Bitter Payback

All it took was a golden strand of medium length curly hair, flattened and stuck within the middle pages of the bound canvas notebook, for S to know without a doubt who it belonged to. He inspected it for a minute, wishing he could go back, fondly remembering the dark thong panties he took from her that were stashed away in his drawer back home, and the confounding love/hate relationship tore at his heart.

But there's no going back.

Before that, a candle lit party at The Jungle which had them meet again. Old fashioned's and Cosmos lined the rounded booth table along which jackets and Vuitton backpacks were strewn about. He hadn't seen her in 2 years, and was anxiously awaiting the hate that had seethed from him to come up again, however he was astonished when he felt a flood of love and desire-even after everything she had done to him.

It's dark- and called the Jungle in thanks to the hundreds of palm and banana leaf trees hiding around the corners and accenting animal printed wallpapers. Low-hanging accent lamps paired with candles to emanate the warm glow necessary for a memorable night. She's already been there for some time when he approaches- her gin and tonic is almost empty and she is laughing as vivaciously as he remembers while talking closely with Kim and an unknown douche with a muscle tank on.

"Delilah" He breathes out her name like a prayer. They embrace, she is careful to move the moment along quickly which leaves him feeling unsettled, wanting more. The atmosphere is effectively welcoming, with close hugs between the women and warm handshakes and smiles among the males. It was lively and intimate, the kind of reunion amongst aquaintances that makes you feel apart of something beautiful and shared, but he could never be too sure with this group if it was a genuine affection or the drugs. Either which way, the illumination of the lighting brought out the best of the feature's on everyone, even S. He could entertain the group easily, having always been able to fit in, but never really feeling like he belonged. He exceeded the expectations of everyone he came in contact with, with his candor and demeanor.

The evening has worn on, and as they talk amongst themselves, S and Delilah exchange knowing looks. Delilah is lit up- in more than one way. She moves slowly towards the spandrel, walking up the staircase, and motions to him. He follows, feeling a little stiff and a little excited. The door closes, and all too quickly her tiny body is cradled in his arms as they move together. "I want you to know that I do love you" she whispers. That's exactly what he wants to hear, but she's good at that, telling guys what they want to hear. He loses it, overcome with emotion.

"Then why is it so hard for you to picture being with me, that you would rather make a relationship from some dude in another country work more, that you would spend time with random old fucks with money?"

A beat.

"I love you, but I can't grow with you. I have had this relationship before. It's child's play! We aren't children anymore."

Even though her reasoning was sound, even though he had closure, the closure was bitter. All he heard was "You are not good enough to be with" It traumatised him, like all the other times he was not good enough in his life. A skinny but well- toned muscular 6''4', with thick italian hair and big amber brown eyes, he still felt tiny and helpless inside.

"So I'm good enough to fuck, but not to have a real relationship?" She said nothing, just stared at him with wide, pleading teal eyes, hoping he wouldn't go out and make a scene. "Yeah well if I had money like all your rich old fucks I would be good enough!"

That was that. He was out the door before she could respond. He confidently and swiftly walks back to the bar and orders 2 shots of whiskey, which are gone as quickly as they come.

As with the whiskey, they aren't allowed another moment because he turns to see her backside, walking out the door and into a black Mercedes that drives off into the night. "She's a handful, man." MuscleTankDouche joins him at the bar and they shoot another whiskey. S exchanges pleasantries, all while wondering what else Douche knows about Delilah, how many times he's been with her.

It's time to go. S has a dizzy feeling anyway, only minorly compounded by the alcohol. As he picks up his jacket from round the booth corner, he notices a black pocket notebook under the floor of the table. He grabs it before anyone else notices. They are all saying goodbyes.

A handful of years before that, it is a summery night in June, and they are in his car talking. "Okay, let's do it." Delilah allows somewhat matter-of-factly. S is elated, having finally convinced the girl that took his virginity, the only one he's ever really wanted to be with, to settle into a more serious relationship with him. "I'll be back from France in August, and we can very seriously start spending more time together."

Two months later, her social media notifies she is now in a relationship, however it's not with S. It's with some dude from France. This is after years of her teasing and leaving, years of him asking for a real chance to have something meaningful together, and just when he thinks she sees it, she dissapears again. She's good at dissappearing.

Back to the golden strand. Her life is now in his hands. In her sprawling, large and wild cursive-barely recognizable--

"alcohol/xan/ put him to sleep in car. will need to leave parked in garage. Must look like an accident. I love him with all my heart, cant bear to tell him I need a new life. I will start one on my own. I have to. Let's do this. Come with me? He's good for the money."

He now knows everything she's done, that she is on the way to Mexico with WhatsHisFuckingFace, the book explains it all, the book connects the dots. "Of course, even when she gets rid of the old fucks she still picks someone besides me." He was done. For good this time. He swiftly saunters his tall, muscular body to the police station. A tattered poster hangs just outside the front, "20,000 dollar reward, for knowledge leading to capture of female w/ accomplice, suspect of murder of William Hayworth III."

This money will help him forget, he decides. And it's all for him. No trying to impress her or fund her ridiculous lifestyle.

There's no going back.