Disastrously Fabulous: A Novel of Loves, Betrayals and New Beginnings (6 page)

“There's a big difference between falling in love with someone and falling in love with someone and getting married. Usually, after you get married, you fall in love with the person even more.”

~ Dave Grohl ~

After a wild night out I proposed marriage. Max couldn't have been happier. Soon after that the date was set, and we were engaged to be married.

Our initial wedding plans fell through—Max was going through something heavy work and was partying a lot. Alcohol was flowing like an endless river, the best and most expensive of course.

We got back on course and made new plans. The night before the wedding Max surprised me with a trip to Atlantic City for the pre-party. With tickets to see Whitney Houston perform, a long-time favorite of mine. A big group of us dressed in our furs and finery, in a limo to Atlantic City.

The ride alone was a massive party, once we arrived there—it was a one stop candy shop of lavish experiences. I met up with an old model friend of mine who was one of Whitney’s dancers, and we all partied together into the morning of my wedding.

It was an extravagant wedding I pitched up an hour late to the church ceremony in Brooklyn, still trying to shake off the revelry of the night before. Max always did that far better than I did.

After an exquisite reception with more than 150 guests in a Manhattan club, we continued partying in a nightclub.

Our groomsmen partied even harder than the previous night, drinking everything in sight—the more expensive, the better. Max and I were so drunk we nearly forgot to cut the cake The amazing band, a DJ and a wedding singer - rocked the place. Boy, did we enjoy ourselves!

Max was in such high spirits that he leaped onto the table to dance, but the table leg broke and collapsed. Smoothly and effortlessly, he landed neatly on the floor beside the ruined table—nothing could bring him down from his revelry.

I was blessed with five beautiful bridesmaids, and my mom the matron of honor. Makeup extraordinaire Chanel did my face and Al Allure my hair, costing a grip, but the time for scrimping was past. My colors were white and green, fresh and bright. Everything was wonderful.

But drama was brewing. Around the time of my wedding to Max, I discovered spite and envy in the people closest to me. False friends simmered with resentment that I had made such a good catch. They wanted a shot at my husband and lifestyle.

I chose to be positive about my marriage to Max, but I needed to be on guard all the time, and it was ridiculous.

When I was younger, I had dreamed of getting into broadcasting or different career in fashion. But those ideas fell aside when I got married and became a willing slave to my husband’s every whim.

Soon after we were married, a trip was booked on the Concord for the first time. The infamous Concord Airline to Paris, France from JFK to be exact. It crunched a standard eight-hour flight into a four-hour luxury party cruise on a private airline.

With no idea what to expect as we boarded, I was confronted with opulence and airline luxury that I never experienced before. At $10,000 a ticket, this high-end flight was so top notch you cannot even go on them anymore.

A bottle of champagne was an awaiting accommodation on our flight. It came from some rare vineyard somewhere in France, where we were heading. The cutlery was made of solid silver—even the seats in the plane were made from the softest, best leather.

Restaurant quality food, expensive alcohol, and an extravagant place to nap if you felt like it… was all part of the experience. We were waited on hand and foot by the staff on board. I felt like a queen, and Max was my king. Husband and wife—together forever.

Max was a man on a mission. Wherever we went, whoever we were with—these were the elite of the world. I met celebrities and influential people, shock hands with Michelle and Barack Obama, hobnobbed with the best in the finance, music and business industries. No one was out of reach.

I clung to the idea that I was enough for him, but Max was a man of many great appetites. And always I lived with the fear that one day things would change.

Max and I eventually became pregnant with twins. It was a turning point in Max’s life—he was to become a father for the first time and realized it was time to slow the partying down, so that we could settle and grow as a family.

The only problem was that Max was terrible at it. Soon a time came for me and my very pregnant belly to perform. I was driving somewhere when my water suddenly broke.

I just managed to get myself to the nearest hospital. It was not my first choice of establishment, and I didn’t want to have the twins in this shabby environment. But they were coming and after the doctor saw me, I was immediately booked in for an emergency C section.

Things happened fast after that. I remember wanting Max to be there, but the staff couldn't get hold of him. Despite the neglected building and facilities, the staff members were clued up and professional.

At 3am I gave birth to twins, a beautiful boy and girl. The experience was header than the finest champagne or the most lavish experience, more emotional than anything I felt before.

Here were these cute little babies, right in my arms. Max rushed to my side after the birth, when they finally got hold of him. He was the proudest father. That was when we knew that for better or worse, our lives were now tied together by the twins.

Having newborn babies was a life-changing experience for me. I wouldn't have traded all the fancy cars and concord rides in the world, for a single moment with my babies. They were the center of my universe and a new reason to build a happy life with their father.

Max was enamored by the arrival of our babies. The twins didn't want for anything. They had the best care, the finest clothes and enough toys to load into a truck and donate to a small village of children far away.

For a time, we were genuinely happy, but eventually the late nights and ongoing demands irked Max. He was a fast-paced, important man with more experience drinking and partying than being a loving, attentive father. He left the parenting to me and continued enjoying himself. I was happy to stay with the twins, who needed me.

Max was an amazing provider. Throughout my time raising the twins in those first years, we never went without anything we wanted, needed or thought about. At a moment’s notice, Max would take us to an island somewhere for a brief holiday—if things got too hectic.

The twins thrived and learned quickly. I watched as they advanced faster than other children I knew because they were fortunate to have the best of everything. I watched and thought of my own childhood, and how lean it had been for us. Indeed, I was living a blessed life.

But Max had to go away on trips without me more frequently. I saw it happening, but thought it was for the best. This is how another woman started making her way into our lives—the secret mistress who entertained my husband in my absence.

“You can never control who you fall in love with, even when you're in the most sad, confused time of your life. You don't fall in love with people because they're fun. It just happens.”

~ Kirsten Dunst ~

With Max, every day was pure excitement. I was living the affluent life, fresh from a dream that I somehow stepped into. When the twins were a little older, we left them with a professional child carer and Max took me to St. Barth for the biggest celebrity wedding celebration.

I arrived at the St. Barth docks to find an array of elites wandering on and off a huge yacht, the size of several large apartments. From the outside it looked as though the yacht itself could comfortably sleep fifty or more people. I had never seen anything so opulent!

Better yet, the entire yacht was adorned in whites and beach colors, with multiple decks where you could sit and chat with friends, and many indoor bar areas that were loaded with canapés, snacks and expensive bottles of champagne and wine.

For the first time in a long time, I felt a little out of my depth. Luckily my sassy attitude was always an asset for me in those situations. Celebrity faces were all over the yacht, and no expense was spared for the wedding that would take place there.

Max knew Michael Jordan well, and Jordan apparently wanted to make a statement with the events and luxury of the day. With such status, there were a lot of secrets floating around. Husbands were only faithful to their wives in concept. Meanwhile, behind closed doors almost anyone was up for grabs.

More than once, as Max was engaged in conversation with industry types, I milled around finding my own fun. I was pulled into a beautiful blue room by one charming man, who wanted to get intimate. And it happened again when I was exploring the top deck, sitting under a copse of umbrellas by the main bar. As a good wife, I excused myself from these situations to maintain my husband’s integrity.

While on the top deck, sipping colorful cocktails and reclining with several interesting people around me, I looked down to find Max engrossed in conversation with a young woman. I could instantly tell that his interest went beyond the quality of her words.

I decided it was a fair time to head back down to him, in case he was tempted by a quick cabin hook-up. I moved quickly and interrupted their conversation. “This is my wife, Crystal…” he said to the woman. She left soon after that.

“What are you doing talking to that lame chic?” I asked him frankly. Subtlety was never my strong point.

“Come on, honey, I was just making conversation. She works in finance. Do you have to be jealous of everyone I speak to?” The faint irritation in his voice told me I had inconvenienced him, or ended a game that he had been playing with her.

“I get to be jealous of anyone that you flirt so openly with,” I reminded him from behind my Chanel sunglasses.

He quietly shook his head and sipped on his champagne. “It’s the same every time with you, isn’t it?” he said into the distance.

“Don’t try and make this about me, Max. You were the one touching her arm and turning on the charm.”

It was not the first time I’d caught Max flirted so obviously with another woman. He’d already been unfaithful once, and I’d been watching him closely ever since.

I regularly fought with Max about his predilection for other women. I was convinced that he was playing me, and he insisted he wasn’t. Many of the fights ended in one of us leaving, or a lingering grumpiness that grew more and more sour as our relationship wore on.

Max was a good man, but he was also good-looking, smart and libidinous. He loved partying, and women were a natural by-product of that lust. Then the day came when his dirty laundry was aired.

The year we were getting married I found texts between him and another woman named Gina, a light-skinned black with pronounced cheekbones. It was clear that they were having some kind of affair.

I forced him to call her in front of me and break it off. “I’m getting married next week,” he said, “and I don’t want to drag this into my marriage. It’s over.”

I was satisfied. He swore that it would end when we got married, and I believed that it did. Max did an outstanding job keeping his affair with Gina a secret from me.

Then, the day came when it all unraveled for him, and I was there to watch it happen. Max took me on a trip to Europe—I complained because he had been going there a lot lately, and staying for one or two weeks at a time, every time. He took me to France, and we stayed in a palatial hotel right in the center of Paris.

All of a sudden I was called back to the States on some work emergency, three days into the holiday. “You head back home I still have business to do here,” Max told me. He didn’t know I had found a hotel confirmation booking that he had made down the street. Instead of leaving, I waited for him in the lobby of that hotel.

Eventually, in he wheeled with all of his luggage and someone else’s too—a woman’s! I stood in the middle of the hallway, blocking his progress.

He looked first utterly confused, then sheepish and ashamed.

“Surprised to see me here, Max? One would think that you would be glad to see your wife didn’t have to hurry away to another country on our holiday. But you’re not here on business are you? You’re here with Gina.”

I could see on his rat lying face that I was right.

To avoid a hotel lobby scene, I followed him up to their room. Everything was rather silent. We spoke briefly and he decided to cancel the booking and come home with me. We left for the airport, and he brought Gina’s stuff with him.

“And all of this cheap rubbish?” I gestured at Gina’s luggage with disdain. Actually, some of the items were nice.

“You can have it,” Max said, still in a mess of trouble.

“I don’t want it. But I’m sure my friends will have a great time sharing out her trashy clothing choices,’ I said sharply.

We hopped on the earliest concord and headed back home. Nothing was ever the same after that. I could no longer trust anything my husband said to me. Inevitably, this led to more fighting and mistrust. I was suspicious of his every move.

There are some things a marriage cannot get over. A long-term affair with another woman is one of them. Back when I believed that Max was just hooking up with her before our marriage, sure—I could find forgiveness in my heart. But now she may as well have declared war on me.

I filed for a divorce, and we ended our union shortly after that. Once again, I was left with almost nothing. Max provided generous support for his children—but beyond that I had to make my own way in the world again.

I bought a condo in Long Island City and moved in with the twins.

Divorcing Max turned out to be a wise move. I was returning home from a business trip—and there was Max’s face on CNN. He got arrested along with his partner on money-laundering charges.

It was a massive blow to Max and a big deal for our family. After the market turn-down, Max had allegedly become involved in some shady dealings. Federal agent arms deals and money-laundering are not small charges. I could hardly believe it, but then again—I knew nothing about the things Max did.

Max was caught trying to flee the country on a yacht. The FBI moved in and arrested him. Max went to prison and lost his money, his properties, and his lifestyle.

It was the right decision to leave Max. Still—in my heart, the pain of betrayal grew. Were there no good men left in the world? Did all men cheat?

Ah, Max. He was so wild and carefree. Pity he wasn’t a little more careful when it came to his decisions.

Being with Max taught me a lot of important lessons above all, that wealth, as wonderful as it was, meant nothing if the person you loved didn't share their entire life with you.

I added a new lesson to my growing life lesson on men. Money was important—but the person behind the money needed to know how to spend it wisely and manage it correctly. He also had to be honest and treat me with respect.

The next man that I became interested in would have to have all of these boxes checked before I became involved. I was still beautiful and could rebuild my life.