The Payback Club
It all started up again because of the society page.
I was sitting in my breakfast room, minding my own business, reading the newspaper and eating my bowl of Total with a half-cup of skim milk and a slice of cantaloupe. My trainer would be so proud. Then I opened the Living section, and whom do I see laughing up at me? Ed, my ex-husband, and Barracuda Woman, his much younger new wife. It's a photo of them at the YMCA's annual fund-raiser ball.
I stared at them, trying to ignore the sudden pounding of my heart. I shouldn't be surprised. She'd already stolen my husband; why wouldn't she steal my charity too? And yet despite my noble attempt at logic, I felt the little hairs on the back of my neck lift. No, my hackles lifted. "Hackles" sounds more visceral, more primitive. I spy my enemy and my hackles lift.
In the wild, animals have two choices when faced with an enemy: fight or flight. But we humans work so hard to be civilized. Someone carves the heart out of your chest, and all you do is smile and put on the false front of civility so the rest of the world can't see that your life's blood is dripping away, drop by bitter drop.
Even ... read full excerpt from: The Payback Club ebook
