The Sweet Poison of Revenge

by Storm, Victory

"Asking him, apologizing, and paying him for his suit’s dry cleaner, my friend suggested.

  "I barely have the money to pay for this coffee and muffin," I confessed, eating the last bite of Gwen's cake.

  "This is on the house," she exclaimed sympathetically, preparing a tray full of blueberry muffins. "And these are for your husband. They were his favorites when you came here.

  "Ex-husband," I corrected her. "Anyway, thank you," I whispered, moved by her gesture and by the memory of Zane's smile every time he ate those muffins.

  I felt another twinge in my heart overwhelm me.

  How will I ever be able to meet Zane again, without being carried away by memories?

  3

  Audrey

  I had left Zane and the Thunder and Larson Company four years earlier. At the time, our business, which we had set up on our own, was little more than a dump north of Chicago, even though Zane's abilities and maddening ambition had succeeded in creating a small space in the advertising environment in just two years.

  Two years in which each success of the company could be associated with a new brick that would soon create an impassable wall between us.

  Although it did not start out on the right foot, Zane had made it and now seeing his studio on the thirtieth floor of one of the most beautiful skyscrapers in southern Chicago made my heart pound.

  Of course, now my last name no longer appeared on the sign, but I felt that a part of me had remained there, wedged between the words Thunder and Company.

  I too had made many sacrifices to make that dream come true.

  I had always believed it and I knew that Zane, at the time my husband, was one of the most brilliant advertisers in Chicago.

  I was the one who instilled in Zane the desire to start from scratch and start a company, not knowing the price to pay would be our love.

  If I went back, would I make that choice again?

  Would I still push Zane towards independence and ambition?

  Yes, because he deserved it. He was worth more than what he did at the Kreinberg Company, where we had met and formed a team with other members who were always too lazy or distracted to allow us to make that qualitative leap and establish ourselves in that shark environment.

  But what about our marriage?

  Maybe that should not have happened?

  I did not know, and I didn't want to answer that question either, because every time I thought about, it I felt my wound bleed and my heart breaking again with the same violence of four years prior.

  Erasing those thoughts from my mind, I headed for the skyscraper where the Thunder Company resided, as I had read on the internet.

  I got to the right floor without difficulty, but when I tried to speak directly to Zane Thunder, an annoyed and exhausted secretary kicked me out decisively.

  "Mr. Thunder doesn't see anyone without an appointment," she said shortly.

  "Please, it's important. I'm Audrey Larson. "

  "So? For me, you could be the President of the United States himself, but I won't let you into his office without an appointment. "

  "Has Zane ever told you about me?" I found myself wondering.

  Suddenly I looked around.

  There were many employees walking back and forth.

  I immediately realized that I did not know anyone.

  Apparently, there were none of the first employees hired when I was still part of the company.

  Nobody knew about me.

  Zane did not tell anyone he was married to me.

  I felt like an annoying insect, chased away and immediately forgotten.

  Gwen was wrong. Zane had really turned the page.

  Against all my wishes, I felt tears sting my eyes.

  I felt mortified.

  I was nothing now.

  It was as if there was nothing left of me.

  I had walked to that skyscraper, with my muffin-filled box and with the hope that something of me or mine was left in that company or ... in Zane.

  Something I could hold on to in order to start over after leaving Zane and Chicago.

  Instead I found out there was nothing there for me anymore.

  No link. No foothold. No glance or opportunity to start from.

  Suddenly, the door of the office guarded by the grumpy secretary opened and I saw Zane come out, accompanied by a very elegant and beautiful woman.

  "Zane, you know how to make a woman happy," she exclaimed happily.

  "Trisha, I know how to make you happy," he replied with a seductive smile and that hoarse voice that in the past always managed to make my legs give out.

  "What a flatterer," she laughed cheerfully, but he was no longer smiling.

  He was looking at me.

  When I returned his gaze, every trace of his smile and charm was gone.

  "Sarah, take the lady to the elevator," Zane immediately ordered his secretary irritably. “Trisha, sorry, but I have an emergency. I'll talk to you later. "

  The emergency would be me ... Thanks for the umpteenth blow to my self-esteem.

  "Get out! You're not welcome here,” Zane hissed as soon as we were alone. "Have you come to create trouble here too and to ruin what I've built in these years?"

  "Absolutely not. How can you think that of me? "

  'First you accuse me of getting you fired, then you slap me and now you're here. Sorry if I cannot be optimistic. Maybe you preferred a welcome with open arms? Well, forget it! Your name no longer appears on the plaque at the entrance and you can no longer come here. Have I made myself clear?"

  I had hardly heard a word of what he had just said to me. The hatred and anger I saw in his icy eyes had paralyzed me.

  I did not understand how he could hate me so much.

  He had a thriving and successful business.

  He had remained young and handsome, just as I remembered him.

  Surely, he already had another partner, perhaps that very woman, Trisha.

  In an instant I looked at his left right finger searching for a ring.

  No, he has not remarried.

  He had it all. I had nothing.

  What more could he want?

  “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday and give you these muffins Gwen made. They are blueberry muffins, your favorites. Just a small gesture to make me forgive myself for what happened. I apologize. I did not mean to slap you. It was an impulsive and stupid gesture, dictated by the nervousness caused by a difficult period and ... “

  "I don't care," he stopped me.

  "Zane, I'm really sorry."

  "As I told you yesterday, I don't know what to make of your apologies. Now, please leave and never come back. I have to work."

  "What about the muffins?"

  “I don't want anything from you. I just want you to leave. "

  Zane looked really determined.

  "Ok, sorry. I am leaving immediately. Bye,” I stammered with a lump in my throat that seemed to want to suffocate me.

  Zane did not even answer me.

  I turned on my heels and headed for the elevators, under his watchful gaze.

  I had never felt so humiliated and torn since the divorce day.

  Apparently, four years were not enough to forget. Not for me and not even for him.

  Only when the elevator doors closed, a tear of sadness fell on my face.

  I felt alone, in the middle of an ocean.

  I hugged my arms in search of warmth but found myself trembling confused and desperate.

  I felt only a great void inside me.

  This was not how I hoped to feel after four years.

  Many times, I had imagined meeting Zane, but in all my fantasies, I always remained dispassionate and serene, satisfied with my life, and committed to my new career.

  Instead, I was penniless, without a job or a new love ... and soon a house, if I did not immediately pay the rent.

  Audrey, don't give up! There are still many things you can do!

  I wiped my face and, when the elevator door
s reopened, I ran to the exit.

  I walked for a long time, until I arrived at Sherman Park, where I relaxed on a bench in front of a pond filled with ducks.

  Exhausted and hungry, I opened Gwen's muffin box.

  The scent of blueberries and frosting penetrated my nostrils, taking me back over the years, to when I used to spend Sunday mornings lying on the bed next to Zane, after making love all night.

  I remembered that I loved leaving home early, secretly, to go to Gwen's coffee shop one block from our house. I stocked up on coffee, blueberry muffins for Zane and chocolate chips for me. Then I would go home, prepare trays, and go back to the bedroom. Each time Zane woke up because of the smell of sweets and coffee, his drug of choice.

  We always had breakfast in each other’s arms, making plans for the future, then we went back to making love without worrying about what time it was.

  Only once Zane got ahead of me and woke up before me to go get muffins and have a surprise breakfast.

  That was the time I found an engagement ring inside one of my sweets.

  "What's this?" I asked him, pretending indifference, while my heart had jumped out of my chest.

  "Oh, nothing important," he added quickly nonchalantly. "It's just a way of reminding you that you'll soon be my wife."

  "And this would be your marriage proposal?" I laughed amused. "I expected something more romantic and blatant from a creative director."

  "I thought about it, but then you dampened my enthusiasm the time you told me you hate public declarations of love."

  "True."

  "You also told me that you can't stand to hear the usual phrase" Will you marry me? "In romantic films”

  "I find it devoid of originality and too classic."

  "I know."

  "Therefore? Does this mean you don't even ask me? "

  "What?"

  "If I want to marry you."

  "There is no need."

  "Aren't you thinking too much of yourself?" I had made fun of him.

  "No. I am simply avoiding being refused, since without question, there is no answer. "

  "I would never do that. You know I love you so much. "

  “Thank God ... I made it! If you had refused me, I would have died. The idea of living without you is something that I hope will never happen. I do not know what I would do without you. I love you, Audrey, you are my whole life. "

  "You are everything to me too," I replied, kissing him with passion and sealing our love with that ring.

  That memory made me melt into tears.

  I could not eat even one of the six muffins that soon became drenched in tears.

  I sat there on that bench for I do not know how long.

  I just wanted to get rid of all the pain that had taken hold of my stomach and chest.

  4

  Zane

  "A whiskey, please," I ordered hurriedly to the bartender, sitting at the counter.

  I could not believe it.

  I had stopped drinking for three years, except on special occasions.

  Three years in which I was committed to forgetting my wrecked marriage, to putting back what was left of my broken heart, to go back to breathing without always feeling that dull pain in the chest that left me breathless ...

  And now…

  Now I was there, in a bar, not far from my office, at ten in the morning, sipping a whiskey instead of working.

  I felt I was going back years when Audrey had left me and suddenly the whole world had collapsed on me.

  For more than a year I had found refuge in alcohol, until I realized that soon I would also lose the Thunder Company, now on the verge of bankruptcy.

  Only my work had given me the strength to get back on my feet and turn the page.

  I had succeeded.

  I had had the success I had always wanted, leading me to become the head of one of the most popular advertising agencies in Chicago.

  I had achieved my dream and that of my wife, a woman who had pushed me to form a company, and to believe more in myself and the fact that I would achieve incredible goals.

  I had worked hard for years to make her proud of me.

  I loved my job, but what had always pushed me to stay in the office until midnight every night, to look for new customers even on Sundays, to invest our paltry savings in advertising, was her. I had done all that only with one purpose: not to disappoint the expectations of the woman I loved and who believed in me to the point of putting all of herself at stake to focus everything on me, her "winning horse,” as she said.

  I never took all her complaints seriously, about how I always spent too much time at work, for I knew how important it was for her too.

  However, I understood how tiring it was for her. For that reason, I had decided to give her a break and hire an employee to do her job, so that she would have more time for herself, as she always asked when we worked at Kreinberg’s.

  I did it for her, just to make her feel good.

  I had not thought that my decision would come back to haunt me, leading her to have a good time with my copywriter, Rick Mendoza.

  In an instant I drained my whiskey, hoping that this would erase my past.

  I felt alcohol burning my stomach and setting my throat on fire, but I did not care.

  I had needed to dull my mind since I had seen Audrey at Prestige.

  All I had to do is close my eyes to see my fingers scroll through the long brown waves of her hair, move the bangs that often fell in front of her eyes, slide on her face to the small and fleshy lips that always folded in a seductive smile inviting me to kiss her, while my hands continued to rest on her perfect curves ...

  It was all so indelible in my mind and her voice still had the power to hypnotize me and make me lose my head, along with that fiery look she often gave me when we were married.

  Oh my God, will I ever forget her for good?

  Her image gave me no respite and knowing that she had left New York to come back here left me uneasy and relentless.

  Why had she returned?

  Had she broken up with Rick?

  Why were you looking for a job as a waitress?

  What had happened to her?

  I should not have asked myself all those questions, but I had noticed her thin, pale face, her weight loss, her bewildered gaze, and that tension taken to the extreme, so much so that she almost collapsed.

  "Hi," someone said behind me. I would have recognized that voice among thousands.

  For a moment I wanted another whiskey, but I managed to control myself and turned slowly, keeping a straight face.

  As soon as my eyes landed on her hazel ones, I felt my heart break.

  I was in pain and hated her for it. But I also hated myself for the power I was giving her over me.

  "Before you start accusing me of stalking and seeking a restraining order against me, I want to tell you that I am here only because I am looking for work and I am handing out my curriculum vitae to all the businesses in the neighborhood," she hurried to clarify.

  If it had not been my ex-wife, I would have laughed at such a statement.

  “Chicago is an exceptionally large city. Yet you are always here, close to my company, "I pointed out coldly.

  "You're right, but I intend to stay nearby precisely because these places are the most popular with advertising agencies."

  "I thought it would be enough to take the resume directly to their offices, instead of seeking the agents at the bars," I said acidly.

  “I've tried it before, but that road hasn't worked. So now I am trying a new one. "

  "Do what you want, just stay away from me and avoid associating my name with yours to get something in return."

  "Explain to me: what you don't want to reveal is that we were married or worked together, am I right?"

  I did not answer her and turned back to the counter to finish my whiskey. I really needed it. Hearing Audrey talking about our marriage was something I still could not face. Not for nothing, no
body knew that I had been married and all the old employees of Thunder and Larson Company had been fired. A decision I had made shortly after the divorce, during one of the worst times of my life and under the influence of alcohol that flowed through my veins from morning to night.

  “Don't worry, Zane. Your name does not appear on my resume. It just says that I am divorced and worked for seven years at the Kreinberg Company. “

  "Perfect."

  "I didn't even mention I opened the Thunder and Larson Company with you. By the way, how is your work going? "

  "It doesn't concern you," I replied dryly to her vaguely irritated and offended tone.

  I stared at her again.

  She seemed decisively annoyed and angry.

  "You are right. It is none of my business, even though I spent three years of my life there. I just hope you're working hard to make your agency successful,” she answered provokingly, making me instantly nervous.

  I quickly got up from the stool and eliminated the distance that separated us.

  I was so close that I could smell her brown hair.

  “The Thunder Company is already an established agency. I have worked hard to get where I am now, and I am proud of the results. My life is filled with successes, money and fame ... unlike yours, as far as I can see. "

  "You really don’t know."

  “Am I wrong or are you here to look for work as a bartender? It is obvious that to get to this point you have to be in a bad situation both economically and professionally. What has happened? Rick doesn't take care of you anymore? Maybe he is looking for a job too, maybe as a dishwasher? "

  “I haven't seen Rick in four years, Zane, but you're right. I'm not doing well, but even if from the outside it seems that you are the career man you want everyone to see, I don't think it's really like that, otherwise you wouldn't drink alcohol at ten in the morning, with that brooding and worried attitude, when ten meters away you have a potential customer looking for an advertiser who can satisfy his requests to promote his new line of cosmetics, "she replied sternly, pointing to a blonde, middle-aged woman sitting at a table, in the company of what could have been her sister, given the great resemblance.