Buena Beach: Episode 25 Girl’s Night In

Created by Diane Brown, Buena Beach is an online soap opera, giving up all the juicy details of some of the hottest guys and gals of Buena Beach, a small town in Southern California. Check back everyday for a new episode here on HelloBeautiful.com.

The Voice

“Why’d you do it?”

Cheryl had just started dinner – grilled shrimp with rice and garlic bread. A glass of wine joined her in the kitchen as she traveled barefoot repeatedly between the refrigerator, the prep counter, the sink, and the stove, all while watching a rerun of Sex & the City. It was ‘Girl Night In’, a ritual that’d become way to familiar for an intelligent, single, thirty-something woman like herself. Although she’d become a fantastic cook over the last three months, it still pissed her off that no one was around to witness her newfound culinary skills.

So she was more than surprised and somewhat alarmed when she heard the knock at her door. Although her condo was gated and boasted two uniformed security guards, it never hurt to be careful. Then again, as lonely as she’d been lately, the person on the other side of the door – be it an armed robber, serial killer, or a Jehovah’s Witness – might be the one in real trouble. The wine had already started kicking in, prompting her to warble random lines from her favorite Earth, Wind, and Fire tunes. If a willing participant were to be on the other side of the door, she’d considered even taking him right there in the hallway to the disgust and dismay of her neighbor, Mrs. Willis, who happened to be president of the condo association. Cheryl had giggled to herself as she reached for the knob, thinking she’d be cool with getting written up if it meant intimacy with a man…any man, anywhere.

Opening the door, however, proved to smother her flame rather than ignite it, ending her tipsy fantasy with the quickness. The one person she had not counted on seeing outside her door was her ex. The ex who’d taken her once lively little heart and ripped it out whole; then squeezed it, stepped on it, kicked it over a cliff, shredded it, shoved it through a juicer, and used the remaining pulp as mulch in his garden. Oh, he’d done her bad. Michael Jackson asked a long time ago “Who’s bad?” He’s bad.

Bad, bad, bad, is what Cheryl has to repeat to herself so as not to concentrate on certain details. Like his haircut – an improvement since when they were together. Or his whitened teeth. His trimmed, clean nails. Or his less ample belly. Bad, bad, bad.

And tenacious. She figures it must have taken some real finagling for him to find her, just getting settled into the home she closed escrow on only five weeks ago. Then again, it probably made sense for him to look for her at the Palm Tree Towers, where Cheryl used to always say she’d like to live one day, if only she could afford it. Two weeks after their breakup, Cheryl got a huge promotion at work, becoming a full-time editor for the Buena Beach Sundial, and she immediately made and appointment with her real estate agent. The promotion was her ticket to getting everything she’d wanted – more money, her own place, a little fame…and revenge. And it’s her revenge that’s responsible for her surprise visitor tonight.

“Why, Cheryl?”

Bad, bad, bad, she repeats again so she won’t make eye contact with him or feel the least bit sorry for what she did.

“Calvin, I think it’s best that you just leave.”

“I think it’s best that you let me in so we can talk about this.”

He swallows hard, his breathing becoming more and more audible with each moment of quiet between the two of them. In previous times, he would have simply pushed his way inside, taking residence on the couch as long as he damn well pleased while ordering Cheryl to bring him ice cold beer, cigarettes, and gargantuan bags of potato chips. It seemed as if the leaner, better manicured Calvin was also a lot more patient.

“Calvin, if you don’t leave now, I’m going to call security. You think things are bad now – wait until you get charged with trespassing and harassment.”

He’d never show it, but Calvin’s unquestionably taken aback. While Cheryl had earlier noted the a different Calvin, he was getting a taste of the now assertive and resolute Cheryl.

So with that, the new and improved Cheryl closed the door on the new and improved Calvin (although that’s not saying much since he couldn’t get worse than he was). Door shut, Cheryl tosses out her dinner, grabs the bottle of wine, and goes straight to her bed, all the while chanting aloud “Bad, bad, bad.”

A few hours later, Cheryl wakes to the brightness of her bedroom lights, as if jolted awake by quiet of the night. Slowly opening her eyes, she takes in the empty wine bottle and her tear/drool-stained pillow. That’s when she remembers – knock on the door, Calvin, badbadbad, new & improved.

And then it hits her. Why is she lying around feeling sorry for herself? Her plan had worked. It’d all worked. Her revenge had come full circle.

Laughing loudly (and rather wickedly), she trots over to her desk and pulls out a copy of her most recent Sundial article from the drawer; then pins it high on the wall above her headboard before switching off the lights snuggling back under the covers. It may not be the best article she’ll ever write, but it will always have a place in her shredded, scarred, shriveled up heart.

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