Chapter 4

After my birthday the holiday season ramped up, and soon enough it was finals time, and Christmas break. I made it through finals okay, but I didn’t do as well in two courses as I wanted. The two Bs dropped my GPA down to 3.83. After some anxious moments, the registrar’s office certified that I had completed my degree requirements. I wouldn’t graduate until May, but I could start the MBA program after Winter break. Even better, the Graduate School of Business and Management exempted me from taking the GRE because of my grade point average.

The holidays were crazy busy. There were innumerable parties to attend, and a gaggle of company functions at the Spellman Group. So I spent most of my time with my family and Michael and only saw Joey twice. Joey was not happy about that and neither was I. New Years Eve (the night I first told you a little about, at the start of the story) was the worst though, because when Michael kissed me at midnight all I could think about was how much better it would be if it was Joey’s lips on mine. To be fair here, Michael probably wished I was someone else also.

Michael and I were still dating platonically, our pact of the previous summer still intact. Our dating was like a place marker in that we went out together as a way of keeping our relationship going in case we wanted to make more of it later.

The winter months passed quickly, and it was suddenly Spring break. Instead of going to Cancun for the week, I went home. I wasn’t the party-till-you-puke type; and besides, I was worried about Joey and I needed to see him. My worry about Joey stemmed from the fact that I hadn’t seen him in nearly a month. Sure, we talked on the phone at least once a week but he seemed distant and distracted the last couple of times we chatted. In our last conversation I pressed him about it.

“We’ll talk about it when you come home,” he’d said, and his tone sounded ominous to me.

I called Joey as soon as I arrived.

“Hi, Baby, I’m back in town,” I said, hoping I did not sound as nervous as I felt.

“Welcome home, Andrea,” he replied.

I couldn’t tell anything from his voice, good or bad, and that worried me even more.

“When can I see you, Joey?” I asked.

He sighed and answered, “That’s always been up to you Andrea, so you tell me.”

Nope, this didn’t sound good at all.

“How about right now?” I challenged.

He agreed so thirty minutes later he slid onto the bench across from me in the same booth we used last summer at the Buy the Book bookstore coffee shop. He looked even more boyishly handsome than usual, I thought, with his longish sun-bleached hair and deep green eyes. He gave me a weak little smile.

“Hi,” he said, as if we were strangers on a bus.

I looked at him in disbelief; my worry about him morphed into frustration.

“We haven’t seen each other in a month and that’s all you can say?” I hissed angrily.

His voice was soft and sad when he answered.

“I’m just following your rules, Andrea. No public displays of affection where someone you know might see us, remember?”

I nodded; what could I say? I might not have anything to say but Joey did.

“ ... and that’s the problem, Andrea. I love you and I want to be able to tell and show you that anytime and anywhere. I want to be your boyfriend, not your occasional boy toy.”

“But that’s not what you are Joey,” I protested. “You are my friend and you know as well as I do why friends with benefits is all we can be.”

“I understand your reasons but I can’t live this way any more. So we either become a couple or I’m out,” he said.

By now I was good and mad, so I lashed back at him.

“Then I guess you’re out,” I replied hotly.

Then I stood up, wrapped my self in all the dignity I could muster and walked out leaving him sitting there looking forlorn and dejected. ‘Serves him right,’ I mused as I stalked toward the door.

My anger carried me all the way home. Then regret pounced on me as I pulled my Beemer into my spot in our six-car garage. Even if Joey and I were never intimate again, I still wanted him as a friend. He was a good person, he listened to me nonjudgmentally, and he made me laugh; what more could you expect from a friend? I reached in my bag, pulled out my phone and held down the three key. He answered “hello” on the third ring.

“Can we still friends without the booty calls?” I asked.

There was silence on the phone for a long ten seconds then he sighed.

“I’ll always be there for you, Andie, but it hurts too much to be around you. That’s the best I can do right now,” he replied.

I said I understood and we wished each other well before hanging up. And just like that Joey and I were history.

I cried some and moped for a few days but eventually I convinced my self that it was all for the best. I rationalized that it was just as well Joey called a halt to our relationship because my goals were in sight and my future still didn’t include him. I carried that attitude back to school with me.

Back in Gainesville I was able to focus on school to the exclusion of all else. Even on the weekends I stayed home buried in research for my thesis. Writing a thesis cut two courses off the MBA program. With the credits I would receive from my summer internship at Spellman Group I would complete my degree in a year. I was busy, my time and most of my mind occupied, but I was not happy.

Robert and I received our degrees in late May. It was a good day for our family what with me already in the MBA program and Robert headed to Harvard Medical School’s MD-PHD medical research program. We were all extremely proud of Robert.

After a boisterous dinner with our families, Robert and I returned to our apartment to finish packing. We were both headed home the next morning. I was keeping the apartment through the end of the year but Robert was moving everything home before moving up to Boston in August. He had already packed most of his stuff in a small U-Haul trailer that was attached to his silver Lexus SUV.

When we arrived at the apartment there were a couple of gift wrapped boxes in front of the door. Each had a card attached, one with my name on it the other with Robert’s. We took the surprisingly heavy boxes inside and sat them on the coffee table and then sat our selves on the couch and opened the cards. My heart beat a little faster when I saw the congratulatory card was signed ‘Love, Joey’.

Under the gift wrap were wooden stationary boxes with our initials relief carved in the tops. Inside the boxes were monogrammed stationary and a wood pen and pencil set that matched the boxes, cherry for me and walnut for Robert. ‘Handcrafted by JM Spacey’ was burnt into the inside top of each box. Robert was impressed with the quality of the boxes and the fact that Joey made them. I was blown away by Joey’s thoughtfulness considering how we’d parted.

Once back home I settled into work. I was working exclusively for Rainbow Talent this summer, filling in for my mother’s personal assistant who was on maternity leave. Working for my mother was a great experience because I learned a lot about dealing with difficult people from her. She had a knack for reading people and figuring out what would motivate them. She could be sugar sweet or hard as nails. I was in awe as I watched her deal with the gigantic egos some of her clients displayed; she made it look easy. Mother did not seek out clients; they flocked to her because Rainbow Talent would take care of them and make them money.

I believe I told you earlier that my mother was once a high fashion model. When she worked the runways she was know only by her first name, Moniqua. Mother is an island girl born and raised in the Parrish of Christ Church on Barbados. She was discovered by a talent scout for the United Kingdom’s Elite Modeling Agency in 1984 and won the Elite Model Look competition in 1985. She was sixteen years old when she signed with Elite. My mother was the requisite tall, slim and beautiful but she was also intelligent and ambitious.

My mother expected a lot from her PA and gave them authority to go with the responsibility. I was hesitant at first to make decisions in her name but after a month of growing into the job I was handling routine matters quickly and efficiently. The job was challenging and interesting enough that I was barely giving Joey a thought. Yet with all that, I still wasn’t happy.

I continued to keep my relationship with Michael platonic even though I didn’t have to. For some reason, the thought of sleeping with him was totally unappealing. I didn’t know what to do about Michael. He had every quality I looked for in a potential mate but for some reason I kept him at arms length.

I went out with Michael at least one a week, usually on a Friday or Saturday night. After one of our Saturday night dates in late June, Michael was the subject of conversation at Sunday dinner. Mother was the one who brought him up.

“How was your date with Michael last night, Dear?” she asked in her upper-crust British accent.

“It was fine,” I said noncommittally. “We had dinner at Chez Henri, then went to the movies.”

Mother did not let my tone deter her.

“He is a wonderful young man,” she said.

Then she turned towards my father.

“Don’t you agree Charles?”

My father looked up from his Beef Wellington, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“He certainly has a bright future with the firm,” he opined, “but I don’t know if any man is good enough for my Princess.”

“Daddy!” I squeaked indignantly.

Mother chuckled and turned back towards me.

So are you two getting serious?”

I shook my head emphatically, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

“Not really, don’t you think I’m a little young for that?”

Mother shrugged.

“I’m not talking about marriage tomorrow. Even if you became engaged this summer it would take at least a year to plan a proper wedding. And by then you would be twenty-four, the same age I was when I married your father.”

What she was saying was pretty much the path I had envisioned my life following. There was, however one little sticking point.