Bet Me

“He moved in with her.”

Suddenly, my fight leaves me. I slump onto the nearest chair, not caring that it’s harder than steel. “I can’t believe it,” I say softly, looking around. “He didn’t even tell me. He just went straight from my bed to hers. And I thought we were in love.”

“Asshole,” Jacob says comfortingly. “I told you, it’s an illusion: romance, love—all of it. No one’s ever who you think they are. Especially women.”

“Ha!” I give a weak laugh. “Listen buddy, it’s not like women have some kind of exclusive market on being emotionally unavailable—men do just fine on that front too, believe me.” And looking around, I’ve got the evidence.

“And you know this from, what? One bad breakup and you’re the fucking Buddha? You’ve got all the answers?” He raises an eyebrow, and I either want to kiss or slap him, I don’t know which.

“No.” I try to hold back the tears. “Obviously I don’t. I mean, look at this. It’s perfect. She’s perfect. Who could blame him for upgrading?”

“Hey,” he scolds me. “Didn’t you tell me not to be a fucking pussy?”

I look up. “Don’t.” I shake my head. “That’s different.”

“To hell it’s different. You came here for revenge, so let’s fucking give it to him.”

“How?” I ask. “I don’t even know what to do right now.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve spent the last six months addicted to Reddit,” Jacob grins.

I frown. “Isn’t that full of internet fanboys and weird porn links?”

“Yeah, but also a message board where everyone shares their petty revenge schemes.” He smiles at me. “I’ve seen everything.”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . putting dog shit in all the air vents,” Jacob says, thinking hard. “Leaving the faucets running, since they’ll be out all night. Cutting a hole in the crotch of all his pants. Dialing an adult sex line and leaving the phone off the hook.”

He’s right. They are petty plans—and right now, they’re pretty damn tempting. Still, the sane, rational, sober brain cell left in my head hesitates. “Wouldn’t that just make me the crazy ex-girlfriend Todd gets to complain about to all his friends?”

“So what?” Jacob pulls me to my feet. “Fuck Todd.”

That sounds good.

“Fuck Todd,” I repeat.

“Atta girl.”

I look around, my anger returning. “Fuck Todd and his perfect new girlfriend and the fact they were clearly screwing behind my back for god knows how long. ‘We’ve just drifted apart. We want different things now. I swear there’s nobody else,’ ” I mimic. “Fuck that bullshit!”

I remember Todd’s sincere apologies and cringe. I believed him, too. How much of a doormat was I?

“Where do we start?” Jacob asks.

I narrow my eyes. “The closets. He has a thing for designer suits.”

“Lead on!”

I head down a long hallway that must lead to the bedroom. “Bingo.” The only light in the room is coming from a crystal chandelier in the enormous walk in closet, where countless rows of shoes and designer handbags are lined up on shelves.

“Oh my god,” I moan, pulling out a sequined dress that looks more appropriately sized for a third grader than any kind of grown-ass woman. “Look at this. How does she eat?”

I pull a pair of jeans off a hanger and peer at the tag inside. “Size 0? How is that even possible? These would barely fit over one of my thighs, much less both.”

Jacob starts rifling through the drawers. He moves aside what looks like a pile of expensive lingerie, then pulls out a handful of what look like prescription pill bottles, holding them up triumphantly.

“Exhibit A: Adderall. It’s easy to fit a size zero when you never eat.” He tosses the pills over. I catch them, he’s right.

“How did you know?”

“Isabel’s the same.”

I snort. “I bet she is. Tell the truth, you’ve never dated a woman over a hundred pounds, have you?”

Jacob coughs, looking uncomfortable. “I like athletic women.”

I hoot with laughter. “Athletic is just shorthand for ‘skinny but does yoga once a week.’ Try again, mister.”

Jacob puts his hands up. “OK, OK, but I’m telling you, it gets pretty old after a while. I mean, sometimes you just want to go out and get a greasy burger from Shake Shack, right?”

I nod wordlessly. I love Shake Shack so much that they should probably erect a plaque there in my honor. Frozen custard is my life.

“It kind of takes all the fun out of it when your date’s glaring at you over her hot water and lemon, you know?”

“No, but I can certainly imagine.” I folded the jeans in half, putting them back on the hanger. “Though you certainly wouldn’t have that problem with me—Todd always said I should lose ten pounds, but I love food too much,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Well, we already know Todd’s a fucking moron.” He smiles, and it’s so charming, I wonder how Isabel could have walked away.

“How long did you date her?” I wonder aloud, watching him stride around like he owns the place, flipping on all of the lamps, bathing the room in light.

“Long enough to know better.” He heads into the en-suite master bath, and I follow, almost groaning aloud when I see the size of the soaking tub.

Hell, I’d fuck Harmony for a tub like that.

“What does that mean?” I try to focus.

He pauses before answering.

“It means that my head was telling me one thing and my dick another. Story of my life,” he says with a low chuckle. “It means that if I know what’s good for me, I should trust my head and ignore the fuck out of my heart.”

“Yeah,” I drawl, “that sounds like a great idea. Super practical.”

“You live, you learn.” He shrugs. “I’m guessing you won’t be leaping head over heels for the next guy who comes along, either.”

I pause. “I don’t know. I may be angry and bitter and heartbroken, but I still believe. In love. Eventually.”

“Good luck with that.” Jacob sounds skeptical, and I don’t want to get sucked into misery again, so I look around with new ambition.

“OK, we’re here. What first?”

Jacob hands me a pair of nail scissors from the armoire. “Go crazy.”

I take them and step into the closet, finding the rows of precious designer suits. Todd would fuss over them forever, insisting on having me schlep to the fancy dry cleaners ten blocks away instead of handing them off to Mrs. Lin across the street like normal. Now, I trail my fingers over the wool and imagine his face when he finds them shredded to bits.

Except . . .

Maybe all-out destruction isn’t the way to go here. Think sneaky, I tell myself, and get to work.



Five minutes later, I emerge to find Jacob on a stool in the living room, doing something to the curtains. “Mission accomplished?” he asks. The dog is panting at his feet like he worships the dude.

I know how he feels.