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As I walked down the hallway on the second floor of the Wilshire Hotel in Manhattan, looking for the Hospitality Suite, my stomach was tied up in knots again. Nervously, I glanced at my watch. If everything was going according to plan, she would already be in there by now, waiting for Patrick.
A perfect revenge is turning the tables on your enemy, using the same strategies which they used against you, but without their awareness of it. Therefore, this couldn’t have been any more fitting. A note was passed, a signature forged, and a deceptive play was launched. Hopefully, the bait was taken.
Pausing for a moment in front of the door of the Hospitality Suite, I took a deep breath. It was now or never. Pushing the door open, I entered the room and there she was, the rat had taken the bait. She was standing across the room, two glasses of red wine already poured, ready, one of them waiting for Patrick.
“Chloe, what the hell are you doing here?” The Baroness, dressed in a stunning red velvet evening gown, spun around from her stance near the window. A look of annoyance drew across her face, and she said, “I’m waiting for someone and I would appreciate it if you would leave.”
I waited for the door to click shut behind me, and stepped into the sitting area near the small settee. “Oh, I’m sorry Anna, but Patrick had somewhere else to be so he is not going to be able to make it, but I’m glad you got my note, because I wanted to discuss a matter with you.”
She tossed her hair with indifference. “Ah, so you're being clever now, giving me a note, saying it is from your distrustful boyfriend, Patrick. Where do you think that’s going to get you?” Her voice was thick with ridicule.
“Just a fun little - payback, Anna, from the note you had the waiter slip me back in the Hamptons,” I answered, with staid calmness, over my beating heart. My eyes narrowed as I continued, my voice masking my rattled nerves. “You actually thought Patrick was coming here to be your little play toy? Really? Like you can buy him for a million bucks? Don't you get it? He loves me and I love him. All of your millions can’t persuade
Patrick to leave me. He has too much integrity for that, and besides, money can’t buy you love as The Beatles would sing.” I stood firm, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You don’t even know what you are up against, you little hick. I have more power than you even know. With the snap of my fingers, everything you have ever hoped for will vanish in front of your eyes. I have enough money to buy anyone, or anything. I have friends in high places that I can influence. I have everyone wrapped around my little finger.” Her voice was cold and exact, her face screwing up into an ugly expression. She was more delirious than I had thought, her mind poisoned by her own narcissistic beliefs about her power and money. She stormed over to the desk, on the opposite side of the room, to collect her purse and evening wrap, intent on leaving, but before she could make it to the door, I dropped a bombshell.
“Look, Anna, I know about you and Francisco.” She stopped in her tracks, turning slowly to listen. “I know that you hired him, to wine and dine me, to make me fall in love with him, so you could have Patrick. To build me up, only to destroy me, have him beat me, and almost rape me.” I glared at her, bitterly spitting out each word, wishing they were stones, I could have battered her with. “And if it wasn’t for Patrick coming to intervene, Francisco would probably have killed me.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” There was a cold edge of disbelief in the tone of her voice. “It’s a nice story you’ve made up, but why would I want to do that? You are nothing to me, you are like a bug on my windshield that can be wiped away.” She gestured with a haughty wave of her hand.
“You know that’s a lie,” I scoffed and leaned forward. “You had it in for me ever since the first time Patrick laid eyes on me. You couldn’t stand to see that he wanted me, that I am younger and prettier than you, that I am more talented and a better person than you are. Not only does Patrick not want you, but no one will, Anna. No- One. No one wants a sorry-ass, evil-hearted, buy people for their love, loser-bitch, like you. You have been used to getting everything you want, ever since you were born.” I leaned back, and said in a mocking voice, “Anna always got her way.” My speech pattern was picking up speed, as I fired up my rebuttals to throw at this horrid, evil woman. “You couldn’t stand that Patrick was lavishing his attention on me, and not you. You despised me, and you even showed it in the bathroom that night in the restaurant. You mutha-fuckin bitch, I should have beat the shit out of you right then and there... if I had only known what would happen after that...” My emotions were winding me up like a spring, but a little voice in the back of my mind urged me to cool down and stay calm. I had to remain focused and rational, in order to get through this.
Her tone hardened and she retorted tartly. “Keep dreaming, little fool. How would you ever prove any of these wild accusations of yours?”
“I don’t need proof, I heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.” I said, in an even voice. I had managed to get my nerves under control.
She paused, distracted by her own arrogance and seemed mildly amused. “What are you talking about? What horse’s mouth?”
“He’s already here now.”
“Who’s here now?”
“Francisco.” I studied her face, watching for clues to her surprise, but as usual she kept an icy poker face. “You didn’t know that the police caught him? You didn’t know that there was an international warrant out for his arrest? They caught him here in New York. He made a plea bargain with the police and confessed everything, ev-ry-thing.” I enunciated each syllable of the word, letting it sink in, yet still, not a flinch from her stone cold expression, as if nothing she did caused her any remorse, the tell-tale sign of a true sociopath.
“Bullshit, you’re lying. If he confessed that I was involved with this, the police would be standing here instead of you. You are making this whole thing up. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know a, Francisco,” she replied smugly, tucking a small folded paper into her satin evening purse.
A knock on the door lifted her eyes and drew her attention. “Well, if you don’t know him, why is he here now?” I hung back behind the door, as it opened and Francisco sauntered in. I thought I noticed a moment’s hesitation on the Baroness’ face as her eyelid twitched, and she bumped into the table with the glasses of wine, sending them crashing to the floor. Francisco exhaled an expletive, as I stepped out from behind the door, shutting it firmly behind me. He didn’t seem surprised to see the Baroness, but he was definitely bewildered to see me and Baroness, together in this room.
“What the fuck is this?” he ranted, gesturing around the room, holding his cell phone in the palm of his hand. “Are you setting me up?” he said with a stern look at the Baroness. “You texted me to come here...you said you have another job for me, but it looks like you're setting me up and I’m not taking the fall for this.” He flailed his arms wildly, his hot temper flaring, as he got in the Baroness’ face, shouting and pointing at me. “And she is here. What fuck is she doing here?” His voice was loud and brash. I thought for sure the Baroness would crumble under his wrath, but she remained cold as ice.
“I didn’t text you, you idiot. Someone else must have done it. They tricked you to show up here so you could make a fool of yourself, you fucking moron. Did you confess to anyone?”
“Who would I confess to? I’ve been holed up in a hotel room for weeks, waiting to hear from you. You owe me money...you said there would be a bonus.”
The Baroness pulled back from Francisco’s screaming face, with a look of discernment. “Well, I’ve had about enough of this ridiculous charade. There’s no proof of anything.”
I could tell that she was about ready to bolt for the door, and in a brave move, I stepped in her path to confront her head on. “Maybe not, but just tell me one thing Anna, why me? You had it out for me right from the get go. Why me? You hired someone to beat me to the point of almost being hospitalized. Why me?”
Lowering her eyes, she silently looked me up and down before speaking.
“Because you are just too easy. You are a pushover from Iowa cow country. I did it for amusement, and… you already know why. Patrick was in love with you from the minute he laid eyes on you. I knew that I didn’t stand a chance, with you flashing your young firm tits around him, so the only way I could get him back, would be to destroy you. When my private detective informed me that you were working in an art gallery in Paris for that gay fellow, Ryan Barrick, it didn’t take him long to find out whom Ryan’s first featured artist was going to be. Imagine my satisfaction, when I found out it was a convicted felon, convicted for not only falsifying famous paintings, but more importantly, he also had a history of domestic violence. So, I contacted him... and as you know, money talks. I just wanted you to feel the sting a little, have him rough you up. He was happy to comply.” A foul smile crossed her heinous face.
“Finally, you are admitting it.” I could see from the gloating in her eyes that she was proud of her actions. What a sick, evil bitch! Despite the gravity of the situation, a wave of relief rolled through my body, as I was finally verified in my beliefs about her motivations.
“Well, there’s no way you can prove it anyway. Francisco is not going to talk. Obviously, he will be on the next flight to South America, or wherever he can hide.” She turned in Francisco’s direction, like she was going to call a dog to obediently follow her. “Right, Francisco?”
“Yea, of course, as long as I get my bonus.” He glowered at her, as he nervously paced the floor waiting to be dismissed by her.
“You will get your bonus, as long as you get the fuck out of here, moron.”
Turning her vileness back in my direction, she said, “So you see, simple little Chloe, with Francisco out of the country, there's no way you can prove any of this ever happened. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you an offer. If you go back to your dreary cow country tomorrow, and leave Patrick alone, I will write you a check for $100,000 right now, as long as I never see your pathetic face again.”
“Hmm, that’s a very tempting offer, but I doubt your check can be cashed while you are in prison.”
“Once again...no proof.”
“Oh, but you are so mistaken, Anna. I have all the proof I need. You just confessed, not only to me, but also to the friggin’ FBI.” I nodded in direction of the little figurine of a dolphin sitting on top of the dresser, containing a hidden camera and microphone.
I prayed that Mark Blunk’s colleague, agent Cooper of the FBI, truly was outside the door as promised, ready to bust in at any moment. I saw Francisco nervously twitching, and eyeing the door, betting whether I was bluffing, or telling the truth. He decided not to wait to find out and bolted for the exit, plowing over the Baroness and knocking her to the ground. Before he could scramble out the door, three large FBI agents busted in and caught him up in their massive arms. Kicking and screaming like a girl, his lightweight frame was no match for the brick wall of the FBI agents.
Patrick pushed in past them, practically leaping over the men to get to my side, as the agents worked quickly to restrain Francisco, with Ryan close on his heels. As Patrick took hold of my arm to guide me to safety, I turned back in the direction of Francisco, and said, “Oh, Francisco, when you get to prison, and you are in the shower, be sure to bend over to pick up the soap. I hear they really like ass fucking in the slammer.” Patrick quickly ushered me over to the couch, away from the scuffle near the door.
“Chloe, baby, are you alright?” His eyes earnestly searched my face. “I was so worried about you, but you did a great job,” he gushed at me, holding my face in his hands and gently stroking my hair out of my face.
“Oh God, just let me sit down, I’m shaking like a leaf,” I said, my throat dry and my breathing erratic from the gallons of adrenalin rushing through my body. My legs felt like they were made of rubber, and I was relieved to feel the stability of the couch finally meet my body, when I collapsed. Standing face to face with the man who almost raped me, made me feel sick to my stomach. Patrick perched himself on the arm of the couch in a strategic position, where he could protectively hover over me, and shield my line of vision to that grotesque man.
Patting me on my back, Ryan said, “You are a pretty tough cookie, sweetie. You really surprised me, the way you handled the Baroness.”
“Thank you, Ryan. We really need to thank Mark Blunk also. If he hadn’t hacked into the Baroness’ phone records, we would never have been able to locate Francisco and fake a text to him, pretending to be from the Baroness.”
Agent cooper rushed over with a steel look on his face. “You did great, Miss Swanson. We really appreciated your willingness to participate and get her to confess. It was a scary situation, but you handled it like a pro, maybe the FBI could use a new agent,” he chuckled, trying to add levity to the situation. “How did you know that she would admit to everything?”
“It’s in her nature. She is proud of what she did and loves to brag. It was just a matter of pushing the right buttons,” I said with contentment.
“Well, it worked like a charm.”
“I’m just glad this is all over.” I sighed with relief. “Right now though, I just want to get the hell out of here and go home.” I looked up into Patrick’s steel-blue eyes, brimming with concern for me.
“Sure baby, let’s go home,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder.
The agents read the Baroness her Miranda Rights and cuffed her. Showing no expression on her face, she stared blankly, as if focused on something in the distance, refusing to look in my direction. The events of the Hospitality Suite at the Wilshire Hotel were wrapped up for the evening, as Patrick and I stood up from the couch to leave the luxurious suite. I would be happy if I never saw it again in my life. As we watched the agents escort the Baroness out of the room, Patrick put his arm around my shoulder and gave a squeeze, an indelible confirmation that he would always be there for me.