Unexpected
An entry for LJ Idol, Season 8, week 2: "Three little words."
Brown paper envelopes with no return address were never good news. He'd learned that much from the TV shows. Too bad they hadn't been quite so clear on what you'd find inside them.
(Or so he thought. He wasn't always so good with details.)
He tore the end away and reached in, sliding out the inevitable pile of photos. Damn, he thought, recognizing the first as the front of Kirikakis Steak House. I really picked the wrong place to do a dine-and-dash.
But it wasn't the $300 bill he'd skated, or even the paint scrape he'd left down the side of a custom Carroll Shelby Cobra in the valet area. He wasn't going to get a ticket for the damage, or a fine for the theft. (Even though the real theft was $100 for a mediocre slab of prime rib.) It was worse than that - much worse.
The second shot in the pile showed a glint of golden silk sweeping across the parking lot. In the third, it was pretty easy to see that it was attached to a magnificent rack and an ass a Kardashian would envy.
The next photo startled him even more: it was a printed placard that read "None of which are attached to your wife." At least "dumb ass" was implied, he thought, flipping forward to the fifth shot. And another placard.
"Dumb ass. If you don't want her to see these, send that $300 you thought you saved to gotcha-moron on PayBuddy.com."
He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. There really was no such thing as a free lunch.
...dinner.
...tryst with a hot blonde that you weren't married to.
Four months later
She twisted her wedding ring around and around on her finger, pushing at the pronged setting with her thumb. The two-and-a-half carat marquise-cut diamond made her yawn. She was thoroughly bored, with no idea how to cure it.
No, that wasn't true. That channel-set sapphire band - the perfect replacement - would fix her right up. Too bad she hadn't been paid lately. Sure, she had her car and her gold cards...but those were traceable.
She sighed, clicking Play to roll the new video. Her expensive, brainless husband appeared, looking precisely the opposite of discreet as he slipped an envelope under a fake rock at the end of the gated community's hike-and-bike trail.
A grin slowly slid onto her face. That was better. If he'd followed instructions this time, there would be another $2000 - for which he'd had to sell really good stock.
She only needed $500 more for the sapphire band.
Never in her wildest dreams had she'd imagined he'd be such an easy mark. Of course a pretty boy like him wasn't destined to keep it in his pants, but she'd thought certainly he'd wait longer than six months to start screwing around on her.
Stubborn, too. She hadn't expected him to hold out very long, once she'd hit him with the photos - had been counting on him coming clean, agreeing to nullify the prenup and pony up a settlement that would hold her over until she was settled out on that remote Canadian island, where nobody knew her and transplanted, lonely Scotsmen were thick on the ground. She shivered in delicious anticipation.
Her luck was ever more amazing. He was even dumber than she'd thought; she didn't even have to change cars to spy on him. Even splitting the spoils with the tech-head kid from the Apple store - he'd set up the video hotspots and the network while she took the still photos - she was coming out far ahead.
The sound of the garage door broke her reverie. She flipped the slender laptop closed and slid it into its hiding place under the desk drawer. In seconds, she was settled in the plush European chair, her $80 pedicure gleaming in the late afternoon light.
She would miss this house. And the Land Rover...and having five spas within shouting distance. But being free of her little airheaded Adonis would be worth it.
That, and leaving his pockets lighter by a few hundred thousand.
The thought ensured that she could greet him with a smile.
***
"Hey, beautiful."
She beamed through a delicate yawn. "Sweetheart! I missed you today."
"You too, baby." He strode over and perched on the footrest, running a hand over her smooth skin. "Listen, I...need to talk to you."
Her perfect forehead creased in concern. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, stalling. What to say, what to say...
"Whatever it is," she said, taking his hand, "I'm sure it will be all right."
He looked up at her - gleaming blue eyes, honey-colored hair falling over her shoulders - and he knew she was wrong. They would be over. And he wouldn't get this lucky again.
He would miss her, for sure. But he was worn out trying to keep up the charade. The pictures kept coming, and he felt like he was being watched all the time. Which, he figured, was probably true.
"I've been getting these...photos," he started, haltingly. "Blackmail. Someone's trying to get me in trouble, and I just can't hide it from you any more."
"Honey, I..."
"No, wait." He reached in his pocket and handed her a stack of prints. "Take a look."
Her eyes widened as she took in the first scene...and then the second. It was all out in the open now. Her smile was gone, and he wouldn't be smiling for a while, either.
"Sweetheart," she whispered. "How could you..."
"I know," he said. "I'm not who you thought I was. And I'm sorry you had to find out this way."
Her shock was evident. "Where did you...get these?"
"Some genius I know," he replied. "God knows I'm not smart enough to come up with a good answer."
He slowly plucked the photos from her hand, turning them around. There she was, waiting in the Land Rover as the Apple Store kid handed her the last envelope of cash. And an earlier one, in front of Kirikakis with the massive Nikon he'd bought her for her birthday.
"You...how? You're not..."
"Smart? Not really. But I sure do have a lot of money, don't I."
She had the good grace to almost look ashamed. But he wasn't done. He slipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out one last print. He stole a look at the image and actually managed a half-grin before he handed it over. The last word: he had it.
OK, so he wasn't good at counting. The last three little words. Printed on a placard. Her face went white as she read them.
"Payback's a bitch."
Brown paper envelopes with no return address were never good news. He'd learned that much from the TV shows. Too bad they hadn't been quite so clear on what you'd find inside them.
(Or so he thought. He wasn't always so good with details.)
He tore the end away and reached in, sliding out the inevitable pile of photos. Damn, he thought, recognizing the first as the front of Kirikakis Steak House. I really picked the wrong place to do a dine-and-dash.
But it wasn't the $300 bill he'd skated, or even the paint scrape he'd left down the side of a custom Carroll Shelby Cobra in the valet area. He wasn't going to get a ticket for the damage, or a fine for the theft. (Even though the real theft was $100 for a mediocre slab of prime rib.) It was worse than that - much worse.
The second shot in the pile showed a glint of golden silk sweeping across the parking lot. In the third, it was pretty easy to see that it was attached to a magnificent rack and an ass a Kardashian would envy.
The next photo startled him even more: it was a printed placard that read "None of which are attached to your wife." At least "dumb ass" was implied, he thought, flipping forward to the fifth shot. And another placard.
"Dumb ass. If you don't want her to see these, send that $300 you thought you saved to gotcha-moron on PayBuddy.com."
He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. There really was no such thing as a free lunch.
...dinner.
...tryst with a hot blonde that you weren't married to.
Four months later
She twisted her wedding ring around and around on her finger, pushing at the pronged setting with her thumb. The two-and-a-half carat marquise-cut diamond made her yawn. She was thoroughly bored, with no idea how to cure it.
No, that wasn't true. That channel-set sapphire band - the perfect replacement - would fix her right up. Too bad she hadn't been paid lately. Sure, she had her car and her gold cards...but those were traceable.
She sighed, clicking Play to roll the new video. Her expensive, brainless husband appeared, looking precisely the opposite of discreet as he slipped an envelope under a fake rock at the end of the gated community's hike-and-bike trail.
A grin slowly slid onto her face. That was better. If he'd followed instructions this time, there would be another $2000 - for which he'd had to sell really good stock.
She only needed $500 more for the sapphire band.
Never in her wildest dreams had she'd imagined he'd be such an easy mark. Of course a pretty boy like him wasn't destined to keep it in his pants, but she'd thought certainly he'd wait longer than six months to start screwing around on her.
Stubborn, too. She hadn't expected him to hold out very long, once she'd hit him with the photos - had been counting on him coming clean, agreeing to nullify the prenup and pony up a settlement that would hold her over until she was settled out on that remote Canadian island, where nobody knew her and transplanted, lonely Scotsmen were thick on the ground. She shivered in delicious anticipation.
Her luck was ever more amazing. He was even dumber than she'd thought; she didn't even have to change cars to spy on him. Even splitting the spoils with the tech-head kid from the Apple store - he'd set up the video hotspots and the network while she took the still photos - she was coming out far ahead.
The sound of the garage door broke her reverie. She flipped the slender laptop closed and slid it into its hiding place under the desk drawer. In seconds, she was settled in the plush European chair, her $80 pedicure gleaming in the late afternoon light.
She would miss this house. And the Land Rover...and having five spas within shouting distance. But being free of her little airheaded Adonis would be worth it.
That, and leaving his pockets lighter by a few hundred thousand.
The thought ensured that she could greet him with a smile.
***
"Hey, beautiful."
She beamed through a delicate yawn. "Sweetheart! I missed you today."
"You too, baby." He strode over and perched on the footrest, running a hand over her smooth skin. "Listen, I...need to talk to you."
Her perfect forehead creased in concern. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, stalling. What to say, what to say...
"Whatever it is," she said, taking his hand, "I'm sure it will be all right."
He looked up at her - gleaming blue eyes, honey-colored hair falling over her shoulders - and he knew she was wrong. They would be over. And he wouldn't get this lucky again.
He would miss her, for sure. But he was worn out trying to keep up the charade. The pictures kept coming, and he felt like he was being watched all the time. Which, he figured, was probably true.
"I've been getting these...photos," he started, haltingly. "Blackmail. Someone's trying to get me in trouble, and I just can't hide it from you any more."
"Honey, I..."
"No, wait." He reached in his pocket and handed her a stack of prints. "Take a look."
Her eyes widened as she took in the first scene...and then the second. It was all out in the open now. Her smile was gone, and he wouldn't be smiling for a while, either.
"Sweetheart," she whispered. "How could you..."
"I know," he said. "I'm not who you thought I was. And I'm sorry you had to find out this way."
Her shock was evident. "Where did you...get these?"
"Some genius I know," he replied. "God knows I'm not smart enough to come up with a good answer."
He slowly plucked the photos from her hand, turning them around. There she was, waiting in the Land Rover as the Apple Store kid handed her the last envelope of cash. And an earlier one, in front of Kirikakis with the massive Nikon he'd bought her for her birthday.
"You...how? You're not..."
"Smart? Not really. But I sure do have a lot of money, don't I."
She had the good grace to almost look ashamed. But he wasn't done. He slipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out one last print. He stole a look at the image and actually managed a half-grin before he handed it over. The last word: he had it.
OK, so he wasn't good at counting. The last three little words. Printed on a placard. Her face went white as she read them.
"Payback's a bitch."