Revenge, Inc. Part One

Hey You Wonderful People!

How was your week? Mine was…hmmmm. I have no idea because I only got five hours of sleep last night and my brain is off-line. I’m sure it was a fascinating week, full of sky-dives, motorcycle jumping and awards shows. Ahem. More like dishes, weeding and shopping. And editing. Oh! I’m almost done with my new book, which will be sent to Reesa where she will perform her magic and eventually, it will be on Amazon and Barnes and Nobel and all that jazz. The new book’s new title is “Rulebreakers.” I have to say, the working titles of my books have been pretty cheesy. I’m throwing them all out and starting over. When I get a chance, I’m going to reissue “Spank Me, I’ve Been Bad,” and title it something completely different. A friend said I should have titled it “Spank Me, I’ve Been Good.” Maybe I’ll use that one. But probably not. Anyhoo, I will be publishing three books this year, maybe four. But definitely three. And you all will be the first to know when. So stay tuned!

Okay, here is a new story for you called Revenge, Inc. Another 16-parter, so sit back and enjoy.

Hugs to all you lovely humans out there! I hope your weekend is fantastic!

Michelle


Target sighted, Fay crossed the expansive dining floor of Fleur, the hottest new restaurant in San Francisco.

Wearing her latest weapon, a sleek little black Prada cocktail dress, she sidled up to a table and glared down into the blue gaze of Peter Madden, CEO of Madden Computers, the billion dollar jewel of Silicon Valley.

She ignored his classic Grecian features, his perfect aquiline nose, square jaw and heavy brow. She was in character.

“You bastard!” she yelled loud enough for most of the tables in the vicinity to hear. “You two-timing creep!”

His eyes wide, jaw in his lap, he stammered, but said nothing intelligible.

“And you!” Fay said, swinging on his date: a petite blonde twenty-something. “How dare you! Before you go sleeping around with a man, you might want to find out if he has other women in his life. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Peter’s brow went into a deep V, his eyes filled with fire. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’ve me mistaken for someone else—”

She burst into tears. “Peter! Why are you doing this to me?! You told me you loved me!” She collapsed down next to him in the booth, buried her head in her arms and howled.

“Miss! Please, I don’t know you!”

She lifted her head up to bawl in his face. “It’s the baby! The baby I’m worried about. Our baby!” She dropped her head to the table and sobbed.

“What the hell? Lady! I’m not who you think I am!”

“That’s it!” she yelled, leaping up on her feet once more. “You told me you wanted a child! So I got pregnant! You said you’d marry me! Just last Tuesday when we were on your stupid boat, The Charlemagne, you proposed! What happened to that?!”

The maitre ‘d appeared at her elbow. “Is there a problem?”

Finally! Took the jerk long enough.

She spun on the tall, Middle-Eastern-looking man. “Yes! There’s a problem! My fiancé is here with another woman! And I’m pregnant!”

Peter got up out of the booth, she was momentarily taken aback by his size, he had to be over six five.

He took the maitre ‘d by the arm. “Andre, I swear, I’ve never seen this woman before. I think she must have escaped from a lockdown facility.”

“Yeah! Our apartment! That’s where I escaped from! Fine! You want to cheat on me?! You want to break all your promises to me?! You want to get me pregnant and dump me?! Fine! I don’t want you, anyway, and neither does your son! That’s right! It’s a boy! A boy!” And with that, she pushed aside the maitre ‘d and stormed off.

As soon as she hit the street, she broke into a run. Around the next corner, she dove into the back of a white van. “Drive!”

Mitzi grinned. “You bet!” Her friend and business partner loved the new venture as much as she did.

Fay removed the Prada dress and hung it up in their makeshift dressing room in the back of the van. “Are the cops out there?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re looking all over. Oooo, along with Mr. Target. Man, he looks madder than a losing team’s coach. Wow. So, it went well?”

She pulled on a red t-shirt and some jeans. “Oh, God, it was so funny.” She laughed. “You should have seen the looks on their faces. Oh, and in that fancy place! God, that was fun.”

Fay grabbed a baseball cap, slipped it over her head and hopped into the front seat of the van. They were just past the restaurant. She looked in her side mirror. A couple cops with a very tall man in their midst stood outside the eatery.

“Oh, that was great!” she crowed. “Damn, I’d better get a bonus for that one.”

“Was the Chronicle lady there?” Mitzi asked.

“Oh, yeah. But goddamn, took the staff long enough to come over. I almost had to start recycling material.”

“So what did you say?”

Fay took off her cap and smoothed her long, dark hair. “God, I did kind of went far this time. I didn’t just pull the pregnancy thing, I named a gender.” She put the cap back on.

“You what?”

Fay shrugged. “It just slipped out. I was so into the scene, I really don’t remember everything, but suddenly I was talking about the guy’s baby boy. Christ.”

Mitzi giggled. “You are too much.”

“I just hope I was believable. Kind of went over the top. Oh, well, what’s done is done.” She reached for the clipboard on top of the dashboard. “Who’s next on our list tonight?”

“Ah, yes, man, remember the good ol’ days when we had only one job a night?”

Fay chuckled. “You mean last month?”

Mitzy had a dreamy look in her eye. “Yeah.”

Fay pushed on her shoulder. “We were also broke. At least I made my rent this month.”

“Me, too.” Mitzi gestured out the front window. “Who knew there were this many people who wanted revenge on their exes?”

“I had no idea how unhappy the upper classes were.”

Mitzi turned the corner and headed to their office. “Yeah, and we know one specific upper class guy who really isn’t happy right now.”

“I wonder what the girl said after I left.” Fay belly laughed.


Peter Madden’s jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly. The woman had disappeared. He’d run after her, but he’d been too late on the draw. He’d never experienced anything so disturbing in his life. After he made his report to the police—they hadn’t been very interested and he didn’t blame them—he straightened his tie and made his way back to his table.

All eyes were on him; his face grew hot. When he saw the gossip columnist for the local paper, he knew it was all over. This would be in the paper in the morning. He swore inwardly. This was all he needed. After that horrible divorce had splashed him over the papers, he’d hoped he’d be spared another public humiliation. Apparently not.

He knew he couldn’t avoid it, so he stopped briefly at the middle-aged woman’s table. “I didn’t know her. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject. And if you want access to me in the future, I’d think carefully about what I wrote tonight.” With a cold glare of a warning at her, he turned and walked away before she could respond.

He kicked himself all the way to his table. He just provoked her. Good job, Pete.

Tiffany looked just as he expected her to: wary, upset. Barely covering her simmering fury. Great. No sex tonight, either. What a great night this was shaping up to be.

What the hell? This was the third unpleasant surprise this week. He was used to studying patterns and odds. This incident tonight tipped the scales. Something was going on. Someone was after him. He didn’t know why, but he knew one thing, he would get to the bottom of the problem.

©2011, Michelle Carlyle