A D Files online exclusive!

For those of you keeping up with the D Files in True Romance magazine, here is Bea’s backstory about her estranged child (supplement to the April 2010 issue)

Bea was calm and even-toned as she recalled the story of how she was lied to by Tyler when they were married. She was playing the good wife, staying home after shaving his back, as he went to shake his moneymaker for lewd and lascivious women. He came home disinterested in sex but smelling like one would imagine a whorehouse would. She talked about how she cried for Tyler to try to get her pregnant. She so wanted a baby with him. He didn’t want one. He always told her she was not old enough to be a good mother.

When Tyler left and never called, she was frantic. She didn’t sleep for a week and had her brother-in-law Guido, who was a NYC detective, look into it. Guido found Tyler in the matter of a few hours. He was at the gym, at the clubs, and at his regular tanning appointments. It was as if he was living life as usual except for coming home to Bea. Guido also found out where Tyler was laying his head at night. He reported to Bea that Tyler was shacking up with some hotshot lawyer’s daughter, in New Jersey.

The news shot through Bea like a lightening bolt. She fell into a state of shock and despair. She began showing up to work late and was in a zombie-like daze. Her boss, a tragically odd and strangely handsome multimillionaire, didn’t want to see Bea in such pain. She told us how he put her up at the Four Seasons in the city and sent her for massages and limo rides to and from work. He began treating her like a princess, which helped her feel a sense of self-worth again.

Then one Friday night, her boss showed up at her suite at the Four Seasons. He was drunk and so was she. He was tired of his life as a dad with two kids and having a wife he was with for the last twenty or so years. Bea was so sick of feeling alone. She let him in, they ordered champagne, and undressed each other. They remained there for the entire weekend—eating, drinking and pretending that they were okay together. There were no empty condom wrappers. Bea admitted to wanting to get back at Tyler. She would show him. She was old enough to be a mother. She didn’t need him. She had a millionaire now.

Bea had moved into an apartment on the Westside in the short span that Tyler was away. When he came back to their home on the Eastside, all of her stuff was gone—closets bare, drawers left askew and with nothing in them, pictures removed from frames, and an unforgettable stillness. Her new place was way out of her league—well, unless it was rent-controlled. But even then, the building was the home to A-list actors and celebrities and some of the cities’ biggest names in the restaurant business.

For a couple of months, Bea and her odd millionaire lived in a state of manufactured bliss. They played house and made love on every square inch of surface area. They went to the Grammy Awards, red carpet openings of new nightclubs and restaurants, and flew to Europe every weekend in his private jet. They lived life in the clouds. They were both afraid to put their feet on the ground; for fear that reality would surge back to them with a vengeance.

After three months of dreamlike luxury and a day after Bea told her millionaire that they were going to have a baby, she was served with a restraining order. She wasn’t to come within 100 yards of her now estranged lover. The locks were changed on the apartment and the doorman had her belongings behind his desk, waiting for her. She called her job, and even her away message was changed. She was out of a job, a home, and out on the street at 19 years of age, in a city that ate up even the strongest of our breed.

She headed east, to her not-so-old nest where Tyler was still living. She buzzed and was let in without questioning. She got out of the elevator and her heart was in her throat. She didn’t want to go back, at least not like this—homeless and pregnant with another man’s child. She pressed the L button and went back down. She wasn’t going to swallow her pride.

Once in the lobby of her old building, she opened her mobile phone and called a friend of her wealthy ex. He was an older man who always ogled Bea, and she knew he had various real estate investments around the city. She was in luck; he answered his phone and was happy to assist as long as Bea knew that she’d have to scratch his back too. Within an hour, she was lying on an overstuffed mattress in a huge apartment in Battery Park. It was an artist’s loft—three thousand or so square feet of the sweetest space in the city with an unobstructed view of the still-standing World Trade Center.

She lived there for a month. She could hardly stand the smell of the old guy who owned the place and visited a few times a week to pick up the “rent.” Then a neighbor introduced her to an Academy Award-winning actor who owned a good deal of real estate in Tribeca. So, she packed her bags and spent some time on the arm of an ostentatious actor. She dodged paparazzi and used only back doors to enter and exit buildings. When her baby bump got too big, the actor’s handlers thought it would be detrimental to his career if she was found to be living with—not to mention sleeping with—this world famous man.

This is when she admitted to calling Tyler. They met at Time Café, and it was tense. She knew she wanted her old, simpler life back. She liked—no, strike that—loved money and all that came with it, but she also loved Tyler and the small, not-so-complicated life they once shared. She told him what had happened. They both made their apologies and then she dropped the question in his lap. She asked if he’d take her back, if he were willing to start anew with her and her baby. He said no. And just like that, they were finished.

Unbeknownst to Bea, Tyler had filed for a divorce. He told her that the papers were being mailed to her grandmother’s home in Philly. She said he did this because no one knew where to find her and that he knew she’d show up at her grandmother’s eventually. A light bulb went on over her head—the idea of moving to Philly sounded wise.

She said goodbye to Tyler and spent a couple more weeks in New York City ensuring that her connections with the rich and famous were intact, and then she hopped on an Amtrak train and showed up at her grandmother’s home in Center City, Philadelphia. Betsy already had a room set up for Bea. She knew she’d show up.

Divorce papers weren’t the only legal documents waiting for Bea. There were a couple of other envelopes, with the names of some noteworthy law firms on them, sitting in a pile. Bea was now seven months pregnant and wasn’t fairing too well. Her OB-GYN told her that bedrest and good eating was all that was important right now and that the less stress the better.

So, Bea let her grandmother Betsy take good care of her for six or so weeks. She didn’t open any of the mail that waited for her. She didn’t want to be divorced when she delivered her baby, even though Tyler would not be listed on the birth certificate. And she couldn’t have possibly imagined that anything that pressing would have found her in Philly.

Catch up with Bea in the April 2010 issue of True Romance!

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