Chapter 18 : Revenge

Simone Crystal's face was almost purple. I'd never seen anyone so upset in my whole life. It was sort of gratifying. Her usually plump lips curled into such a thin line they were almost invisible, and her eyes were tiny slits. I expected her to explode, scream, cry, or throw a temper tantrum. Instead, she calmly packed her things, got up, and walked out of the office. It was honestly hard for me to tell if she was angry, scared, or both. Either way, what I said clearly made an impact. She'd decided her best course of action was to remove herself from my presence, which I wholeheartedly agreed with. Before she left, though, she turned to look at me. "You think you're clever, Simone, but you're just trailer trash that a man thought was pretty. You are nothing, and I'm going to make sure everybody knows it." With that, she left the office with a huff. Mandy and I just stared at her and watched as she stomped toward the parking garage at the end of the street. There went the wicked witch. At least she was out of the office for the rest of the day. I'd take a win where I could get it. Mandy turned to me at the exact moment I turned to her and we gave each other a congratulatory hug. It was a huge moment for both of us. I'd snagged my first sale and defeated the office bitch in the same morning. My friend was there by my side, as my supporter and defender. We made quite a team. The rest of the day was surprisingly uneventful. Michael signed the contract and sent it back to me. I explained a few of the finer details so he would be well informed, but it was a fairly standard contract. Once the paperwork was filed, I felt like I could finally breathe. The first sale was over. More would surely follow. I went home that night feeling so much peace. I didn't need to worry about Michael or Rob or Nick or Crystal or anyone. I was just able to bask in the glow of a job well done. I took a hot bath, drained a bottle of wine, ordered in my favorite takeout, and binge-watched trashy TV. It was the most relaxing night I'd had in a long time. Well, multiple orgasm nights excluded. When I woke up the next morning, I actually smiled. I felt rested and accomplished and ready to tackle the day. Maybe the evening would lead to someone else's bed. Maybe I'd get another sale. All I knew was that the universe was finally working in my favor. I dressed in my favorite red sundress and took extra time to get my curls into a sleek, professional twist. I took extra care with my makeup, because damn if I didn't feel like the best version of myself today. I wanted everyone else to know that I was hell on wheels and done with the petty, toxic bullshit. Unfortunately, the petty, toxic bullshit was not done with me. Before I'd reached my office, my phone was blowing up with alerts. My immediate anxiety was that something with the deal fell through. That fear was replaced with worry about my parents. Still, there was no way I was going to text and drive in LA traffic. As soon as I was safely parked, I saw that I had over a hundred notifications. I had texts and Facebook messages from people I hadn't spoken to in months, or years even. I was so overwhelmed, I didn't know what to do. They were all coming in so quickly, I didn't even have time to read a single message before a new one would pop in. It was incredibly frustrating. So, for my mental well-being, I shut off my phone and walked into the office. Whatever insanity was happening could wait until I was inside and had had my first cup of coffee. Mandy was waiting at the door, blocking my entrance. "What the hell?" I asked her frustrated. "Was there a terrorist attack or something? Why is everyone freaking out today?" "You're not working today," she said simply, grabbing my elbow and ushering me back to the car. "You're going to go home, and I'm going to meet you there in an hour." She grabbed my keys out of my hand and opened my car. She nudged me inside, and I was so confused I willingly obeyed. "Do not look at your phone until I get there," she commanded. "Draw the blinds, keep the TV off, and wait for me." My panic was starting to really take hold now. Whatever storm was brewing, I was at the middle of it. But I trusted Mandy with my life, so I followed her instructions. I drove straight back to my house and closed the curtains. I didn't, however, wait to look at my phone. The notifications had tripled since I'd last looked. I put it on 'Do Not Disturb' and I opened the first text I could see. It was from an old classmate, someone I'd barely thought about in years. I wondered how she got my number. "Holy shit, Simone," the text read. "I knew you were a nasty slut, but even this feels sleazy for you." Underneath the rude text was a link to an article. There was my professional headshot and the caption "How Realtor Simone Carter Really Makes Her Commissions." Before I could read it, Mandy came through the front door with her spare key. In her hands were several bags. "Drop it," she said darkly when she saw my phone in my hand. I looked up at her, somehow feeling guilty about using my own phone. I was also feeling dazed. I dropped my phone just as easily as I'd gotten into my car earlier. I was basically on autopilot, and Mandy was in charge of my executive functions. Mandy pulled several bottles out of her bags. There was wine, vodka, rum, and even moonshine. I'm sure it was nothing like the moonshine I drank in high school, but I was impressed with the array. In another bag were at least a dozen different kinds of chocolate. This was clearly an emergency. "What did you see?" she asked, looking pointedly at my phone. "I don't… nothing," I fumbled. "Some bitch from high school called me a slut and sent me an article." "Did you read it?" she asked with trepidation. "No," I answered honestly. There hadn't been time. She let out a long sigh. "Thank God," she said. "I wanted you to hear this from me before you read what those nasty trolls are saying." I just stared at her, but she didn't elaborate. Instead, she went into my kitchen to find glasses. She came back with four shot glasses and two large tumblers. "Trust me," she said when she saw my confused expression. "This news will go down better when you're shitfaced." She poured shots of vodka, and we each had two, then three, then four. I was already feeling relaxed when she made some god-awful concoction that she called 'Mandy's Long Island Iced Tea.' It tasted like piss, but it did the job getting me wasted. I looked over to the clock to see it was only 11:00 A.M. I still didn't really know why I was getting wasted so early in the morning, but I knew that if Mandy thought this was best, it probably was. Finally, she grabbed my hand and said, "Babe, I just need you to know that bad shit like this happens all the time, and it will blow over." Sober me would have been freaking out at her words, but drunk me just burped. She took that as a sign to continue. "Some retched bitch leaked a story about you and Michael online, and it went viral. Mega viral. Super crazy out of this world viral." Mandy had a tendency to over explain things when she was drunk. I was having a hard time following her, though. "There was already a story about us a few days ago," I slurred. "What's the big deal? Why did you have to get me drunk?" Her eyes got wide, and she squeezed my hand tightly. "Babe, it's so much worse than that. It's not just some pictures and lewd headlines. They're saying that Michael Hightower f*cked his realtor all over town, and she–that's you, you're the she–only gets business from people she screws. Babe, they're basically saying you're a prostitute with a real estate license." My happy, drunk feeling was completely gone. I didn't feel sober, necessarily, but I did feel sick. So sick, in fact, that I ran to the kitchen and hurled in the sink. A lot. I think all of Mandy's Long Island Iced Tea was effectively in the LA water system by the time I'd finished. Hot, fat tears were in my eyes, and my head was pounding. It wasn't from the alcohol, but from the accusation. This was exactly what I'd been afraid of. It was exactly why I didn't want to date Michael in the first place. When I finally calmed down and wiped my face, Mandy was right there with a bottle of water and some crackers. "Okay," she said guiltily, "maybe being shitfaced wasn't the best course of action. I panicked," she admitted. "I feel like the worst friend in the world because I told you to have your cake and eat it too." She pulled me into her arms as I sobbed. "It's not your fault," I said through my tears. "You just wanted me to be happy." She started shaking and I realized she was crying too. "I do want you to be happy," she said through her own sobs. "I'm so f*cking mad at the person trying to kill your happiness." The two of us were a pair as we sank down to the kitchen floor in a heap of tears. Eventually, the sadness subsided, and it was replaced with a new wave of panic. "Oh, my God," I screamed. "Michael! I need to talk to him right now!" I stood up shakily and went to the couch to grab my phone. Mandy tried to stop me, but I shushed her. Getting drunk didn't work, so I now had to process the information my own way. That started by checking in with the other hurt party. A quick glance of my missed calls showed me he'd already tried to reach me several times. He picked up on the first ring. "Oh, my God, Michael, I'm so sorry. I don't know who did this, but I'm going to fix it." I was basically shouting into the phone, all of my panic and worry channeled into this one sentence. "Baby, calm down," he said softly. "I know you're worried, but everything is going to be okay." My panic quickly turned to fury. What a man thing to say! My career was effectively decimated, and he was telling me to calm down? "What?" I screamed at him. "None of this is okay. We f*cked, and now I'm f*cked, and everything in the whole world is f*cked." He took a moment to answer, and when he finally did, it sounded like he was holding back laughter. "Are you drunk? I wish I was with you right now. I bet you're so hot drunk!" "MICHAEL!" I screamed and he got more serious. "Simone," he said gently. "I'm so sorry. You're right, this isn't okay, but I promise you that it's nothing to worry about. Shit like this gets leaked all the time. I've already been working with my publicist, and we really think it will blow over in a couple of days. I'm glad you're taking some time for yourself today, and I hope that you take the time to feel all your feelings. But tomorrow, show back up to the world, and show them what a badass you are." He was such a complicated person, and my reaction to his little speech was equally complicated. I was both encouraged by his pep talk and furious at his nonchalance. I wanted to scream again, but I held back. "Are you still there?" he asked quietly. "I'm still here," I answered quietly, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. "I think I'm just going to lay down. I'll talk to you later, okay?" "Okay," he agreed warmly. "And, Simone? I just want you to know that I wouldn't take it back. Even if my coach called me in right now and told me I was fired, I wouldn't regret being with you. I never will." With that infuriatingly sweet note, he hung up. I dropped down onto the sofa and rested my head against the back, willing away the monstrous headache that was continuing to build. Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand, but I just didn't have the energy. When I looked down, though, another surge of panic rushed through me. The caller ID read, 'Rob.'