The Hidden Secret

Dear Alexia,

I am writing this letter knowing it will never reach you. It's more of a confession than a greeting. I got a publishing contract. It's with one of the top five. You were the only person who believed in me, encouraged me, and told me one day I was going to make it. It's ironic that the only reason I made it was because I stole one of your stories. I knew you wrote poems and short stories, but I never read anything like this before. I knew the world had to see it. With you being gone I took it into my own hands to make it public. Although I would be finished if anyone knew the truth.

I had to Alex, it was my big break and I did it for us. Or so I tell myself. I miss you every day and it breaks my heart knowing what I did. You probably think I am self fish and conceited but your dead, I didn't think it would hurt.

It started the morning after your funeral. Your mother was a mess and couldn't handle cleaning out your studio. I volunteered. It was like a closure party for me, all the time we spent there. I thought no better way than to send you off properly. When I got there I could smell your perfume even before I entered the loft. The blossoms and cherries captured me in a warm hug. It was so familiar to me, so natural like you were still here. You left the light on again by the desk, did you know that? At first it felt lonely and cold standing in your place; everything was so still and silent. I looked at the pictures on the wall and I thought about all the memories we won't be making anymore, all the plans we had for the year that won't happen. I won't lie, it got to me. I felt the tears and I wondered if I was the best person to do this job, if it was too early to touch your things, to put them away.

Then I heard it, and it brought me back. Your 10:00 alarm playing Taylor Swift's new song. I swear you are the only person I know who still has a clock radio and uses the alarm instead of your phone. 10:00 a.m. it would be our first coffee break. Do you remember when I started working with you? All the dreams you had to push your company forward were inspiring. You always said you were going to make it big one day. I believed you. I took a deep breath and started with your desk. I sat in your chair and it was cold, the leather on my bare legs sent a chill down my spine. Sitting where you sat every day, I looked up and saw what you saw every day. No wonder you put the desk there. It had an amazing view of the window and the entire loft. With one glance you could see everything that was happening. Running my fingers over the keyboard, and then on the stack of papers you had on the desk felt haunting. Like I was trespassing and I was going to get caught. I started with the drawers and I laughed when I found a box of chocolates in there. You were such a health freak I thought they might be fake. Late nights at the loft motivation I guess. Digging deeper I found papers for the upcoming deals and shipments. Pretty girl blues was over. No one was going to ever get their special teas anymore. They would have to deal with what was it you used to call it mediocre Starbucks and David's tea's. Your brew was magical. I remember we used to laugh and say it was made from rainbows and unicorn poop because it was so unique. Girls and guys of all ages couldn't wait to get their shipments the first of every month. I lived by it when I started working for you.

Alex, you were a goddess in disguise. You had a Mother Theresa nature but a playboy bunny wild side. Best of both worlds I thought. Working with you was a dream for a college girl drop out. You understood and never held it against me. Which what I did makes me hate myself even more. Sometimes I like to think your still on my side cheering me on, selling your story but who am I kidding. You were nice, but not that nice. Is it wrong making money off of your story while you lay 6 feet underground? I dedicated the story to you. I found the manuscript in your locked desk drawer. You had a right to hide it. You really did have a gift Alexia. After I read it nothing else mattered to me in that studio because I know what I needed to do. I like to think of it as your last parting gift to me, or mine to you.

Getting it published wasn't hard because I knew how good it was. It was like gold in my greedy hands. I pushed to get it into every editors and publishers hands. Not only was the story good but it was a secret, which made it better. It made me work harder to get it out there. I re-read that manuscript line for line memorizing every inch of it I had to make it look like I was the one who wrote it.

Who wouldn't love a story about a young and powerful lady boss ruling the New York streets? The world needed more stories out there like this one. This one was different though. Not just because you wrote it but what it was hiding. The woman although mighty and rich was a closeted lesbian pining over her sectary. The second time I read it, It hit me the resemblance we had to the main characters and the office to pretty girl blues loft. It kept me up at night wondering if this was fiction or a hidden memoir.

You were so put together so organized, it made me wonder if anyone knew the real you. Did you really love me the way Eliza loved Julies? The late nights together and endless phone calls. You were my best friend, but I don't know now what I really was to you. Did I hurt you every time I talked about guys? Did I mislead you into thinking we could have been something more?

Alex, I wish you were here so I could know the truth. I am sorry I hurt you.

I thought I was the only one with something to hide. But I guess the saying is true, the dead are dead but their mysteries will always live on. I stole your book and your heart. I am sorry Alexia, you were special to me, and always will be. I want to think you're in a good place and one day will forgive me.

You gave me a job, a best friend, and now a book. I broke you, stole from you, and loved you.

Until we meet again.

Even boss ladies have secrets.

By: Jillian Moores

Dedicated to my best friend Alexia Sharp

Forever in your debt and forever yours,

Jillian.