I’m still furious the next day, when I arrive at the office building for the mandatory in-person staff meeting. It’s a strange feeling, being inside of this building. I haven’t been here in more than six months, when I started working remotely. I instinctively keep worrying about Donnie, wondering if he’s safe, even though Sean is home with him. It’s just a weird adjustment to get used to not being so close to my kid and husband all day long.
Although truthfully, it was better for me to get away from them this morning. I’ve been in a foul mood since I got home last night. I told Sean I’d had a fight with a friend and didn’t elaborate. He tried to comfort me, but I felt so guilty and disgusted with myself that I couldn’t let him touch me. Same with Donnie. When I saw him last night, all I could think was what a spitting image of his father he is, and how the child I’m carrying won’t look anything like Sean. What if Sean can tell right away? What if the kid grows up to look like Jason and Sean realises what happened? What if he starts to hate the son he’s raised as his own? What if he divorces me?
I ended up locking myself in the bathroom and rage-crying for half an hour, then lying catatonic on my bed, unable to move. Jason’s words kept swirling through my head: I’d do anything – anything – to make sure I don’t lose you again.
As they echoed through me, I vacillated between fear, depression and anger. But this morning, it’s anger that has won out. Anger and pure rage.
Jason might be willing to do anything to get me back, but I’m also willing to do whatever it takes to protect my family.
As I take the lift up to the fifteenth floor, where my office is located, I try to push these thoughts from my mind. Around me, colleagues I know vaguely from Zoom are chatting happily, and the lift is abuzz with excitement. The general atmosphere is of a party; it must be exciting to have all the remote workers in the office. The company has even rented out the backroom of an Italian restaurant down the street for us to go to after, for dinner and drinks. I wish I could feel as enthused as everyone else, but it’s hard when thoughts of Jason and the baby keep butting into my mind.
Up on the fifteenth floor, I follow the familiar corridors to my office. Unlocking it, I enter to find the place just how I left it: tidy, with pictures of Donnie and Sean on my desk and taped to the filing cabinet. There’s a thin layer of dust on the desk and computer monitor, but otherwise is unchanged. When I started working remotely, I thought I’d come in a couple days a week, just to stay connected with all my colleagues. But I only went in once, right at the beginning, and never went back. Working from home in my pyjamas was just too easy and convenient.
After switching on the lights, I settle into my desk chair and look around the office. I still have fifteen minute until the All Staff meeting begins, which should give me enough time to clear my head and try to rid myself of the anger that it currently preoccupying every inch of me. I need to get my head in the game. I’ll be presenting about the newest audit, and Steve is expecting me to make a good impression on the top brass. He’s put in a good word for me, after all.
But before I can even begin to clear my mind, there’s a sharp rap on the door, and I look up to see Julie standing in the doorway.
At once, my stomach plummets. If Julie has come seeking me out, right before the meeting, then I know this can’t be good. She’d only come here to try and sabotage me.
“Do you have a minute, Jazz?” She asks. She doesn’t wait for my response. Coming into the room, she closes the door behind her with a definitive snap. Up close, Julia is shorter than I remember, and less pretty. There are lines around her eyes and mouth, and on her forehead, that Zoom smoothes out with its filters. She looks old and tired, if I’m being honest, and for one vindictive moment, I feel thankful for my relative youth and good looks.
“What can I help you with, Julie?” I ask, leaning back in my chair in a way I hope projects cool indifference.
Julia takes another step towards me. “I know it was you,” she says, her voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it. Despite this, her words are sharp with anger, and I feel myself bristle in response.
“It was me, what?” I snap.
“I know it was you who started the rumour about my husband.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Julie.”
“Yes you do. The rumour that my husband had an affair? Even if you didn’t start it, I know you heard it. You’d love to see me humiliated, wouldn’t you?”
I try to feign incredulousness. “You’re the one who enjoyed humiliating me, Julie,” I say, spreading my hands wide. “I’ve only ever respected you.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Julie’s nostrils flare. “You’ve been after my job for months. You’re a snake, and you know it. Worst of all, you’re terrible at your job, but you’ve somehow managed to ingratiate yourself with Steve and trick him into thinking you’re something other than the lazy, mediocre accountant I know you to be. You probably slept with him, or at least sent him some dirty texts, to get him under your thumb, didn’t you?”
I stare at Julie, hardly believing what I’m hearing. “What the fuck? Of course I didn’t! How can you even -”
“Because that’s what whores like you do.” Julie takes another step towards me, and I’m suddenly afraid. She’s not as threatening as Jason was, but she’s still standing and I’m sitting. It makes the power balance feel all of.
“You have no right to speak to me that way,” I snarl, pushing myself to my feet.
“Oh, but I do. You’re the one who started the rumour about my husband, and I know why.”
“No, I didn’t,” I say forcefully. “I’m sorry someone started that rumour, but it wasn’t me.”
Julie’s lip curls. “Mark told me everything, Jazz. He told me that he met you as part of the Weekend Club. So you see, I know it had to be you. No one else knows we belong to that app except for you, because you fucked my husband.”
So she knows. My head is pounding, and my mouth has gone dry. She knows. But so what? She can’t do anything about it. If she tells people, then she has to admit that she is part of the app, too. I suppose she could say that I simply had an affair with Mark after meeting him at the company Christmas party, but then I would reveal the truth. Although either way, it would make me look bad. It would make both of us look bad. Maybe that’s how I’ll play it… mutually assured destruction.
I jut my chin out and stare back at Julie, defiant. “So what if I did sleep with him? It doesn’t mean I told anyone. Maybe he told someone, and it got around. But if you tell anyone about it, I’m going to tell them you’re part of the Weekend Club, too.”
To my surprise, Julie laughs. It’s a cold sound and sends a shiver down my spine. “Oh, Jazz. Jazzy Jazz Jazz. I’m not here to threaten you. I’m not going to tell anyone that you screwed my husband.”
“Then… why are you here?” I ask uncertainly.
“To inform you that I had my revenge.” For a moment, I am gripped with fear, imagining what she might have done to ruin my relationship with Steve and my chances at getting the promotion. But what she says is much, much worse. “You see, while you were screwing my husband, I was fucking yours. You have a nice man, there. Sean’s a good lover. And he very much enjoyed fucking the brains out of the woman who controls your fate at work. The woman you hate so much.”
It is as if I am seeing red. I’ve never understood that expression before, until now. The whole room dims, then goes shades of pink, and a surge of energy and rage flows through me. I feel as if I could leap over my desk and rip Julie’s head from her shoulders. She fucked Sean?! Sean fucked her?! Sean went on a date with the woman I hate most in the world, after badgering me that it was a bad idea for me to go on a date with her husband? He fucked my boss??
“I know this is probably hard for you to hear,” Julie is saying from a long ways off. “But you should know: no matter how far you climb in this company, I will always have screwed your husband all night long, so that he was so drained that he couldn’t summon any words, let alone any memories of you. Do you understand, Jazz? I had your husband, and I’ll always have you.”
The horror of it all washes through me again, and I feel like I am going to be sick. Combined with the morning sickness, I am surprised that I don’t vomit all over my desk. Instead, as I stare at the self-satisfied, vindictive smirk on Julie’s face, I am filled with a rage I have never felt before.
Rage at Julie, for making my work life a living hell these past few years, and now inserting herself into my private life to ruin that as well. Rage at Sean, for fucking the woman I hate most in the world, knowing full well how much like a betrayal that would feel. Rage at Jason, for how powerless he has made me feel, for threatening me. Which makes me rage again at Sean. I was trying to protect him and our children by standing up to Jason, and for what? He betrayed me. He doesn’t deserve my protection. And then, of course, rage again at Julie, for coming into my office right before the meeting and making sure I can think about nothing other than my husband’s cock inside of her.
And then all of the anger that has been boiling inside of me since I realised I was pregnant and would have to lie to Sean comes to a head. It hits me full in the face, as hard and as fast as a train, and all of it, all the anxiety, fear, guilt, shame, and fury, burst out of me. I don’t leap over the desk, but I move so quickly that Julie doesn’t have a chance to respond.
Within seconds, I have hurtled around the desk and grabbed her by the hair. She lets out a scream as I yank down, her whole body crumbling before me, and she falls to the ground. I am on top of her in an instant. It flashes through my mind that I should punch her, but somehow, I can’t seem to ball my hands into a fist. Instead, I keep pulling her hair with one hand, and with the other I dig my fingers into her cheek. I am making growling, grunting noises, and they sound animalistic and inhuman, even to me.
Even though I am on top of her, Julie begins to fight back. Her hands reach up and grab me around the throat, half choking me and half pushing me away. I only push down harder, my legs straddling hers, and her fast twists with rage and pain.
“Get the fuck off me you stupid bitch!!!!” She screams, and I respond by slapping her harder across the face. She lets out another wail, and now tears are streaming down her cheeks. When I see them, I hesitate for a second, and it costs me. She’s able to push me backward, and I lose my balance. Seconds later, hands are seizing me from behind, and someone is pulling me off of Julie.
“Stop, Jazz, stop!!” I hear a man shout. “You’re hurting her!”
But I don’t listen or go easily. Even as his strong hands pull me back, I continue to kick and wave my arms violently, screaming incoherently as I do. Julia falls back onto the floor and curls into a ball, sobbing now, her hands over her face.
“That’s right, pretend to be the fucking victim now!” I screch, the first real words I’ve said since I attacked her, and I hear the person holding me gasp.
Then there are the sounds of people running, or shouts or concern, of voices filling up the room, and I look around to see half a dozen of my colleagues pouring into the room, shocked and confused looks on their faces.
The sight of them calms me slightly, and I go limp in my captor’s arms. Looking up, I see that it’s Andy who has his arms locked around me.
“What the fuck?” Someone says, as several others rush to Julie’s side. They kneel by her, murmuring soft, comforting words, and she eventually lowers her hands and looks up at them, tears still staining her cheeks.
“It’s okay, Julie, don’t worry,” one of them murmurs. “Andy’s got her now. It’s going to be okay.”
“What happened?” A man I recognise only by sight asks, glancing from Julie’s tear-streaked face to mine.
“I don’t know exactly,” I hear Andy say. “I saw them talking through the glass, and then Jazz just attacked her! Unprovoked!”
“It wasn’t unprovoked!” I snarl, and everyone looks at me, then looks away quickly. It’s like I’m some sort of disgusting, polluted lepe that they can’t bear to make eye contact with. “She said… she…” But I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell them she fucked my husband without admitting that I had sex with hers, too. And then everyone will know that I’m the one who started the rumour about Mark. “She’s been bullying me for months!” I say instead.
“Then you should have reported it to HR!” A woman who works in another department snaps at me. “Instead of resorting to violence!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Jazz?” Another woman, who has often seen Julie bully me, asks. She’s glaring daggers at me.
“You’ve seen how she treats me!” I shout, almost pleadingly, staring at her.
She just looks disgusted. “And yet, you still managed to become a project manager running your own audit. You’re unbelievable.”
Julie whimpers on the floor again, and everyone turns to look at her.
“We should call an ambulance,” the first man says. “Just in case she really hurt her.”
Someone pulls out a mobile phone and dials 911. I hear them talking to the operator as if from a great distance. More and more people are arriving in the hall outside my office, trying to find out what the commotion is all about. I hear gasps and horrified whispers, and I close my eyes and try to block it all out. The rage is still so strong that I’m not able to feel guilty or regretful about what I’ve done. In fact, if Andy would let go of me, I would take another go at Julie.
But he doesn’t. He holds onto me tight, never once slackening his grip. He must like this; having power over me, after how I used my power as project manager to get him to start the rumour.
And he keeps holding onto me until Steve arrives. I know it’s coming from the way the people outside of the office grow quiet and stop fidgeting. Then Steve steps into the office and takes in the scene with cool, calm eyes. But despite his poker face, I can see a vein in his temple bulging.
“What happened here?” Steve asks. He looks between everyone in the room, as if unsure who has the right answer.
From the floor, Julie speaks. “She attacked me.” Her voice is shaky, and the look on her face is one of pure hatred. She raises a hand and points at me. “She’s crazy.”
Steve turns to me, and the look on his face is unreadable. It’s almost as if he wants me to deny it. “Is that true, Jazz? You attacked Julie?”
Slowly, I nod. There’s no point in pretending otherwise. There were witnesses.
His forehead knits together. “Why? Why would you do something like that?”
But I don’t know how to answer. There’s no way to explain. I merely stare at him, mute, my jaw set, until his shoulders slump and he turns away.
“You’re fired, Jazz,” he says, very softly. I almost don’t hear him. “Leave now, leave all your things, we’ll have someone mail them to you. I expect you’ll be hearing from our attorneys as well. Now get out.”
Andy releases me at last, and I take a step towards the desk. The whole room tenses, as if they’re expecting me to attack all of them. But I just grab my handbag from the desk, brushing close to Julie as I do, who doesn’t look at me. Then, without making eye contact with anyone, I turn and leave the room. The people outside part to let me through. Some art starting to whisper again. A few have their phones out, and I know they’re live streaming. It only makes me angrier, and I have to hold myself back from ripping the phones out of their hands.
There’s no one else in the lift, thank God. Panic is starting to gather at the edges of my vision as I stand in the small metal box, hurtling towards the ground. I’ve lost my job. I might lose my husband. He could take custody of Donnie if the courts think I’m violent. But panic won’t help me now. I need to stay angry; stay justified.
An ambulance is pulling into the car park as I step outside, its sirens echoing loudly against the concrete buildings. For a brief moment I remember that Donnie went to the hospital, and I feel another shudder of anger.
This is all the fault of the Weekend Club. None of it would have happened if not for that app.
