Her Perfect Revenge

by Anna Mara

  Panting hard, Christina splashed cool water on her face. This had not been a good day but things were about to get worse.

  Chapter 4

  Christina got home at 4:05 p.m. that day. After secretly slinking out of the washroom, she'd left the school and spent the day at the mall. She had skipped school for the first time in her entire life, but she just couldn't go back today and face all those people who had laughed at her.

  Throwing her sweater and books on the kitchen table, she shuffled to her room, threw herself on the bed and reached behind her nightstand to pull out her secret diary and began to write about the day's events. Journaling was something that Christina had discovered the previous year. It was as if, by putting her feelings down on paper, she didn't have to carry them around in her heart and mind anymore.

  Putting down her pen, she let her mind wander over the day's events. Had the story already made the rounds, she wondered? Did her peers know it had all been a joke? In which case, it would make her a dweeb. Or did they believe the letter and think she was a slut? Would she now have a reputation? Would everybody forget about this in a week's time and move on to somebody else?

  Suddenly, Billy Havenwood's handsome face floated into her mind. What a disgusting creep! Christina remembered the way he'd been smirking at her with those arrogant, drunken lips of his and a tremor ran down her spine. And his laughter! She could still hear it, playing over and over again in her head. He'd been enjoying himself at her expense. She'd never been a joke before.

  Christina put her hands over her eyes trying to blot out the images but to no avail. She then remembered his eyes—his gorgeous, green eyes—and the way they had leered at her. And what about those dirty things he'd said to her? Was he really going to try something? A shiver of fear ran down her back.

  "Christina?"

  Great; her mother was calling her. What did she want?

  "Christina?" This time her mother yelled her name.

  "Coming."

  Christina hid her diary back behind her nightstand, got up from the bed and trudged to the kitchen, where she suddenly stopped short. Her mother was clutching ‘the letter’ in her hand and was staring at her in shock.

  "This fell out of your sweater when I was hanging it up." Gabriella whispered.

  Petite and attractive but with an aura of strength, Gabriella Matteo was the glue that held her family together. At thirty-eight, the Italian-American housewife was a great mother but she had a penchant for the dramatic. And she didn't appreciate nonsense of any kind in others, especially from her husband whom she blamed for everything.

  Speechless, Christina could only gawk at her. Her mother always seemed to make any situation worse than it actually was. There was no such thing as ‘discussions’ in this family. Everything that happened, happened at high decibel and over-the-top, and this scene was promising to be a showstopper.

  "I… I," Christina stammered, not knowing what to say.

  "Oh my God! How could you? You're only fourteen." Gabriella's voice started to rise. "Who's the boy?" she yelled.

  "It's not true. It's a joke," Christina defensively pleaded. "There is no boy."

  But Gabriella wasn't listening as she continued. "And what's your father gonna say? I knew we should never have allowed you to go to that public school. And this boy… who is he? Tell me! Oh, I'm gonna be sick. I feel faint." She gripped the edge of the table. "Get me some water. Quick!"

  Christina ran to the sink and let the water run. She was on the verge of tears herself. "Mommy, it's not true. This guy at school…" She quickly brought her mother the glass of water as Gabriella collapsed into a chair.

  "What guy? The guy in the letter?"

  "No; there is no guy in the letter. It's a lie." Christina was now yelling loud enough to match her mother's voice.

  "Oh, Holy Mother of Jesus what if you have this disease? I'm making an appointment with Dr. Marchese right away."

  "No! It's not true," Christina began to cry. "Some kids at school played a joke on me and…"

  "What? You mean other people know about this? Oh, saints in heaven." Gabriella put her fingers in the glass of water and started splashing the droplets onto her face.

  At that moment, the back door opened and in walked Nunzio Matteo, dressed in grubby clothes and with lunch pail in hand. He'd just finished his shift at the construction site and was looking forward to a good meal and some TV. But as he had approached the house through the garage entrance, he'd heard the shouting.

  "What's goin' on here?" he inquired.

  Gabriella got up and shoved the letter at her husband. "Read this. I knew we should have sent her to St. Joseph's. This is all your fault."

  Nunzio quickly began to read the letter. Christina stopped crying and held her breath as she waited for father's explosive reaction.

  Nunzio looked up at his daughter. "Is this true?" he asked quietly.

  Caught off guard by his softly spoken words, she quickly regained her wits. "No, it isn't. Some kids at school were playing a joke and they thought it was funny and they sent me this letter but it's not true and…"

  Nunzio held up his hand and Christina stopped speaking. He looked at her for a few hard seconds. "I believe you."

  "You do?" Christina was shocked.

  "I know my daughter and I know you'd never get involved in this sort of garbage." Nunzio waved the letter in the air.

  For the first time that day, Christina smiled and let out a sigh of relief; but unfortunately, her father kept talking.

  "But tomorrow…,” he dictated, “…you're packing your things and going to that convent school in Philadelphia."

  "Noooo… I don't want to," Christina wailed. Tears spurted in her eyes and she stamped her foot in frustration.

  But Nunzio was firm and there was no dissuading him. "My daughter is not going back to a school with these types of people who would treat her like this and that's final." He looked at his wife and she nodded her approval.

  "It's not fair," Christina sobbed, as she ran from the kitchen and into her room, slamming her door shut.

  Throwing herself on the bed, she let out all the anger and trauma of the day. Tears flowed as she punched her pillow. Billy Havenwood and Jake Monroe had done this to her. It was all their faults—those jerks, those creeps, those bastards!

  And within a week, Christina was shipped off to boarding school for the next four years.

  Chapter 5

  16 Years Later…

  Present Day

  Click. Click. Click.

  Christina kept snapping pictures of the eight protesters outside the Fido Dog Food Company head office building as they chanted and waved huge placards in the air. "Say No To Fido," screamed the rowdy bunch. They called themselves 'The Guardians of Mother Earth' or 'GME' for short.

  A scruffy-looking, sixties throwback named Teddy, who was carrying a large sign that read 'Fido Owns Samco Oil, Samco Oil Pollutes Our Planet, Boycott Fido', ran over to Christina who was crouching down trying to get a better shot with her camera.

  "Hey man, you from Streetwise Magazine?" he asked.

  "That's me." She straightened up and gave him a dazzling smile.

  Teddy's eyes widened with admiration. At thirty, Christina was a beauty with long brown hair framing her pretty features. The railroad tracks on her teeth had long come off her pearly whites and her thick glasses had been replaced by contacts.

  At fourteen, she may have been short and dumpy but by fifteen she'd shot up to 5'6". By sixteen, she'd taken up competitive swimming and lost over 30 pounds, giving her a sleek frame. And by seventeen, she'd discovered makeup.

  Teddy was clearly impressed. "You're one hot chick for a reporter."

  Christina laughed. "I'm a photographer, not a reporter."

  "Well, you're pretty hot for that too."

  "Not as hot as your cause, from what I hear."

  "Yeah," Teddy grinned. "We've been getting a lot of publicity and we're really stickin' it to them." He inclined his hea
d towards the Fido building as Christina took pictures of the entrance.

  "How long have you been out here?" she asked.

  "Two weeks and we're gonna stay here until those bastards clean up their mess, man."

  Christina put her camera down. "So tell me about what you're trying to do here. The Magazine didn't say much."

  Streetwise Magazine was an under-financed, New York City, free street paper—the kind available at record shops and clubs. Christina had been freelancing for them for about eighteen months. The money was lousy and the hours terrible but she was doing anything she could to become a professional photojournalist. In fact, she'd gotten the position through her best friend, Jenny, who worked there as a receptionist.

  After Christina had been sent away to boarding school, the girls had written to each other for a while. But then six months into the school year, Jenny's father had been transferred to a new job in Chicago, her family had moved and they'd lost touch with each other. Three years ago, a newly divorced Jenny with her little girl, Taylor, moved back to New York and had looked Christina up. Their friendship resumed and it was as if the years apart had never happened.

  But they had; and they had changed both girls. Christina had became stronger, more self-assured as she’d learned to be independent at boarding school and then later at Georgetown University where she'd majored in political science. Confident, tougher and a little bit more cynical, she had had to grow up very fast on her own.

  Jenny, on the other hand, had lost her brash, adolescent confidence and wasn't as tough as she used to be. She'd never made it to college and had married young. She'd had a baby and lived for years in an unhappy marriage until she'd mustered what courage she could to move on.

  "Hey man, you listening?"

  "Sorry?" Christina focused on Teddy again.

  "I was saying how Samco Oil, which is owned by Fido Dog Food, is pumping crude oil through old, leaking pipelines in the Russian Arctic. They're destroying the environment, man, and they don't give a shit."

  "So why hasn't somebody done something about it?"

  "Because it's happening in the Russian Arctic, man. Who cares about that? We just got word that the pipeline is leaking in at least twenty places… twenty goddamn places… and the oil is beginning to seep up through the ground. It's spreading and forming its own lakes. Can you picture that? Lakes of black, crude oil." Teddy shook his head in disgust. "Mother Earth is weeping. We're killing her!"

  "How long has GME been at this?" Christina asked, as she took a few more pictures of the protesters.

  "Two months. We tried letters, we wrote to the papers, everything. You know, this is ten times worse than the Exxon Valdez and it's been virtually ignored by the media. This is our last resort."

  "But doesn't Samco or Fido or whoever lose money if their oil is leaking out?" Christina was confused.

  Teddy shook his head. "No way. They get paid for the oil they put into that pipeline, not what comes out the other end."

  "But don't they care?"

  "Look, the only thing these pricks care about is their precious bottom line. Gotta keep Wall Street and the shareholders happy. So what if all the fish in the Kulva River have been wiped out, it doesn't affect them."

  One of the protesters called out to Teddy. "Hey, Teddy? You with us or what?"

  "Yeah, I'm coming." He turned back to Christina. "Take as many pictures as you can. We appreciate anything you can do for us." He turned to walk back to the others.

  Christina readjusted her lens and resumed taking her pictures. When the little guy took on big business, it always made for a riveting photo spread.

  Crossing the street, she angled her camera into position to get the protestors and the dog food company in the same frame.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something red flash by. It was a bright, red Ferrari pulling into the parking lot. Who was that, she wondered? Maybe one of the bigwigs showing up for work? Who else could afford a $300,000 car?

  Christina took several pictures of the car and its occupant. Mr. Bigshot, she reasoned, would have to cross the picketers and a confrontation would probably ensue—with tension, heated words—maybe even a fistfight, if she was lucky. Wouldn’t that be fantastic!

  Click. Click. Click.

  Through her zoom lens, she could see Mr. Bigshot finally getting out of the Ferrari. Tall, dark brown hair, good build, slick suit… he turned then and Christina got a great shot of his face.

  About thirty, handsome, strong jawline, gorgeous green eyes, movie star looks—holy crap! Suddenly, Christina gasped and drew in a deep breath as she recognized the face. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be him!

  She took a few more pictures as he walked confidently towards the protestors. Oh God, it was him. After all these years, it was him—her nightmare from high school—Billy Havenwood! How many hellish dreams had she had of that face, that horrible, smug, arrogant face? Hundreds, thousands, even.

  She may have physically changed since those first few weeks in high school but he hadn't. Oh sure, he'd gotten bigger, taller and better looking but it was those green eyes, those hypnotic, gorgeous, green eyes of his—she'd recognize them anywhere. And that smirk, that confident, 'I-can-do-whatever-I-want-and-get-away-with-it' smirk!

  Christina's fingers were shaking but she forced herself to continue taking pictures. She watched through her camera lens as Billy Havenwood strode through the protestors as if he hadn't a care in this world—or a care 'about' this world.

  "Asshole! Rapist! You're destroying the planet!" The picketers were shouting at him. His only response was to calmly give them the finger before entering the building.

  He didn't even look back.

  Christina finally lowered her camera and felt sick to her stomach. Here she was, an adult who was confident, strong, making it on her own—and felled by a childhood memory in one second flat. Only, he wasn't a memory, was he? He was flesh and blood real.

  "Hey, man; did ya get those pictures of Havenwood?" Teddy had come running across the street to where Christina was stationed.

  "Y… yes."

  "Alright." Teddy was obviously thrilled. He gave his fellow protesters a thumbs-up sign and they started cheering.

  "Y… you said his name was Haven… Haven…" She couldn't even say his name.

  Teddy helped her out. "Havenwood; Bill Havenwood. His daddy owns the company."

  "What?" Christina couldn't hide her shock.

  "Yeah; William Havenwood Sr. owns the whole show and Billy Jr. is his only kid. Gonna get everything when the old man kicks off."

  "So they're the…?"

  "Yeah, the pricks who are polluting our planet."

  It was all getting to be too much for Christina's brain. She was on overload and needed to get away. What if he came back, saw her and recognized her? She turned back to Teddy and covered her nervousness with a smile.

  "Well, thanks for the photos and I'll see about getting you some write-ups in Streetwise." Absentmindedly, Christina gave him a polite smile before turning to walk away.

  "Thanks; and the name's Teddy, man," Teddy called after her.

  Christina nonchalantly waved back as she raced to her car. She had to get back to her apartment and download the pictures as soon as possible. She just had to see that face again. She didn't want to but she just had to.

  Like picking at a scab—you just can't help yourself.

  Chapter 6

  Christina entered her one bedroom, fifth floor walkup apartment. As apartments went, it wasn't much—a small kitchenette to the left of a tiny living room and an even tinier bedroom. She raced to her laptop computer sitting on her desk and quickly began to download the photos.

  An hour later, Christina was staring at 8"X10" glossies of ‘him'. ' Him' getting out of his Ferrari. ' Him' walking through the protestors. ' Him' giving them the finger. ' Him' smirking.

  Especially ' him' smirking.

  That bastard.
r />   Look at him, she thought to herself. He had everything—money, position, looks—and a cold heart. He probably didn't even remember her, she'd bet on it. He'd destroyed her life in one day and he'd forgotten about it, except maybe to have a good laugh at her expense. Jenny had told her that after Christina had been sent away to boarding school, her name had never been mentioned again by anyone at Cloverdale High. She'd been discarded like used toilet paper.

  But Christina had never forgotten her one-day fiasco. It had been imprinted into that part of the brain that stored childhood traumas and it had stayed with her all these years.

  Why, just seeing Billy again this afternoon had reduced her to a jumble of nerves. She'd actually been shaking, for god’s sake—she, who was tough and strong and not that shy, insecure schoolgirl anymore, had been shaking like jelly.

  Christina studied the photos and suddenly, her legs turned to mush again. Why was she feeling like this? What was wrong with her?

  Billy Havenwood—that's what was wrong with her. She stared at his handsome, arrogant face.

  "No, Billy Havenwood, you're not doing this to me again. I won't let you!" she intoned aloud.

  Forcing herself to take a couple of deep breaths, she began to calm down. Why should she be the one to feel like this? Why shouldn't it be him? It should be him!

  Suddenly, Christina smiled, as she made an instantaneous decision. Yup, she was going to 'get' him. She didn't know how; she didn't know when; she didn't know where; but somehow she was going to make him feel what it was like to have your whole life ripped out from under you and turned upside down. This was going to be payback; and she owed him one—a big one.

  Reaching for her black journaling book, Christina began to write her thoughts and feelings into it and immediately felt better.

  Putting her pen down, she reached for one of the pictures of smug Billy Havenwood getting out of his ultra-expensive sports car.

  "Look at you, Mr. Havenwood," she whispered, "You've probably never had a crushing, humiliating, soul-destroying moment in all of your privileged, rich boy life. Well, get ready because you're about to have one." A feeling of calm and strength coursed through Christina's system; and her decision was made.