“I knew I would find you here.” I turn to see Cassandra wipe the chair beside me before uncomfortably sitting on it. Her ass looks like is suspended in the air. If I wasn’t slightly tipsy I would laugh.
“You shouldn’t be drinking in the morning.” She says on the account of my silence.
“Our palettes are better equipped to drink in the morning, it is the best time to taste all the flavors,” I say and try to pick the drink the bartender places in front of me, she beats me to it and picks it.
I angrily glare at her as she gulps it, “Were you not taught never to touch another woman’s drink?” I retort.
She ignores me and places my drink back on the counter and speaks, “Brunch is the earliest time you are allowed to have a drink like a glass of Lambrusco with some steak and eggs.”
I can’t imagine her having more than a leave of spinach, but I say nothing. It will only prolong her stay and I want her gone.
“I’ll stick to my vodka and Weetabix,” I say and proceed with my drink.
“And such a habit has a name, it is called alcoholism.” She states.
For Christ’s sake, I can’t have my drink without being labeled?
I snort. If only she knew.
“Are you done or should I be the one to leave?” I ask.
“Does the thought of quitting frighten you?” She asks.
I stay silent and just glare at her hoping I will make her uncomfortable enough for her to leave.
“You are in denial.” She still talks.
“And I would love to be in denial alone.” I continue with my drink.
I hear some noise as she takes out some papers, I don’t bother to check her direction. She places them in front of me and I place my drink on top of them. She isn’t pleased, she removes it and shoves the paper towards me.
“I want you to come back to work as we had agreed.” She says, calmly.
This time I turn to see her perfectly molded face and classy poise. Why would a man cheat on this?
I shake my head, “I might be drunk but my memory is clear. There was no agreement, there was only you blackmailing me.” I retort.
“And I hope it will not lead to that again.” She says, honestly.
“I told your husband to tell you to do your worse.” I proudly say.
She shoots me a flat look, unmoved by my threats.
“It was unwise of you to say all the things you said to him, that was a bad start and might be a problem with our plan.” She states.
“Your husband Is a tool,” I say as I feel my head start to get heavy.
“He holds the same sentiments towards you and it took a lot of convincing to accept you back as his assistant.”
I take the papers and hand them back to her.
“I am not interested,” I say with finality.
“How long do you think you can continue to work as Karma? Let’s face it we as women our sexual market depreciates every day and I think that is the main tool that you use to lure and punish men, in few years it may be a little hard to do that. How about I invest in your cause, build a corporation, you can hire other young girls that can do all the dirty work and the only thing you do is to cash the checks.”
For a second her proposal intrigues me, I never thought of expanding my work leave alone the future. I lived each day at a time and let the day provide for itself.
“Not worthy putting up with your husband’s big head.”
Now leave. I think.
“I didn’t want it to result in this but, you have no option but oblige otherwise I am going to destroy you slowly and slowly until you bid to my want.”
She is unbelievable and I dislike her entitlement.
“You did it once; I am not surprised threats are what you resort to.” I stand ready to leave although a single question burns through my head and I didn’t get to ask her last time. “Who did you find out about my identity?” I ask.
She huffs like the question amuses her or she thinks herself to be smart than me.
“I reached you through your dark web, gave you false information that I wanted you to punish my husband and where to find him. You showed up and I did the same three times just to be sure it was you then followed you around to establish your routine.” She proudly announces like she just won a gold medal.
I remember those four cases of different women who reached out to me and whenever I showed up where they claimed their husbands would be, I didn’t find them, leaving me confused since they had already paid handsomely for my services. I can’t believe it’s just a single woman pretending to be four different women setting a trap for me. I must admit I am impressed; I wouldn’t think of that.
“Still what you are asking me goes against my services,” I say.
“Are your values not to help women and children stuck in unhealthy marriages in this patriarch society?” She asks.
Children are a sore topic to me as much as I advocate about them, I prefer not to think about them.
“I was once married to a man just like your husband, he treated me like filthy and not worth to exist the same world as his or breath the same air. He robbed me of myself and emotionally he turned me to an orphan, I swore never to put up with that shit again when I picked up my pieces.” I declare and see a familiar emotion flicker in her eyes and I hate myself for sharing that bit of my life with a stranger even though she shared hers with mine, she is still a stranger.
“I am sorry. You look so young I can’t imagine you ever being married.” She says her eyes wide with surprise.
“I got married the day I turned eighteen, separated by my twentieth birthday, divorced by my twenty-first birthday.” I summarize my catastrophe of life.
“You and I share a similar story that should reason enough to help.” She still insists.
“It is good enough reason I shouldn’t get involved.” I instinctively close my eyes and hope when I open them, all this is just a bad dream.
I am not lucky.
Cassandra still is seated before me.
“Then you leave me with no choice.” She says with a hint of healthy anger like circumstances are pushing her to that. She stands and picks her belonging. She gives me one last glance before wearing her hat and sunglasses and storming out.
I follow her lead and stagger out to go back to my apartment.
*****
Part of human nature is that we all like to feel comfortable, have a favorite chair to sit on, the right amount of our preferred air temperature, old pair of socks that feel right. Being Karma and my identity remaining hidden was my comfort and it has been taken away. I don’t find the sleep I badly seek.
I log on to my account as I use my phone to browse through my social media until I come across an article that leaves my heart in a whirlwind. It is a leaked one without a source. The writer claims to know the identity of Karma. She goes ahead to describe how Karma should be brought to justice because of the families she has ruined and the men she has to lead them into a trap. There is absolutely nothing good that describes her cause. The comment section is out for her blood both women and men, ready to devour her. Some even offer a reward to someone who reveals her identity. I shut the laptop abruptly.
My entire existence I have gone through the motions of living a normal life and I found it behind the keyboard, being Karma and now it is coming apart. I log into my account as I find messages from my clients canceling their orders and those who had a down payment are requesting their money. Just then I see a new number on my phone as it rings. I can guess the caller.
“Hello Cassandra,” I answer as I think of how to punish her too.
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