Red Butterfly Mondays

Chapter VII "Shocking Truths"

Sunday

Exhilaration. The word of the day. It's 6 am, sleep could no longer contain me, jumping off the bed I pull open the curtains and smile.

"Hello, world" I yell

Today is the day of new beginnings. But first thing's first; a cup of coffee and pancakes. Nothing brightens your soul more than coffee; strong, black and sweet and of course! Pancakes! Blueberry pancakes!

After my hearty breakfast, I am resting on one of the bar stools by the kitchen island, sipping on the nectar of the gods. I contemplate my next step; me finding a job. Couldn't sit around doing bupkis, I need to keep the blood pumping. Draining the mug of its last dredges, I leave it in the sink and head into my room.

"Time to dust off the old resume" I say to myself. Need to get a few recommendations -- the first hurdle -- there's no one to ask. Shit! They would probably call my last employer -- the second hurdle -- Henrietta Salvatore, the Zeus of all Bitches -- surely blackballed me with every software company in the country -- Fuck! Double Fuck!! I am searching through my bag (never unpacked it, just dumped it under the bed), let's see, my resume portfolio folder, my computer I bought last month (at least he wasn't a complete asshole); seizing them I make a beeline to the couch. Unzipping my resume portfolio folder, a black slimline diary falls out, (this is not mine, mine is dark blue).

Stephen had mixed up our diaries (probably in his haste to get rid of my ass!). Ah well! I can presumably use it, with all his pretending, he most likely never used it.

I open the diary.

Strange names with telephone numbers greet me. Next to these names, were dates and what is this? amounts, large amounts of money. I keep flipping the pages. More than three dozen names are written down. What is Stephen into?

My eyes fall on a name, circled three times in red ink, Hector Cortez. I know that name! In fact, everybody and their dead grandma in Miami fucking knows that name. Written underneath in Stephen's perfect handwriting (give it a rest, Beths) is the figure for 2 million dollars.

Did Stephen owe the head of the Cortez crime family, two million hold me Jesus dollars!?!

I flick the pages harder and faster. So much information, why in the hell is this all written down?? No, No, No and then...a list of accounts pop up. There is listed five names of foreign banks with account numbers with amounts varying from just over a million dollars to well over ten million dollars for a grand total of (frantically punching the numbers into the calculator on my phone) seventeen million, sixty-two thousand, eight hundred and twenty dollars!

My lazy ass fucking dick of a husband (soon to be ex- thank you God) is a multimillionaire! Really! The Fates are this vile and cruel? Illegal money though, no ifs, ands, buts, or maybes about it.

All this under my nose. I was BLIND and I was STUPID.

I am getting to the bottom of this. I snatch my phone and stab in his numbers. You better answer me.

"What is it Beth? Why are you calling me? We are only to communicate through our lawyers." There is music and laughter in the background, a party I see; at 9 am in the morning no less. (rolls my eyes).

"Missing something?" I asked quietly

"What?" he laughs, its fake and thin

"Are you missing something, like a slimline diary perhaps?" I asked again, this time slowly, like am speaking to a three year old child.

"Isabetha...that's mine"

"Yeah, I recognized your girly handwriting. Was a very thought-provoking read, I might add."

"Don't do anything stupid or I will...

"You will what?" I interrupted. "You wanker! You knob! You are not batting on a full wicket, you bloody plonker! I had turned into a English woman, gees Bethy really get a hold of yourself.

"Isabetha..."

"Don't call me that! And when I hang up.. I WILL be making two other phone calls. Can you guess? I will give you a hint, dead or alive"

"Okay....okay...okay, wait a minute...let's meet please....I will explain....please let me explain....am in Sydney, Australia with Maxie, it's 1 am Monday morning here, so give me a few days to tie up some loose ends, I will text you when I am in the country...okay?"

"Fine...a few days...and then this shit will get fucking ugly!" I hang up. So it's Maxie now and I am Isabetha, he never called me by that name. I want to hurl.

I need a long, hot bath from all the filth I just discovered. Who did I marry?

Soaking my questions away as an excellent idea. The warm water relaxes my tense muscles and I come up with a plan. I am getting all of my money back! I am giddy with excitement.

The rest of the day is slow and peaceful. My resume is now on the back burner on my mind. I spend the afternoon, lazing on the couch, I complete reading the book I started a few days ago, it isn't my cup of tea, I am sticking to my paranormal fantasy novels from now on.

I feel so tired; drained, I cannot keep my eyes open. I fall asleep.

Sundays...