Authors: Jake Ainsworth
17
Victoria hadn’t slept at all that night. She cried until there were no more tears, then cried some more after that. Things always seemed bleakest at night, but the cloud of dismay that hung over her showed no signs of dissipating with the morning light. When she had returned home the previous evening, after walking the fifteen miles back to her apartment, she took the longest shower of her life. Initially, she refused to cry over this latest let-down from the latest in a string of losers she let herself get involved with. The shower masked the tears so she allowed it there.
For reasons she never quite understood, emotions seemed to lead to hunger, or at least disguised itself as hunger. So she sat on her couch and ate an entire stuffed crust pizza while watching The Road to Zanzibar with Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. The comic duo was always good for a laugh. She chased her pizza down with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and then lumbered off to bed, her belly full and her emotions satiated; for now at least.
But sleep never came. The tears started as a mere inconvenience, showing up one at a time only to be quickly wiped away so that any people watching from the other side of dreamland wouldn’t be ashamed at her show of weakness. They came faster, faster, until there was not enough time to wipe one away before another appeared. Eventually, she gave in to the sorrow and a torrent of tears rained down from her eyes, dampening the landscape of her pillow.
Although she didn’t sleep, she didn’t want to get out of bed either. Nothing could distract her from the betrayal she felt, so she hoped that by giving in to her emotions they would pass from her and she could move on with life as usual.
The next morning brought with it no respite from the pain. She tried to get motivated, but didn’t have the energy or the will. She threw on wrinkled clothes, ran a brush through her hair and left the apartment without so much as a glance in the direction of a mirror. She had no need for make-up or perfume for there was no one to look good or smell pleasant for. The stairs proved to be too daunting for her that morning, so she took the elevator.
The only real surprise that the morning brought was that her keys were duct taped to the top of her car. She appreciated the gesture, but as she removed the keys, the duct tape left a sticky mess on the roof that wouldn’t be removed. Try as she might, it seemed the only way to remove it would be to strip off the paint and start again from a primer coat. Now, aside from the emotional pain, she would forever have the memory of that betrayal stuck to her car. No good would come from that day.
Whatever ever mood usually hung around an empty ad agency darkened as Victoria walked into the office. Mr. Richter never worked on Fridays and Sarah always stopped off to get them a “Yay it’s Friday” cup of coffee before coming in. The empty office seemed to mock her in her solitude and grief.
“Holy crap, what happened to you?”
Victoria had not even seen Sarah come in. She began to speak, but nothing came out. She tried again but sounded more like a mouse snagged by the tail by a vicious tabby than a person. The third try brought more squeaks and the squeaks brought tears. Sarah rushed across the office and hugged her blubbering friend.
“Oh, Sweetheart. Whatever it is, it’ll be ok.”
But Victoria didn’t look up from their embrace. She just continued her unorthodox display of grief. As she finally lifted her head, Sarah tried to not draw attention to the rather obvious wet spot that ran from her right shoulder down to her armpit. Not disgusted, but not delighted by the spot, she tried to console Victoria.
“There, there. Can you tell me what happened?”
Victoria relayed the entire story. From the mugging to the mace to the trek up to the country club and finally to the betrayal of the man she was willing to give her heart to. Throughout the story, her eyes dried out and her composure returned. Victoria fed off of the shock and disdain that Sarah quickly developed for the man who broke her heart. Then Sarah said something that shocked her almost as much as her recent bout with betrayal.
“We need to strike back.”
“What?”
“We can’t let him get away with something like that. We need to fight for Niroki.”
“It’s probably too late. Neville spent the entire day with him yesterday.”
“We can’t give up on it that easily. This was supposed to be our future, our chance to finally make it in this business.”
“What can we do?”
“We need to make him suffer. Hit him where it hurts.”
Victoria knew just where to strike.
18
The store was less like a maze and more like a battlefield with people running this way and that, unsure about what they were getting or where they were going but sure that they needed to be there at that time on that day. Pandemonium was too soft a word to describe the chaos that was Neville’s shopping trip. Chaos that was accentuated even more by the despair he felt in his heart. He couldn’t believe that Victoria had seen him at the golf course. He knew that she would blame him now and would most likely never forgive him.
The aisle with the frozen foods, specifically the microwave dinners that promised a gourmet meal in as little as five minutes, but delivered dry patties of mystery meat and a roll that was reminiscent of chewing on a piece of cardboard, was no less cluttered with half-focused people than any other area of the store. He weaved his way through the crowds of people who stared blankly at the myriad of choices before them. Arriving at the appropriate case, he opened the door and blindly grabbed a dozen meals, if they could truly be called meals. But these were his go-to meals at times of sadness. He didn’t have the drive to cook and didn’t want the company that going to a restaurant inevitably brought.
Going to the store was nothing less than a waking nightmare. There were no redeeming qualities the made themselves readily apparent. If he was able to organize his thoughts, he would have paid someone to get his necessities for him. Looking back, his wished he would have just given a courier a wad of cash and told him to pick up whatever he pleased. Surely the prospect of losing a couple hundred dollars in the discretionary hands of a courier was preferable over the bedlam that came with a trip to the store.
But this trip was coming to an end. He didn’t need much when he was in depression mode. Quick meals, plenty of ice cream, sweats and a television with worthless late-night programming were the ultimate antidote for a bad case of the downers.
In the hair care aisle, he examined the selection of products before him. He didn’t consider himself a vain man, but depression was no excuse for letting oneself go. Even if circumstances confined him to bed with a smorgasbord of junk food, he was still determined that his self-loathing would never go so far as to keep him from shaving, showering, and making sure that each hair was in its proper place.
But of course, his horrendous day would not be complete without the store running out of his favorite hair gel. Fuming now, he stomped down the aisle. The lady at the checkout counter was in no way deserving of gratitude for her help since she was unable to provide any. Neville could never understand why any establishment would hire people that were incapable of even the simplest forms of math without the aid of a calculator. His anger might not have launched into the stratosphere had the checker provided him with more than just a blank stare as he inquired about the hair gel. But in reality, she was good for nothing more than handing him his receipt and bidding him good day.
After Victoria had divulged Neville’s weakness, Sarah knew just the way to exploit it. In truth, vanity was probably the easiest character flaw to take advantage of. Victoria had been shocked when Sarah had told her the plan. She had thought her docile assistant incapable of such scheming, but Sarah had a devious side that she was more than happy to tap into. She didn’t get many opportunities to pull pranks on people, so she relished the chance to make someone pay.
The expense was well-worth the result that she would achieve. After following Neville to the store, she waited a few minutes and then carried a small folding table and a duffle bag to the front of the store. With as much speed as she could, she unhooked the legs from the table and sat it upright. From the duffle bag she pulled a large blue table cloth that hung longer in the front than in the back. The front panel displayed “Sydney’s Hair Care Products” in stunning calligraphy followed by the words
The Brand Hollywood Trusts
. She then produced a number of different bottles from the bag and arranged them neatly on the table along with a number of different brochures and flyers promoting the line of hair care products.
Her sister had sold Sydney’s Hair Care Products for a number of years before she had her baby. Now, as a stay-at-home mom, she had no need for the display table and few items that she had left and was more than happy to lend them to her sister, although she wasn’t fully aware of the part her assortment of products would play in that devious scheme.
The last bottle in the duffle bag was a pink bottle of VEET hair removal cream. Thanks to her graphic design experience, she easily made up a label just like the ones on the other Sydney products and created her own hair care product: Sydney’s Hair Rejuvenation and Gel Replacement Therapy. She placed her “special blend” on the table and waited patiently for her quarry to emerge.
Neville couldn’t get out of the store fast enough. Nothing sounded better than going home and brooding about his situation over a stupid sitcom and tasteless food. But of course, his day wouldn’t be complete without running into a stupid solicitor outside the stupid door. After his experiences in the store, Neville had been reduced down to nothing more than a grumpy child. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, playing, or any other stupid activity that anyone wanted to do. He wanted to sulk in peace and quiet.
But as he walked out the door, he was instantly ensnared in the solicitor’s rhetoric. At first he didn’t care and just wanted to brush off the stupid lady. But then he realized that she was selling hair products. The store being out of hair gel, he was in need of something to help him keep his hair looking its best. He tentatively went to the table and perused the items that were available.
Seeing Neville’s mood as he came out of the store, Sarah had thought that she would miss her chance to get him. But she called out him in a last ditch effort to hook him and reel him in.
“Hello, sir! You look like you could use some quality hair gel.”
He looked over at her, nonplussed. She could tell that it bothered him that she noticed his disheveled hair. He was clearly not having a good day and she was certain that she could use that her advantage as well. He didn’t say a word to her as he approached her, but rather stared blankly at the items on the table. Now was the time for all of those high school drama classes to pay off.
“Awww. You look like you’re having a bad day. Are you ok, sweetie?” she said in her most sympathetic and mothering voice.
Neville simply shook his head. He still didn’t feel like talking and Sarah wasn’t going to force him. As long as he stayed quiet, she had a good chance of successfully finishing her mission.
“Well I know just the thing to cheer you up. Take a look at this.” She held up the fake product and handed it to him. He looked over the bottle then back at her, clearly wanting an explanation.
“This is the greatest hair care product on the market. It changes your hair from the molecular level, making it softer, silkier, and it virtually eliminates the need for gel.”
Neville’s eyes brightened a little. Then he finally spoke.
“How much?”
She sensed the brightness in his tone and started reeling. She knew he was hooked.
“Well, since you’re having such a rough day, how about this bottle be on me?”
He looked a little hesitant. He couldn’t fully believe that something good could happen to him that day. Sarah could tell he was apprehensive and decided to go full tilt. She circled around to his side of the table and stopped right next to him. Her right hand, fingers spread, gently ran through his hair. It was working. The sadness left his face, replaced by shock; shock that she would be so brazen in a public place. People were staring, but Sarah was undeterred. She never considered herself pretty, but in the right circumstances, every guy was susceptible to seduction, whether the girl was pretty or not.
With a whisper he said, “I’ll take it.”
She quickly backed off and triumphantly said, “Great! Now make sure you follow all the directions. I would go ahead and use it as soon as you get home so that it has plenty of time to work.”
Neville nodded politely and walked away, frequently looking back to see if the siren selling the hair products was real or a personification of myth brought to life by his despair. Once he was out of sight, Sarah quickly dismantled the table and dragged her set up back her own car. She didn’t think she would be able to tell Victoria about this without wetting herself from laughter.