A Chilling Friendship - Part IX

Now that she’s dead, I can write about her without fear of lawsuits or reprisals. We were best friends, almost sisters, until we weren’t. Jealousy overtook her, and as a result she intentionally and maliciously tried to sabotage my career. Revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. But my revenge was hot hot hot.  

THIS IS PART 9 of a TEN-PART FICTION STORY

with new episodes published on Tuesdays and Thursdays

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

 

“We need to meet and go to lunch,” Caroline said, with a big fake smile on her face.

“We’ve already burned that bridge,” I said. I could taste her meanness of decades before in my mouth. Caroline, I knew, was a sucker for buddying up to people who had high profiles in the public domain. I wasn’t going to give her that pleasure.

“Well, that was a long time ago,” Caroline said. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

I didn’t answer. Instead I put on my coat and headed for the door. Caroline’s face fell for a moment; but then she regained control and her expression became placid. “See ya,” she said.

I merely shrugged and kept going.

Walking across campus, I was surprised when a woman my age approached and said, “You’re a friend of Caroline Adler’s, aren’t you?” She had unruly brown hair pinned to the top of her head with a tortoise shell clasp, but she was well-dressed – expensive boots, gray flannel trousers, a dark red woolen coat.

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘friend’, exactly.”

“I work in the same department as Caroline.”

“And?”

“And it’s hard to get along with her.”

I turned to look more closely at the woman. “For everyone or just for you?”

“For everyone. It’s like she’s always about to stick a dagger in your back. Most people are scared of her.”

“She has that much power?”

“Oh yes.”

The woman told me her name – Eloise Hahn – and said she was a lecturer in the English department. I thought for a moment, studying her face. Then I said, “Let’s go for coffee. I have a story that might interest you.”

Eloise, who I later learned was married to a big deal lawyer, was all ears. Over coffee, I told her how Caroline had tried to screw me many years before. Her eyes grew wide as she listened, but she wasn’t surprised. “What a fucking bitch,” she said, and from the way she enunciated the words, I knew the story would travel.

All I had to do was wait.