Don't Get Mad...Get Even

By J. L. Campbell

What choices do you have when you are abused, cheated on and left with a trail of broken promises? Don’t Get Mad...Get Even. Take an inside look at Jamaican culture and lifestyle through a collection of award-winning stories. You will laugh, cry and commiserate with a compelling cast of characters, who conquer their challenges in unique ways.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. L. Campbell
• Release date: Sep 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465712998

Book preview

DON’T GET MAD…GET EVEN

by J.L. Campbell

Copyright 2011 J.L. Campbell

Published by The Writers’ Suite at Smashwords

Cover Design by Tirzah Goodwin

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CONTENTS

A Push in the Right Direction

Conditional Surrender

Entrapment

Sudden Emancipation

The Last Laugh

Glossary of Terms

Excerpt from DISTRACTION

Meet the Author

A Push in the Right Direction

RITA COCKED HER HEAD, listening to the gale force wind snarling under the shuddering eaves of the house. She had just arrived home from work, but wanted to be sure Richard hadn’t missed battening down any vital areas. Rooves and awnings had flown away during past hurricanes and she did not fancy spending the night getting wet while staring into the sullen sky.

How the heck are we going to manage if this hurricane isn’t here yet and the darn roof is trying to fall to bits? she asked herself.

Not much you can do, but pray the house doesn’t suffer a lot of damage,’ whispered the voice inside her head.

She said a quick prayer, sighed and shuffled down the hallway to check on the kids, whose joyful screams carried over the racket of the wind and rain.

The lights dimmed, and brightened seconds later. Rita patted her skirt to be sure she had a box of matches and continued down the corridor to the boys’ bedroom. She shook her head at the picture Jason and Robert made as they giggled while hitting each other. Janice bounced up and down, watching the pillow-fight unfolding before her eager four-year-old eyes.

My turn! My turn! she screamed, as the two boys flopped breathlessly on the bed. The lights dipped again and they shrieked in anticipation of being thrown into total darkness. Rita smiled tiredly at them before checking the double windows for any sign of leakage. Satisfied, she scanned the bed and then called out to Jason, who at eight was the eldest, Be careful. That goes for you too, Janice. Stop jumping, you’ll throw up.

She checked the windows at the end of the passage and on her way downstairs, cast a final glance at the squealing threesome.

* * *

Richard faced the kitchen door, head thrown back, eyeing the beads of water that formed crooked lines as they sped downward. He stuck his foot out and pushed the old, rolled-up tee shirts into the space where the floor met the bottom of the door.

Rita eased into one of the chairs at the dining table. I can’t tell you how terrible it is outside. The landslides have started already. If I’d left the shop any later, I wouldn’t have made it home.

Richard turned to look at her. Just shut up. If I need a weather report, I’ll listen to the radio or watch The Weather Channel. Even they are more interested in what goes on around here.

Her brows knitted and she wondered what was ailing him this time.

Where the hell were you? he asked.

Huh?

"I asked where you were."

Rita grit her teeth. At the shop. As always.

What kept you so long? Three hours ago I told you to pack up and come home.

One of the refrigerators broke down and I stayed to have Mr. Barnes fix it, I couldn’t let all the flowers go to waste.

You can buy new stock, Rita. You can’t buy a new life.

You’re being unreasonable. It would be a waste to let all the flowers wilt.

Don’t change the subject. The fact is I don’t know whether you were at the shop or not. The telephone lines are down, so who knows where you’ve been. Maybe you should go back to wherever you went off to, when I told you to get your ass home.

Where on earth would I go in this hurricane?

She grasped the edge of the table and got up in stages, rubbing her belly.

Richard spat out words heavy with suspicion. Maybe you were with some other man, and much too busy until now.

Rita snorted. You’ve got to be kidding. Here I am, seven months along and you’re crazy enough to accuse me of having an affair?

Well, you certainly took your time about coming home. What other explanation could there be?

Get a grip, Richard. Sex is not my number one priority right now. 

Still massaging her belly, Rita reclaimed her seat and tried stretching her aching back. When was the last time anyway?

Exactly my point, Richard yelled. You never have time for me. Every time I touch you, you’re ‘too tired’, which leads me to believe that you must have something going on elsewhere.

For goodness’ sake, I am forty years old and too damn old to be pregnant. What the hell d’you expect? Who am I, the Energizer Bunny?

Rita struggled to control her temper as she continued, I am so damn sick of you and your stupid accusations. I can tell when you’re fooling around, because you start acting like an idiot and do exactly what you’re doing now.

She rose from the chair and paced the length of the kitchen. In all the time we’ve been together, have you ever found any proof that I’ve cheated?

He refused to look at her and waited for a few beats to reply. No, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t.

Suddenly, he was absorbed with a non-existent spot on the counter, his hand moving restlessly back and forth. A smile flitted across her face before pain wiped it away. And just how often have I had proof that you’ve cheated?

The scraping intensified, but Richard remained silent.

Too many times for me to count, Rita said, her voice low.

She walked away, conscious of her duck-like gait and aching body. At the entrance to the living room, she faced him. One day you’re going to push me too far.

Hand upraised, he rushed at her. Are you threatening me, Rita?

Her eyes challenged him. What d’you plan to do? Hit me?

He jabbed her in the forehead and her head snapped backward. Her stinging skin confirmed that his nail had raked her.

What you plan to do about it? he asked.

Hit me again and I swear to God…’

Anger boiled in her chest. Instinctively, she raised a hand, but he was swifter and the blow caught her on the side of the head. He hadn’t hit her in a while, so like a fool she forgot his quicksilver mood changes. But her body hadn’t.

Stunned, she cradled her head. Instinct took over; she turned sideways and folded her hands over her stomach. His fist rammed into her side, buckling her knees. She righted herself and leaned on the wall, where she sucked air into her lungs and fought to control the waves of nausea cresting