Maneater: A Short Story

by Kahoko Yamada

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © by Kahoko Yamada

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by law.

  Natalie Young hopped out of her black Honda Civic. She checked the time on her smartphone: it was only six. She still had another two hours before her boyfriend, Ben, made it home from his new job. He used to be an assistant manager at Harold’s, a supermarket chain that populated the northeast, but had been laid off a couple of years ago. He’d gone back to school for accounting and recently found a job as a manager of a bank.

  She popped her trunk and pulled out several bags of groceries from Deluca’s. Her blond ponytail bounced behind her as she made her way up to her apartment. She couldn’t wait to surprise Ben with his favorite meal: medium-rare steak with mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans (a meal his mom had often made when he was growing up), and Heineken Beer.

  Natalie and Ben had been together for three years this coming New Year’s, and while they’d certainly had their ups and downs, such as Ben’s employment troubles and Natalie’s problems in the bedroom, they were still going strong and still very much in love.

  Natalie set the groceries down to open her front door. She headed into the kitchen to start preparing dinner, but stopped once she heard sounds coming from the bedroom. Fearing an intruder had broken in, she dropped her grocery bags on the floor and dialed 911 on her cell.

  “Hello, this is 911. What is your emergency?” asked the operator.

  “There’s someone in my apartment,” whispered Natalie.

  “Someone has broken in?”

  “Yes. I live at 150 Huntington Avenue, apartment three F. Come quick.”

  “I’ll send someone right away. Get out of the apartment immediately.”

  “Okay.” Natalie disconnected the call then ran toward the front door. In her hurry to escape, she tripped over the grocery bags, making an audible thud when she hit the floor. The sounds emanating from the bedroom stopped, and fast-approaching footsteps replaced them. Natalie’s heart felt as though it would burst out of her chest, it was beating so hard. She scrambled to her feet and practically leaped for the front door. She clumsily unlocked it and was about to escape when . . .

  “Nat?”

  Natalie stopped. She knew that voice. It had called her name many times before over the last three years. Natalie turned around quickly, her adrenaline still running high. Ben stood in front of her, naked. He was soon joined by someone else: A girl. A pretty, petite blond girl. Also naked. It took Natalie awhile to fully process everything because she was still in fight-or-flight mode, but once she got her bearings, she flew into the kitchen and grabbed a butcher’s knife.

  “Now, Nat, wait. Let me explain,” pleaded Ben.

  “Explain this, asshole!” She lunged at Ben with the butcher’s knife, but he leaped out of the way. The girl he was with rolled her eyes and went back into the bedroom.

  “Nat, calm down!”

  Natalie took another swing at Ben. This time he was able to catch her arm and disarm her.

  “Nat, listen.”

  “No, you listen, to us. Put down the knife. Slowly.”

  Natalie and Ben turned to see two male police officers standing in the doorway pointing guns at Ben. Ben slowly dropped the knife to the floor.

  “Put your hands in the air,” one of the officers commanded. Ben did as he was told. The other officer went to handcuff him while the one speaking kept his gun trained on Ben. “Are there any other intruders, ma’am?”

  “I can’t believe you called the cops!” yelled Ben.

  “You know the intruder?” asked the gun-wielding officer.

  “I—it’s not an intruder,” sighed Natalie. “He’s my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. And he’s moving out of my apartment. Tonight.”

  The girl Ben was with came back out, fully dressed. “Whoa, cops!” She jumped back and put her hands up.

  “Would you guys escort my ex-boyfriend and his slut out of my apartment?” Natalie asked the officers.

  “Wait, Nat, you want me to leave right now? Where am I gonna go?”

  “Maybe you can go stay with your slut.”

  “Who are you calling a slut, bitch?” snapped the girl.

  “I’m not going anywhere!” shouted Ben.

  “Yes, the fuck you are!” retorted Natalie.

  “Okay, wait! Everybody, calm down,” said the gun-wielding officer. “Ma’am, is your name on the lease of this apartment?” he asked Natalie.

  “Yes.”

  “Is his?”

  “No.”

  “But I’ve lived here for two years,” Ben interjected.

  “But your name isn’t on the lease, so you have to leave,” the officer told Ben. “Her place, her rules.” The other officer removed the handcuffs he’d placed on Ben.

  “Nat . . .” Ben looked at Natalie pleadingly, but she shook her head, resolved. “I’ll go get my stuff.” He brushed past Natalie, glaring at her as he passed.

  “It’d be nice if you could put some clothes on too,” said the handcuffing officer.

  After the police escorted Ben and the girl out, Natalie finally allowed herself to break down. She threw the food she’d bought against the walls and then groaned when she realized she would have to clean it up. The tears began flowing from her face, causing her make up to run, as she cleaned up the mess. How could she not have known he was cheating on her, especially with her past? How could she have been so stupid? And how could Ben do this to her after all she’d done for him? When he’d gotten laid off from his job at Harold’s, she’d let him move in with her, and she’d been paying all of the bills since his savings ran out, and this was how he repaid her, bringing some fat, bottled-blond slut into her home?

  Natalie finished cleaning up the mess, then went into the freezer and pulled out a carton of mint chocolate-chip ice cream (her favorite) to soothe her pain. She would’ve pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay, too, but she had to be at work, first thing, tomorrow morning for a presentation, and she didn’t want to be hung over. Halfway through the ice-cream carton, Natalie decided to stop eating before Ben gave her thunder thighs and a spare tire in addition to swollen eyes and a broken heart.

  She put the ice cream back in the freezer and walked into the bathroom. She stared at her makeup-stained reflection in the bathroom mirror: it looked like an oil rig had exploded in each of her eyes and leaked down her face. She used makeup-remover wipes to clean the foundation, primer, concealer, veil, eye shadow, eyeliner, and lipstick off her face, an arduous process to say the least. And tomorrow morning, she would have to reapply all of it for work, another arduous process. Sometimes, she thought about leaving the house without all of that stuff on. It wasn’t as though she was a troll or anything. Sure, she had a few blemishes here and there, but overall, she was quite pretty. But the makeup made her even prettier, and as strange as it sounded, it made her feel like more of a woman. She washed her face, using her facial cleanser then took a long, hot shower.

  She went into her bedroom to turn in for the night, wearing a pink cami top with matching boy shorts, but seeing the messy bed stopped her dead in her tracks: This was the scene of the crime. This was where Ben had cheated on her with his low-rent slut. And it probably hadn’t been the first time, either. He’d probably cheated on her hundreds of times, w
ith hundreds of different women, in a hundred different ways, while she’d been working like a slave to support his sorry ass. Her imagination continued to run away with her until she heard her cell ringing. She rushed to the kitchen, where she’d left it, to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me, girl. What you doin’?” It was Natalie’s best friend, Jenna. They’d met five years ago when Natalie first got hired in at the shoe leg of Eurydice, a fashion house. Natalie hadn’t liked Jenna at first, finding her to be loud and brash, but over time, those traits began to remind Natalie of Theresa, her best friend from college, who had helped to pull Natalie out of her shell, somewhat. Natalie, realizing she missed having someone like that in her life, began to open up more to Jenna, and the two quickly became best friends.

  “Girl, you will not believe what happened tonight.”

  “What?”

  “I came home tonight to celebrate Ben finally getting a job by fixing his favorite meal and guess what happened.”

  “What?” Jenna asked again, this time with more fervor in her voice. She was probably salivating; gossiping was one of Jenna’s favorite pastimes.

  “I found Ben in bed with some worthless whore.”

  “No!” gasped Jenna.

  “Yes, girl.”

  “He was with a hooker?”

  “Hooker? No—I mean, she might’ve been, I don’t know. I’m just calling her that. Oh my god, what if she was one? What if she had something, and Ben gave it to me? Now my head is filled with thoughts of hookers and STDs. Thanks a lot, Jenna.”

  “Sorry, girl. What did he say when you caught his cheating ass?”

  “I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. I just went straight for the butcher’s knife and tried to castrate his ass.”

  Jenna laughed. “That’s my girl. Did you get him?”

  “No, the police showed up.”

  “The police? He and that skank called the cops on you in your own house?”

  “No, I called the police. When I heard noises coming from the bedroom, I thought someone had broken in.” Both women laughed over the absurdity of the situation. “And you know what’s really bad about all of this shit?”

  “What?”

  “I wanna go to bed, but I can’t because my entire room reeks of her and her stank pussy.” Natalie’s comments made Jenna laugh again, which made Natalie laugh. “I’m serious, girl. My entire room smells like rotten fish.”

  “So come stay with me tonight, or for as long as you need,” offered Jenna. “And we can sell your bed and feng shui and delouse your entire apartment.”

  “Thanks, Jenna.”

  “No thanks needed. I know you’d return the favor. Hurry on over because you know we have to be at work an hour early for that meeting tomorrow.”

  “’Kay, I’m gonna pack a bag and be over in a few.”

  “’Kay.”

  Natalie hung up and packed a bag with three different outfits, because she couldn’t decide what she wanted to wear tomorrow; her lucky black Marc Jacobs pumps for her presentation; her makeup bag; her comb; and her blow dryer. She changed out of her pink nightclothes and into a black cami top with matching yoga pants.

  Natalie arrived at Jenna’s apartment twenty minutes later. Jenna had the couch all fixed up for her, so all she had to do was lie down and get comfortable.

  Three hours later, Natalie was still awake. It wasn’t the couch, though it was a poor substitute for a bed; it was Ben and the meeting at her job tomorrow. It was times like this Natalie wished she were more like Jenna. If she were like Jenna, she’d be too confident and self-possessed to be worried about tomorrow’s presentation, and her boyfriend wouldn’t be cheating on her because she didn’t do boyfriends, because she didn’t do long-term relationships. But she wasn’t Jenna. She was anal, obsessive, cautious Natalie.

  Despite her insomnia and inner turmoil, Natalie was up and ready to go when morning arrived. She was listening to the voicemail messages Ben had left on her smartphone when Jenna came rushing out.

  “What time is it?” Jenna shrieked.

  “It’s only seven thirty, so we still have about half an hour,” Natalie told her. “But we don’t have time to stop by Starbucks, so I made a pot of coffee.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Jenna rushed over to the coffee pot. “I mean, it’s not a light caramel frappuccino, but it’ll have to do. At least until lunch. Why didn’t you wake me?” Jenna poured herself a cup of coffee and took a few sips.

  “Sorry. I was distracted. Ben called. He left me several messages and texts.”

  “Tell me on the way to work. We’ve gotta hustle.” Jenna slid on her coat and boots while Natalie put her coat on; she was already wearing her boots, and she would change into her lucky Marc Jacobs pumps once she got to work. They sped out the door and climbed into Jenna’s orange GMC Yukon. Jenna shifted the car into drive, and they took off.

  “So what did your asshole ex say in all of those messages?” Jenna asked.

  “He said he loved me, he missed me, it was just sex, blah, blah, blah.” Ben had actually said a lot more than that, but Natalie didn’t want Jenna to know about the condition she had, so she just gave her a truncated version.

  “So basically, the usual shit guys say when they get caught cheating. But that’s okay, because it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m gonna find some way to cheer my girl up.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. You really don’t have to.” Natalie appreciated Jenna’s offer, but her idea of cheering people up usually involved partying, which Natalie had never been that fond of, and sex, which was a sore subject, to say the least, for Natalie. “How nervous are you about our presentation?”

  “What’s there to be nervous about? We totally killed it. Lauren’s gonna love it.” They were junior designers at Eurydice, and Lauren, the design lead, was their immediate supervisor. All design pitches had to go through her.

  “You went over the notes I gave you, right?” Natalie checked.

  “Yes, I went over them. How many times are you gonna ask me that?”

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so fussy. I just like to be—”

  “Prepared, I know. A lot of times that can be a good thing, but you, you do it too much. Don’t be so anal and uptight about everything. Life’s too short.”

  Jenna wasn’t the deepest or most-pensive person, but she could say some really profound things sometimes . . .

  “And plus, worrying gives you wrinkles. I read it in Cosmo,” added Jenna.

  And then she’d say something else.

  The girls arrived in the conference room at seven fifty-five, but they still had plenty of time to set up, because Lauren was usually ten to fifteen minutes late. Natalie pulled out her laptop and set up the PowerPoint presentation while Jenna just sat in a chair, watching.

  “You are working too hard, girl.”

  “Some of us like to work hard as opposed to hardly working,” said Natalie pointedly, but jokingly. “Makes us feel useful and needed.”

  “And some of us like to hardly work. It makes us feel relaxed and happy,” retorted Jenna. “Besides, you know I’ll pull my weight when it comes time to do the actual presentation. You know you’re a choker.”

  “I’m not a choker.”

  “You’re a choker. Remember the first presentation we ever gave?”

  “It was our first time. First time’s always a little shaky.”

  “And the next five times after that?”

  “Shut up,” said Natalie, defeated.

  Jenna laughed, victorious.

  “You guys ready?”

  Natalie jumped a little when Lauren spoke. She was a very mannish-looking woman, with a strong jaw line, large nose, and thin lips. Sartorially, she was also very mannish, typically wearing men’s suits with loafers to work.

  “We were born ready,” declared Jenna.

  “Good. Let’s hear it, then.” Lauren took a seat at the conference table. Jenna and Natalie moved to the front of the room to b
egin their presentation.

  “We’ve had a hard time with our women’s shoe sales over the last couple of years, and through canvassing, we’ve determined it’s due to our shoes not being neither stylish nor functional enough.” As Jenna continued on with the presentation, Natalie, agitated, kept her eyes on Lauren to see how keen she was on her idea, but her face was inscrutable.

  “So we thought that the best way to get women back into Eurydice is to mix high-end style with function. We present the sneako.” Jenna gestured toward the screen: a pair of black-and-white stilettos that looked like sneakers were on the projector.

  “It combines the style of designer heels with the comfort and cushioning that running shoes provide. The heel is even designed to help running. It works as a shock absorber for running and plyometric exercises, as well as helping with stride.” Natalie and Jenna waited with bated breath as Lauren looked at the shoes.

  “I like it,” Lauren finally said.

  “Really?” asked Natalie. Whenever people gave her compliments or said they liked her, she always had to ask whether they really meant it. Her self-esteem had taken a major hit in high school because of her condition and had yet to truly recover.

  “Yeah. I don’t know about the name, but the shoes themselves are great. E-mail me a copy of the final sketch with dimensions, and we can get production on it. Keep up the good work.” Lauren left, checking her smartphone on the way out. Natalie and Jenna, excited, jumped up and down once she was out of the room.

  “We did it!” yelled Natalie.

  “I knew we would. In fact, I told you we would. You worry too much, girl.”

  “Yeah, you told me that too.” The girls gathered up their gear. “Think this will get us a raise and a promotion?”

  “We’ll have to see how they sell before we can talk raises and promotions, but I hope so.”

  ***

  It was now lunch time, and Natalie hadn’t got any work done since the presentation that morning. She was still basking in the joy of her success at work, as well as wallowing in the pitiful condition her love life had recently taken. She’d been constantly checking her smartphone, but hadn’t received any new calls, voicemails, or texts from Ben. She had no intention of getting back together with him, but still wanted him to keep trying to get her back. There was a knock on the door. Jenna walked in.