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A Woman Scorned
At breakfast with the girls at Mom's On Park Avenue, I unloaded.
"He hates me," I surmised, holding my head in both hands. "I know he does."
I was of course talking about Jeff. It had been a whole week, and he had never replied to the email I'd sent.
"Oh, I'm sure he doesn't," Trish said. It was amazing that, even with her divorce in full swing, she could still be the eternal optimist. I offered her a half-hearted smile.
"Thank you, sweetie, but I'm pretty sure he does."
"Oh, come on," Candice interjected. "He was nice to you at the bar opening."
"Only because we were the only two people out back," I said. "It would have been awkward otherwise."
"I honestly don't believe that," my pregnant friend said.
Lisa Marie had been pretty quiet thus far, which was unusual for her. I decided to change the subject and talk to her.
"Hey, what's going on there?"
She looked up, meeting my eyes, and I could tell she was unhappy. And why hadn't I noticed that before? I felt terrible, griping about my ex-boyfriend and not realizing my friend had problems of her own, by the looks of it.
"Men suck!" she spat. "It's that damn Dave... He's screwing around on me again!"
"What?" Trish cried. "Did you catch him?"
"No, of course not," Lisa said, "but I know him. He's not acting normal."
"What do you mean?" Candice asked.
"Well, for starters, he's been taking really long lunch breaks at work, and we haven't gone to lunch together in nearly a month... And he gets calls at all hours of the night for 'work emergencies!' My ass!"
"Aww, Lisa..." I said, sorry for her as I grabbed her hand across the table. "I'm sorry."
"For what? You're not the one cheating on me, Amy."
"Still... You're going through this and I'm going on and on about Jeff not answering my email. I feel terrible."
"Well, don't," Lisa Marie said. "I know you really miss him and how much you want him back. You have every right to vent to us." She smiled, which made me feel a little better.
"What are you going to do about Dave?" Trish questioned.
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do about him... I'm going to catch him in the act!"
"How?" That question came from Candice.
"I got myself a disguise... A short red wig, and I'm going to dress differently and follow him around next time he goes to lunch."
The three of us exchanged glances at that. I knew what Candice was thinking - that this would never work and that Lisa Marie was crazy - but she held her tongue this time.
*
Later, Trish was back in what so recently had officially become her Park Avenue apartment. She was wearing black workout pants and an athletic T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was ready to go out for a run when her doorbell suddenly rang.
Not expecting company, she wondered who could be visiting her. She opened the door to see Glen Jacobs standing there, his blazer casually clutched over one burly shoulder, a cockeyed smile on his face.
"Hello there."
Trish was taken aback.
"Hi... What are you doing here?"
Glen held up the folder he had in his free hand.
"I come bearing your divorce papers," he said. "I hope I didn't come at a bad time."
"No," the blonde said, "I was just about to go for a run, but it's fine. Come in." She held the door slightly more open, gesturing with her left hand for him to step over the threshold.
The big man did so and gazed all around at the spacious dwelling.
"So... This is what we won you... Very nice. I can see why you wouldn't want to lose this place."
Trish closed the door and led him to the dining room.
"Actually, I've been thinking of selling it and moving."
Glen turned to stare at her.
"What? After everything we went through for you to keep it?" he asked, incredulous.
"I know, I know," Trish agreed. "It's just that the place is so big for just me, and... Well, there are so many painful memories for me here."
"Well, if you're really interested in moving, I know a place that just became vacant."
Really?"
Glen nodded.
"Client of mine just went through his second divorce and wants to give up his apartment. I can show it to you if you're interested," he offered.
The blonde smiled.
"Sure."
"Alright... But first things first," he said, plucking papers from the folder he was holding and plopping them onto the table. "Let's get you divorced."
Trish came around to the other side and sat down, accepting the pen Glen gave her. She signed everywhere he instructed her to, noticing that a drop of moisture had suddenly dripped onto her last signature on the papers. She raised her gaze up to the attorney's face, noting how profusely he was sweating.
"Don't you have a handkerchief or something?"
"What?" Glen reached up, suddenly realizing what she meant as he touched his sweaty forehead. "Oh, sorry. It's about ninety degrees out there, and like a total putz, I walked over."
Trish rose and retrieved a tissue from a box of Kleenex nearby. She handed it to him.
"Well," he said, after wiping his brow, "you are officially no longer Mrs. Randall Orton."
"Hmm," the blonde said softly, sadness going through her. After all, she would never be known as 'single' again. She would now be known only as 'divorced.' "How do you like that?"
"I like it," Glen said with a grin. "I like it a lot."
Trish eyed him again, not quite knowing what to think.
*
Lisa Marie, meanwhile, was busy tailing one Dave Batista. She'd known exactly when he was going out for his lunch break and had made sure to follow. When he'd taken an elevator down to the lobby, she had opted for the stairs so he wouldn't see her.
She had her auburn wig on and donned a pair of big black sunglasses. When she'd checked her reflection after the 'makeover,' she knew he would never recognize her.
Dave stepped into a cab, and Lisa nearly cursed as she thought she would lose him. However, there was another one approaching, and she swiftly hailed it down.
"Follow that cab!" she shouted to the driver, who gave her a look as though she were crazy.
A mere fifteen minutes later, she found herself right in front of Batista's apartment building. Her eyes narrowing, she tossed some bills at the taxi driver and got out of the vehicle to quickly go inside. Dave lived on the eighth floor, so she made a beeline for the elevators. She impatiently pressed the 'Up' button, her frustration mounting.
"Oh, fuck it!" she muttered to herself. Abandoning the elevators, she raced to the stairwell and started her way up.
It took a good ten minutes to climb to the eighth floor, and she was out of breath, her legs aching, but she made it.
Lisa Marie nearly hobbled her way to the apartment, instantly letting herself in with her own key that Dave had given her.
As she stumbled through the spacious abode, her first instinct would have been to get water, but no... She had to catch him in the act.
Although she strained her ears, Lisa couldn't really hear anything. Then, as she inched nearer to the closed door of the master bedroom, she caught it - the distinct sound of bedsprings creaking. Unable to take it any longer, she threw the door open, her heart breaking and fury filling her at what she saw.
Dave was indeed in bed with another woman.
"You bastard!" she shouted.
Batista looked up, confusion on his face. He didn't even attempt to stop what he was doing.
"Who the hell are you?"
Lisa Marie tore off her wig and sunglasses, flinging both across the room.
His facial expression changed as he saw her.
"This is just sex... Nothing more. Lisa Marie, I love you."
"Fuck you!" she screamed. She could feel the tears coming. "You and I are done!" She tore away and left.