A wonderful way to end a good summer is to travel to somewhere you’ve never been. I’m in Barcelona. I’ll go from here on to France for the rest of the month.

In subsequent posts, I’ll have more to say about my travels and specifically about travelling alone. For now, this post is purposefully short because… Barcelona! I have places to go.

Over the summer I continued to write short stories, submitting every month to a magazine. Contestants are invited to submit a 2,000 word story inspired by a specific prompt. The following story was my submission based on the prompt, ‘Secret Societies’. I am pleased to say it earned an honourable mention:

Ladies Who Lunch

The balaclava itched against my face. My watch vibrated with the alert, he was headed my way. As the footsteps pulled even with the alleyway, I straight-armed him across the throat, knelt on his chest, pressed my knee into his windpipe, and put the point of my knife to his neck.

“Hello, Doug. How are we tonight?”

He had no clue who I was, how I knew his name, or why I would accost him on his way home from bowling.

This was the fun part.

I recited his income, his bank balance, his search history, his mother’s address, his weekly routines and a few other personal details for good measure. And then I made my point.

“That restraining order against you? You violate it one more time… if you so much as look in your ex-wife’s direction, I’ll put this knife to better use. I won’t kill you, but you might wish I would.” He croaked out a few words of protest.

“Don’t misunderstand things. She has no idea who I am, or that I’m here talking to you. Women like your ex-wife need a little help from women like me. You will follow the court order. You will make your support payments. Or we’ll do this again until you do.” I pushed lightly on the blade.

“Trust me, I mean what I say.”

I stood and yanked him up by his collar. Unfortunately, he was a slow learner. He had the nerve to disparage me with a disgusting bit of name calling. I drop-kicked him, knelt on his chest again, “Let’s review the rules shall we?”

The second time I released him, he chose to remain quiet. I walked away speaking softly into my wrist, “All done here. Good job everyone, see you tomorrow.”

The following day, my heels clicked an assertive rhythm as I strode across the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria, on my way to the private dining room to meet the other Ladies Who Lunch. I was thinking of how much I loved this cloak of invisibility when a voice I recognized called out my name.

“Magdalena, darling. Is that you?”

To my great shame, I turned toward that voice. Memories flooded my mind and I felt like a fox caught in a snare.

“H-hello Robert.” I stuttered.

“What a lovely surprise, Maggie.” He stepped forward and kissed the air beside my ear as I recoiled.

I listened politely to what he had to say and then I escaped into the elevator.

Upstairs, in the private room, Carmen looked at my face, “Whose ghost did you see?”

“Robert. He was downstairs. I think he’d been waiting for me. He’s purchased a table of ten for the charity ball next week and he’s told other committee members that he intends to drop significant cash at the silent auction. If I call the lawyers because he’s in violation of our agreement, he’ll tell the committee I made it ‘awkward’ for him. He’ll withdraw his support and I’ll look like the whiny ex-wife.”

Julia pointed an elaborately manicured finger at me, “This is an infringement. You of all people, all of us, understand what this means. He doesn’t care about charity. He is signalling that a piece of paper means nothing.”

I shrugged, “So he goes to the event? Let him spend his money. It’s for a good cause.”

“Magdalena. He’s encroaching,” said Sacha.

I argued we had other cases, women who genuinely needed our protection.

Sasha raised one eyebrow at me and sucked on her teeth. I felt her disapproval more than the others. It was Sasha who had found me and got me to the hospital. With some string-pulling, she kept my name out of the papers, which was great for me, but unfortunately better for Robert. That was three years ago.

“He wants something. Otherwise, why push the boundaries now?” Julia asked.

A discreet tap on the door interrupted us. The waiters entered with our orders and we lapsed into general and bland conversation as if we were who we seemed to be—four New York women of wealth and privilege. We call ourselves Ladies Who Lunch because that’s what we look like. Throw in our participation at all the big charity events, a few grand seasonal balls and no one suspects our real mission.

By the end of our meeting we have established tactics for our next case; a mother of three small children whose ex-husband was showing up at her workplace, harassing her in spite of a restraining order and multiple calls to the police. When the system isn’t working, that’s our cue. Julia will tail him to learn his routine. Sasha will hack his computer, Carmen will find a way into the woman’s workplace to support her there. Carmen can figure out how to get into any job situation. She’s posed as a night cleaner, a store clerk, a Walmart greeter, and tomorrow she’ll likely be making sandwich wraps.

The doorman hailed a cab for me. I slid in to the backseat and was bumped right across to the window. I turned to object and there was Robert.

“We meet again, darling. I found our conversation in the lobby a little constrained. Didn’t you?”

“No, I found it too long.”

He chuckled, “Don’t be like that. It doesn’t become you. I have a small favour to ask.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“Hear me out. I’m planning to run for office. I’d like your support.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Support my political ambitions and I won’t interfere with your…. hmmm, escapades? Would that be the right word?”

The taunt made me freeze. From experience, I know Robert will paw at a trapped mouse for hours.

I rallied, “You’re breaking the rules of our agreement. Should I call the police or my lawyer?”

“Don’t be hasty. This may sound cliché, but last night, my person talked to your person. That poor man—Doug, was it? He could charge you with assault. How would that look on Page Six?”

I was too stunned to answer.

“It’s not you, it’s your last name, darling. Voters love the smell of old money, the chance to rub elbows with New York society. Make a few simple public appearances, demonstrate our friendship and I promise I won’t disrupt your little forays into …domestic mediation.”

As soon as I arrived home I called an emergency meeting of Ladies Who Lunch.

I explained, “Robert hired a private detective who followed me last night. The detective watched my encounter with the ex, and then approached the guy to find out what I’d said to him. Robert doesn’t know the extent of our operations, but he could knock me right out of the game.”

“Don’t you have any dirt on Robert? All that construction money, somebody’s got dirty hands,” said Julia.

“He’s too smart for any of any of that to be pinned on him.”

“What if you agree to his request? Tell him you’ll support his political aspirations, but we’ll work against him to make sure he doesn’t win.” This was Carmen’s suggestion.

“No. That still gives him too much power. He likes a card up his sleeve and he will leverage this one until he gets everything he wants.”

In the end, we decided Sasha would hack his computer, see if we couldn’t find an ace of our own. We met again the following afternoon.

“The man appears to be clean. His taxes are paid, his search history was downright boring. The only thing I found was that he had a new safe installed last year.”

“The house already has a safe,” I said.

Julia strummed her fingernails, “I know that trick. One safe has valuables and one safe has secrets. Like a decoy.”

We argued late into the night about what to do. In the end, our plan was not perfect, but, with luck, it might possibly work.

In the morning, we paid the housekeeper generously to take the day off. Robert had a meeting scheduled and we watched him leave. Sasha cut off the security system, and I went in wearing a wig, glasses, black pants and a t-shirt with the cleaning logo. I had barely started my search when I got an alert; Robert was headed back to the house. In hindsight, we should have sent Carmen in. She’s better at faking these things than I am, but I was familiar with the house. We only wanted a photo of the safe and then we would hire someone else to crack it. None of us had that skill. Yet.

I headed for the kitchen, planning to leave by the back door before Robert could see me, but he came in through the garage entrance. Once again, I was caught. I wiped at the already clean countertop and kept my face turned away.

“Where’s Mila?” he asked.
I mumbled something about a family emergency.

There was a long moment until he said, “Bring a cup of coffee up to my study, please.”

I put the coffee on his desk and headed for the door. He started to laugh, “Magdalena, who’s breaking the agreement now? Sit down. Let’s have a talk.”

My stomach churned. It was easier to muster bravado when it was someone else’s ex-partner.

“Cat got your tongue?” He casually reached into a drawer and placed a handgun flat on the desk. He kept his finger in the trigger and spun the gun slowly, around and around, pausing it every time the barrel pointed at me.

Finally he spoke, “This solves a problem for me. If you were dead, you can’t speak out against me. You can’t bring up any details of our history I might not want public. You’re in disguise in my house, I have proof you assaulted a man two nights ago. I could claim self-defence.”

“Killing me would be a major scandal for a man with your aims.”

“I could play up the sympathy angle. What a terrible tragedy. I’d say you were under significant stress, behaving oddly.”

He stood up and gestured for me to do the same.
“Let’s go back to the kitchen, darling. I don’t want a mess in my study.”

Funny how your mind goes to the oddest places in these moments. I noticed the sun was shining. He pushed me toward the kitchen sink and then took a few steps back to ready himself. He raised the gun but the sound of shattering glass startled us both. That was what I needed to snap into my black belt training. I kicked his arm hard and the gun flew across the room.

Sasha stepped out from behind the pantry door. Robert turned to follow the gun, I kicked him a second time and he fell to the floor. I knelt on his back and pressed my knife to his neck.

Tension made my voice taut, on the edge of tears. “Sasha?” I couldn’t even get the question out.

“Later. We have to have each other’s backs, right?”

She pulled a length of rope from her pocket and we tied his hands tightly behind his back. After a few deep breaths, my voice returned, “Robert, your life is not worth the work we’re doing. Show us what’s in the safe. Not the decoy, the real one.”

The safe was concealed behind a big screen TV. Clever. Everybody looks behind the art in the study.

Inside was a notebook, full of names, dates, and cash balances; a detailed record of years of kickbacks and bribes. A goldmine for someone with expensive political ambitions. On the other hand, a few well-placed phone calls and Robert’s construction empire would collapse like cement mixed with sea water.

I pocketed the notebook.

We left him where he could reach the phone to nose-dial for whatever help he chose. We slipped out the back door. I spoke quietly into my wrist, “Done. All went well. See you at lunch tomorrow.”