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“Shit, how sad is that? Can you believe she’s actually still standing there, waiting for him? How long’s it been now?”
“Coming up to forty minutes!”
“Georgina, you are so bad. How long’s it going to take before the dumb bitch gets the message that Loverboy isn’t coming?”
“She’s so thirsty she’ll probably be there all night.”
“Ha! I can’t believe she fell for it. This picture you took issooofunny. Look at her face. She looks like she’s going to cry!”
“Oh my God and look at those clothes. She’s such a bloody slut.”
“More like homeless tramp. I bet she smells. She looks like she smells.”
“Of course, she smells. I don’t think the Devil’s Daughter ever washed at school, did she? Remember in P.E. how she always used to hide in the changing room while the rest of us showered?”
“Dirty whore was after your man, George. Can you believe it?”
“I know. The audacity!”
The girls exploded with laughter and rage as intense as fire gripped me. God Almighty, so the whole thing had been a set-up from the start to humiliate Jessica and the main instigator was this Georgina person, Jack’s so-called ex-girlfriend. How dare they? How could they be so cruel? How could they do that to another human being? The answer, of course, is jealousy. When it comes to women, it’s a tale as old as time. Jealousy and envy are most often the key to why there are so many fractured female friendships.
I only had to observe Georgina for a short period to get what she was about—the joy on her face as her friends stuck the knife in, the obvious pleasure she took from torturing her victim—and I knew she had bullied Jessica all throughout her teen years. By sheer intuition together with an acute understanding of the foul nature of most human beings, I could tell that she envied Jessica because she was everything Georgina was not: a natural beauty with style, grace and elegance and most of all,class. Something Georgina wouldn’t even know how to spell. On this basis alone, I decided very quickly that these girls needed to be taught a lesson, one they would never forget. Nobody fucks with my beauty.
Nobody.
For the next ten minutes or so, I eavesdropped on their conversation and soon discovered that the following night, Georgina’s parents were going to be away, and she planned to throw a raucous party. That was all I needed to hear. I now had the perfect opportunity to settle the score.
A loud shriek of laughter pulls me back to the current moment. I stare up at Georgina’s house. It’s an extremely nice period building with a freshly rendered exterior. It will be such a shame to destroy it…
Ah well. Time to make a move.
Silently, I reach in the back seat and wrestle out a black sports bag. Calmly, I unzip it and pull out a glass bottle and a can of petrol. I get out the car and stand at a safe distance. With cool precision, I pour the petrol into the glass bottle, stuff a grubby rag down its neck and set it alight. Adrenaline rushes through my veins. I smile in anticipation of what is to come.
Mustering all my strength, I throw the petrol bomb through the second-floor window and watch it explode into flames. Red and yellow lights up the night sky. Thick charcoal smoke billows out through the windows as the whole floor is engulfed. The pungent smell of charred wood and debris fills the air. I watch the carnage unfold for a couple of seconds, and then I return to my Range Rover and sit behind the wheel, basking in the glory of my act of vengeance.
I hear terrified screams from within but feel nothing; absolutely nothing. No remorse, no sympathy. Nothing. I am completely numb. Their terror is like music to my ears, and I have no qualms whatsoever about the brutality of my actions. I could not care less whether these bastards live or die. They are nasty people who deserve everything that is coming to them. Perhaps Georgina and her friends will think twice the next time they decide to destroy a person’s life, especially when that person is someone I regard so highly.
With a mirthless smile, I rev the engine and drive off into the night. Mission complete.Retribution is a bitch.
The next day, as I’m sitting at the piano in the drawing room, playing a little melody I composed for my own personal amusement, my mother appears in the doorway, her face pale and drawn. As always, she looks like she’s dressed for a funeral (I wish she’d start wearing bright colours again), and for a few moments, my fingers continue to dance over the piano keys, lost in a world of symphonic bliss.
“I just received a call from that lady at the escort agency.” Her voice strikes a note of discord.
Instantly, I stop playing and turn around to face her. “What did she want?”
“She said Jessica Gardner wants to see you again. Apparently, she wants to proceed with the original terms of our agreement and ‘go through with it.’ Her words not mine.”
Excitement rises in my chest. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Did she really say that?”
“Yes. Well? What do you want me to tell her?”
“Tell her yes, of course I want to see Jessica again. I want her brought here tonight. See to it that it happens.”
Beatrix hesitates and I can tell she has something else she wants to say.
“Yes, Mother, what is it? You have something on your mind, just say it.”
“Once you’ve slept with Jessica; once you’ve got this fascination with her out of your system, will that be an end to it?”
