Page 9 of Power
SCARLETT
A smirk played on my lips as the knot in my shoulders finally began to loosen. Who knew revenge fantasies could be better than therapy? The vodka probably helped, too, but mostly, I had to credit Dakota’s twisted genius.
“Told you this would be fun.” Dakota’s eyes sparkled. “I’m heading to the ladies’ room. Order me another drink, okay?”
I nodded, watching her weave through the Friday night crowd. For someone who’d drawn the short straw in the family lottery, I’d somehow hit the jackpot in the work bestie department. Leave it to Dakota to transform my murderous rage into actual laughter in under an hour, with nothing but a pen and questionable suggestions.
Once she disappeared around the corner, I couldn’t help but admire our masterpiece scrawled in black ink:
REVENGE LIST
Slip industrial-strength laxatives into his morning coffee right before a board meeting. (Bonus: schedule said meeting in the furthest conference room from any bathroom.)
Shove an ice pick into his balls.
Glue his office chair wheels in place.
Put his car up for sale on Craigslist: Luxury vehicle, priced to sell, owner must flee country immediately.
Program his phone to autocorrect his name to Asswipe.
Undo the seams of his pants so they split open during his next presentation.
Send him anonymous glitter bomb packages.
Sign him up for embarrassing newsletters including: erectile dysfunction support groups, adult bed-wetting solutions, DIY hemorrhoid treatments, farm animal breeding techniques.
