A Woman's Revenge

by Sherri L. Lewis

  On the one hand, I was tired of pretending that everything was okay between me and him. On the other hand, it would be stupid for me to up and quit when I didn’t have a new job to go to. I had started combing the want ads and submitted my resume a couple of places online. If things stayed quiet, I would wait things out here until I found a new job. How long would that be, though? I didn’t have a college degree, and there were people out there with master’s degrees who couldn’t find a job.

  My intercom beeped and Blake asked me to step into his office. When I walked in, he gestured for me to close the door. I stood at the door, waiting to see what he wanted.

  “Sabrina, honey, I seem to have a kink in my shoulder. Can you try to work it out for me?” He turned his chair backward and pointed to his upper back.

  Really? Does he really expect me to give him a massage right now? I imagined myself putting my hands on him, but not on his shoulders. I wanted to squeeze his neck until he stopped breathing. When I didn’t come over to his desk, he turned around and looked at me. “Sabrina? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing . . . I . . .” I folded my arms. “It’s just that Harvin’s secretary said something the other day that bothered me. She asked what you and I did behind closed doors all the time.” It was a bald-faced lie and God would have to forgive me. I needed a good excuse for not having to touch Blake ever again.

  Blake’s eyes grew wide. “What?” He stood up and walked over to me. “What did she say? Who’s talking about us?”

  “Nobody’s talking about us. Melissa just pulled me aside and mentioned it. Promised to keep it to herself.”

  “Keep it to herself? Keep what to herself? What does she think she knows about us?”

  “Nothing, Blakey.” I was enjoying seeing him nervous at the thought that someone might find out his little secret and that it could affect his chance of making partner. “I mean, Mr. Harrison.” I couldn’t help but smile.

  “You think this is funny, Sabrina? It’s not funny. You have to be more careful.”

  “I have to be more careful?” I put a hand on my hip. “What do you mean I have to be more careful? You’re the one who called me in here for a massage.”

  “It’s the way you look at me and talk to me. Anyone can tell that you have feelings for me. You walk around here like a lovesick puppy. You just have to do a better job of hiding it.”

  I started to feel last week’s anger rise up in me. “Better job of hiding it?”

  “Yes, Sabrina.” He paced back to his desk and back to me again. “You cannot cost me this promotion.”

  “Cost you this promotion? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He walked past me to open the door. “Nothing. Just . . . go on back to your desk and if I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

  I walked back out to my desk, clenching my teeth.

  A few seconds later, my intercom buzzed. I picked up my phone. “Yes, Mr. Harrison?”

  “Ms. Rogers. I need you to make some reservations to New York this weekend. I have a client to meet with first thing Saturday morning. Go ahead and make the reservations for Friday night through Sunday afternoon. I’ll take the train.”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “Sabrina?”

  “I’m sorry. Client’s name please?”

  “Huh? Client’s name? Wha . . . wha . . . do you . . .”

  “The name of the client you’ll be meeting with this weekend in New York?”

  “That’s not important,” he barked. “Just make the reservation, Ms. Rogers.”

  I could hear him slam down the phone. I felt like slamming my own but there were too many eyes around. I was sure there was steam coming out of my ears. There was no way I was going to let him make a fool out of me again. I wasn’t about to make reservations for him to go see his New York model mistress this weekend.

  It was time for me to give him a piece of my mind. I pictured myself walking into his office, cussing him out, and creating a scene so loud that he did actually have to worry that I was going to cost him his promotion.

  I suddenly had the urge to stab him again but the only knife I had was the plastic one in my lunch bag.

  My intercom buzzed again. “Yes, Mr. Harrison?”

  “Could you get me the nicest suite at the Grand Hotel? I need to have an . . . extra relaxing weekend.”

  That was it. Forget waiting for a new job. I stood and marched myself right into Blake’s office. I slammed the door behind me and put my hands on my hips.

  “Sabrina, what are you doing? Didn’t we just decide that—”

  Just as I was about to cuss him within an inch of his life—Roxie style—the door slammed open. I turned around to see what was going on. Lila Strauss, one of the other attorneys, stood there, bright red with such an angry look on her face that I was scared.

  “Mr. Harrison, what the hell is this?” She threw a brown box wrapped with a large pink bow onto his desk.

  Blake looked from her to me and then down at the box. “What? What is it?”

  “It was just delivered with a card from you that read, ‘Hope this fulfills all your needs.’ Is this some kind of sick joke?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Take a look.”

  Blake picked up the box and peered inside. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t do anything like this.”

  Before he could get the words out, Kara Hopkins, another attorney, stormed in. She slammed the door behind her. “How dare you! I never . . .” She threw another brown box onto the desk next to the first one. “For all my lonely nights? How dare you!”

  All the color drained from Blake’s face. “I didn’t—”

  The door slammed open again. “I have never been so insulted in all my life!” West’s executive assistant burst into the office and joined the impromptu party. Margaret Slaughter was an older lady, in her early fifties or so. “‘Just in case he can’t anymore?’ Mr. Harrison, I hope you have a good explanation for this.”

  Blake came from behind his desk. “Ladies, I assure you, I didn’t send these boxes. Please, give me a little while to get to the bottom of this. You can’t possibly think I would have done anything like this.” He laid a hand on Lila’s and Kara’s shoulders. “Please, I’ll have an explanation for you before the afternoon is out.”

  This seemed to calm them down. He walked them out of his office, speaking quietly to avoid a further stir. He turned back toward me and said over his shoulder with pleading eyes, “Ms. Rogers, could you dispose of these for me, please?”

  I nodded, anxious to see what was in the boxes that had caused such an uproar. I picked up the card on one of the boxes. My mouth fell open when I saw that they had been sent from Izzy’s Sex Shoppe.

  I peered out Blake’s door to see if anyone was watching. I couldn’t stop myself from looking into the box. I turned bright red when I saw the contents and dropped the box on the floor.

  “Sabrina! I thought I asked you to dispose of those.” Blake stormed back into the office.

  I grabbed the trash can and swept the two boxes off Blake’s desk into it. “Sorry, Mr. Harrison.” I leaned over to pick up the other box and threw it into the can.

  Oh my God. . . . I covered my mouth with my hand. I can’t believe she would . . .

  “Sabrina . . .” Blake was visibly shaken. “I mean Ms. Rogers. Can you please get me the phone number for this . . . store so I can figure out how this could have possibly happened?”

  I leaned over the trash can, pulled one of the cards off the top box, and passed it to Blake.

  He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t mean . . . Never mind.”

  I walked out of his office and closed the door behind me.

  Before I could sit down at my desk, Paris came sauntering up with a huge smile on her face. She had that Cheshire cat grin she always had when she had some juicy gossip she couldn’t hold on to.

  She held out a thick stack of papers. “Y
our mail.” She stood there.

  “Thanks, Paris.” I sat down at my desk, hoping she would go away so I could try to overhear Blake’s conversation with the sex shop people.

  She didn’t move. “Aren’t you gonna look at it?”

  “Huh?” I frowned.

  “Look at Mr. Harrison’s mail.” She looked like she was about to bust with excitement.

  I looked down at the stack of mail I had plopped onto my desk. I tossed aside a couple of interoffice mail envelopes and advertising brochures for upcoming law conferences. And then I saw what Paris was so excited about.

  My mouth dropped open. In my hand were two magazines. On the front cover of the first one was a man who was almost completely naked, with thick black eyeliner and a half smile on his face. I looked at the name of the magazine—Out. I gasped. The other magazine, Unzipped, had two half-naked men hugging each other on the cover. Each magazine had an address label on the front with Blake’s name and the office address. Roxie subscribed Blake to gay magazines?

  I looked up at Paris and back down at the magazines, unable to close my mouth. “Where did you get these?”

  “They came in the mail this morning. I wanted to deliver them myself to keep things discreet. I wouldn’t want just anybody to see them. You know some people can’t hold water.” She gave a little wave and a giggle and walked off.

  Blake’s office door flew open. “They’re saying that the order was placed online using my credit card. They had my name, address, and all my credit card information. How could this have happened?”

  I was still sitting there with the magazines in my hand, with my mouth open.

  “Sabrina, are you listening to me?” When I still didn’t move, Blake snatched the magazines out of my hand. He frowned as he studied the cover models and title of each one. He turned bright red when his eyes drifted to the address label. “What in the . . .”

  He looked down at the magazines and up at me. “Where did you get these?”

  I flinched. “Paris just brought them up from the mail room.”

  His eyes bugged out. “Paris?”

  I nodded, bracing myself for his outburst. To my surprise, he simply turned around, walked back into his office, and slammed the door.

  I held my head in my hands for a second, unable to believe everything that had just happened. My brand new cell phone chimed to let me know I had gotten a text. I peered down at the screen and almost fell out of my chair when I read:

  Sometimes a woman just has to let a man know. This is only the beginning. Welcome to Roxie’s Ten Steps to Revenge.

  Chapter Eight

  The next evening at around eight, my cell phone rang. I saw Blake’s number and automatically went through a mental checklist. His dry cleaning was delivered yesterday. I had given him a copy of his updated schedule before I left work. His refrigerator and pantry were well stocked. I wasn’t sure why he was calling but I didn’t feel like being bothered by him at the moment.

  The phone chimed to indicate that he’d left a voice mail. I didn’t even care to listen to it. A few seconds later, a different chime came through for a text. I still didn’t move from the bed. I had spent most evenings in the bed since I had found out the truth about Blake. The evenings were too long to be depressed and brokenhearted, wondering about a new job and downsizing my apartment. It was easier just to sleep.

  The phone rang again and then stopped and then rang again. Whatever it is must be urgent. I was about to continue to ignore it, but then remembered Roxie’s ten steps and thought Blake might be suffering from the next step. Excitement rose up in my heart as I tried to imagine what Roxie had done.

  “Hello?”

  “Sabrina, why aren’t you answering my phone calls? I’m in the middle of an emergency. It shouldn’t take this long to get in touch with you.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry, Blakey, I was in the middle of something. What’s wrong?”

  “I need you to come right this minute and bring me a credit card. Drive as fast as you can.”

  “What’s wrong, Blake?”

  “This is not the time to ask a million questions.” His voice went low and tight and I knew he was trying to mask his anger from whoever he was with. “Just get here and bring your credit card.”

  I closed my eyes and pulled up a mental picture of his calendar. I realized he was at a potential client dinner with the bigwigs of the Peterson Corporation. Oh, this is serious ...

  “Well, how much is it? I’m not sure I can afford to pay for—”

  “Sabrina, obviously I’m going to pay you back.” I knew he was doing all he could not to scream at me. “Just get here. Call me when you’re in the lobby.” He hung up on me.

  I laughed to myself and slipped into the suit I’d worn that day and headed for my car.

  Knowing his calendar by heart, I headed to the restaurant I knew he was dining at. When I arrived, I called Blake from the lobby. He had that harried, stressed-out look on his face he got the few times he had lost a case. He held out his hand for my card.

  “Blake, how much is it? I don’t know if I have enough money in my account to cover the cost of a dinner here.”

  He frowned as he pulled the card out of my hand. “How could you not have four hundred dollars in your account? Are you that financially irresponsible?”

  I bit my lip to keep from mentioning that growing up dirt poor made me the kind of person who always kept a large amount of money in my savings account. I kept the bare minimum in my checking account so that every spare cent could be collecting interest. In that moment, I realized how very little Blake knew about me.

  “Financially irresponsible? I’m not the one borrowing my assistant’s credit card to pay for a client’s dinner.”

  “It’s not that I don’t have the money, Sabrina.” His face contorted into an angry glare. “There’s something wrong with my credit cards. Both business and personal. I don’t know what the problem is, but for now, I need to pay this bill.”

  “Of course, Blake. I’ll be waiting in my car for the card.” I turned on my heel and walked out the front door. I kept my smile hidden until I got to my car. I sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the thought of how embarrassed Blake must have been when they ran both his credit cards and brought the bill back to the table still unpaid. I could only imagine what kind of excuses he had come up with to save his reputation.

  I sat in my car, watching the door, waiting for Blake and his clients to emerge, but a large tow truck pulled into the parking lot, obstructing my view. It paused there for a second and finally moved. After a few moments, it maneuvered its way around the parking lot and stopped in front of Blake’s car. My eyes flew open when the driver got out and started attaching his rig to the Mercedes. What has Roxie done now?

  After a few minutes, Blake emerged from the restaurant with three men in expensive-looking suits, talking confidently with his usual hand gestures. I followed his eyes as they traveled to his car and saw it being attached to the tow truck.

  He stopped mid-conversation and ran over to the driver. “What on earth are you doing to my car?”

  I rolled down my windows so I could hear, although knowing Blake, things would soon get loud enough that I’d be able to hear with the windows closed.

  “Your car is being repossessed for nonpayment, sir.”

  “What?” I could hear Blake’s voice go up three octaves. “Nonpayment? That’s ridiculous!” Blake nervously eyed his potential clients and then turned his attention back to the driver. “There’s been some mistake. You must have the wrong car.”

  The driver pulled out his clipboard and said, “Are you Mr. Blake Harrison of 1487 Sixteenth Street, Washington, DC?”

  Blake’s eyes widened. “I am, but—”

  “Then there’s no mistake. This is the vehicle I’m supposed to take.” The driver dismissed Blake and continued hooking up his rig.

  I could tell Blake didn’t know whether he should try to clear things with the client
s or argue with the tow truck driver. He turned to the men, undoubtedly trying to explain to them that this was a huge mistake. He shook each of their hands and gave them one of his cards. By the time he finished schmoozing and the potential clients left, the tow truck driver had finished hooking his car up and had climbed into the cab.

  “Can you please tell me where you got your information? What is the name of your company?”

  The driver ignored him and started up his truck. Blake began to yell. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I will sue your company and you’ll never work again, do you hear me?”

  The driver shrugged and slowly pulled out of the parking lot.

  Blake stood there for a few minutes, watching his S-Class being pulled down the street. I got out of the car in time to hear him curse loudly.

  “Oh, Blake! I’m so sorry. Can I take you home?” It was hard to be all fake and pretend I cared. It was even harder to realize that he didn’t see through my bad acting. Did this man really pay me any attention at all? Had he ever?

  He slowly walked over to the car. I decided to pour it on thick. I ran around and opened the car door for him. It would probably kill him to get into my Corolla. I tried to ignore the disgusted look on his face as he surveyed the interior of my car.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” I said. “I know that must have been embarrassing. First the credit card and then the car. Is everything okay? Is there something we need to talk about?”

  “No, there’s nothing we need to talk about.” His voice burst with raw anger.

  “Blake, there is absolutely no reason to yell at me. I’m trying to help you, remember?”

  “You don’t have to remind me. And I don’t need your help.”

  I held out my hand.

  “What?” he barked.

  “My credit card. I don’t want you to forget to give it to me. Will you have enough money to pay me back?”

  His eyes shot daggers at me. “Sabrina, I’m not broke.”