Along Came A Socialite

We were from two different worlds, him and I.
I never really fit into the picture that his family had painted for him. I had dreams and ambitions; I wasn’t some silly party planner. I wanted to travel and see the world, be a career woman, and that just wasn’t acceptable. But all of these factors that played against us didn’t matter because we can’t control our hearts. We can’t choose whom we fall in love with.
It’s not that simple.
You see, the tough thing about following your heart is what people forget to mention-- that sometimes your heart takes you places you’ve never been. And those places, no matter how exciting or compelling they maybe, can only lead to heartbreak.



“Chris, please! Can we just talk about this?” He pleaded while moving a packed bag away from the front door.

Through her silent tears, Chris begged-- “Why didn’t you tell me?” A thundering silence echoed through the corridor as Chris shook her head. “You’re just like the rest of them.” She uttered, barely above a whisper.

With that, Chris picked up her crimson peasant patterned bag and turned her heel to leave.

He didn’t stop her.

There was no use.

One Year Earlier

“Look, just fire Eric and re-hire Andy” Christine Belmont ordered into the receiver.

“But Eric’s a great guy-” the woman on the other end protested.

“And Andy’s a good bar tender! Hire the guy that doesn’t spill the drinks!”

It was a peculiar relationship the two shared. Most daughters [or any children for that matter] do everything in their power to seclude themselves from their parents, but Chris was different. She didn’t have a mom; she had a best friend.

“Fine! But I’m blaming you!” Julia Belmont, Chris’ mother, interjected.

“Knock yourself out, but I’m going to get some coffee so I’ll call you later.”

“Have fun taking five years off your life. Love ya!” With that the pair hung up their call phones and once again retreated to their separate lives. Jules went back to running her restaurant in Arlington, and Chris went back to living her fast-paced live in New York City.

Chris continued to walk down the crowded streets of the Upper East Side and eventually made her way towards the coffee stand. “Large Vanilla Latte please.”

She checked her watch. Chris had five minutes to make it into the building across the street for her foreign policy seminar and she couldn’t be late. The vender handed Chris her coffee and she reluctantly paid $3.50 for it.

As she began to walk down the sidewalk, Chris took the first, and most important, sip of her coffee. The rich, bittersweet liquid was exactly what she needed. She was about to take another gulp of her beverage when she felt the scalding hot liquid soak into her sweater.

“Shit!”

“I am so sorry!” A man exclaimed as he picked up the now empty foam cup. “Here, let me buy you another cup.”

“It’s no necess-”

“I insist.”

Chris complied, knowing full well that she was being locked out of her seminar at that very moment. The man walked up to the coffee kiosk and ordered two coffees while Chris further occupied herself.

Why is he so familiar?

“Here ya go.” He said, interrupting Chris’ thoughts.

“Thanks.” Chris once again took the first sip and it was euphoric. She didn’t know what it was about coffee, but something about it always seemed to relax her. “I’m Chris.”

“Logan.” The pair shook hands and relished in their strange introduction. “You weren’t in a hurry were you?”

“Nope. My thing was just canceled actually.” Chris lied.

“Well then, in that case, how’d you like to get breakfast with me?” Logan flashed a brilliant smile in hopes of winning her over; and it did.

The two began to walk down the street when it hit her-- the smile, bright blues eyes, sandy hair! Chris knew why he looked so familiar; he was Logan Anderson, the heir to the biggest fortune in Manhattan to date. So why was he wearing jeans and a collard shirt? And more importantly, why was he asking her to breakfast?

After five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Logan ushered Chris into a quant deli to the left of one of the numerous Starbucks on the block.

“What will it be for the lady? I do owe you after all.”

“Blueberry muffin. And you already bought me coffee, so we’re even.”

“But what about your sweater? I can at least buy you a muffin at the expense of dry-cleaning.” Buying breakfast would be a help because Chris was already crunched for money, so she gave in and let Logan pay.

While he paid, Chris spotted a cozy circular table in the corner of the deli and sat down. Praying the coffee hadn’t seeped onto her shirt, Chris peeled off her burnt orange cardigan, leaving her in a chocolate brown, bohemian tank top, khaki capris, and brown wedge wrap-up heels.

Logan then placed a muffin in front of her, and sat down across the table. “There you are. One blueberry muffin.”

“Thanks.” Chris tucked a strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear and began to play with her left earring.

“So, where were you off to this morning?”

“A seminar.”

“A seminar? Just some seminar?” Logan began to toy with Chris and was enjoying himself immensely. “Sounds very intriguing.”

“I’ll have you know if was a seminar on foreign policy in today’s world.”

“The one with Ana Arana from Foreign Affairs magazine?” Logan took a sip of his coffee and relished in the thought of surprising his companion.

“How’d you know?”

“I was suppose to be there, but I decided to skip; but it was canceled so that’s good.”

“Um, actually, I kinda, uh, lied.” Chris finally met Logan’s gaze and told him the truth. “The doors lock at 11:30, so I couldn’t get in.”

As if he were unfazed by her predicament, Logan just furthered the conversation, “Then, we’re in the same boat. I can get some notes to you this afternoon.”

“Oh, okay.” Chris just nodded her head and began to fiddle with her left earring once more.

“That’s not a problem is it?” Chris was surprised, there was actual concern in his voice.

“Nope,” she lied. The truth was that the seminar in question happened to have some of the best foreign affairs journalists present, one of whom was hopefully going to give Chris an internship that summer. Thinking it wise, Chris decided to steer the conversation away from that topic and in another direction. “So, if you weren’t going to the seminar, why were you near the building?”

“I was getting some coffee. That kiosk has the best in town.”

“Hm, not a Starbucks boy?”

“Nah, that stuffs way too overrated.” Logan stared intensely at her; he couldn’t figure Chris out and it was killing him. Most girls flocked over him (a fact which he didn’t mind) but this girl was different; she didn’t care who he was. She was smart, intelligent, and went to her classes like a college student should. She was everything he tried to avoid, but this time, something changed. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Um, wedding dress shopping.”

Logan was stunned. “Oh, uh, okay.” He said disappointedly.

“So, I uh, I better get going. Shouldn’t be late and all.” Chris began to stand up, and courteously, Logan did the same. “Thanks for the coffee and muffin.”

“Yeah.” That was all he could manage to come up with. Chris left the deli, leaving Logan sitting speechless and dumbfounded in the corner.

She was engaged?

Logan was yanked away from his thoughts by a man clearing his table. “Tough break man.”

“Do you always listen in on other people’s conversations?”

“Only the good ones.” The man grabbed Chris’ empty muffin plate off the table, “We still on tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.” The man was about to walk away from the table when his friend’s voice stopped him. “Hey Clint?”

“Yeah?”

Logan paused, “Never mind.” He then proceeded to walk out of the deli and back onto the boisterous streets of New York City.


“Hey, I’m back!” Chris screamed as she closed the door to her dorm. Chris couldn’t afford to have her own apartment off campus, along with seventy-five percent of the student population, so she had opted to live I n the dorms for the entirety of her college career.

“Fast seminar.” A girl said as she walked through the common room and into the bathroom.

That was Lena McKenzie, Chris’ eccentric, bohemian roommate from Chicago. She had gorgeous beach blonde wavy hair and always looked like she had just returned form Maui or St. Bart’s. Lena came from new money based in Illinois; Her father was a heart surgeon and her mother was a thriving musician who owned a club called ‘The Blue Lagoon’ in Chicago. Needless to say, NYU was easily affordable.

“Didn’t go.” Chris dropped her bag on their burgundy sofa and walked into her bedroom to change.
“Did Jen call?”

“Message is by the phone.”

“Awesome.” Chris was digging through her closet, hopelessly searching for another outfit to wear. “You know we have to be at Weston’s at 1:30, right?”

“Yeah,” Lena hollered.

The dorm wasn’t much, but over the past four years, it had become a home to Chris, Lena, and their roommates Jen and Audra. There were four room bedrooms and one bathroom, all of which connected to a fair sized common room-kitchen combo.

“But stop avoiding the subject! Why didn’t you go today?”

“I got locked out.” Chris promptly replied while running into the common room. “Can I borrow your jean jacket?”

“It’s by the door.” Lena walked back into the room with her hair sopping wet in a towel turban. “And how did you get locked out? You’re annoyingly on time to everything.”

“It wasn’t my fault, some guy ran into me and made me late.” She picked up her purse and began to find the jacket amongst the pile of things on the coat rack. “You almost ready?”

Lena pulled down the towel and opened the front door--“Yup, let’s go!”

“She’s gonna kill you.”

“What?” Lena questioned.

“You’re going out with your hair wet- to a dress fitting.” Chris reputed matter of factly.

“She’ll live. Besides, she woke me up at 7:00AM to borrow my bag, so it’s only fair.”
“You’re bitter.”

“No,”: Lena ran her fingers through her semi-dry hair, “I just like to give karma a helping hand every now and then.”

The best friends exited their building and walked the ten city blocks to Weston’s Formal Wear Boutique.

“You’re late!” Jen proclaimed as she stood up.

Jen was your typical Manhattan baby, born and raised. If there was one thing she loved, it was continuity and order.

Chris placed her bag down in Jen’s vacant chair. “Breathe. We’re fifteen minutes early.”

Jen ignored her companion’s advice and continued on her rant-- “And your hair is wet! Lena!”

Lena shrugged up the comment and began to parade around the boutique, “So, where’s Audra?”

“She’s stuck in the Hamptons with her parents for the weekened.” Chis answered whiled adley flipping through a bridal magazine.

“What?”

“Calm down Jen! I have all her measurements right here.” Chris began to fiddle through her large brown bag and eventually produced a folded up piece of legal paper covered in Audra’s script.

“Everything is falling apart!”

“No it’s not,” Lea chimed in, “Rachel will be here in five minutes and she will handle everything.”

“Did someone say my name?” A tall slender woman immediately entered the boutique and placed her briefcase on one of the many tables. She was approximately thirty-one years of age with stunning brown eyes and thte hair color of Katherine Hepburn.

“Thank God you’re here!” Jen exclaimed, “Everything’s a disaster!” Jen began to explain what had just occurred between the other women only moments before. By the way it was told, if you didn’t know the situation, or Jen for that matter, you would have thought that Fidel Castro had just bombed Russia and the world was coming to an end.

“Alright,” Rachel began as she grabbed Jen by the shoulders, “I want you to sit down and relax. Don’t you worry about a thing-- that’s my job.” Jen nodded her head in compliance and sat down in one of the various princess style chairs in the store.


After three and a half hours of arguing and measuring, a wedding dress had been chosen, as had a hue for the brides’ maids’ gowns-- plum purple.

“So what was the point of us going through that excruciating torture?” Lena mumbled after she and Chris had left the boutique.

“We’re there to be supportive and to tell her when she looks like a cupcake in a dress.” Chris replied.

Lena responded with an imitation ‘ah’ and nodded her head.

“Hey, I should head to work, I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

The girls went their separate ways down the lively Manhattan streets and twenty minutes later, Chris arrived at ‘The Velvet Rope’.

“Hey Joe!” Chris bellowed as she walked into the back room of the bar to change.

“Hey there beautiful!” Joe was about twenty-five years old and the owner of ‘The Velvet Room’. “I need ya out there, Kayla’s gonna put my outta business by the en’ o’ the night.” Chris could tell Joe was serious due to the fact that his Australian accent was growing thicker by the second.

“I’m on it.” Chris then went into the bathroom to slide on a pair of jeans, a black short-sleeved shirt, her pumas, and her name tag. As she headed back behind the bar, she grabbed an apron off one of the shelves and headed towards Kayla. The new bartender eagerly left her post, leaving Chris to salvage what was left of the day.

Within the next two hours the usual customers had filed in along with a few strangers. Chris was in the process of making a vodka martini when a familiar voice caught her attention.

“I’ll have whatever’s on tap.”

“Alright, one sec.” Chris gave the martini to one of the business women at the bar, and then turned her attention to the ext patron. “Mug or pilsner?”

“Which would you suggest?” He asked, all the while having a cocky grin plastered across his face.

Chris turned and made direct eye contact with the man. “The mug. It’s really worth the extra ten cents.”

“Alright.” Chris served the man his beer and then continued to stare at him. “What?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Just having a beer while I wait from some people.” Logan continued, “Purely innocent, I swear.” Chris had just nodded her head and poured a drink for another man at the bar. “So, uh, how’d your dress shopping go?”

(to be continued)