Ten Years Later

by Lisa Marie Latino

  “Bye, beautiful.”

  I stuck my key in the ignition, and watched Miguel saunter back to his car while Dante dragged himself to his.

  “What a disaster,” I said aloud, putting the car in drive. Just as I pulled out of the garage, my phone rang. Miguel.

  “Hey, sexy, so sorry this night turned out the way it did.”

  “Yeah, it definitely wasn’t one of my better dates,” I admitted. “But we were stuck.”

  “It was an awkward situation. Your boss kinda latched onto me.”

  “Really, he annoyed you?” I laughed. “You two seemed to hit it off pretty well. I felt like I was intruding.”

  “Well, I couldn’t be a dick to the guy…” Miguel slowly trailed off. “But now that I’ve done dinner with him like that, I am guaranteed good press from you guys at least until the next homestand.”

  “Uh-huh.” I cringed at his words. Must every word, every move be calculated to help boost his image? You can start by not going 0-4 in a game, buddy.

  “Well…do you want to come by my place?”

  “Um…” For once, my angel and devil were deadlocked in agreement: Get the hell out while you can. I mean, what’s next; go to his apartment and see my mother babysitting his kids? But how can I bow out gracefully?

  “What’s with the hesitation?” Miguel chuckled.

  I heard my call waiting beep through. Dante. I quickly hit decline. “There is no hesitation; I had another call coming in.”

  “Okay, well, you seem on the fence. Are you coming over or what?”

  I couldn’t believe how forceful he was being! “Thank you for the offer, and believe me I would love to, it’s just that it’s late, and I’m in a lot of pain. I really need to go home.”

  “I can take away the pain for you,” Miguel purred seductively.

  Dante beeped through again, and again I brushed him off.

  “I have no doubt in my mind that you can, but I’d rather come over on a day where I’m in peak form.”

  Beep. I was growing increasingly flustered.

  “Hold on,” I growled, and clicked over.

  “Dante, unless you got in a very bad car accident and need my help, I’m hanging up on you.”

  “Are you on the phone with Miguel?”

  “WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE?”

  “Because I do. Are you?”

  “YES! Ok? Yes, I was supposed to be on a date with him. You people ruined it, are you happy now?”

  “So what? You are making plans for a night cap?”

  “Dante, we may have a show together, but in case you haven’t realized this, we don’t have a personal relationship anymore. Leave me alone!”

  “I think you are making a huge mistake.”

  “That’s nice, but I didn’t ask your opinion. I’m hanging up now, and please don’t dare call me back. Good-bye.”

  I heard Dante sigh as I clicked over to Miguel.

  “Sorry, Dante had car trouble,” I lied.

  “He seems to have other trouble too. I think he’s sweet on you.”

  “The only thing Dante is sweet on is himself. His panties were in a bunch because for once, he wasn’t the center of attention.”

  “Whatever. I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  “I told you, I don’t think I can.” I was so over this conversation.

  “Carla, tonight took a lot of effort, between your boss, and your ankle…I didn’t even want to go out in the first place! I usually don’t put this kind of work in.”

  I started feeling nauseous. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that I deserve to be handsomely compensated.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I laughed.

  Beep. What doesn’t Dante understand? But I was too heated with Miguel to care at this point. “Miguel…if anyone deserves to be handsomely compensated, it’s me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The lies, everything that happened tonight, New Year’s Eve...”

  “What happened New Year’s Eve?”

  “What? You don’t know?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. Which year?”

  He’s such a LIAR! “At your New Year’s party THIS year, the way you ignored me.”

  “Ignored you? Baby, if I had seen you there, I would have been all over you!”

  “Yea, that would have been a good look with YOUR WIFE hanging all over you!”

  “Well, we are divorced now. Does that count?”

  “No, that doesn’t count! Miguel…sleeping with you is just not worth it.”

  “Carla, do you know who I am? Countless girls around the city would die for the opportunity I’m presenting you right now.”

  “Let them have you. I have to go.”

  “Your loss.”

  “No Miguel…your loss.”

  I hung up the phone feeling surprisingly okay. It would have been cool walking into the reunion knowing I bedded Miguel Martinez… but it’s even cooler knowing that I turned down the chance.

  I noticed that Dante left me a voicemail. I debated deleting it, but I figured I’d listen to what he had to say.

  “Hi, Carla. You’ll probably be sneaking out of Trump Tower when you get this message, but I just wanted to thank you for helping me make the biggest decision of my life tonight. I got an offer from a record company tonight, and tomorrow I will be handing in my resignation at W-S-P-S.”

  23

  Day 321

  The next morning, I waited by the radio station entrance like an angry pit bull for Dante to arrive. True to form, he strolled in fifteen minutes before show time, dark sunglasses adorning his face.

  “What the hell was that voicemail you left me?” I demanded before he could even step foot inside.

  Dante brushed past me and rambled his way down to Dan’s office. I helplessly followed behind.

  “Dante, what about the show?”

  He said nothing and continued walking.

  “You just signed a deal here. You can’t go back on that!”

  Dante stopped in front of Dan’s closed door, threw off the sunglasses, and urgently knocked. A few steps later I caught up with him. I grabbed his shoulder and forcefully turned him around.

  “DANTE! You have to talk to me!” I gasped at his appearance. His normally alive blue eyes were sunken in and puffy. His hair was disheveled. And was he wearing the same outfit I saw him in last night? “Look at you, you’re a mess!” I said in my best Nancy D’Agostino voice. “If this deal was such a home run, you wouldn’t be walking around looking like some strung-out crack addict.”

  “Carla, leave me alone,” Dante warned.

  “I’m not letting you do this,” I replied defiantly.

  The door swung open. “Dante, come in!” Dan greeted warmly. “Carla, fun night.”

  Yea, what a hoot. I pushed Dante out of the way and stormed into Dan’s office.

  “What are you doing?” Dante demanded.

  “Dan, I know what Dante is here to do…and I forbid it.”

  “Well Carla, it’s not exactly your call…” Dan began.

  “What are you, some kind of masochist?” I snapped. “Why would you orchestrate having Dante, your friggin’ butt buddy over here, leave the station when our show has gotten the best ratings EVER in that timeslot?”

  “Butt buddy?” Dan asked, confused.

  “Carla, stop, you’re getting out of control…” Dante cautioned.

  “He doesn’t care about YOU,” I continued. “He wants you to get famous in music so he can be your date to concerts and the awards shows. He’ll pester the musicians for autographs like he does the athletes!”

  “What’s wrong with getting autographs?” Dan questioned.

  “I didn’t think you would be this upset,” Dante remarked.

  “I’m…I’m not upset you are leaving,” I stammered, caught off guard. “I’m worried about the show!”

  “I can’t worry about that. Onward and upward.”


  “Of course, you can’t. You never did.”

  Dan stepped in between us and held out his arms. “Both of you, just stop.”

  I attempted to calm my nerves by taking a deep breath. “What’s going to happen to the show, Dan?”

  “I don’t…I don’t know. I need to figure out a plan.”

  “You don’t even have a PLAN?” I shrieked.

  “This all came down last minute. I didn’t think my friend from Sony would fall in love with Dante so quickly…not that I blame him,” Dan backtracked and beamed at Dante, who remained emotionless.

  I was about to bust, but instead, I decided to ask the million dollar question: “Am I still going to be on the air?”

  Dan furrowed his brow and paused before answering. “I’ll tell you what. You and Dante do the show today like normal. Take tomorrow off, and on Monday we’ll make an announcement about everything.”

  I felt tears sting my eyes, not over what Dan said, but what was between the lines. I was toast. Done. Finito. I thought he finally turned a corner and saw the light when he gave us the show. But now I realized it was all bullshit. Dan still viewed me as a marginal hack whom he was forced to put on-air thanks to some bullying from his bosses. Here was his chance to evoke revenge…as a matter of fact, that was probably the motivating factor in helping Dante get a record deal, behind obtaining rare memorabilia and backstage passes. I’d probably get demoted to producing, or just be let go altogether. And here I thought I’d be walking into the reunion tomorrow night in good shape. Instead, I’m the worst shape of my life.

  I turned my head towards the door so no one could see the ripe drops about to shower down my face. “Okay,” I whispered, and rushed out the door.

  I don’t know how I managed to get through the show, but I did. Not once did I look over at Dante, and I’m sure it was the same story on the other side. After we wrapped, we silently exited the studio, and I left WSPS for possibly the last time.

  ■ ■ ■

  “Dante’s wanted to do music his whole life, can you blame him?” Andrea asked.

  “Yes. He signed a two-year contract; he has a commitment here!” I whined.

  “And he wants a life out of there! God forbid someone ever held you back from doing anything you wanted.”

  I gave Andrea the middle finger. “That’s not the point. If Dante leaves, I’m out of a job. He doesn’t know if he’s going to have success in music. He could potentially be screwing both of us over!”

  “Guys, which cake design do you like best?” Katie interrupted, flashing us two intricate sketches.

  “The second one,” I grumbled.

  “Well, I like the first one,” Andrea countered.

  “You would. It’s oversized and extremely tacky.”

  She stuck out her tongue at me.

  Andrea and I reported to Katie’s house to help her with last-minute reunion details. Needless to say, I didn’t want to be here. I had more important things to do, like stare at my bedroom ceiling and fret about the life of my radio career.

  “Carla, you are going to do the slideshow. And Andrea, you are going to make the “Hits of 2000’s” playlist!” Katie happily ordered.

  Of course, I got hit with the harder task. I enviously watched Andrea lean against Katie’s wood headboard, pop in some ear buds, and casually browse her laptop.

  Katie plopped next to me at her desk. “Okay, so in alphabetical order, you are going to alternate each person’s “then” photo with their “now!” The first part is done for you; Teddy scanned everyone’s senior year photo from our yearbook, and they are on his external drive in a folder titled Senior Year Photos...”

  “Yes, Charlotte York,” I interjected.

  “And for each person’s “now” slide, I need you to go on Facebook and pull a recent photo.”

  We had 532 people in our graduating class; I’d probably be done with this by the time our 30-year reunion rolled around. “What if they don’t have Facebook?”

  “Then don’t include them in the slideshow! Also, underneath the “new,” include new last names, or fiancés, or their kids’ names...”

  “What about jobs? Some of us don’t have any of those things you mentioned,” I retorted.

  “Sure, you can put jobs,” Katie replied sweetly.

  I opened the yearbook and started searching the computer in alphabetical order.

  “Beth Aaron,” I muttered to myself. I typed her name in Facebook, and she came up as “Beth Aaron Jones.” Married, no kids. I saved her wedding photo to the external drive.

  “William Ackler,” I continued. His default was his wedding photo. Obviously married. Right click, save.

  “Sophia Amorrosi.” Except now she went by “Sophia Amorrosi-Marzella.” Well, isn’t that a mouthful?

  “Dawn Apizzi.” Here we go, not married! I clicked on her information page to verify.

  “Engaged to Chris Ecklestein.” Shit.

  And down the list I went. It took me an hour to get through everyone. Out of all the souls that made up Honey Crest High School’s Class of 2007, a mere five people were not on the social networking site. (With all this technology, why did we need a stupid reunion anyway? Couldn’t Katie just have designated a time for everyone to log onto their computers and video chat from the comfort of their pajamas?) I didn’t even bother calculating the percentage of married verses single since I didn’t want to bum myself out even more.

  “My playlist is soooo retro!” Andrea laughed. “Check it out. “Say It Right” by Nelly Furtado; “Stronger” by Kanye West; “Because of You” by Ne-Yo; “Snow Patrol” by Chasing Cars; the entire FutureSex/LoveSounds album by Justin Timberlake…” She looked up from her laptop, concerned. “Is it bad that I still listen to these songs?”

  “Don’t forget the timeless classics by Dante’s Inferno!” Katie added. They both laughed.

  “What song should I use for the slideshow?” I asked, stone-faced.

  “You have the pictures done already?” Katie gasped.

  “All but five were on Facebook.”

  “Who don’t you have?” Andrea asked.

  “Mary Cochman, Joe Damon, Nicole Davis, Tiana Neese and Lionel Roberts,” I rattled off.

  “I don’t even know who those people are,” Andrea sniffed. “I never paid attention to the genetically-challenged.”

  I plopped down next to my bitchy friend to study her playlist for ideas. I settled on “Home” by Daughtry, and got to work.

  In a few hours’ time, I was done. Katie and Andrea watched it once through.

  “This is amazing!” Katie complimented.

  “My babies are waaaaay cuter than everyone else’s,” Andrea beamed.

  “We all are doing pretty well for ourselves,” Katie commented. I stayed silent.

  “Carla, you have a smokin’ hot radio show AND you were featured on TMZ this morning. You are doing fine,” Katie insisted.

  Oh yes, TMZ. And Page Six. And the corner front page of the New York Daily News. Miguel was right in the attention he would garner...and I was right in that it would all be positive:

  “Miguel Martinez: Gotham’s Newest Superhero”

  By Robin Stevens, Page Six Correspondent

  Drape a cape over those pinstripes! Yankees super-slugger Miguel Martinez has proven to be clutch both on and off the diamond.

  As these exclusive pictures show, Martinez saved W-S-P-S Sports Radio 960 AM mouthpiece, Carla D’Agostino, from nearly bleeding to death on the streets of Little Italy.

  “Miguel’s limo pulled up in front of Gufo [one of the city’s hottest new eateries], and a swell of people surrounded the vehicle,” dished a source. “The girl’s whimpers were overshadowed by our cheers.”

  “When Miguel stepped out of the car, he noticed Carla writhing on the ground in pain. He separated the boisterous crowd—much like Moses parting the water in the Bible—and rushed to her side.”

  “She must have taken a huge fall because she was beaten up pretty
badly,” added another source. “If Miguel didn’t come to her rescue, she could have died right there on the sidewalk!”

  Miguel hoisted the brown-haired beauty on his back and carried her into Gufo to collect her bearings. But in an interesting twist, neither Martinez nor D’Agostino exited the restaurant for hours.

  “Carla was so thankful for Miguel’s heroics, that she invited him to chow down with

  [W-S-P-S honcho] Dan Durkin and [D’Agostino’s co-host, radio heartthrob] Dante Ezra, whom she was meeting for dinner,” a restaurant patron snitched.

  “The four of them feasted on rich Italian fare, homemade wine and [Gufo owner Massimo Marzella’s] famous cannolis, all on the house. They had a marvelous time filled with tons of laughs.”

  Will the W-S-P-S starlet continue to show her appreciation for the newly-single slugger, who just finalized his divorce from bombshell beauty Trisha Jefferson?

  “Miguel is just playing the field and isn’t interested in dating right now,” a Martinez insider confides.

  In my freshman year of college, I took “Intro to Journalism”. My professor drilled “ethics” and “fact checking” into our skulls. Evidentially, they didn’t teach that anymore.

  “It might have been cool to see myself in the paper for like two seconds, but that thrill is long gone,” I sighed. “Everyone is going to ask me about the show tomorrow night, and I have to pretend like everything is okay.”

  Andrea and Katie frowned.

  For the first time in a long time, I was about to become a runaway train of pity. The only way to slam on the brakes was to be alone through the night and the weekend…including the reunion. I slapped the laptop screen shut and rose from my seat. “I’ll burn you a copy of the slideshow and leave it in your mailbox. I’m going home.”

  “You don’t have to do that, just bring it with you tomorrow night.”

  I stuffed the laptop into its carrying case. “I’m not going tomorrow night.”

  “Carla, you HAVE to come,” Andrea demanded.

  “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.”

  “Carla, I’ve been working my ass off to make this an amazing event. I’ll take it as a slap in the face if you don’t come,” Katie snapped.