Chapter 1
Diane
Diane Bates started her Friday morning routine like she did every day. She woke up feeling like she was better than everyone else and she thought that the world owed her a little something just for being alive.
She rolled out of bed at ten o’clock and shuffled over to the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. The hardwood crackled underneath her bare feet with every step and the coolness of the floor sent a tiny chill up her back and down both arms. She squinted, cursing the morning sun for having the nerve to beam through her sheer curtains so brightly.
She leaned in to the mirror to study her nose. She poked it with her fingers as if she were molding clay while she turned her head eight different angles to admire it. The bruising and swelling had disappeared from the work she had done on it recently. She was quite pleased. “Very nice,” she said softly to herself.
Diane took two steps back and moved her hazel eyes south to her new 34-D’s. She scooped her long, thick brown hair out from behind her left ear, pulled it behind her head and dumped it in front of her right shoulder. She stood motionless with her arms straight down at her sides in her old, black tank top that used to accommodate her 34-A’s comfortably. She squeezed her elbows in at her ribs gently to make her new melons form a seemingly endless amount of cleavage in her stretched shirt. After ten seconds of admiration, she cupped them with both hands to do a firmness check. She turned to the left and looked at them. She turned to the right and looked at them. “Very nice indeed,” she said to the mirror and obliged herself a friendly wink.
She thought about the previous night and yawned. Last night was a late night. Her shift ended at the bar at midnight, and then her idiot boyfriend, Tom, was up waiting for her when she got home. He expected her to have sex with him because of an impending promotion he was due to get at work the next day. He called it, “Vice President Sex,” and it made her sick to think about it. He came to bed wearing nothing but his black socks, paisley boxers and his silver tie and carried a bottle of Bud. He jumped up on the bed and playfully ordered, “Come give the boss some dictation.” She hated his guts.
Dating him was a living Hell. He wasn’t nearly as cute as she was, and he wasn’t half as smart either. If he were, he’d have known a long time ago that she’d been stashing money away so she could leave him in style. Tom didn’t make a ton of money, but what he did make, he gave to her. She’s the one that paid the bills, bought the groceries and filled the house with ridiculous gadgets and decorative knick-knacks. She’s the one that drove the newer car and wore the nicer clothes. She’s the one that went over budget with Tom’s money on the retaining wall, the Koi pond, the waterfall, sixteen assorted bushes, a large variety of colorful annuals, the four fruit trees in the back and the two Japanese Maples she had planted in the front, directly in the sun.
Last year Tom spent over two thousand dollars on her make-up, her tan, her hair and her nails, while he was allowed twelve dollars every forty-five days at Super-Cuts. Even though she could barely tolerate him he did manage to earn a decent living. If he could just get a job where he traveled all the time they’d live the perfect life.
But Diane knew she wouldn’t be with Tom much longer. She had her eyes on Jeff, the neighbor across the street. Actually, she had more than just her eyes on him. She’d been seeing him since January and he’s a much better catch. Except, lately he’d been having a small problem at his job, but Jeff assured her it would iron itself out. If it weren’t for his bitch of wife, they could just run off in to the sunset and live happily ever after.
The cell phone was dead on the nightstand next to her. She sat on the edge of the bed and plugged it in to charge. There was a faint smell of Hugo Boss on her tank top from Tom last night. She quickly pulled it over her head, tossed it in the dirty clothes pile and went in to start the shower. When the water was warm enough, she got in and scrubbed hard all over her body until she was sure she had washed his hands off of her.
*
Forty-five minutes later Diane had dried off, gotten dressed, brushed her teeth and sat back on the edge of the bed to call Tom. After two short rings he answered his phone.
“Hey Babe,” he said pleasantly. “Good morning.”
Diane rolled her eyes and squeezed her right knee with her right hand. “Good morning,” she replied.
Why do I feel the urge to purge when I hear your voice? You’re such an idiot!
“How is your day going?” she generically asked.
“It’s going good,” he said. “Jake’s Diner got shorted this morning. I just got off the phone with Jake and he’s pretty pissed because they aren’t going to have enough…”
Blah, blah, blah… God, I get sick of hearing about your shorted deliveries and pissed off restaurant managers. Can’t you people get anything right down there? I mean, you’re paid to do two things… Get deliveries correct and get them on time. How can you and your people manage to screw that up every fucking day? I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care!!! God, I don’t care! Please, someone just shoot me.
“Babe,” Tom said when he figured she drifted off.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Diane snapped out of it and then stood up to start making the bed. There was only one topic she was interested in discussing with him. “Have you heard anything yet?”
“Bill was in and out early this morning. He said he wants to go to lunch at eleven. He’s not here yet so I don’t know.”
“Oh,” she blandly replied. Against her will she had a flashback from last night when Tom squeezed her fabulous boobs together with his undeserving face in between them blowing farting noises with his mouth against her skin.
“But I’ll let you know when he comes in,” Tom said. “I think he went to Bartlesville to go over some new pricing with…”
Blah, blah, blah… Do you really not fucking get it that I hate hearing about your fucking job every single time I talk to you? Are you really that dense to think that there are living, breathing people roaming around that actually give a shit about new pricing on ribeyes or whatever the hell it is? You better get this promotion or I am so out of here!
Diane dropped the two king-sized pillows at the head of the bed and then followed through with the shams and the five remaining decorative pillows to finish the job as he went on and on. She leaned on the edge of her footboard and looked up at the ceiling.
“Really… Bartlesville? You don’t say,” she said and put two fingers to her head like she was going to blow her brains out. “Powww,” she said silently away from the phone as she pulled the imaginary trigger.
“Yeah,” replied Tom. “I think he’s going to be OK with it. I have to drive to Stillwater again this afternoon and take…”
Oh shit. I forgot I’m almost out of toilet paper. I better pick up some napkins and diet coke while I’m out too. What else… What else… Bread, staples, orange juice…
“Babe?” Tom inquired when she didn’t respond to his question.
“I’m going to jump in the shower. I’ll call you later. I gotta go.” And before he could say anything she closed her hot pink RAZR flip phone and set it back on the nightstand. As easy as that she freed herself of his voice.
*
With enthusiasm in her step and a cup of sugar in her hand, Diane left her house and walked across the street to Jeff’s in broad daylight. Some of the neighbors saw her go over there but she didn’t care. One of these days soon she planned on running off with Jeff and she wasn’t concerned with who knew. Besides, Tom was too stupid to pay any attention to the rumors she was sure he’d heard.
The pavement burned the bottoms of her feet as she scurried across the street. She wore another one of her old tank tops that barely covered her new body. This shirt was fire engine red and matched her lipstick, her fingernails and her toenails perfectly. Her soft curls bounced gently as she made her way across the street. The wives and moms on Marigold Street all knew she was a slut, but none could argue that she wasn’t beautiful.
The sprinkler system in Jeff’s front yard turned off just as she approached his sidewalk. The cool water under her feet was a welcomed relief and inspired her to walk a normal pace again.
She arrived at Jeff’s entryway and found herself surrounded by his wife’s corny decorative garbage. The front door was cluttered with a bird house, a small hay bale, a seated scarecrow, a ceramic cat, four wind chimes, a white wicker seat… The list went on and on.
Diane checked her reflection in the semi-frosted window on the front door before eagerly ringing the bell.
“I’m coming. Just a sec,” came a female voice from the other side.
Shit! What is Bonnie doing here?
Footsteps quickly got louder and the door opened before Diane could turn and bolt.
“Oh, how nice,” said the wife as soon as she opened the door. “It’s the neighborhood slut here to give my husband some sugar, no doubt.” With a motherly smile, Bonnie looked down at the cup and then up at Diane’s eyes.
Bonnie leaned in the doorway with her arms crossed, wearing a light blue T-shirt and a pair of white denim capris. She was a little older than Diane and ten pounds heavier, but she still gave Diane a run for her money. She was just as attractive but in a totally different way. She was blonde, curvy, sweet and respected by the neighborhood ladies. Diane resented her for her natural beauty and her Bunco skills.
Diane gripped the handle to the measuring cup tightly as Bonnie spoke. Bonnie was supposed to be at work saving the lives of the ridiculous stray animals that hobbled their way in to her shelter across town.
“Bonnie,” Diane said sweetly through her forced smile. “So good to see you.”
“Cut the crap, Diane,” she sourly replied. “Looking for my husband I presume?” Bonnie took a few steps out of the house, forcing Diane to take a few steps back.
Diane switched the cup of sugar to her other hand and wiped her sweaty palm on her shorts. For a woman who was usually very outspoken, she found herself stumbling for words.
“I um, really Bonnie, I…” she said, unable to form more than a fragment of a sentence.
“I um, really um, what Diane?” Bonnie took a few more steps toward her. “You’re not really still sleeping with my husband, are you?”
By now, Diane was halfway to the street from the front door. She noticed Marlene and Laura out in their yards pulling weeds on either side of where she stood. Even though she was dressed for attention, she didn’t like the attention she was getting.
“You know what, Bonnie?” From some undetermined place, Diane got a sudden burst of confidence and decided she wasn’t going to lose this battle. It was high time that Bonnie knew the truth anyway. She took a small step forward and said, “I don’t know that you would call what we do sleeping. On the contrary, it’s anything but.”
Diane straightened out her tight tank top and looked her smugly in the eye.
Marlene and Laura both stopped what they were doing by this point, obviously distracted by the brawl that was about to take place. “Bonnie,” Marlene called out, holding her gardening gloves in her hand. “Is everything OK?”
Bonnie locked eyes with Diane for a few seconds before answering. “Everything is fine,” she finally said. “The neighborhood slut is fooling around with my husband again, that’s all.”
Marlene dropped her gloves and covered her mouth with her left hand. Laura put her hand over her heart like she held back a cardiac event. Diane clearly violated the number one rule in their cookie-cutter neighborhood’s Homeowner’s Association Guide about sleeping with the neighbor’s husband.
Diane felt her chest tighten up and her face fuel with red after hearing Bonnie’s words. She clenched her fists and wanted to knock Bonnie out, but she knew Jeff would be pissed at her for doing so.
Bonnie took two quick steps forward and ripped the glass cup from Diane’s grasp and threw it violently against the brick mailbox. “Stay on your own side of the street, skank!” She yelled her words and stiffly pointed toward Diane’s house. “The next time you try to bring your tainted sugar on my property again it will be your head instead of your cup!”
Diane looked down at her shattered measuring cup and then quickly up at Bonnie. A small army of ants had already begun to revel in Diane’s misfortune.
Marlene and Laura both came in to the yard and stiffly stood behind Bonnie. Diane felt totally outmuscled and had no choice but to leave. She made an abrupt one hundred and eighty degree turn and let out a frustrated squeal as she marched impatiently back to her house. She went inside and slammed the door behind her.
“That bitch!” She wailed and hit the back of the door with the palm of her hand.
Diane’s giant, new breasts heaved with her labored breathing. She stomped across the room over to where the glass curio cabinet rested peacefully minding its own business. She grabbed its wooden back with both hands and aggressively threw it forward. The glass sides shattered on the hardwood floor and every delicate, crystal trinket that once rested innocently on its mirrored shelves were now smashed in to countless, unrecognizable pieces.
She looked down at the mess and felt completely outraged with how her morning had gone. Diane leapt to what she thought was a glass-free area but soon painfully proved not to be. With both feet she landed in a multitude of tiny glass shards sending shooting pain through each toe, past her heels and up through her calves. Immediately, she shifted her weight on to the balls of her feet and lost her balance. She fell backwards and stopped her fall with both hands. Huge chunks of glass crushed under the weight of her palms.
Diane screamed in agony as the glass sliced through her delicate flesh. Blood oozed from both hands and smeared on the floor. She sat still for a moment, contemplating where her next move would be with tears welling up in her eyes.
“Oh, I’m going to kill that stupid bitch!”
A numbing sensation came upon Diane as images of random acts of violence against Bonnie danced through her head.
She thought about what it would feel like to have Bonnie’s neck in her hands as she squeezed the last breath out of her. She wondered if she would be able to feel Bonnie’s pulse slow to a halt as she made her inhale for the last time.
Her thoughts moved to the visual of her walking up behind Bonnie with a clear, plastic bag and thrusting it over her perfect, blonde head. She envisioned herself holding the opening tightly around her neck and facing her as she pled frantically to have the bag removed. In such a thought, she figured Bonnie would be smart enough to rip a whole in the front of the bag with her finger and lunge after her assailant. If that were the case, Diane would throw her in to the wall, head first, and knock her out. Then she would stab her in the face and chest countless times with whatever object was close enough.
Finally, her last method of torture to buzz through her head involved a steam roller. If she could just get a hold of one without drawing any suspicion, she would take it to Bonnie’s house while she slept, chloroform her, drop her on the floor and then wait for her to come out of her daze. At that exact moment, Diane would start at the feet and pin Bonnie to the ground with the beastly machine. There would be screaming and begging, but Diane wouldn’t stop. Not for a second. She would continue rolling up the legs, flattening the once beautiful cheerleader while listening to the sound of her skin splitting and her bones crushing underneath the heavy piece of equipment. It wouldn’t take long for Bonnie to die, but it would be a satisfying few moments for the steam roller controller.
One by one, crazy thoughts entered Diane’s warped mind. She was sick of her boyfriend, she hated her lover’s wife and her looks were fading to the point where she felt she needed surgical enhancement. She sat on the floor and brought her hands around to her face. Blood flowed slowly from her palms down to her elbows.
She was so furious she could barely breathe.
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