES!' any faster.

"You didn't tell her about your personal interest in me, did you?" I inquired.

Angie shook her head slowly.

"It was wrong of me; I know," she spoke ruefully. "I had wanted youso long. Then, seeing you as 'Lisa' – something I had been craving all that time.... No honor among thieves, huh?"

I just shrugged my shoulders a little bit.

"Later," Angie continued, "after she had had it out with Jeff and he had begun blackmailing her, she saw the whole thing coming apart. She knew she was going to need alotof help – and she confided everything to me. Of course I told her she could count on me. I don't know at what point she suspected my motives were about more than my friendship with her. A girl justknows,Mi Amor. I think by that time she had begun to believe no matter how much she loved you, she wouldn't be able to keep you. You were too deeply entrenched in your world – a world in which she felt she was an outcast. To her credit, she didn't begrudge me winning you. Yesterday, she told me if she couldn't have you, she didn't want you in anyone else's arms than mine."

Tears were streaming down Angie's face.

"Did you say to her," she sniffed, "something to the effect that you 'would give it all up,everything, to keep her safe'?"

I stared at the sheets and nodded. Tears were welling up in my eyes, too.

"Baby," Angie cried, "Dianna asked me to remind you of that. That is exactly whatshedid; she gave everything up – includingyou – to keep you safe. She said it wasn't much, compared to what you had done, given, and meant to her, but it was the best she had to offer.

"Mi Amor,please don't hate me for what I am about to say. I havenever seen anyone sacrifice herself so selflessly for someone else as Dianna did for you. I love her like my own flesh and blood for doing it –but I'm not sorry she's gone. I have wanted you for my own forso damn long. Now that I've got you... damn it, IknowI love you every bit as much, if not more. I just pray to God I never have to prove it that way!"

Angie clutched me tightly, her body wracked with sobs. That made two of us.

***

No official mention was made by the team of the incident at the Mr. Gay Leather Pageant; nor did any account find its way onto the local news. It was announced Jeff Spencer was going into rehab for a dependency on painkillers and would probably miss training camp. Of course, it was all over the Gay community, which meant it was all over the city. The switchboards at the local radio sports and talk shows were lit up like Christmas trees for weeks. Later, it would be announced that, with regret, the team was dropping Jeff Spencer's contract – presumably, over the 'morals' clause.

After that public relations debacle, Susan left the team's front office, and Chicago, "by mutual consent". I guess publicity people are like baseball managers, too; she signed on with the Miami organization within a week. I suspect the deal had been done before she even packed her bags. Miami had an up-and-coming QB prospect whom they believed to be another Dan Marino. Jake Prescott, three years out of USC, had it all; the size of Bobby Douglass, the stamina of a racehorse, the eye of an eagle, and a rifle for an arm. All the sportswriters were touting him as The Next Big Thing. Knowing Susan, he already was.

A few months later, there was a small article on Page Three of theTribune. Des Moines police were investigating the shooting death of Jeffrey Glenn Spencer, former football star and Chicago sports legend, whose body was found in his room in a transient hotel in downtown Des Moines. Spencer had been attempting a comeback with the Des Moines Demons of the fledgling Continental Football Association. Autopsy results would be forthcoming, a police spokesman announced, but a preliminary Coroner's investigation indicated the fatal woundmay have been self-inflicted....

Angie and I found that boat we liked. We accosted its owner, too – in the office next door to mine. Rob hadn't had any idea he was going to buy a boat until Angie and I slinked into his office and closed the door. She perched on the edge of his desk. I slipped into his lap, wrapped my arms around his neck, and fed him the pitch exactly as Angie had presented it to me. Well, notexactlythe same way. So, the firm came into possession of a 'company yacht' (nothing like Bill Wirtz'sBlackhawk, but nice enough to cruise the lake and small enough to tie up in Ogden Slip). Rob and Jim had a blast weekends, hobnobbing with the other Boat People. Angie and I kept up our end(s) of the bargain, getting fabulous tans on deck and making our bosses lookreally goodin the process.

I didn't need Angie to tell me where Dianna went. Armed with the Internet and her Social Security Number – plus the suspicion her trip to L.A. had not been a coincidence – I tracked her down in West Hollywood. Angie was not thrilled with my proposed trip, but acquiesced. She knew I needed closure. She also made me promise faithfully I would come home to her before making any lasting decisions.

I found her sitting on a stool at the bar inClub 7969 on Santa Monica Boulevard. I didn't think the place was anywhere near as nice asRingers,but it had a function and served it. God, she still looked good! It was as if time stood still for both of us. We spent a long weekend in bed together, just as it had been before; concentrating on the here and now, not externals – or the past. Before I left her, I made sureIsether up – with a trust fund, two-bedroom condo, and car of her own. I wanted her to understand she could be anything she wanted to be – and not dependent on anyone or anything to achieve it. This time, I made sure I had her cell phone number, too. When she dropped me off at LAX, we just kept touching each other, not wanting to break the magic of the moment. The feeling was still strong, and has been every time I've called.

I still have my life and job in Chicago. I won't deny Angie keeps me happy. There are a million things, big and small, I love about her. She isn't afraid to tell me how much she loves me, either.STGand I have made the firm phenomenally successful; a 'name brand', both on LaSalle Street and worldwide. I've made a ton of money for myself, too. Angie and I socialize publicly (and intimately) with Rob and Jim, but still reserve that special, very private relationship for each other. We have not gotten married and probably won't while we both still work for the firm. We need to keep up appearances at the office; such a union would lead to some really embarrassing questions we wish to avoid. If we are being less than honest with our co-workers, I hope we are at least being honest with each other. Sometimes, I have my doubts.

When she wants me that way, the Little Blue Pill is there to help. Yes, it works for 'pickled' T-girls just as well as sixty-year-old would-be Lotharios. She has jokingly suggested perhaps I should get an implant, too. Then again, she hasalso suggested I go the other way entirely - and not in a joking way. I admit that thought has a definite appeal, but what would that mean tous?

Rob is happy with thestatus quo but I don't think Jim is. My instincts tell me he wants more from Angie. Angie hasn't voiced any desire to change a thing, but she does enjoy our little foursomes a lot. Sometimes, when I see the way they look at each other.... Rob looks atmethe same way and Angie doesn't object – but then, why would she? Lately, she and I have been 'honeymooning in Viagra Falls' less and less. There I go, being a 'man' again. We don't need to, Silly – do we?

Should I have The Talk with her? Do I need to? For someone who has placed such high stock in the value of words, why am I afraid to ask them? Am I more afraid of the answers? Why does my life have to be so damn complicated? Then again,maybe it doesn't.

There were times, very late at night, when I stood on our balcony, gazing down at Ogden Slip and the lake beyond while Angie slumbered peacefully in our bed. I imagined myself on the sun deck atFat Tuesdays on Duval Street, clad in my string bikini and heels, sipping a piña colada and listening to island music. The sun shown brightly, the air was hot, and everyone was looking forward to the rain shower that would descend from the heavens at five PM, as it always did. I could see in my mind the old movie theater a bit farther down the street, where they now do drag shows. Then I pictured those mesmerizing brown eyes and wondered if that kind of life would appeal to her. Would she be willing to do it again; give it all up,everything, to keep me safe, secure, and happy in her embrace? Would I? As the lawyers say: "asked and answered" – at least, in my own mind. I ached for her then. I still do.

Just let go - and see where the current takes you.

***

Special thanks to Matt Jones for his timely contributions on Chicago lore, past and present.

My sincerest appreciation to my legion of knowledgeable fans who had enough faith in me to refrain from sniping at the unfolding plot until the fat lady sang.