Single Woman Seeks Revenge: Another Very Funny Romantic Novel

by Tracy Bloom

  “Barry,” exclaimed Dave. “Who the fuck’s Barry?”

  “Barry Obama of course,” said Jackie.

  “He’s that chap who’s taken over the offy isn’t he?” demanded Dave. “The one who always looks at your tits whenever we go in. I’m gonna kill him.”

  “No, that’s not him. I mean the President of America. He seems like a nice guy.”

  “It’s Barrack, you idiot,” said Dave. “Barrack Obama.”

  “I know. I just think Barry suits him better.”

  Dave stared at Jackie before sighing heavily and turning to write Mr. Obama on the blackboard.

  “Right,” said Dave, kneeling down and taking Suzie’s hands gently. “I want you to think of a man who isn’t a bastard to put on this list. Come on, it will do you good.”

  There was a heavy silence until Dave made a suggestion.

  “What about that bloke from work whose been helping you with your revenges,” he said. “He must be alright? What’s his name?”

  To Suzie’s surprise tears sprang to her eyes. She screwed them up in an effort to avoid embarrassment.

  “He just dumped his fiancée a few weeks before the wedding,” Jackie told Dave, shaking her head sadly. “An utter wanker,” she added. “Heh, Suzie?”

  “Totally and utterly,” muttered Suzie. “Do you know what he had the nerve to say to me tonight? He told me that I was no Snow White. And after what he did to Emily. I just can’t believe it.”

  “Guilt,” said Jackie. “He’s obviously lashing out to make him feel better about what he’s done.”

  “Of course he is,” said Suzie angrily. “All I was trying to do was complete my last revenge, just like I said I would. He’s been so supportive. I can’t believe he was so mean to me.”

  “You were trying to do your last revenge at the office party?” asked Jackie. “You never said.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So who was it?”

  “Do you remember me telling you about that mate of Drew’s, the DJ who turned out to be engaged?”

  “Oh yeah,” replied Jackie. “He said he loved you and was going to leave her.”

  “Whoa there,” said Dave after a moment. “My brain isn’t keeping up with this one. Are you saying you slept with a mate of Drew’s and he was engaged?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know to start with,” said Suzie.

  “You wouldn’t have done if you’d known would you?” added Jackie.

  “Oh no,” said Dave wagging his finger. “Extreme double standards ladies. He paused swaying backwards slightly. “You are telling me that Dear Suzie, the Dear Suzie who has been giving the male population extreme hell over the last few weeks has actually done the dirty on her own sex and slept with another woman’s man.”

  Both Jackie and Suzie stared at Dave in silence.

  “Dave, please do not interrupt. Suzie is telling us about her last revenge,” said Jackie turning away from Dave to face Suzie. “I don’t understand. Why was this guy at your office party?” she asked her.

  “He was the DJ. Drew booked him cheap.”

  “So come on then. Tell me all the gory details of the revenge,” said Jackie rubbing her hands together in excitement.

  “Well you see me and Drew were on the dance floor at the end of the night because that was his Secret Santa present.”

  “His what?” asked Dave.

  “His Secret Santa,” repeated Suzie.

  Dave looked between Suzie and Jackie waiting for an explanation that didn’t arrive.

  “What, to have the last dance?” asked Jackie. “Cheap or what.”

  “No, no actually,” she said shaking her head, still confused as to what Drew’s gift was all about. “I didn’t really understand it to be honest but he said something about trying to give me my hope back?”

  “Right,” said Jackie now also confused.

  “Hope?” said Dave. “What the fuck does that mean. Hope? Will someone tell me what the hell she is talking about?”

  “I have no idea,” said Jackie. “What the hell are you talking about Suzie?”

  Suzie leaned forward and reached into her bag and pulled out the golden envelope. She took out the card so Jackie could read it.

  “Oh I get it,” said Jackie after some thought. “He’s lost his fiancée and he’s lonely, and it’s Christmas, so he’s preying on poor gullible women like you. I can’t believe you actually danced with him.”

  “I didn’t actually dance with him but Rick Astley was playing.”

  “You mean Never Gonna Give You Up?” asked Jackie.

  “Yep.”

  “The song that you first snogged Patrick to?”

  “Yep. Drew must have asked for it. Then he offered me a weak Cinzano.”

  Both Jackie and Dave were now staring at her in amazement.

  “Tell me you never used to drink Cinzano,” exclaimed Dave to Jackie. “That is grounds for divorce. If I ever catch you …”

  “Shut it Dave,” shouted Jackie. “I’m trying to think here. So what else did he do?”

  “He just kept wittering on about this hope thing. Something about believing in love. I don’t know I can’t really remember,” she said slumping back in the sofa.

  Jackie and Dave stared at her in silence.

  “He inflicted Rick Astley on people who thought there were a good few decades between them and that mindless crap?” said Jackie aghast.

  “He went up to a bar and asked for Cinzano,” said Dave totally horrified.

  Suzie nodded.

  “Wow,” was all Jackie could say, sitting back speechless.

  Dave looked again from one to the other in total confusion.

  “So why the hell did he do that?” he said eventually when neither of them offered him an explanation.

  “Why do you think?” said Jackie.

  “How the hell do I know? He wants to form a Rick Astley tribute band with her? Cinzano is the new bitter? He’s a complete nutter?”

  “No you absolute idiot. Because he loves her for God’s sake,” said Jackie.

  Suzie snapped her head round to stare at Jackie.

  “Bloody hell,” breathed Dave.

  “No,” said Suzie leaping up. “That’s not it. He was just trying to prove to me you could give a decent Secret Santa gift or something. That’s all,” she said, pacing up and down.

  “Oh Suzie,” said Jackie. “No man on earth goes to all that trouble just to get a present right. He loves you. It’s obvious.”

  Suzie stopped dead in her tracks, the truth starting to dawn on her.

  “He did say there was someone else,” she said slowly. “That’s why he broke it off with Emily. Oh my God,” she shrieked dropping slowly to her knees her head in her hands.

  The only sound in the room now was Suzie breathing very heavily. No-one spoke.

  “So?” Dave finally dared to utter.

  “What?” said Jackie before Suzie could speak.

  “So what happened next?” Dave asked.

  “I didn’t get it,” moaned Suzie from behind her hands. “I didn’t see what he was getting at.”

  “Well that’s understandable,” said Dave. “Way too subtle if you ask me.”

  Suzie threw her head up in the air looking manic.

  “I got distracted by Toby,” she continued. “He was saying all this stuff and I was trying to shut him up so I could get on with my last revenge. Then Toby came over and it all came out about us sleeping together and that’s when Drew told me I was no Snow White,” she trailed off.

  “Not bloody surprised,” exclaimed Dave. “Dear sanctimonious Suzie slept with his best mate who was engaged.”

  “Dave,” Jackie said sharply. “I think you’re missing the point here. The point is that Drew is in love with Suzie. That is what we are dealing with.”

  “No, incorrect,” said Dave. “The point is that Drew was in love with Suzie until he found out that she was a hypocrite. Drew was so in love with Suzie that he embarrassed himself
totally by asking for Rick Astley and Cinzano on the same night only to find out that she had slept with his best mate.”

  Jackie and Suzie stared back at Dave.

  “Oh but it’s fine Suzie,” said Dave throwing his hands up in the air. “All men are bastards right? You don’t give a damn, right? Look at the list,” he said spinning round and stabbing the blackboard behind him so hard it nearly fell over. “Only me and the winner of the bloody Nobel Peace Prize are not bastards. So every other man must be, right? Right Suzie?” he said.

  “Right,” she whispered.

  “Except,” said Jackie quietly, “you, Mr. Obama and maybe the one that manages to turn Secret Santa, the stupidest invention in history, into something worth having. I don’t think he’s a bastard. I think he might just be a genius.”

  Chapter 25

  “To my husband,

  There is no surprise that my work got better when I met you,

  Because I never knew what it felt like for someone to have my back.

  So thank you …”

  Applause, applause, applause, applause.

  Cue picture of doting husband ……. NOT.

  Suzie watched Sandra Bullock complete her moving tribute to her husband during her 2010 Golden Globe acceptance speech for the tenth time that morning on YouTube. She then clicked yet again onto the headlines that emerged just a few short weeks later revealing Jessie James to be the biggest love rat in history. If ever you were going to convince yourself that happily ever after does not exist then all you had to do was watch the queen of romantic comedy whose life’s work had been about showing millions of women that love does indeed conquer all, fall from a very, very great height at the hands of her Prince Charming. If Sandra Bullock does not live happily ever after then clearly happily ever after does not exist.

  Suzie leapt up from her chair in front of her home computer and knelt down in front of the TV, pulling out the drawer containing all her old rom-com DVDs. Why on earth had she kept these she wondered to herself. They were all full of bullshit with not a grain of reality between them.

  “You’ve Got Mail,” she muttered under her breath scrutinizing the picture on the cover. “He destroyed your business,” she declared to Meg Ryan gazing adoringly into Tom Hank’s eyes. “He is not a nice man you idiot. What the hell do you think you are doing?” She flung the offending case at the waste paper basket in the corner of the room knocking it clean over.

  “And as for you Julia Roberts,” she said to the semi-clad picture on the front of a well-worn Pretty Woman case. “He pays for prostitutes you fool. Nothing good can ever come of a man who pays for sex. You are doomed.”

  She picked up the next box “You had me at hello,” she cried. “Are you kidding me Renée? A man says hello and all is forgiven? Not good enough, even if he is Tom Cruise,” she said flinging a copy of Jerry Maguire over her shoulder.

  She was brought up short by the sight of her all-time favourite. She stared at the image of Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal walking easily through an autumnal Central Park on the cover of When Harry Met Sally.

  “And I love that you’re the last person that I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” Suzie muttered quietly to herself. “And it’s not because I’m lonely. And it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

  Unwelcome thoughts flooded her mind. A mind she thought had been cleansed thoroughly of any kind of belief that linked the male species to her happiness. She screamed in frustration. This is what happens she told herself angrily. Just a few short hours ago she’d been on the biggest high she had ever experienced. Her career finally taking off and adored by the women she was helping with their men problems, she couldn’t have been happier. And now here she was on a cold, grey Sunday morning feeling miserable, and surprise, surprise, it was all because of a man.

  She got up and sat back at her computer once again. After a few clicks and some careful reading she felt better. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? One look at the Dear Suzie section of the Manchester Herald website had extinguished any indecision she was harbouring over what she should do post the revelations from the previous evening.

  As she scrolled through the emails flooding in and perused the chat forum she had set up to allow women to discuss the mess they were in with their men, she felt the warm glow of reassurance that only pain could come of falling for a man.

  She kept reading, feeling the ache somewhere deep behind her breastbone wane as she went through the tales of woe that were streaming in. Story after story of longed for man proving to be a big disappointment.

  Every click of the mouse calmed her further until she was forced to stop abruptly and re-read a problem sent in from someone signing themselves, The Real Jay Kay.

  The Real Jay Kay - I need to know how to help my friend. She is so anti-men that I have been forced to remove all kitchen knives from her home in case she goes on a penis chopping frenzy. It appears a very brave colleague of hers has fallen in love with her having very recently broken off his engagement to his fiancée with just weeks to go before the wedding. What should I do? Give her her knives back or get her a duster for her vagina?

  Suzie was outraged. She would kill that Jackie. What the hell did she think she was doing putting her problems up on the chat forum? At least she could rely on her followers to back her up. She read on to see what comments had been posted.

  Ditched of Didsbury - Any man who asks a woman to marry them and then gets cold feet is a pathetic coward. Do not trust this man. Go with the knives and lock up the dusters.

  “Thank you,” said Suzie to the screen. The world was starting to feel a little more sane. She continued to read.

  Salford Swinger - He’s lonely. He’s worried he’s made a mistake cancelling his wedding and he wants your friend to take his mind of it. Tell her to use him for sex and come and join the party! We have dusters, feather dusters!

  Uuurgh thought Suzie shuddering.

  Law Unto Herself - My fiancé just cancelled our wedding. I turned up at his office in my wedding dress to show him what he had thrown away. He was totally humiliated. I felt on top of the world. Whatever Dear Suzie tells you to do, listen, you will not regret it.

  Suzie leapt back from the screen. Emily? What was she doing on her chat forum? Surely she had more important things to do like get women divorced or something. Scanning down she noticed that Jackie had posted again. Bloody hell she thought, what beans was she spilling now.

  The Real Jay Kay – Some fair comments made ladies, however I feel I must give you more details. So this guy ditched his fiancée before he made any approach to my friend. So he didn’t take the coward’s route which is fair play in my book. And then he did the most romantic thing I have ever heard of. (I have to say I’m not really one for romance. My ex-husband bought me a bunch of carnation’s once and I hate carnations. I used his golf bag as a vase.) So this guy recreated the moment when my friend had her first kiss as a teenager at a local disco. Even down to the crap music and crap drinks. And he did this because she once told him it was the happiest time of her life. When she had hope that she might live happily ever after. He said he wanted to give her her hope back.

  Suzie stared at the screen. There were no replies under Jackie’s last posting. She must be following the chat in real time now.

  “Come on ladies,” she muttered. “Cheesy right? Truly desperate for sex? Sad loser? Come on Emily, you give him hell.” What felt like an eternity ticked by as she waited for their verdict. Eventually responses started to appear on the screen.

  Ditched of Didsbury - If she doesn’t want him, can I have his number?

  Salford Swinger - If I had him I would give up being a Swinger.

  Law Unto Herself - My fiancé never did anything like that for me. If I ever find someone else I hope he loves me as much as that man must love your
friend.

  Suzie stared at the screen in amazement.

  What were they all thinking? Had they learnt nothing from her column over the last few weeks? Did they not realize that romance always starts like this, full of grand gestures and prolific promises? Did they not realize yet that all too soon it evaporates and all you’re left with is crushing disappointment? Did they not realize it was absolutely inevitable even with a man like Drew? A man who she’d come to rely on so much recently. Who’d been the only person to care enough to tell her to stand up for herself with men in the first place. Who’d crucially told her he believed in her when her confidence had threatened to fail her with Alex and then with Patrick at the football stadium. Even with Drew who’d gone so far as to lend her the shirt off his back to ensure that she triumphed. The powder blue shirt that matched his eyes and that for some reason she had failed to return to him, preferring to hang it in her closet unwashed. Even Drew whose hand had clutched hers so hard after he’d split with Emily that it felt like its imprint had remained on her fingers making them glow and tingle. Even Drew who had left his chair empty all last week causing her to talk to thin air every time she’d had something say that she thought he might like to hear.

  Even Drew.

  Or could it be apart from Drew?

  She got up in a daze and went upstairs and opened her closet and pulled down his powder blue shirt. She took it downstairs and went in search of her Secret Santa card that had been chucked in the kitchen bin. Having removed a soggy T-bag she sat down back at her computer clutching Drew’s shirt and his gift in her hands.

  “Be on the dance floor below the glitter ball at midnight for your extra special delivery from Secret Santa,” she read aloud running her fingers over the words.

  She put the card down and ran a Google search on the hotel they’d been at the night before. It didn’t take her long to pull up their website and some overly flattering pictures of their Grand Ballroom. Her heart was suddenly beating really fast as she scanned the room in cyberspace. No glitter ball. There was no glitter ball in the Grand Ballroom. She reached for her phone, fumbling as she tried to find a contact number.