Chapter TwoSecret: I really would like to fall in love, soon.

I sit here at my laptop, staring over a article I had been writing the past few nights. The title is: How To Know When You’re In Love. The subject touches me tremendously since I’ve never really been in love. I’ve been in lust, but not love. I think that’s why I’m such a good writer. I don’t need to experience things to actually write about it. I know what it feels like to be in love, I know what one feels. I just haven’t experienced it myself.

I have only been in two relationships in my life. The first relationship came to me just after I moved to New York City. I began having a crush on my roommate’s boyfriend. He was perfect. He was blonde, wore glasses sometimes, and athletic. He was just the type of guy that I found attractive. I also knew that kind of guy would never see anything in me. Boy, I was wrong. One weekend when my roommate had went home to New Jersey for the weekend, he came over and told me he couldn’t stop thinking about me.

Within a short time period, I thought I had fallen head over heels in love with him. That secret relationship was one of the only things that I’ve done in my life that sometimes I regret. I lost a good friend, my roommate, and of course, lost the guy to her in the end. Who would choose a tall, blonde basketball player over a chubby girl with freckles – nobody.

My next relationship came in the form of a singer. We had things in common and we both came from similar backgrounds. He loved that I was smart and independent and I loved that he was Southern, since I had been around guys from the North so long. My relationship with him was the closest thing to being in love that I had ever experienced.

There was just one problem.

I couldn’t deal with the fact that he was a musician. The traveling and girls throwing themselves at him didn’t bother me at all. It’s the fact that he couldn’t help but talk about music. I have issues with music. I hate music.

Music is what killed my family.

The reason that my parents and brother died is because Dallas and I were fighting over the radio. I wanted to listen to Whitney Houston and he wanted to listen to Randy Travis. My father, who was driving, tried to calm us down as we sat in the backseat. For him to do that, he had to take his eyes off of the road. That’s what led to the death of my family – music. I don’t listen to music anymore. I listen to talk radio while I’m driving.

So that led to our relationship ending. He understood and that’s what I liked about him. He was very understanding to my needs. I understood his too. If his career didn’t revolve around the one thing that I hate more than anything in this world, I believe we would have worked.

So since my ‘break-up mourning period’ was over, Diana has been setting me up with random men from all over the greater Atlanta area. I’ve went out with politicians, accountants, lawyers, stockbrokers, and more. They don’t interest me. I don’t care about material things such as a good job. As long as someone understands me and I love them, they could be a coal miner from the mountains of Kentucky. I don’t care what job they have or what their ‘social-status’ is.

I lie away sometimes in my bed, wondering what it would feel like to have someone, laying there beside me, night after night for the rest of my life. Someone, besides Nichole, to call my own. Sometime to make me feel good about myself and tell me I’m beautiful even at the crack of dawn when I look like crap.

I guess, overall, I want what I’ll never have.

“Mommy,” I heard a voice, and looked over to see my angel peeking in my bedroom door. “Can I come in and sleep with you? I had a bad dream,” I smiled, nodding my head and watched her as she practically leaped onto the bed. More amazing as it was, she looked like me, except her hair was more reddish blonde than reddish brown. She had sparkling blue eyes and a smile to die for. Women at work always tell me that I should put her in beauty pageants but I don’t want to be one of those Mom’s, making their daughters grow up too fast.

“What was your bad dream baby?”

”That there was this man with no face and he took me away,” Nichole whispered, snuggling up closer to me. She had the cutest little Southern accent that I had ever heard. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. “I know it was a dream but it scared me.”

”That’s all it was,” I replied, kissing her forehead. “There’s not going to be a no face man that comes and takes you away. I won’t let them.”

”Maybe it was Daddy,” she said, looking up at me. “I know, I’m not supposed to talk about my Daddy.” I sighed, looking at her. “Mommy, do you know where my Daddy is?”

”He’s in Heaven baby, I told you that before,” I replied, pushing her hair out of her face. “I’ve told you this before. Just because other girls and boys in your class have both a Mommy and Daddy, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad girl. It just means you’re different and that is what makes you special, you’re different. You’re like me when I was little because my Mommy and Daddy died. It was just me and my Granny.”

“I know Mommy,” Nichole said, reaching up to hug me. She squeezed my neck, hugging me tightly and I smiled. “I love you Mommy.”

”I love you too baby. Now let’s go to sleep.” She snuggled back down under the cover and closed her eyes. I could spend all night just laying here and watching her sleep. It bothered me that she wondered about having a father so much. She doesn’t need one.

She might not need a father, but I desperately need a man.

- - - - - - -“The girl thought that she had found a guy’s ring that he was supposed to ask his girlfriend to marry him with,” Sandra said as she sipped on her cup of coffee. I sat in my chair, doodling hearts and balloons on a sketchpad, listening to her story. “So she searches all over the city and goes to this restaurant. She gets there to give the guy his ring back and it was her fiancée, with balloons all around and dressed in a suit. He asked her to marry him. It was his ring. Isn’t that romantic?”

I sighed, not even wanting to answer her. This is the type of thing I listen to day after day. I hear such sweet, romantic stories that happen to people. It only makes me realize how bad I want love in my life. Of course, the people that these things happen to are the girls that you envied in high school. They’re blonde, perky, and have the perfect figure. Then they get he perfect guy and live happily ever after.

“Savannah, isn’t that a great story?” Sandra asked, causing me to jump a little. “Savannah,” she said, looking at the other women in the room. “Is something going on that I should know about? Are there problems at home?”

”Oh no,” I replied, putting my notepad away. “Everything is fine.” I smiled, looking around at everybody else, trying to bullshit my way out of this. Somehow, I knew this wasn’t going to work.

“Is everything okay with your daughter or work?”

”No, no, everything is fine.” I replied, straightening my folder. I pushed all the loose papers inside so that nothing was sticking out. I cut my eyes up, looking at Sandra standing there.

“The meeting is adjourned today,” Sandra replied as I stood up with everybody else. “Savannah, stay.” Great. I sat back down in my seat, waiting for the interrogation. What would it be today, sex or mid-life crisis at twenty-six? I waited for everybody to walk out before I looked up at Sandra. She was staring right at me. “Savannah, is there a problem with something?”

“No Sandra, everything is fine, I promise.” I replied, moving my hands to my chest. “I didn’t get much sleep last night because Nichole kept having nightmares.” I looked back down at my notebook, waiting for her response. I kept waiting. She said nothing at all. “Seriously,” I looked up at Sandra finally, “I love my job and I’m just out of it today.”

”You are single right?” Sandra asked. I was a bit taken back. Of course, I was single, she should know that. Then again, I don’t air my personal business out in the open. I finally just nodded my head in return. “Great, I want to give you a special assignment.” Oh God, Sandra’s ‘Special Assignments’ are legendary.

“What assignment?” I asked, almost not wanting to know.

“Marissa, the head entertainment advisor of the magazine in New York, wants a Atlanta representative to write about celebrities. The magazine is named Kiss & Tell after all.” Sandra said, sitting back down in her chair. I nodded my head. I didn’t know where this was going, but honestly, I was becoming scared.

“So what is it you want me to do exactly?” I asked, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I mean, write movie reviews? Interview actors?”

“We want you in the mix of the Atlanta celebrity scene.” Sandra said, tapping her pen on the desk. “Get to know the celebrities.”

”What celebrities?”

”Jermaine Dupri, Janet Jackson, football players, baseball players, Julia Roberts, whoever lives around here.” Sandra replied, giving me an intense look. “Do you not understand the assignment?”

”No, not really,” I whispered. I didn’t want to sound dumb but I had no idea what she was insisting I do. “Do you want me to go to parties with them or something, because I have no idea how to do that.”

“I want you to get close to a celebrity. I want you to get inside their world and then write about it.” Sandra said. I watched her as she stood up and crossed her arms. She wanted me to betray someone. I don’t know if I could ever do that. “Do you have a problem with this assignment Savannah?”

“Well, I’m not the type of person to do something like that –“

”I don’t want you to write about that person specifically but write about celebrities and their lifestyles. You can learn a lot by being around one celebrity,” Sandra replied. “Hell, you’re single. Date a guy that’s famous and who knows, you might go somewhere.”

“Okay,” I whispered, looking down at the table. Sandra walked behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

“You’ll do a great job at this Savannah. That’s why I picked you,” Sandra whispered before walking out of the room. I watched her through the glass wall, wondering just why she picked me of all people. I didn’t know if I could do this. I didn’t even know any celebrities except for my ex boyfriend and I wouldn’t consider him a celebrity. He still drives the same truck he did now as he did when we dated. The fame hasn’t gone to his head yet, so I can’t use him. My boss wants me to become a bitch, and use someone.

- - - - - - -“She wants you to get close to a celebrity and write about it?” Diana asked that afternoon at the newspaper office. “I can’t believe they would make you do that.” I nodded my head agreeing. It had been on my mind all day and I still didn’t know how I would do this. “Do you know anybody around here that’s a celebrity?”

”You,” I replied, looking at her. “Can I be close to you?”

”Hmm,” Diana replied, walking over to her rolodex. I turned around in the chair and looked at her. “I think I might know a few people I could call to see if they know anybody.”

“I feel like such a whore right now.”

”You are not a whore.”

”No famous guy is going to want to hang out with me? I’m a fat chick with a kid for God’s sake. I’m married to my work, not on my knees, blowing him off or bowing to his every need.” I replied, sarcastically. I heard Diana snort and then laugh at me. “I’m serious. I’m not celebrity material.”

”You’re beautiful. So what, you’re not a stick figure. You’re a woman. You’ve got meat on your bones. You’ve had a kid for heaven’s sake.” Diana replied, smirking at her rolodex. “I tell you what, go home take the night off. Call me first thing in the morning okay?”

”Should I be scared?” I replied. I stood up, picking up my bags and stared back at her. “What are you going to do?”

”Don’t ask what I’m going to do,” Diana replied, pointing at me. “Ask what I’m going to do for you. I snorted before telling her goodbye.

As I walked down the hallway, thoughts crossed my mind of what Diana was going to do. I hope to God she didn’t get me to go out with any of these Atlanta Thug rappers like Ludicris. I might not listen to music, but I do know who people are. I think my wish from the night before was granted, but in a really messed up way. God’s playing with me, or at least I think he is.