Vigilante Shit

"Yeah, that's right, trust me. Nasha and Stamp would make a hell of a team."

She took on a peachy blush and she was adorable. A goddess, yeah.

*****

I had an excursion planned the next week. I knew the beautiful people. They weren't really beautiful, except on the outside. Still, they were part of my life, my career, my set, and there were a few who were harmless. I gravitated toward them and used their more unsavory contacts to conduct social interactions and business.

I was a real estate attorney, and I had some huge clients. I did what I could to keep them and add more. I enjoyed the game, and I was very good at it. This was a week on a Greek island, and I intended to have a great experience. I did, and waking up the final morning sandwiched between ebony and ivory made me think of Kaplan and Nasha. Something went through me. I realized that I would be ashamed for them to see me. I had been just reliving the high of the previous night. Now, I had an overpowering urge to go scrub myself clean in the hottest shower I could stand.

I got up without disturbing my companions, took a shower, packed my shit and headed for the airport. I never looked back. I was disgusted with myself, for the first time in my life, because of my appetites. I flew around the world on airplanes, sailed on yachts, rode in limousines, all financed by some rich man's greed and lust. What was I? I was tired of being the bad bitch, the exclusive arm-candy of some egomaniac, just another of the golden set I was using for my own ends.

I got home and threw myself into therapy. I also found my best friend: Nasha. The first time we got together after my epiphany, I emptied myself to her, tears were shed, and I think my vulnerability touched something in her. She confided in me, gave me emotional hostages, and I gave them back. Her life had been anything but Disney, nearly starving when she was a child, scraping to find enough money and food to live, all while working her way into a scholarship to Boston College, where she got her bachelor's, master's and was now working on a PhD in English.

A beautiful, warm, loving nerd. That was her, but she had steel in her, too. Anyone who had accomplished as much as she had with the meager tools she was given, you gotta give them their props. That's also where she met Kaplan.

My therapist was giving me insights. Nasha became my best friend, and Kaplan... he was my buddy, too. There was a sexual undercurrent with both of them, but they weren't like me. Or, at least the me they got to know. I had never been into anyone. I always had a flock of admirers, I used them all without remorse, and they used me the same way. My parents were the only people I really loved, and I had always been a little proud of my detachment.

Nasha and Kaplan didn't play. Would they be called unsophisticated? Naive? Maybe, but they were sure real. What you saw was what you got, and I loved what I saw.

I worked out with Nasha four days a week, and played tennis with Kaplan. She was like three times stronger than I was, and for my size, I was strong as hell. She was just... more. Kaplan hit the wickedest serves in tennis I had ever seen, but get him running, changing direction, and he was very beatable. What impressed me the most was that every time we sat on the bench together, him sweating and panting like an enraged bull, he was never once embarrassed by losing to a girl.

They both let me snuggle them, but Kaplan was only comfortable with that if Nasha was around, although she was always down for a cuddle. I invited them over, constantly, took them out on my boat, invited them to parties, took them on vacation to Mexico, and we hung out all the time.

Kaplan didn't actually work at Nordstrom. Well, he did, but it was a secondment from his real job, which seemed to be an apprenticeship for one of the major equity firms in the country. He was evidently quite an employment catch, because his boss paid him extravagantly and seemed to have like a ten-year plan for him to be CFO.

I had invited Nasha over for lunch on a Wednesday, and we decided to go for a bicycle ride. She always had trouble keeping up with me, even though she was incredibly strong and fit. I was just lighter, but also more experienced. We were finna work off some of what felt like pounds we had gained from lunch.

We got back and chilled on the back balcony for a while, drinking tall glasses of sweet tea. "Nasha, do you smoke?" I asked.

"Ew. No," she said. "Do you?"

I laughed. "No, I mean like weed."

She laughed. "Kush... the Lord's lettuce," she said.

"Oh my God, you do?" I was a little stunned.

"Well, I have not since coming to your country," she said. "In Africa, many times. Why are you so surprised?"

"Because, babe, you're a fucking English major," I said.

She snorted. "Some of the world's greatest poets wrote from opium dreams."

"Noo, you're my sweet little librarian girl," I teased her.

"Bah, I am steeped in wickedness." She looked at me and those impossibly huge black eyes were sparkling."

"I've got some ice cream cake," I said.

"I am far too full to eat any cake," she said. "Even after that ride."

I laughed. "No, Bae, kush, called "Ice Cream Cake."

"Does it taste like ice cream cake?" she asked.

She was killing me. "No, I'm afraid not. It tastes pretty much like weed, but it's a hella nice high," I told her. "We'll feel so energetic we'll be cleaning this place and go over and clean yours, after," I assured her. "Would Kaplan hate it?"

"I have no idea," she said. "We have never had this conversation."

"We better not, then," I said.

"Why can we not ask him?" she wondered.

"Really? You'd get high with me?"

"Will you keep me safe?" she asked.

"Babe, I would never let anything bad happen to you."

She squeezed me. "I trust you, Stamp."

"Well, I'm not someone you should trust," I told her. "But in this case, you can."

She got out her phone, started Facetime, and Kaplan soon appeared. "You know I'm working, right?" he said.

"We wish to speak to the manager," Nasha said, then giggled insanely.

"Are you alone?" I asked.

"Hold on a sec." We could see him step into an office. "What's up?"

"Kaplan, do you mind if Nasha gets high with me?" I asked.

"What the hell? You mean like smoke cannabis?"

"Yes. I would like it, love," she said.

"Where are you?' he asked. "Oh, never mind. I can see. Are you going to stay there?" he asked her.

She looked at me. "She is," I said. "You can come over for dinner tonight, and pick her up. You good with that?"

"This is kinda... sudden," he said. "What the hell, go for it. I get off at 5:30. Is six okay for dinner?"

Nasha and I boarded our spaceship and I was transfixed with her. She got even softer, gentler, more loving and opened up in a way I had never experienced with her before. She giggled constantly, and it was like having this high dusky angel goddess snuggled up to me on my sofa.

When Kaplan came in, dinner was almost ready, and we were wrapped up around each other on the sofa, giggling like small children. He eyed us suspiciously, like he was looking for a mine-field to avoid.

"Looks like you two had quite a party." He smiled and it was like someone turned on the music in the room. We both jumped up and smothered him in girl. He didn't seem to mind.

He absolutely refused to spark up with us, but he did unbend enough to drink two beers, which, featherweight that he was, got him mellow and happy. Some people are stupid shits to begin with, and getting high, however they were before just gets magnified and they become insufferable. Others are loving, gentle people, and they just become more like that. They both lost a little of that awkwardness they had, like they'd been homeschooled all their lives, or some shit. That can produce some awesome results, if it's the right home, but it also produces some social dweebs, for sure. They were the right kind, but also had some of the hesitation at interactions with other people, like they were scared they'd say the wrong thing and someone would laugh at them.

I realized early on they needed to be protected. There were sharks in the pool, and they were like peaceful whales, just doing their thing and ignoring everything else. You also had the feeling that although neither of them would ever start shit, they could tell you how it ends.

I was at my therapist, telling her something amazing Nasha had done the day before. "I tell you, Lauren, she quoted like 100 lines of some English poet dude, straight from memory."

"How do you feel about them?" she asked. "I mean, you talk about them often. They seem to be one of the good part of your life."

"The fuck? You think you're a psychologist, or something? How do I feel about them, Ms. Jung? Are you serious?"

"I am. In fact, I'm going to take notes." She picked up her pencil and a pad and started her recorder.

"Damn. Well, this is why I pay you the big bucks," I told her. "Let me think a minute."

"Okay, but first tell me how long you've known them."

I thought a minute. "Almost two years," I said.

"Okay, back to thinking," she said.

How did I feel about them? I mean, they were my best friends. Fuck, they were my ONLY friends. I knew tons of people, but no one like them. Kaplan was like one of those huge teddy bears you see at the county fair in some town with five streets, hanging there in the back, as if you can win him. What you don't realize is, but by the time you've won, you've spent enough to buy three better ones on Amazon. I wanted him, but the price was hurting Nasha.

I found that I'd never cared who got hurt before. If I saw something I wanted, I took it. Fuck those people; I didn't care about them. Why should I? If I could take it away, it wasn't really theirs to begin with, they just hadn't found out yet. I also realized that it was somewhat disgusting of me to want something that could be taken away. I mean, obviously, if they can be, they're trash. Wow.

Lauren kicked my chair. "Hey. I do have other clients, you know."

I laughed. "Sorry, I just had an epiphany."

"See, I am a psychologist. Do you want to explain your epiphany?"

"No, because it has nothing to do with what you asked me."

She sighed. "Okay, are you going to tell me what you think about the question?"

"Yes. Sorry. I love them, Lauren..." My voice trailed away, and I kind of went numb. Those words... Things I'd never felt except in a more abstract way about my parents, emotions, they were a physical wave sweeping over me.

I'd been high so many times, done everything you could eat, drink, smoke or rub into your belly, I'd been briefly addicted, spent three months in rehab, but I'd never felt anything that gave me the flood of endorphins I got at that moment, and I'd no idea, before that, what addiction was like. I could feel myself shaking, like I was outside my body, and suddenly I was sobbing out my disillusionment with my life, with who I was, as a person, what I had become and was becoming. I loved Kaplan and Nasha. But they were like another level of human.

I had no idea why they even liked me, but they did, obviously. I mean, I knew very well how to attract people, but I had done very little of that with them. It seemed... dishonest, like I was giving them the shine. It had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with them. They were just too beautiful for anything but the truth, I felt, without ever even acknowledging my feelings. I loved them, and I was a villain.

It took me a while to gain control. Lauren moved onto the sofa with me, held me and dried my eyes with her tissues. It was awkward as fuck when I finally got a grip, but she knelt on the floor in front of me and held my hands.

"Stamp, you don't need me anymore," she said. "Not for this, anyway. You're not a villain, Stamp. You're a super-villain. A lot of heroes take a dark turn."

I took a deep breath. "Yeah, I am. Okay, Skeletor will return with more interesting catastrophes later." I squared my shoulder and marched my cute little ass to the door. I opened it, paused, and looked back. "Thanks, babe. You deserve the big bucks."

"I know, right? Go forth."

I shot her the finger and she was laughing when I closed the door. It hit me again in the elevator, but I managed to control myself. There was some creeper in there who leered at me the whole way down. Any sign of weakness could have proven fatal. He might have touched me. I allowed him to proceed off first, and followed him out. At a distance.

That afternoon at about three, I got a text from Kaplan, asking me if I could come over for dinner. I had some trepidation about that: whether I would be okay or like, a maniac, but I agreed. I forgot all about that when I got there.

Dinner was forgotten, as well. The were sitting on their thrift store sofa, Kaplan was holding Nasha, and she was crying. I rushed over and snuggled her from the other side. "What happened, babe? Did someone die, get hurt?"

She crushed me, and that gorgeous silky voice dripped an infinite sadness. "No, Stamp. Nothing like that. Thank you for coming."

"Aww, Bae, don't be like that. I love hanging with you and I do every time I get the chance. You just tell Stamp what's got you all upset like this."

"Oh, it's my stupid dissertation." Her sadness was tangible in her voice. "There is one person who keeps dragging his feet, has told others he is sure I have stolen my research and he's seen it before."

"What's his name and what position does he hold?" I asked her.

She looked up at me with those exotic eyes, her head on my shoulder, all those pounds of glossy curls covering me like a blanket, Kaplan a solid presence against her on the other side. "Why do you want to know that, Stamp?"

"Imma fuck him up," I told her.

"What? What does that mean? I don't know what that means," she said, seeming scared, or something.

"I know, but it's okay," I told her. "I know what it means."

Kaplan was looking at me with that one raised eyebrow thing he did, and I was going to act like the maniac I'd thought of earlier if he didn't stop. "Are you talking about breaking his legs, or something, Stamp?"

I laughed. "Well, no. Do you want his legs broken, Nasha?"

She looked horrified. "No, I most certainly do not."

"That's what I thought. I've done a lot of shit that now sort of disgust me in my life, and if y'all think you need to hear it for your own peace of mind, I'll tell you. I won't like telling you, and you may well hate me for it, but I know people, have social connections, can find things out. Everybody has secrets, loveys, and some people have embarrassing secrets."

They were hanging on my every word, seemingly stunned. "Speak, oh silent ones," I demanded, feeling extremely vulnerable and uncertain.

Kaplan kind of did this double-take thing, and Nasha squeezed me. "Noo, Stamp. I don't want you to do bad things," she said. "He is who he is."

"I get that, babe. I knew that was how you'd feel, but I'm not like that. I don't get sad, I get revenge."

"Vigilante Shit," Kaplan said, and rumbled his adorable awkward laugh.

"What?" Nasha was bewildered.

"It's a song," I explained.

"By Taylor Swift," Kaplan told her. So sue me. I'm a Swiftie.

"Ah, we must hear it." She looked at me expectantly.

"Now?"

"Yes. If Stamp is going to do vigilante shit, I want to know what that is."

We listened to it, and Nasha was delighted. "Why have you not shown me this before?" she asked.

I laughed. "You like tribal beats. I like them, too, so we listen to that. This isn't that."

She tilted her head to one side the way she did when she was thinking and flashed me those eyes. She had the most expressive eyes, and she communicated in a very physical way, her face, hands, body, talking to you as much as her words, but especially those eyes. The nearly black center contrasted with the extreme whiteness of those huge eyes, in that dark and mysterious complexion, she was just stunning, and she flirted with those eyes, not intentionally, but letting you see the playful spirit inside her.

"No, I think this is tribal beats," she finally said. "A different tribe. Women."

I marveled. "Yeah, you're right. Don't tell Kaplan, he'll think we're weird." They both laughed and I felt Kaplan's arm, which had been around Nasha, stretch, move across my shoulder, his huge hand cupping the back of my neck, his fingers sliding up, tangling in my hair, soothing touch.

"No one wants you to do any vigilante shit, Stamp," he said. "I don't think Nasha wants that. Do you?"

She hesitated. "I hate him," she finally said. "I have done nothing wrong, have not offended him in any way."

"Is anything he said true?" I asked.

"No, it is not," she said.

"Vigilante shit, it is, then. Listen, I'm not doing anything illegal unless you think stalking him in a way he will never know is sketchy. I mean, it is, but he deserves it. He's making my lovey sad, standing in her way, just out of spite. What kind of person does that? Someone I should fuck up, that's who."

"Do you think I should kick his ass?" Kaplan asked.

Nasha shot him a look. "Noo," she said. "You would be charged with a crime and go to jail."

I laughed. "I agree, Kaplan. I think it's cool that you would, and can, though."

"Yes," She was quick to agree. "Thank you, Kaplan. I didn't know..."

"You'd be surprised what I would do for you," he said.

She leaned over and kissed him. "What are you going to do, Stamp?"

"I have no idea," I said. "I know shit about him. You get me his details and I'll look into him. Once I got him, I'll let you know. Y'all want some egg rolls? Kaplan, go down and get us some egg rolls."

He gave the back of my head a last gentle pet, and stood. "I'm off, then. Wait, one of you give me some money. I'm tapped."

I gave him cash and he was off. We had a great night and I went to bed feeling as at peace as I had when I was ten.

*****

It took me a minute to figure out how to approach this. I'd taken people down before, but this was different. When I'd done it before, I'd known the victims well. They deserved what they got. I was a nice girl, so if I was being evil to someone, they deserved it. I didn't want anyone to know who took this dude down.

Nasha got his info for me from the university. When you are in real property law, you sometimes need shit investigated, and I knew the good ones. I had the money, they knew me and they were happy to investigate Professor Adam Tracy.

It turned out he was into coke and parties with the undergrads. I bided my time until I found a way to be at one of the same parties. I snapped Kaplan and met him for lunch, instructing him not to breathe a word to Nasha.

We got good cheesesteak sandwiches from Ninth Street Deli, and sat at a sidewalk table. We just talked for a while, but I could tell he was thinking something was afoot. He was like a big kid, couldn't contain his curiosity any longer and he leaned close. He smelled delicious.

"Are you doing some sketchy shit you don't want Nasha to know about?" he half whispered, conspiratorially. It was all I could do to keep from tasting him. He laughed at his use of "sketchy shit."

"I hang out with you too much," he said.

I pretended to be shocked and hurt, and he pretended to believe me. I loved these little games we played. It was how I knew they loved me, he and Nasha. They knew I loved those little emotional dramas, and they loved playing them with me.

"I mean... sorry, you know, how you talk... I don't hang out with you enough, really..."

"No, you don't," I told him. "You and Nasha really needa get rid of that dumpy apartment and move in with me. I'll never get a chance to fully corrupt you when you refuse to put yourself in my power."

"First time I've ever heard you underestimate yourself." He laughed at the side-eye look I shot him.