Ingrams & Assoc 3: American Life 04

She sidestepped and let Penny run into the wall. The she stepped forward, lightly but firmly, and pulled Penny's shoulder, so she spun around. She gripped her left hand and pinned her against the wall and with her right, she grabbed Penny around the throat. She yelled, "Mark, sit down" glancing back at Mark who had stood and looked ready to join the fray. He looked pretty scary, blood all down the front of his shirt and on his face, but his expression was radiating indecision.

"Penny and I are only going to have a conversation, Mark. Sit down." April said again, hissing it into Penny's face. Penny was pushed up against the wall, her eyes looking down at April, wide with fear.

"Right, bitch. So here it is. I am Joe's retribution. I've been a long time coming. Frankly, you are lucky I didn't just raze the place to the ground. You are lucky you have a son I care about, or Really Bad Things would have happened here today. I am fucking angry on behalf of a man you abused and lied to, and the payback starts now. You make me any more angry and you'll be in hospital, eating through a tube. Do I make myself clear?"

Penny couldn't nod, so she tried to say, "Ye...Yes..."

"Good. I'm going to let you down now. You try anything else and you go out through the front window. You understand?"

April released her grip and Penny nodded when she was able. Her hands went to her throat, were Aprils handprint was clearly visible.

"Glad to hear it. Now, fucktards, have a shit day. I'm outta here. Oh and no, you aren't in the will, I am glad to say."

And April gathered up her bag and walked out, the door slamming behind her, leaving Mark and Penny staring at each other, breathing heavily.

*****

Today I started my own business. It's all part of the five-year plan. Marianne helped me put it together. Honestly, that woman is a godsend. She's like my therapist and life planner and best friend all wrapped up in one.

So yeah started up for myself. Doing what I did at Mercanos, but now the boss is me! I was hoping I could possibly pick up some of the clients I had at Mercanos, but we'll see how that goes.

I don't want any contact with any one from old place. God knows, most of them knew what was going on and not one fucker told me. I don't think I have any real friends there, and I don't need the stress.

We – well, I say we, but it's just me - moved into a small office on the west side. It's small and its not particularly flashy – it's going to need work and a paint job, but it's cheap and it's mine and it's my new home, so better get used to it.

Setting up a business takes a while, that's for sure. So many things to sign. But Sullivan Services is a go. Now to make it work. Never been afraid of hard work and not going to be now!

This time next year, I'll be sailing. Have a staff of 20 people! You wait. Life part two starts now.

Not going to think about Tara and fuckface at all. Fuck them. Fuck all of them at Mercanos. One day they'll come to _me_ for a job! And then I can laugh at them.

I've been reading some stories online about people in my situation. Apparently people go out and write a best selling story, or work out and get buff or write songs, or discover some other way of becoming mega successful now they aren't held back by their cheating spouse. I don't think that's going to happen for me. But maybe I can do ok by just working for myself. Fuck Mercanos. Who needs them?

*****

Tara Western put down the phone and sighed. It had been a shitty week all round. Her committee work was running into issues of infighting among the bored socialite women who were on it – they had money and all of them wanted to be in charge. The boards of the three companies she worked as an officer for were also in chaos – one company was fighting for its life against a hostile take over, another was being roundly trounced by a new startup, offering the same services but almost for free and the third was just stagnant. It needed new leadership and to be bold and the fifty-eight-year-old CEO they currently had was just Not It.

It was all very stressful, and the news of Joe's demise had also given her more than a little pause for thought. She'd been looking for him for so long, so desperate to make amends, as much as she could. She could quite understand his reluctance; she'd given him no choices and just done whatever she had thought was best, never really considering the long term implications for him, beyond "He'll get over it. Better fast and quick than long and drawn out."

Now he was gone. Her chance at any kind of absolution was gone. It weighed on her, and she'd had some pretty awful dreams in the last two nights.

She'd spent one night just sitting with a bottle of wine, going over her life's choices and realizing how screwed up and one sided most of them had been. She was tired, she was beaten down and she had no idea how bad it was about to get.

The phone call had been from the front desk. That investigator woman was back and saying she needed to see Tara. They'd put her in the conference room on the second floor, the one with the view of the golf course.

Tara grabbed a coffee and breezed into the conference room, to find April seated on one side. She noticed she didn't rise when Tara entered the room, and that didn't feel appropriate, but Tara let it go. Her day was bad enough as it was without jumping on issues for someone she'd never see again.

She sat down quickly, put down her coffee and tried her best to smile. "Yes...April is it? What can I do for you today? Any luck with your investigation?"

April just looked back at her. She seemed to be weighing up the whole situation – Tara, the room, even the color of her hair. There was silence for a full minute that stretched out. Tara was about to say something when April said, "Yes, actually. I found where he lived. I found a lot of things. And I have to say, Mrs. Western, I don't much like of any of them. I had no idea Joe had such unbelievable sluts for wives. All the morals and ethics of a drugged out whore."

There was a stunned silence as Tara struggled to understand what had just been said to her. Had this woman just called her a whore...?

"I'm sorry...did you just...?" she stammered out.

"Call you a whore? Yes. Although I have a lot more respect for whores than I have for you, I have to say. Most of the whores I know are hardworking girls who make no bones about what they do for a living. Good luck to them, I say. You? You are a sneaky, backstabbing bitch who makes all of us look bad. You fucked someone to get a leg up and have the gall to say you are 'in love'. Fucking career whore. That's all you are Tara. A career whore, in every sense of the phrase. Have you ever cared about anyone? Beside yourself I mean? I'm curious." April's tone was even and the question was asked in a genuinely curious tone.

"I... I think I need to call security." Tara managed to get that out and reach for the phone.

"You do that Tara. You call security. I'll go easily, no question. But before you do, let me explain a few things to you. What's going to happen next."

Tara had the phone in her hand and a finger poised to dial but for some reason, she just didn't press the buttons. The women in front of her, saying these things, was nonchalant about it. There was no rancor. She might have been discussing the color of the wallpaper. There was something utterly terrifying yet mundane about the whole thing. It was terrifying because it was mundane to this woman.

"Good. I have your attention. Ok, so lets get it all out there. Firstly, I know everything that you did to Joe. Everything. How he felt about it, what you did, how he tried to pick himself up, everything. I even know about the business you tried to throw his way. Pretty nasty little high-powered version of a mercy fuck, don't you think? Did you know Joe moved to a shack in the woods to get away from you? You and that other bitch. Yeah, just because of what you did to him. I hope you're proud of yourself, I hope what you gained was worth it. Although, looking around here, and seeing your nice new Mercedes, I'm sure it was. To you.

"Too bad someone else paid for that eh? Still, that's been how your whole life has been, hasn't it? Always someone else paying. Right up till your politically expedient marriage dissolved. How did it feel to have someone do to you what you did to Joe? Painful much, was it? I'll bet to someone like you, someone who needs control so desperately, it must have really hit home. That's why you pushed that work Joe's way, wasn't it? Clumsy move on your part, but I can see why you did it."

April was just so conversational that Tara just sat there listening, fascinated in some deeply terrible way.

April smiled at her. And slid something across the table.

"So, retribution time. Time for you to pay the piper. That there is Joes journal."

Tara caught the notebook and picked it up. On the back page there was a CD taped on. She picked it up and opened a page at random, - desperately playing for time to get herself together, - while noting Joe's neat spider crawl hand writing. He never wrote in cursive – he had claimed that it was 'beyond his jarhead abilities.' The fact was that his normal handwriting looked great, almost printed.

"That has everything in it. Names, dates, everything," said April.

"What do you expect me to do with it? Read it? Look, I'll level with you. I feel beyond shitty about all this. But what can I do now? He's gone. I can never make it up to him. I'll have to live with what I did and it's becoming more and more apparent to me that it's going to get harder and harder. Reading this," she said, indicating the book, "isn't going to help or suddenly make me more able to fix anything."

"On the contrary," replied April, smiling a particularly nasty grimace, "it's going to do all that and more. Here's what's going to happen. I know you are on the board of Garin Publishing. They have a crappy CEO you want out, right?"

Tara found herself nodding and marveling at where this girl was getting her information. This was known only to the board at this time.

"Well, you are going to publish this. Word for word. That's what the CD is. I had someone type this up. I thought you'd like to see the original. I thought it might be published to look like this, you know, like a written journal?"

Tara just sat there, not moving. Eventually she said, "Did you say this named names? I can't publish this. It would end me."

April leaned forward, and her tone changed drastically – what she had to say was now even, low and delivered with intent. "Let me be clear, Mrs. Western, very clear. You are already ended, you just haven't realized it yet. You are going to publish this. And you aren't going to change one word in it. I have lots of copies of the original, and if one fucking word is changed, your life will be even more shitty than it's going to be. In fact, lets just clear up one thing right now..."

April picked up her bag, pulled out her phone and made a call.

"Hey Jessie. Put me through to Dermott please? Thanks."

They both waited for a moment, Tara leafing through the book, looking for instances of her name and April watching her, with the phone pressed against her ear.

"Dermott! Me again. Yes, another one. No, this is required too. Another forensic one. Yes, full on IRS audit. Yes, a lesson needs to be taught. This'll be it though. Name of Tara Western. Sits on the boards of a bunch of companies here in D.C. Yes. Forensic. The one where they crawl up your ass. Sure thing. Yeah, I understand. Make it happen sir!"

Throughout the whole brief phone conversation, April kept her gaze on Tara, who once she understood what was being said, looked back shocked.

She ended the call and Tara felt she had to do or say something. She was on the board of several companies and she was to be feared. She was handing nothing back and so she said, "Look, April or whatever your name is, I don't know what game is being played here, but I'm not playing ball. Anyone can make phone calls and pretend to know people at the IRS. Why don't you find a more deserving target to try and intimidate?"

There was silence for a few minutes longer, then April, now well and truly angry and eyes blazing with the fury of the righteous, said "Ok Tara. I was trying not to get pissed, but I can see how you drag it out of people. Now be aware, I work for a government agency. I'm not going to tell you which one, because it really doesn't matter. All that does matter is that I have you in my sights. I'm about to become the god emperor of your little world. To you, I'm the Angel of Fucking Death, like that lawyer in Florida, but far less forgiving. I have within me the ability to fuck up your life to the point where you'll put a gun in your mouth three months from now and end it yourself. Trust me on this. I'm so pissed at you for what you did to Joe, and what I'm telling you to do now is nothing compared to what I will do to you if you don't. This isn't a threat. It's a fact."

There was another silence. Tara was on the defensive, and when you are on the defensive, you play for time.

"I can't publish this. If it has my name in it, it'll ruin me. It's not like I would have the chance at reply. My career..."

"Your career has been on life support ever since you dumped Joe. It just didn't know it yet. It was just waiting for me to show up. Well, I'm here now, and you are done. The only question now is to what degree you are done. Your cushy little jobs are now over. Finished. So start getting used to that fact, because it's done. You don't publish this? Fine, I'll take over to Robson publishing. I suspect they'd love to do it. I'm giving it to you because it's better that you do it yourself. You can publish this and retire from public life, or I'll fucking destroy you. All legally too. Your choice. Don't want to believe me? That's fine too. Wait three days and lets see what happens with the IRS."

More silence. April waited a beat, then followed up with the appeal. In all good beat downs, there is a place where you point out to the victim the folly of their ways, and give them a way out. If you do it right, you can even get them to apologize to you for the way you have treated them. April didn't expect to get that here – Tara was too well grounded for that – but it would introduce a note of self-examination that would probably prove mineable in the future.

"The thing is, I think you'll do this anyway. I think you'll do this because even you know what an unbelievable shit you were to that man. He only wanted to make you happy, but what did you do? Move up on the chain as soon as you could. What was Joe, a 'starter husband'? He loved you. He had no idea you were as cold are you were. Are you still that cold Tara? Or are you starting to see what you did, what you are responsible for? I think you are. I think you know that this is one of the only ways you can start making up for what you did. You know it. I know it. You don't need the money from these jobs, for gods sake. Lets face it, dumping Joe and marrying that VP schmuck did wonders for the income. You are fine for life."

Tara just sat there, leafing through the book but not seeing any of the pages. She was desperately trying hard to not tear up. She heard what April was saying and her own conscience – that voice that of late would not let her think without chiming in – was agreeing.

"Lets say, for the sake of argument, that I did get this published. Then what? Are we done?"

April laughed a very humorless laugh. "Oh we are far from done Tara. So very far. I have a few more tasks for you yet."

Tara looked at April with a mixture of dread and expectancy.

"You are going to take up a new hobby. You are going to collect blankets and clothes from dry cleaners who have onsite lost and found and then donate them to the homeless shelters. You are going to do that yourself, personally. That's what Joe was doing the night he..." April faltered for a second, then rallied, "...saved my life. Someone needs to keep doing that. You are going to do it. In that nice Mercedes of yours.

"You, Tara Western, are going to volunteer your own time at a homeless shelter – ladle food into the tins of the people who need it and get shit all over your nice clothes. You aren't going to sit on a committee of society matrons who are bored and who aren't going to get within a mile of someone who actually needs their help, you are going to get right in there, stuck in. And I'll be watching. All the fucking time."

Tara swallowed.

"Lets see, what else? Oh yes, you are going to set up a scholarship, in Joe's name. With your money. And you are going to put over three hundred grand in it. It'll be awarded to the most deserving case of the breadline families who have the opportunity to send a son or daughter to college, but can't afford it."

Tara put down the book on the table and lent on it, to stop her hands from shaking.

"Oh and you are going to set up a college fund for a specific young man. Joe didn't know he had a son – the bitch he had it with kept it from him and lied to him. There's been some damage done there – damage that was long overdue – but if you ever cared about Joe, if you ever loved him, - and I have my doubts, - you'll do this. Ensure that kid has a future."

There was a stunned silence, which Tara broke and said, tremblingly, "He has a son? What's his name? Where is he? Is he with that Penny Bitch? I'll fucking strangle her with her own hair. He has a kid? He never knew? Oh fuck...oh my god..."

Tara broke down crying. She just sat there, sobbing. April's normal tendency to help was kept in check – she knew this is what Tara needed; some heavy reality. It was what would put her back on the track to being part of society again.

April let her cry for three minutes, and then said sharply, "Tara. That kid needs you to be looking out for him, ok? Knock the tears off. You can do that later. Now, do you hear what I said? Did you comprehend it?"

Tara nodded miserably, looking around for a tissue. April saw her do it and tossed her one from her own bag.

As Tara dabbed her eyes and wondered what she looked like – her mascara must be running, April continued.

"Make no mistake. You ARE going to do these things. Not just because I tell you, although that's reason enough, but because you know this is the right thing to do. You know it's time for you to fess up and deal with the implications of what you've done. It's time to pay, Tara, and you know it."

There was silence as the two women stared at each other for a moment. Then Tara blinked. She nodded and just said, simply, "OK."

"Oh and one last thing. Your ex. We are going to need to deal with him. Quite apart from what he's done to you – which you richly deserve by the way – what he did to Joe, that needs to be paid back. You were married and he went for you anyway. Quite apart from you being a faithless slut, it takes two to tango. So he gets his too. I will not let that pass."

Tara nodded again, with a little more energy this time.

"I have some idea's, but I'd like to hear what you have to say. Not now. Think on it, although I'm sure you already have. Now, read the book, get it sorted for publication. I'll be back in a bit to talk about it. The IRS thing, well, it's going to happen. But you deserve the pain. And you need to know I am serious. Don't get in my way or not do what I tell you, or it'll go the worse for you. I'm your worst nightmare Tara – I'm a smart bitch with resources who, right now, hates you for what you did to a good man -, don't ever forget that."

There was another silence and Tara took a ragged breath. Then she looked at April and said, "I honestly thought we were on the same page, back then. I really didn't understand. We used to sit around and talk about the future, about what we wanted. We both had dreams, he knew mine and I knew his. I just thought, 'that's where we are going, that's what we want'. I just made mine happen. He didn't.