Sweet Karma

by Amara Kent

  “I just need to apologize,” I beg him.

  “How about you leave here? You’re no longer a guest of this night, nor are you an employee of this company. You’d best get the fuck away from me. I don’t ever want to see you again,” he seethes.

  I grab his wrist but he pulls back from me and walks away. Donald stands there with a saddened look on his face. I look back at him and walk off.

  “Tiffany!” Donald calls out to me when I’m on the sidewalk.

  “Donald? What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I know you didn’t mean to say those things to Dean.”

  “He told you.” My cheeks flare up in embarrassment.

  “His daughter and his daughter’s mother is a very sensitive topic for him.”

  “I gathered that. What I don’t understand is why. Why is he so closed off to the world?”

  “That’s not exactly my story to tell. All I can tell you is to give him some time. I’ve known Dean ever since he was a kid. I know how he works, and when he needs to be left alone, you’d do best to leave him alone. He’s only going to keep on pushing you away, the more you push him. Just give him time, and then you can talk to him again, and maybe resolve things. You’re good for him, Tiffany. I’ve never seen him so happy before you came along.”

  With that one last gift, he walks off and back into the hall.

  “Hi, Skylah,” I say as she answers the phone.

  “Hi, Kathryn. How are you?”

  “Not so good. Unfortunately, I’m ringing to let you know that I have to terminate our contract. I can no longer proceed with the arrangement.”

  “Why not?” her voice going a little too high.

  “Because I’ve been compromised.”

  “He found out who you are?”

  “No. I saw him with his daughter. I asked him about her and he became angry,” I explain.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I’m sorry to hear.”

  “You don’t seem too upset about it,” I question.

  “Believe me, I am. I’m just still trying to get over the fact that he has a child. I never even knew.”

  “I know. That shocked me as well.”

  The burn, all too familiar, travels down my throat. I stare at the chip in my hand. The one that tells me how well I’ve done in curbing my drinking habit. I scoff internally at how something so small is supposed to hold such significance in a person’s life. A coin. It’s just a fucking coin. Something that can be easily broken. It’s supposed to represent your sobriety. You carry it around with you. A constant reminder of what you were, what you did, and how you combat the demons that had taken hold and eviscerated them.

  Does it ever really go away? Every day I’m faced with situations where drinks are readily available. Every day I curb the desire that sometimes creeps up needing to have a drink. And for what? Or more importantly, for whom? My daughter. My beautiful ray of sunshine. I do this for her. This coin was supposed to solidify the pact I made with myself, and inadvertently her as well. I made a promise to never let myself get in the way of her well-being. Made a promise that I wouldn’t ever drink again.

  For her.

  So why is it that I have a drink in my hand. Why is it that the first sip of this glorious amber has thrown me back to a time where it helped, and I’m reminded again of why I turned to it in the first place. Because it helped. All the pain. The aches. The vision of her lifeless body on the hospital bed faded away to nothing when I had ingested my tenth drink. I drank to get away from it all, and here I am doing it all again. Willing to throw everything away. And for what?

  Tiffany Dunlop.

  She had somehow wormed her way into my heart like a parasite. A lot of promises were being broken lately.

  One, to not get involved with another one of my employees.

  The other, to never find myself in this situation. Where I turn to something temporary, instead of my loved ones.

  “Hello, stranger.” I recognize her voice. I could pick it out in a room full of people.

  Skylah. The reason I instilled the no dating coworkers rule. This girl was two sides of a fucked-up crazy coin. One minute, she was nice and sweet, and the next she was yelling at me for hitting on my assistant—who, by the way is in her fifties, and whose son works for me. That didn’t seem to matter to Skylah, because she saw what she wanted to see in that twisted brain of hers.

  “What do you want, Skylah,” I snap. I’m not in the mood for any shit she has in store for me.

  “I’m not here to annoy you –”

  “Too late for that,” I interject.

  “You just seemed sad, and I wanted to check up on you.” She runs a manicured finger down my arm. I grab her wrist and throw it away from me. I don’t want her anywhere near me, let alone, touching me. “Why so upset? Did I do something to upset you?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know.

  I’m not going to remind her that she totaled my brand new Rolls Royce. I have no proof that it was her. She was too smart for that. She purposely kept herself out of the photo she sent me of the damaged car.

  “Come on, baby. Talk to me. I’m only here to help,” she coos. I’m not sure if she’s trying to be seductive or what, but she’s coming across as desperate and it makes me sick to my stomach.

  “Just leave me alone, Skylah. I don’t want anything to do with you. I suggest you actually listen to my advice this time, before I get a restraining order on you.” It’s an empty threat. We both know it. All they are is a piece of paper that provides no security in the act. It’s not going to ensure that she never comes near me again. That’s not how psychopathic people work. They will do what they need to in order to get what they want, and right now, it’s me.

  “Don’t be like that, baby. Come on. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll make you feel all better like I used to,” she purrs in my ear. She gets in close and nibbles at my ear and her hand slides up my leg toward my crotch. I grab her hand and squeeze.

  “Ooo, baby. Is that how you like it now?” Sick bitch, actually thinks I’m playing a game with her!

  I pull her wrist back a little, and I see the pain in her face. “Listen to me good, because I refuse to repeat it for the hundredth time. I don’t want you, nor will I ever want you. I fucked up when I slept with you, I never should have. Now stay. The fuck. Away. From me. Do I make myself clear?” I warn in a low voice, so only she can hear me.

  Anger washes over her face and her eyes blaze white with rage. I loosen my grip, and she yanks her hand away. “It’s because of your new PA, isn’t it?” she seethes.

  What? How the hell does she know about Tiffany?

  “This has nothing to do with my PA.”

  Her eyes return to that crazed and jealous look. “It is, isn’t it? Tiffany,” she spits out her name in air quotes. “You have a thing for her don’t you?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I don’t.”

  “Don’t take me for a fool, Dean. I know you’re fucking her!” she screams out, drawing the attention of the other patrons in the bar.

  “Keep your goddamn voice down,” I whisper loudly.

  “You’re such a fucking idiot. Do you honestly think she loves you?” What the hell is going on here? “She doesn’t love you. You’re stupid to be hung up on a woman who’s paid to act as if she has a thing for you.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Oops,” Skylah feigns apology. “Did I just out her?” She picks up her purse and walks off.

  I grab her by the wrist and yank her back to me.

  “Ah, Dean. You have an audience. You wouldn’t want people to think you were abusing me, now would you?”

  I look around the room and see a crowd of people looking at me with all the disdain in the world. I let go of her hand and she walks off. I wait a few moments before I down the rest of my drink and leave. I run out, thinking I’ve missed her, but she’s waiting against the wall of the bar.

  “Wha
t are you still doing here?”

  “Here. This is the address of where your girlfriend works. Maybe once you realize that you’ll never have her, you’ll realize that I’m the only one for you.”

  “What do you mean? What does Tiffany do?”

  She throws her head back and laughs. It’s reminiscent of the fake witch doll you get at Halloween. I internally beat myself for not picking up on the crazy earlier. If I had seen the signs, I would have never slept with her… multiple times.

  “First off, her name is Kathryn. Second, she was hired to get to you and make you fall in love with her. Then she would crush you, like you do to so many other people.”

  She shoves the pieces of paper onto my chest. “Who hired her?”

  “Why, of course, it was me, darling. How else was I supposed to get my chance to get you back?”

  I look at the piece of paper. Scrawled on it in clear block letters is the name Kathryn, a phone number, and an address. She holds her phone out in her hand.

  “Call her. You’ll see,” she urges.

  I take the phone from hand and dial the number she’s given me. It takes a few rings for someone to answer.

  “Hello, Skylah?”

  I hang up immediately, gripping it tightly in my hand. She was right. Tiffany was playing me the whole entire time. I fell for a woman who was playing me for a fucking fool.

  I walk into the building where Tiffany or Kathryn, whatever the fuck her name is, works. It’s a nice building, very unassuming in the midst of high-rises and corporate giants. I reach her floor and walk out looking for the office door. I knock and when no one answers I walk in. It looks like an office, but there is barely anything in here except an open area and one lone office.

  I walk straight into the office and find her sitting there. She looks at me, immediately standing up.

  “So it’s true. You were messing with me the whole entire time.”

  “D-D-D-Dean, what are you doing here?” she stammers.

  “I just thought I should come and see how you are, Tiffany. Or is it Kathryn? Or is that just a name you give your clients?”

  She hangs her head. Her shoulders rise and fall in a defeatist stance. “How did you find out?”

  “Does that even matter? Because I sure as shit don’t think it does! I can’t believe it. You… We… It all makes sense now. The fact that when I saw you, you were sporting red fucking hair instead of blond. Let me guess, a wig?” She nods. She’s submissive and there is no longer that fire in her that had cemented my feelings for her. I had wanted her, God had I ever wanted her. But I knew that I liked her the day she fought back at me. I’m used to people getting on their knees and sucking my cock to please me. She was different, and to think that it was all for show makes me feel ill. That my feelings for her had been manipulated, not created from a genuine place. “You make me fucking sick, you know that? What have I ever done to you to deserve your bullshit?” I scream.

  “Nothing. She hired me.” It’s barely audible.

  “Who’s she?” I demand to know.

  “Skylah.”

  “Oh, this outta be good.” I take a seat in front of her. “What did that psycho say to you?”

  “She told me you left her when you found out she was pregnant. Told me she miscarried and you didn’t care.”

  My mouth drops. I can’t believe the shit she’d spin, just to get me back. How in her insane mind, did she think that was going to work?

  “And, of course, you believed her.” I scoff. “I don’t know what happened in your childhood. Did daddy not pay enough attention to you? Did he not love you? Did his lack of love spur on a series of bad choices with guys that made you hate the world and everyone in it? You know, I thought that Skylah was bad, but you’re much worse. You are so stuck in your own world that you’re willing to dole out Karma to those you think deserve it. If you had actually done some research, then you would know that I never did any of the shit Skylah claimed I had done. But congratulations, you did a fine job. Because even though this means nothing right now. Guess what? I did fall for you. And now I know that you’re just a pathetic bitch who deserves what she gets. In fact, I hope that you feel an ounce of how I’ve felt. I hope that whatever bullshit lie Skylah fed you, actually happens to you. Maybe then you’ll understand just a sliver of how it would have felt for me and all those other men you messed with.”

  “I think it’s time that you leave,” a contentious voice commands.

  “Don’t worry, I was just about to,” I respond and leave. The woman who interrupted me, glares at me as I leave, before slamming the door shut.

  Still furious, I walk the streets of New York in determination, until I’ve reached the front, where I grunt at the doorman in front of me.

  “Dean,” Skylah calls.

  I groan. This psycho bitch won’t let up. I march over to her. “Did I not make myself clear when I told you to leave me alone?” I ask.

  “No. No, you did.” She moves her hands down the front of my shirt. “I noticed you went to see Kathryn. Do you believe me now?”

  “I do. Also, believe that me knowing the truth changes nothing. We aren’t going to get together, because of this situation. You are the reason I’m in this mess to begin with.”

  I turn to walk away. She grabs me, spinning me around. “Please. I love you, Dean. I’m in love with you.”

  “You don’t love me. You’re not mentally well and need help. Now let go of me.”

  “Why are you being so difficult? We could have a wonderful life together,” she begs.

  I try to remove my arms from her grasp, but she doesn’t let up. “Let go of me, you psycho bitch. I’m never going to love you. I just want you as far away from me as you can possibly get. Preferably in Antarctica. Now get away from me.” I pull my arm away and she goes stumbling back, falling onto the road behind her and right in front of a damn police car. Everyone looks at me in shock.

  I know what they think they saw. They think I pushed her. They think I was violent with her. She plays the part well as the victim. Lifting herself up slowly as one officer rushes to her aid, and the other one forces me down onto the vehicle. The cold cuffs clip tightly around my wrists, and I’m pulled up and forced into the back of the car.

  I’m led out through the doors, and groan when I see Tiffany or is it Kathryn standing there. Fucking hell. I haven’t removed her from my emergency contacts. She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she looks down at her hands, busying herself by fiddling with her fingers.

  “If you’re waiting for a thank you, you’re not going to get it. It’s the least you could do,” I deadpan.

  “I was surprised to receive a phone call from the police. Why was I the one they called?”

  “No doubt you are still on my speed dial for emergency office contacts. I’ll get it removed.”

  “Okay.” She goes to talk and then shuts her mouth again.

  “What?” I bark.

  “What happened?” she asks, tentatively.

  “Psycho bitch made it look like I had pushed her onto the road, when I hadn’t.”

  “Why would she do that?” Tiffany asks.

  “Why don’t you go ask her?” I snap and walk away from her.

  I hear Kerri speaking on the phone. No doubt she’s talking to Violet. I don’t blame her in a way. I closed my business down, contacted all my previous clients, barred Skylah, and advised that I would no longer be providing my services to the public. Dean had been right. How dare I put my position as Karma and mess with people. I had no right to do what I had done to those men. They may have deserved it, but it wasn’t my responsibility to make them pay. And how many of them really were as bad as they had been made out to be? I had my shades on and was blinded by the possible truth because of my own issues with men. I had allowed my hatred for them to paint me black. I didn’t like the color on me. I delighted in it before, but truly being able to see just how my actions affected those around me, made me realize that what I was doing was toxi
c. Regardless of his very hurtful words, I couldn’t hate him. I couldn’t pull enough energy to not give a fuck and devise a plan to get back at him. He had no idea that Skylah’s fake situation was pretty much mine. Had she known? She had played us both. It wouldn’t be so far-fetched to believe that she could be so manipulative to pull a stunt like this.

  “Can you come and see her?” Kerri asks.

  She’s concerned. Has been for the past couple of weeks. It’s now the month of December. Christmas songs and decorations are becoming an epidemic, so I’ve chosen to lock myself in my apartment and not go out. I’ve been ordering everything in. Kerri used to come and visit me every day, now, she’s just resorted to living with me. I was going to recommend that she do that, but she beat me to it. I couldn’t see the point in her traveling to and fro from our places every day. Having to deal with New York and the busses and subways and cars, which has just been getting on my fucking nerves. The constant blaring of the horns as impatient and no doubt, stupid fucking people attempt to rush to their destination. It’s as if they are all new and don’t realize that a fifteen minute drive in a city that isn’t wildly overpopulated, is forty-five minutes here. Stupid, foolish people.

  “Yep. Thank you so much. You know I wouldn’t ask you to come here if she didn’t need you.” The gratefulness is clear in her tone. She is incredibly thankful for what my sister is doing. But it’s not entirely for me. It’s for her too. Because no good deed comes selflessly.

  Kerri walks back into my room and forces a smile on her lips. She knows it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, like it usually does. She knows that it’s forced and it makes her feel dirty. We’ve never once lied to each other. I’m not entirely sure why she feels the need to do it now.

  “How’s my sister,” I ask monotonically.