Plumber

by Sapphire Keyes

  Moments later, she replies: Sure, when and where? Everything okay?

  Me: It will be okay after I see you. Let's say 7p.m. at Minamoto's?

  Charlotte: See you then.

  There, that's done.

  With any luck, after I file assault charges, and take him to court, they'll lock him away for a while and take away his freedom too. But I can't bank on that since Will has a team of pretty powerful lawyers. This won't be a pretty battle and I can't even guarantee a win. It might drag on for months, a year even. I don't expect him to go down without a fight.

  One thing I know for certain: that bastard will pay for his sins. One way or another.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon packing up my worldly belongings and hiring movers to take them to a temporary storage unit. Then I take a long, cold shower to clear my head.

  After I shower, I change into a mint green blouse and a pencil skirt. I cake on several layers of foundation to cover up my bruised eye. Then I drag my suitcase into the foyer and take one last look at the house. It's a lovely place. It really could've been a fresh start. Our new home.

  But William fucked it all up.

  Bye bye home.

  I stare down at my small suitcase. It contains three days' worth of clothing, toiletries and my personal documents. It'll be all I need for now. At least until I figure out where I'll be staying in the near future. I slip into the garage and unlock my car.

  Sliding into the driver's seat of my Mercedes-Benz, I dial Michael, the team physician for the New York Giants. The family friend I mentioned earlier.

  A few rings later, Michael answers.

  “Hey Michael, I know this is really last minute but could I meet up with you today? I need to discuss something with you and I'm afraid it's urgent.”

  “What is it, Rachel? Is everything okay?” he asks.

  “I need to explain in person,” I say.

  “You can come over right now if you want,” he continues, “I'm not working today. Mel can fix you some lunch.”

  “That would be amazing,” I smile. “See you in a bit.”

  Michael lives a few blocks away from my former family home. After my parents passed away five years ago in a car accident, Michael and Melissa became parental figures in my life. And Charlotte's. I don't see them as often as I should but they are truly great people. In fact, they were thrilled when they learned that I moved back to New Jersey. Even invited Will and I over for dinner a few times.

  “C'mon in,” Michael smiles, opening the door wide. “Long time no see, Rachel.”

  I give Michael a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Anytime my dear. Melissa was just talking about you the other day.”

  I walk down the hallway and see Melissa poking her head out from the kitchen. “I'm just making some lasagna, love. It'll be ready in ten minutes!”

  “Hi Melissa,” I say, giving her a hug and a kiss. “You look great, as always.”

  Melissa gives me an aw shucks kind of look. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Some water would be nice,” I say. I turn to Michael, who's sporting a frown line on his forehead. He's greying around the temples and has a visible bald spot, but still looks handsome for his age.

  “Why don't you join me in the sitting room,” Michael says. “You mentioned you wanted to talk?”

  I nod and follow him into the adjacent room. It's a cozy place, with a beautiful fireplace as its focal point. My eyes flicker over the framed photos on the mantle. Pictures of my dad and Michael at the golf course...Michael's son, Aaron and I at our high school graduation ceremony...A picture of my parents...

  I look away, suddenly filled with a sense of loss. If my parents were still alive, they might've stopped me from marrying a train wreck.

  After the two of us settle down on the couch, I suck in a deep breath. “How's work?” I ask, trying to find a good way to lead into my intended conversation.

  “C'mon Rachel, you didn't come visit me to have chit-chat. What's bothering you?”

  Michael's always been a straight shooter.

  I swallow hard, my throat going dry. My fingers bunch up the fabric of my skirt and for a moment, I'm tongue-tied. “This-This will be a lot to ask,” I say.

  “You know I'd do anything for you,” Michael encourages.

  Just spit it out, Rachel. Rip it off quick like a band-aid.

  “I need you to run a random drug test on the players this week,” I blurt out.

  “Why?” Michael asks, sitting up straighter.

  “Do I have to answer?”

  Michael arches his brows. “Do you know something?”

  “I don't want to say. Just please, can you do this for me?”

  “I've already done one this season. And I'd have to give forty-eight hour's notice to do another one,” Michael says.

  Forty-eight hours. That's probably enough for the steroids to clear from his system!

  “Do you have to give notice?” I ask, the desperation in my voice mounting.

  “What's going on, Rachel? Please, tell me so I can help you,” Michael insists.

  No more lies. Especially not to someone I trust, like Michael. He needs to know what Will's done.

  I inhale slowly. “I know William is using steroids and I want him to get suspended.”

  Michael's eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Shit. Since when?”

  “At least six months ago, but maybe even before that.” My voice is a bit shaky but my words are resolute.

  “Are you a hundred percent sure?” Michael asks. “Do you have proof?”

  “I don't have physical proof,” I say, “But he admitted it to me in person, several times.”

  “Do you think he'd admit it to you again?”

  “Unlikely.” I don't add the fact that I just moved myself out and we're about to divorce. Maybe I'll tell Michael the news later, but not now.

  “Listen, Rach, you know I want to help. But this is a very serious accusation and I-” Michael lowers his voice, “-I could lose my job if this goes South.”

  “-I get it, Michael. I don't want to get you in trouble for this. I'm sorry I got you involved.” I turn to leave but Michael stops me.

  “I'll see what I can do, Rachel. No promises, but I'll try my best.”

  I smile. “That's all I can hope for.”

  “One last thing, Rachel. Why are you doing this?”

  I clench my jaw. “Because it's the right thing to do,” I reply.

  As I get up to leave, Mel is taking out a steaming pan of fresh lasagna. There's tomato sauce all over her apron. “Don't you want to stay and have a bite, dear?”

  I shake my head and apologize. “Sorry Mel, but I've got to attend to some personal matters. Thanks for the offer though. I'll stop by some other time for dinner.”

  I wave goodbye to the old couple before swerving back into the driver's seat.

  Four

  Minamoto Japanese Restaurant is an upscale establishment oozing refinement and ambiance. The lights are dimmed, thank God, so Charlotte won't accidentally notice my bruised eye. Soft music plays in the background and somewhere in the kitchen, a chef is sharpening his knife.

  Charlotte and I are seated in a private booth at the back, which is perfect. I want to keep our conversation as low-key as possible. But given my little sister's propensity for the dramatic...something tells me she won't be using her indoor voice once I drop this bomb on her.

  After the server hands us bamboo-covered menus, Charlotte asks, “So, what is it? What did you want to tell me?”

  My mouth opens but no words come out.

  “I knew it,” Charlotte says, “You're pregnant.”

  I shake my head. “I have an IUD.” God, the last thing I want is to make a baby with someone like William. I would never subject a child to that kind of torture.

  “You quit your job? You had a fight with Will? Stop playing games and spill,” Charlotte demands.

  “No
and not really,” I say.

  The waitress comes around and takes our orders. I use this opportunity to take a sip of my water and moisten my dry lips.

  Charlotte narrows her eyes. “What do you mean by 'not really'?”

  “I mean, we argued. Then he left for drinks and never came home last night.” It is the truth.

  “And?”

  “And I brought you here because I want to fuck up his Lamborghini,” I blurt out.

  Charlotte lets out a belly-rumbling laugh. “Because he stayed out all night?”

  “No,” I say. “Because he cheated on me. Twice in the past eight months. That I know of. And...” I pause, unsure of whether or not I should tell Charlotte. She'll definitely lose it. Oh what the hell, no more lies, remember, Rachel? “And he beat me. Over and over. Physically.”

  Charlotte sits in stunned silence, blinking. She croaks out a small noise but it's inaudible.

  “Say something Charlie. Anything,” I plead.

  “How could you keep this from me?” Charlotte cries, standing up. She's outraged. Like I knew she would be. She has every right to be pissed. Her nostrils are flaring all over the place and she looks like steam's about to pipe out of her ears any moment now.

  “I-I have no excuse,” I say. “I just hope you'll forgive me for not telling you sooner.”

  Charlotte folds her arms across her chest. “I don't know if I can do that.”

  “Please, Charlie, I lost my husband today. I don't want to lose you too.”

  Charlotte's eyes are filled with fire. “You broke the sister code,” she points out. “Did you think I couldn't handle the truth?”

  “That's not why I didn't tell you,” I say. “I just wanted to solve my own problems. But I know now that I can't do it alone. So will you help me get back at him?”

  “I hope you're going to do more than just mess with his car,” Charlotte says.

  I nod. I spend a few minutes explaining my plan to sabotage his career.

  “Are you sure that's legal?” Charlotte asks.

  “No. Maybe. I don't know,” I say. “But he's broken the law more times than I can count. And he needs to learn his lesson. Besides, his ego is so huge he'd never think it was me. He has enemies all over the place.”

  “I'm worried, Rach. I don't want you to drag your name through the mud over this.”

  “I don't have as much to lose as him. So are you in?”

  Charlotte sighs. “Of course I'll help you take him down. I always hated that bastard.”

  As if on cue, my cellphone starts buzzing. I glance at the screen. “It's Will.”

  “Ignore him,” Charlotte says, bringing a piece of sashimi to her mouth. “Make him wait.”

  I silence the call and continue working on my tonkatsu bowl.

  Moments later, my phone rings again.

  By the end of the night, I have twenty-three missed phone calls from my husband. And a brilliant plan to legally ruin his most valuable possession.

  Once Charlotte and I are outside the restaurant, she asks, “Where are you staying tonight? Wanna crash at my place?”

  I shake my head. “No thanks. I'll probably check into a hotel.”

  “Are you sure? We can binge on ice-cream and watch Castle re-runs.”

  “Positive. It's been a really long day. I'll text you tomorrow.”

  Charlotte nods. I offer to drive her back to her apartment but she refuses and hails a cab instead. “Go check into the Ritz and spoil yourself a little,” she grins. “On his dime. We have a big day tomorrow.”

  I do as she says and drive straight to the Ritz. I book the most expensive room available using Will's Visa and then order room service and champagne. I switch off my phone and chuck it inside my purse. No distractions. After all, I'm celebrating tonight. The occasion? My first night of freedom in two years.

  Five

  I wake up with a massive hangover. Two empty bottles of Dom Perignon are splayed across the carpet and a half-eaten tray of food sits on the nightstand. Something smells awful and I realize it's my own vomit. In the ice bucket beside me.

  I don't want to call in sick again but there's no way in hell I'm dragging my sorry ass to work today. Too many personal vendettas to execute and no time to waste. Besides, I look like shit.

  I haul out my suitcase and change into a fresh ensemble. A simple black tee and jeans. After all, I'll be doing some dirty work today.

  I switch on my phone and find 15 new text messages from Will, asking where I am. Obviously he's noticed by now that all my stuff is gone. His texts range from angry to concerned to threatening. I select them all and press delete.

  There are two new messages from Jeremy.

  Hey, I'm so sorry I got angry and lost control. I shouldn't have said those things to you. Forgive me? Call me?

  And sorry I kissed you. It was impulsive and disrespectful. Can we pretend it never happened?

  I read and re-read these two texts almost fifteen times. The first thing I think about: Jeremy really is the opposite of Will. My best friend just apologized for saying a few hurtful things whereas Will sometimes doesn't even apologize for assaulting me.

  And another thing: I'm not sorry he kissed me. Not one bit.

  I start typing out a reply but pause mid-sentence. I'll let Jeremy stew for a little bit. Make him feel worse before making things all better between us.

  A new text from Charlotte. You still on for the mission?

  Hell yes, I reply.

  Charlotte and I meet up an hour later in front of a hunting supplies shop. Bill's Hunting & Fishing Emporium is stacked floor to ceiling with all manner of equipment: from rifles, to fishing rods to camouflage gear. I don't recognize how to use half of them.

  We are the only female customers in the establishment, and within minutes, we've received several cocked heads and raised eyebrows.

  “You ready?” Charlotte grins.

  “Born ready,” I smirk.

  We walk right up to the counter and ask the man behind the desk, “Where can we buy some buck urine?”

  The man shoots us a toothy grin and stands up. He strokes his long, salt and pepper beard. “It's not everyday two pretty women come in 'ere lookin' for buck urine. What do ya need it for?”

  “Don't worry about that,” I laugh, “just point us in the right direction.”

  The scruffy man gives us a toothy grin before saying, “Aisle 2. Lower shelf.”

  It doesn't take us long to find what we came for. The clear plastic container is labeled “XTREME URINE: Dominant Buck” and features a fearsome looking stag on the front.

  Charlotte and I burst out laughing. “This is terrible,” she says. “I can't believe we're doing this.”

  “Terrible? You mean brilliant,” I say. I bring five bottles up the counter and the man says, “Be careful with this stuff. It's mighty potent.”

  “Oh, trust me, the more potent, the better,” Charlotte giggles.

  We take our weapon of choice back to the car and I start the ignition.

  Will is at practice today, which makes it the perfect opportunity for us to sabotage his car.

  After an hour of driving, I pull into the stadium parking lot. My chest is thrumming with anticipation. I've never done anything even close to what I'm about to do.

  Charlotte is my lookout. She leans out of the passenger seat and scans the parking lot. “All clear.”

  I kill the engine and grab the buck urine. “C'mon, let's make this fast.”

  The thing about Will is, he's so cocky, he always leaves the top down on his Lambo. Unless it's pouring rain out, his car will be exposed to the elements...and passerbys. It just so happens that today is 92 degrees and you could probably cook an egg on the sidewalk. Which makes it the perfect day to drench his car seats and air intake with...you guessed it: one of the most foul-smelling scents in the world. Buck urine. Xtreme edition. The heat will only make everything smell ten times worse.

  It was actually Charlotte's idea to soak his Lambo in a
stench that'd never go away. She suggested rotten sardines or garbage water. But I'm proud to say I came up with buck urine. I remember watching a documentary once claiming that hunters used this stuff to attract deer. It has an awful odor that is just the stuff of nightmares. Gag-reflex-activating, vomit-inducing nightmares.

  Once Will smells this stuff in his car, he'll never want to drive it again. Sure, he'll probably just buy another one but he won't be able to get rid of this one with that smell permeating every surface.

  He might never even be able to identify the smell. Or who put it there. And he sure as hell can't just “wash it out” of his air intake system.

  Charlotte and I get to work, each taking a bottle and dousing the leather backseats with it. We came prepared with clips for our noses so we didn't have to smell anything. However, even with clips on, I can still taste the smell in the back of my throat. It's so bad it makes my eyes water and I feel like gagging.

  I snap on some disposable gloves. “Let's hurry,” I tell my sister. “My eyes sting.”

  Charlotte nods. “Me too.”

  I pop the cap off my last bottle and watch with glee as the clear liquid enters his air intake. Once all five bottles are empty, we scurry back to my car and zip away before we get caught.

  All the way back to Charlotte's place, we giggle up a storm. “I haven't done anything like that since high school, when I tee-peed Rory Wilson's house!” Charlotte laughs.

  “I've never pulled a prank like this before,” I say, breathing fast. “Ever.”

  My veins are swimming with adrenaline and I floor the gas. We start speeding down the highway, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy. “I think that's the most fun I've had in years,” I admit. “I'm glad you were a part of it.”

  “What are sisters for?” Charlotte grins.

  When the adrenaline dies down a bit, Charlotte asks, “So what are you going to do now?”

  I grip my steering wheel harder. “Well, first I'm going to file assault charges. Then I'll probably have to get my own place somewhere.”

  “Offer still stands to crash at my place,” Charlotte says.

  “Thanks sis but your little studio is way too small for two people,” I say. “Besides, I have my own money. I have a good job. I'll be fine. Don't worry.”