Don’t get Mad:
A series of short stories
Arbrillia Willis
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Arbrillia Willis
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Who hasn’t had a—don’t get mad-get even—moment? I just hope that your moment wasn’t as screwed up as theirs...
“Okay, ladies...” Carmen let her gaze linger over the women lounging in the spacious living room before taking a sip of wine. Waiting, she toyed with the stem of her glass and then smiled as they turned their attention to her, “Let’s get serious now.” Glancing at Monica she said, “Tell everyone what we spoke about last night.”
Monica stared hard at Carmen before giving her a minute nod. Taking a deep breath she started, “For the last few weeks I’ve suspected James of cheating. We all know the tell tale signs—staying late at the office, hang ups at odd hours, clumsy messy excuses and most telling— a rapid decrease in our sex lives.” At this the women clucked their disapproval.
“Well... recently, after getting confirmation from my PI, I confronted James. He smirked, told me in short, that I could like it or lump it. That he would hire a lawyer, divorce me and leave me “penniless” ” making air quotations, she chuckled mirthlessly. “Can you believe he gave me a whole week to make up my mind? But...” at this she smiled devilishly, “you know how we at the wives club do things.”
Returning her smile, Carmen glanced at Monica, “If I may?”
Everyone got to their feet, thrilled with the prospect of what was to come. A low buzz of excitement spread like wildfire from one woman to the next until Carmen shushed everyone.
“We’re having it here tonight because Monica is in the middle of a huge remodeling job—”
“Gosh, that would have been fitting;” Taylor broke in, “Having the party at Monica’s would be like celebrating at the scene of the crime.” She ended her declaration with a slightly tipsy giggle.
The wives lifted their glasses in agreement, and each took a sip of wine as Monica spoke, “Anywhere is fine with me as long as we do it together.”
At this, the wives clasped hands and after a quick squeeze, Carmen cleared her throat.
“Okay girls, enough chit-chat. Tessa, will you put on the music? Girls, this is Tessa’s first celebration with the wives club—”
“It won’t be her last.” Taylor prophesied.
“No… it won’t.” Carmen replied as Tessa nervously gazed at the expectant faces surrounding her. Anxious to put the first-timer at ease, Carmen smiled radiantly as if this was just another movie night for the wives and then gleefully clapped her hands, “Well Tessa, what are you waiting for?”
At this, Tessa took a deep breath, returned Carmen’s smile and pressed the remote that fed the state-of-the art Bose sound system.
With the shockingly jarring, disjointed soundtrack from the latest hybrid horror torture porn playing in the background, Carmen crossed the room and opened the basement door. Glancing over her shoulder, her gaze took in the wives; Taylor looked radiant—as if she feed off what was to come. Tessa’s expression switched from apprehension to eagerness from one moment to the next and Monica? Monica looked satisfied...like the cat the lapped the cream.
Carmen’s full-sized basement was also in the process of remodeling, but that wouldn’t stop the party— hell, the heavy tarps, not to mention the saws and other tools would, in a way, be used as party favors. Picking her way down the narrow stairs— Carmen made a mental note to talk to the builders about widening them—she was the first to reach the basement floor. She nudged an opaque sheet of tarp out of the way with a toe and turned to the wives behind her with a theatrical; “shush” turning back she took another sip of wine. The heel of her boots snagged on the tarp and she suddenly swore before hurling her wineglass against the wall. “Fucking bitch...So help me, if I fall...” she let the threat linger as an uncomfortable silence fell. Carmen hardly ever lost control.
Monica, her fair skin and feather light blond hair, at odds with her wicked expression suddenly broke the silence by growling, “Do you know what that whore told me? She said obviously he wants to be with me, blah, blah, blah, blah,” using her free hand to mimic a puppet’s constantly running mouth. She said this when she picked up my husbands phone—my husband!” Crying now, she was comforted by the other wives.
Suddenly turning to Carmen, Tessa, worrying her hands asked, “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing? I mean... there is a strong possibility that we all will go to Hell.”
Her arm snaking around Tessa's waist, Taylor spoke between sips of wine, "We'll be okay, Tessa... God, I remember my first. I was a mess... but it gets better.”
“I think I wet myself during my first.” Carmen admitted, giggling after taking a long pull from the bottle she carried in her hand.
“Well…I deserve this.” Monica said simply.
They waited as Tessa glanced at them all and then took a deep breath before nodding her head. “I’m okay... I’m sorry... it’s just—”