Chapter 3 #2
I think of how I threatened to tell Macy’s parents if she asked me for rent money. I could, of course, contact Clifton’s parents—I can get their info from his phone—and tell them the truth. They already favor his older brother and…
That’s it! His brother!
Bennett Chung is the CEO of T&R Mart, the largest Asian grocery chain in Canada. Clifton always spoke of his brother as a cold, calculating asshole of a businessman, though I’m now questioning the veracity of his claims.
I look up Bennett on my phone. There are a few pictures of him, and he’s not smiling in any of them. Well, he’s attempting to smile in one photo, but it’s a little wonky. The smile of someone whose lips aren’t used to moving in that direction, perhaps. He doesn’t look much like his younger brother.
I grab Clifton’s phone, and after a moment’s hesitation, I enter his PIN. I watched him enter it once and memorized it, just in case I ever needed it. (I know, I know, it was terrible of me, but I couldn’t help it. Now, it feels like part of me knew he’d cheat.)
Though I feel a little guilty for snooping, I’m just after one particular piece of information, and besides, Clifton was balls deep in my roommate yesterday.
I scroll through his contacts and quickly find Bennett’s number.
Nothing will make Clifton squirm more than learning that I’m dating his brother…and having to encounter me at a family dim sum. Or possibly their joint birthday celebration in late November? Clifton and Bennett have the same birthday, a fact that my ex utterly loathed.
I cackle. Yes, I actually cackle like a movie villain. I think this revenge business will be fun.
I add Bennett Chung’s number to my phone and decide I’ll text him tomorrow.
Except he’ll probably ignore a text or call from an unfamiliar number.
Better to go to his house. Clifton once mentioned that Bennett lives not far from my (former) apartment, so it shouldn’t be hard to get there. If I can find his address, that is.
I pick up Clifton’s phone again and scroll through their message history. They exchange a tiny fraction of the texts that Eddie and I do, and most are regarding their parents. There are some angry texts that I don’t quite follow—something about a cottage this past summer.
Eventually, I manage to find an address from two years ago. It’s in the neighborhood that I expected, so I think he still lives there.
I pump my fist in victory. My plan for revenge is coming together. Yay!
Tomorrow, I’ll pay a visit to Clifton’s brother.
Sunday morning, I wake up to laughter coming from the bedroom, followed by a soft…
Shit. I think my brother and his wife are getting it on.
Which they are perfectly entitled to do, of course. They’re in the bedroom with the door closed, and it’s their apartment. I bet they’re looking forward to being rid of me, even though they won’t say as much.
I’ll get out of their way as soon as I can. After my trip to Bennett’s house, I’ll prioritize finding a place to live. Since that might take a little while, I’ll leave some of my stuff here and crash on a friend’s couch. Give them time alone.
I’ve already showered and made coffee by the time Eddie and Chantal emerge.
“Good morning,” I say, ignoring the fact that my brother’s hair is sticking up in about ten different directions. “I’m going to have breakfast, then go shopping. You know, buy some clothes for my new single life.”
Eddie and Chantal exchange one of those looks again.
“Do you want company?” Chantal asks.
“I’m meeting Fiona and Claire,” I lie.
I’ll tell my brother and sister-in-law about my plan soon, but a part of me fears that if they knew, they’d try to talk me out of it, and I don’t want any negativity right now. Best to wait until Bennett agrees.
If he agrees. I don’t know for sure that he will. He might raise a single eyebrow when he hears the details, then refuse to participate. Not that I’ve ever met him before, but he sounds like the sort who’d be able to raise a single imperious eyebrow.
After downing two cups of coffee—to make up for my poor night’s sleep—and some eggs, I take the subway north and get off at my usual station. Except this time when I exit the station, I head east instead of west, and less than ten minutes later, I reach Bennett’s home.
It’s a two-story house with a brick-and-stone exterior.
Built in the last ten or fifteen years, I assume.
More than enough space for a single man, but Bennett has done quite well for himself.
In fact, he could probably buy something more impressive with his money, even though houses in Toronto aren’t cheap.
The old bungalow next door, for example, is probably still worth a small fortune.
There are a few trees in the front yard, including a beautiful maple. I admire the changing leaves as I make my way up the walkway.
My heart pounding, I ring the doorbell. And wait.
No answer.
I knock, just in case.
Still no answer.
Maybe he doesn’t answer the door to strangers—I should have thought of that—but this seemed like a better bet than calling.
Or maybe he isn’t home.
I look at my phone. It’s noon.
Crap. It’s Sunday, and Clifton’s parents always have dim sum on Sunday. Clifton usually doesn’t go, but Bennett rarely misses it. When my ex told me that, he rolled his eyes as if to say, isn’t my brother a suck-up?
Yeah, Bennett is probably at dim sum. Since I have nowhere else to be, I sit down on the porch and wait.
I pull up the group chat that I have with a few other Asian women, including Karina.
We met several years ago, and we get together once or twice a month for a themed movie night.
Thankfully, none of them are friends with Macy.
But as I type out what happened and my plan, I begin doubting myself. I delete the words and put down my phone.
Sitting on Bennett’s porch in the light of day, my revenge plot seems more ridiculous than it did last night. This is a terrible idea, isn’t it?
Except I’m still overcome with the need to take action. I feel like I have nothing to lose, and revenge could be entertaining. I’m not going to share the plan until it’s in place, though—I won’t give my friends the chance to talk me out of it.
About fifteen minutes later, a sensible beige sedan pulls into the driveway, and a man steps out. He’s wearing a crisp, pale blue dress shirt and dark pants, his shoes polished.
I swallow hard as I rise to my feet.
Bennett Chung is even taller and more intimidating than I expected him to be. He’s scowling, despite the fact that it’s a beautiful day outside, but I suppose that’s to be expected, given there’s a strange woman on his porch.
“Who are you and what do you want?” he demands.