Disillusioned Love

  Disillusioned Love

  Disillusioned Love

  by

  Amy Lee Peine

  Copyright © 2014 by Amy Lee Peine

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

  Second Edition: January 2015

  Printed in the United States of America

  To my beautiful family, thank you for your patience and support. To my husband, thank you for showing me what true love is and being an inspiration.

  This book would never have made it to the end had it not been for the unconditional love, support and critique of my best friend Bethany. This is as much your novel as it is mine.

  To Renee, your belief in me astounds me every day. You continue to push me to reach my full potential.

  Table Of Contents

  Chapters

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter One

  I Think They Like Me

  Thursday May 25, 2006

  “Dude, it’s like nine o’clock at night, do you really need coffee right now?” Alexander moaned from behind the wheel of the rented Chrysler. Even though Alex searched the street for some kind of late night café he still caught Matthew’s shocked and offended expression. Matthew developed a coffee addiction early on in life, but it was to be expected; with their late night sessions in the studio, the tours and everything else that accompanied being musicians. Alex raised his hands in defense with a quick laugh, “Okay, okay!”

  “Well damn, we are in Chicago, there has to be some kind of cafe open late. I refuse to drink cheap gas station coffee or restaurant coffee. That stuff is like sludge it--” Alex was thankful Matthew’s dramatic rambling was cut short by his sudden left turn which threw Matt slightly into the side of his door. Derek, the eldest of the three men and Alex's brother, stifled a laugh in the backseat as he undid his seatbelt. Matthew huffed and shot a smoldering glare in Alex’s direction.

  “Found one!” Alex proclaimed with the biggest, cheesiest grin he could muster as he, too, undid his seatbelt. It brought Alex joy to ruffle Matt’s feathers, especially when it was so easy to do.

  They proceeded to a small cafe nestled below one of the massive office buildings on Michigan Avenue. It seemed out of place, like the person who still carried a notebook and pen within the seas of laptops and smartphones. The bell above the cafe’s door announced their arrival but the handful of people inside didn’t look up; a welcomed relief to the three men. Nine years ago they had released an album that took the world by storm. D.M.A. was a household name almost instantly. While things had changed over time, D.M.A.’s fan base was large and loyal. The fans settled some as they grew older but unfortunately it didn’t mean the guys didn’t occasionally run into some sticky situations when out in public.

  The cafe Alex found was a quaint coffee shop; artsy and quiet. There was a quiet hum of conversation, clicks of keys and a soft call of instrumental guitars from the surround sound. They were met with the sweet and overpowering scent of espresso and pastries; a scent that undoubtedly set Matthew’s heart at ease. It was cozy, a few couches scattered about with tables made from large butcher blocks. There was a fireplace in the back and a diversified collection of art that adorned the walls. Most of the patrons were of their early to mid-twenties and engrossed in books or laptops. It appeared to be a college crowd. Matt collected his caramel macchiato from the young, punk kid behind the counter and returned to Alex and Derek.

  “Hey,” Matt started, “let’s stay for a bit. This place is kind of neat.” He finished as he strayed towards a print of a face disintegrating against the background. He stood there silently as he examined the painting. His jeans hung loosely off his small hips while his t-shirt clung to his thin, yet firm, torso with a knit hat snugly placed over his layered locks.

  “It doesn’t look like we have a choice.” Derek commented as he and Alex followed behind Matthew. To anyone who didn’t know their relationship they looked like an unlikely group of friends. Matthew was a tall, thin, Hipster type with fair features. Alex; a sturdy, well-built darker skinned man, with harder, edgier features with a laid back style and Derek; a shorter but thinner version of Alex with a bit of curl to his dark hair with a style as classic as a 1950s Chevrolet. As they wandered around the café and admired art they later discovered was done by local students, a group of women caught their attention. The women’s backs were almost to them, they were closely nestled on one of the couches and a large overstuffed chair by the fireplace. They hadn’t caught the guys’ eye; more like their ear.

  “Well I don’t think sex appeal is always in direct correlation with looks.” One of the women declared.

  “Even though so many people put them together.” Another interjected.

  “Right, almost as if we’ve been taught we should only be attracted to quote unquote good looking people.” The first continued. The guys were instantaneously pulled into the discussion.

  “It’s sad because people stay stuck in the mindset for so long, no one really teaches them to look beyond that; for someone that meshes with you in other areas. Maybe people care too much of what other people think. I mean, God forbid you try and explain to shallow people why you’re partnered with a quote unquote unattractive person.” The blonde bemoaned. The guys knew it was her because she actually used air quotes. Alexander looked over at Derek and Matthew and raised a brow. Matt smiled and motioned to the nearest table. It was wrong to eavesdrop, but the discussion at hand intrigued them too much to ignore.

  “I, for one, do not like how everyone associates conventional good looks with sex appeal.” A new voice commented with a Canadian accent. Derek noted the accent provided its own unique element of sex appeal. “I think sex appeal is so much more than looks. It’s more about how they carry themselves, how they interact with other people--”

  “A guy can be hot but if he’s an ass, there goes the sex appeal.” The Canadian was interrupted but they all laughed and agreed. Alex smiled from his place at the table behind them.

  “No, I totally agree.” The blonde interjected.

  Alex started to notice the blonde talked a lot with her hands and she waved about to bring the discussion back to the topic at hand. “I’ve seen drop dead gorgeous people, society standard perfect pretty people, but had no attraction to them at all because of how they carried themselves. Whether they were stuck-up, ignorant or whatever. Regardless of how they may have looked, they didn’t compare to those people in my life who go above and beyond what looks could ever do for someone else.”

  “Ignorance is an instant turn off. Like Josh and his--”

  “Wow you have a lot of books.” They all mocked.

  “And ‘You must have to know big words to be an editor.’” The Canadian mimicked.

  “Because I used eclectic!” The curly d
ark haired one exclaimed exasperatedly then leaned back as she laughed. All three of the guys tried to contain their own laughter.

  “That’s horrible. I’m so glad you got rid of him.” The Canadian patted the brunette’s shoulder. “You know what I want to know? Who is it that determines who’s societally ‘perfect pretty’? Because personally I think it’s a load of shit. People come in so many shapes, sizes, and colors who’s to say what the standard is?” The Canadian implored, pretty riled up.

  “Ri said its biology.” Alex perked up at the fact they now had a name.

  The blonde raised her hands in defense. “It’s not all biology.” She retorted as she essentially revealed her identity as Ri. “Although studies have claimed there are things which historically have caught people’s attention. Symmetry is one. People claim the more symmetrical a face is the more aesthetically pleasing it is.” She was eloquently articulate and spoke with such an authority it left little room for argument.

  “So that’s why you’re so obsessive about your piercings!” The Canadian giggled.

  “No! I’m just…ugh, shut up!” Ri laughed. “But other biological things play into it. It’s also been claimed on the most primal and basic level men notice blondes because it’s been theorized blonde hair is a sign of fertility--”

  “You would say that; Miss ‘I’m naturally blonde.’” The brunette teased.

  “Right, like I enjoy the attention I get from morons that don’t have a clue.” Ri snipped. “But aside from biology and primitive psychology, a large part of who is considered perfect pretty comes from society.”

  “Wait!” The Canadian yelled. “Before the Almighty Riana gets started on her area of expertise, does anyone need more coffee? Because you know this will take a while.” Everyone, including Ri, laughed and got up for a refill. At the mention of “Riana” a flicker of recognition passed over Matt’s face, but it was gone as fast as it appeared to Alex and Derek. Matthew knew the name, had known it for years. The chances of it being the Riana he thought it was would be slim, almost non-existent. Matthew couldn’t help but think back nine years though, when the letters started, the attachment he formed for her. He reached in his pocket and stroked the beads that always rested there, ever since he was eighteen and the necklace he had worn for three years finally got too small.

  As the women walked back up to the counter for refills Matt leaned in to Alex and Derek and commented in a hushed tone, “This has got to be one of the most interesting things I’ve heard in a long time.” Alex nodded in agreement.

  “I think it’s about to get more interesting if this Riana lady is truly an expert on society.” Derek predicted. Alex contained the urge to roll his eyes, Derek was always the skeptic. Derek had formed a fairly cynical view on the world through D.M.A’s success in the music industry. Much of the attention from fans and media was always focused on Matt, and it left Derek somewhat jaded.

  The girls ambled back to their places and the guys tried to pretend like it didn't matter. Not that they had to, it didn’t seem the women even knew the guys were sitting there. Once the three women got together and started to talk, the rest of the world didn’t matter, time didn’t exist; only their friendship and passions.

  "I'm just saying I've talked about it before, in my lectures, classes, even Lexi and I have butted heads on it at times."

  Alex quickly looked at Matt and Derek, worried they missed her explanation of social complexity in standards of beauty.

  "Society very frequently sets the standard. This can distinctly be seen through the eras of art, and even modeling. For a long time curves, meat, and weight were all seen as intricate parts to sex appeal and the standard for women to meet. Back in the 18th century heavy women were considered the ideal because...well frankly they had the money to eat, and therefore were of good childbearing because men knew they'd survive a winter. It then went into looks of tiny waists but big hips...hips again giving signs of how able the woman was to bear children. They didn't advertise it of course, that's simple biology and psychology speaking. Trends fluctuate a lot. Look at Marilyn Monroe who was a size fourteen by today's sizing--a six by her days sizing. And yet, we're told today that she was a six, leading us to believe she was petite and she wasn't. They don't tell us that sizing had changed. Then over time, the trend just kept getting smaller. Towards the early 90s it became the sickly thin, "waif" look, and slowly we're heading back to healthy curves. What's sad is one, we will never be able to live up to the media standard because nothing is actually real and two, and the complex we form when we don't meet it screws our perception of ourselves." Derek raised his dark brows, impressed. "It's unfair, the backlash we get when we aren't the standard."

  “Or even if you are.” The brunette interjected.

  “Nothing you ever do is good enough.” The Canadian sighed in disappointment.

  “Which is why I think people just need to pull their heads from their asses and realize people are beautiful beyond looks, and ugly despite them. They need to start treating people accordingly. They need to give people a chance, and they need to take perfect pretty people off their undeserved pedestal.” Ri concluded. Alex resisted the urge to applaud.

  “Perfect pretty people piss me off.” The Canadian huffed. “They get shit handed to them simply because they’re attractive. They don’t know what it’s like to have to prove their worth because people already fight to get near them. They’re treated in higher regard. They take advantage of it too, and never form human compassion because they don’t know what it’s like not to get it.” Ri leaned over from her spot on the couch and rubbed the Canadian’s leg. “It’s not fair.”

  “It’s not but…” The brunette started. “On the other side of it, very frequently perfect pretty people get the shaft in the way that so many people think they’re nothing but their looks. Sometimes that’s the case of course, but other times it’s an injustice to them that they’re viewed as ditzy or stupid.”

  “I can attest for both sides.” Riana confessed quietly. The fact was she probably could. Riana had a beauty to her unlike most. It was true; her blonde hair was natural; long and flowing. She was short, and curvy. Her eyes often startled people in how blue they were, they gave somewhat of an unnatural effect to her face when her eyes ended up intensely locked on someone. Riana loved to smile and laugh and the combination lit up her slightly round face. She had tastefully picked piercings, funky ear pieces and one feminine, small barbell placed strategically in the middle of her lower lip. She had an unusual balance between beauty and brains, which given the current discussion, could bring a mixture of treatments to her.

  “Just look at Matthew Sullivan.” the brunette started. The men quickly looked around, worried they had been discovered. Matthew realized they hadn’t noticed him; they were using him as an example, which startled him even more. He knew people talked about him, it was one of the tradeoffs for their success, but to actually overhear it was totally different.

  “How many years did the fans call him ditzy simply because he was good looking? He had to fight that, and he shouldn’t have had to, they as quote unquote loving fans should have listened to him from the beginning. And Alex, the fans and their inability to let him grow out of the ‘crazy kid’ he was when D.M.A. started. He was eleven. He’s twenty now. The only reason they accepted him growing up was because…well because he’s hot. Not to mention how much I want to kick them for their judgments on Derek, not listening to him or giving him the props he deserved as a brilliant musician simply because he wasn’t as pretty as Matt, even though I mean really, the man is sexy in his own right.”

  “I want to talk to them.” Matthew declared.

  “Are you sure?” Derek asked as he quickly glanced between Alex and Matt. Alex remained quiet and thoughtfully chewed the inside of his lip as he contemplated the idea. “They obviously know who we are.”

  “It could be refreshing. They don’t seem to be typical fans.” Alex observed with a raise of his

  e
yebrows.

  “I’d say! They don’t even like our fans.” Matt laughed. Alex and Derek grinned in response. However, no one moved. They eyed each other and wondered who would make the first move. Apprehension took a hold of them. For the first time in a long time for the guys it seemed the roles were reversed. At this point in time, they were the fans of the spoken brilliance they just heard and didn’t want to be rude and invite themselves over.

  Alex released his lip from his teeth. “Let’s do it.” He blurted and he stood up and pushed his shaggy black hair from his face. Matt looked at Derek and they reluctantly followed Alex’s lead. The women were hunched over in hysterical laughter as the guys approached; the conversation had obviously taken a much lighter turn.

  “Oh it hurts! It hurts!” The brunette laughed as she held her stomach. The Canadian wiped her eyes and Riana tried, quite unsuccessfully, to catch her breath.

  “Um, excuse me?” Matthew ventured from where he stood on the other side of the low table that separated him, Derek and Alex from where Riana and the Canadian sat on the couch and the brunette in the overstuffed chair to the left of him.

  The Canadian waved him away without looking up. “Just a damn minute.” Riana laughed harder, the brunette looked up and, upon seeing the members of D.M.A in front of them, choked on a quick intake of breath, then laughed again. The Canadian looked over at the brunette, “What?” she questioned between giggles.

  “I don’t...think...Matthew has ever...had someone...tell him...to wait.” The brunette wheezed.

  “Where did that come from?” Riana inquired as she obliviously took a sip of her coffee, which was immediately shot out her nose and half choked on when she looked up towards the men who stood before them. Having been fans for the last nine years, it didn’t seem possible to see Derek, Matt and Alex, right there, attempting to talk to them. Riana’s round cheeks grew red and hot, her hands started to tremble and she thought she might even forget how to breathe. Cool under this kind of pressure she certainly was not.