82

Aida fit right in, to the point she became my right hand woman. Amanda and Celeste loved her, and she was soon a part of our group of friends.
Pretty soon the matchmaking started, married women have this thing about a single woman being in their circle. She fought them, saying she wasn’t ready yet.
She spent a lot of time in the bar, and soon everyone knew she was our friend, and that made her their friend. I’ll never forget the day another friend invited her to ride with him on a poker run.
He was huge, bearded, and white. And perhaps the gentlest man I’d ever met. Put him in a social situation where there were kids, and in half an hour they were clustered around him like he was the Pied Piper.
His wife turned out to be a cold, conniving bitch, having multiple affairs before he found out. It destroyed him, and she called him the biggest pussy she’d ever meet. Her new boyfriend thought he could get away with disrespecting him. Huge mistake. Sam and I bailed him out, got him a lawyer, and made it go away, but the damage was done. It had been eighteen months, and he still hadn’t even thought about dating.
Aida surprised us all by accepting, if they went on a date first, to get to know each other. It must have been a heck of a date, because they smiled like crazy on the poker run. Eight months later she was sporting a really nice rock, and was three months pregnant.
My life took another dramatic change when I was contacted by a woman, Alice Johnson, to see if we were interested in doing a campaign for her. She even had it planned out. That gave me pause, clients rarely have good ideas, and some as so married to them they insist we do it their way. I usually steered them towards someone else, because when they tank they never understand why.
She was a personal manager, specializing in fighters. Her new sister in law was Bettina “Bang Bang” Burke, now Stewart, a middle weight MMA fighter, World Champion in her class.
The campaign wasn’t for her, but a charity they both supported. I was hesitant but agreed to a meeting. Aida and I met her at the airport, had lunch, and she told us what she wanted. I had to admit, it was very clever. We tweaked it just a bit, did a few focus groups, and decided to go with it. Soon ads appeared, mostly in print and billboards.
It was a variation on the “Got Milk” campaign, only instead of milk they changed it to love.
“Got Love” was the official catchword of the National Adoption Coalition, a loose group of agencies designed to get children into loving homes.
It developed a huge presence nationally. The ads featured famous people, all adopted as a child, with a group of children from various homes, usually in their home city. There was a plea to consider adopting one of the children, and local dairies were tied in, promising x amount of gallons donated to the homes for every successful adoption. We even worked in the milk mustache.
Soon we had spokespeople begging us to let them help. Rock and country stars, professional athletes, business giants, actors, Olympians, Nobel prize winners, all adopted, all literally begging to help. We featured many of them with their adoptive parents. Some had even adopted themselves.
Betty and Mark Stewart, who helped originate the idea, posed with their newly adopted son. It was an instant favorite.
It led to my company, High Country Advertising, winning a national award. Howard, my boss, was still to weak to travel, so he sent Aida and me to accept it. Of course, her new husband Roy and Amanda went along.
…
It was very gratifying to be there. We made our acceptance speech, and apologized to Alice Johnson, who we insisted attend and share the stage with us, for stealing her idea, then thanked her and the people present for honoring us.
There was a mixer after the awards, Aida and I had a bet going, the one who got the most offers had to buy the loser breakfast. I had nine, Aida had sixteen. I told her I wanted steak and eggs.
We were just about to leave. I was looking around for Amanda, she and Aida had gone to the ladies room, when I ran into her.
Becky.
She had a hesitant, half fearful look on her face.
“Hello, Jace. How are you?”
I looked her over. She was still beautiful, a little heavier, but not much. Her hair was much shorter, her lips seemed fuller, but otherwise she was the still the beauty I fell in love with.
“I’m good, Beck. And you?”
She waved a hand dismissively.
“Oh, I’m all right. Congratulations on your award, it’s was good to see Aida again. She says she works for you now.”
I answered the implied question. “I prefer to say she works with me. I’m a minority owner and current manager of High Country Advertising, been there since, well, since after. I like it. I like the area. And the people.”
She looked down at my finger.
“Seems there is one there you really like.”
I don’t know if it hurt her feelings, but I smiled, rubbing my band.
“Yes there is. I see you found someone too.”
She had what could be only descried as a rock on her finger.
She twisted it, a nervous gesture.
“I have, and I’m content. But, Jace, late at night, when you’re lying there next to her, do you ever think about me? If you’d just forgiven me, we’d still be together.”
I sighed. “I used to think about you, a lot. But then I met Amanda, and you became a distant memory. Oh, I haven’t forgotten you, every once in a while something will trigger a memory of happier times, but it’s fleeting.”
She suddenly grabbed my hand.
“We could start over! I’d leave him in a minute if you’d take me back. I’ve never gotten over you. We were meant to be together.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me as I gently removed her hand.
“No we weren’t, Beck. If we were, you would have never cheated, and I would never have found Amanda. There’s more love and faithfulness in the tip of her little finger than your whole body. I’m sorry, Becky. Please, try to have a good life.”
I started to walk off when I felt a small hand slip into mine.
“Who’s your friend, honey?” asked Amanda, with a bland smile on her face.
“This is Becky, someone I used to know in my old town. Becky, I’d like to present my wife, Amanda.”
They didn’t offer to shake, just eyed each other and waged a mental catfight. I looked at them together, Becky in her midthirties, in a simple black dress, and Amanda, at twenty six still carrying the bloom of youth, her green floor length gown matching her eyes, the copper red hair cascading down her back, and was again amazed at how lucky I actually was.
Amanda broke contact and turned to me, smiling.
“Honey, I know it’s early, but would you take me back to the room, I seem to be having an evening bout of morning sickness.”
She stopped, put her hand to her mouth, and giggled. “Oops! I was going to surprise you tonight. Too late now. Congratulations, honey. It’s a boy!”
I think I heard a gasp behind me but suddenly the only thing in the world worth my attention was right in front of me. I gathered her in my arms, kissing and crying while she giggled. She finally had to beat on my back to make me let me go.
…
There was a massive celebration at the bar. Amanda smiled and thanked everyone, but when we got home she grabbed my balls and squeezed. I thought I was going to pass out before she let them go, then stroked them gently.
“I’ll kiss them in a minute, make them all better. I just wanted to make sure I had your full attention. I know who you were talking to in New York. If I EVER see you in the same room with that bitch again, I’ll wear your balls for earrings. Do you understand?”
She was starting to squeeze me again. I made her a solemn vow it would never, ever happen again. She let go and purred in my ear.
“Thank you honey. And I heard what you told her. It was so sweet. Besides, you’re gonna need those balls. I still want that girl.”
That’s it. I’m sure you know they lived happily ever after.