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Nicole
Jameson had injured my reputation for the last and final time when I'd decided to take decisive action. Earlier in the month, I'd retrieved his address, hacked into his office computer and most importantly, I'd prevailed upon certain less-than-reputable friends to put tiny cameras in his car.
One of these very same friends called me over to his office and I sat down eagerly anticipating the news.
"Well?" I asked.
"All right Nicole, looks like we got twenty minutes of footage." He set the dvd
on the edge of the desk in front of me and I frowned, waiting for him to say more. I uncrossed my legs and said,

"Well, what is it?"
" I never look at the tapes," he said flatly," now do you want to pay cash, check or money order?" I quickly fished inside my purse for the stack of twenties I'd withdrawn earlier from the ATM.
" Always a pleasure,"
"Yeah," he said absently. Out of politeness, he probably wouldn't count the money until after I left.
Fifteen minutes later and I was in front of the tv, seeing the most interesting things:
Jameson closes the car door and plops his lanky frame into the driver's seat. He furtively glances out the front and rear view mirrors before reaching into the glove box. The gray box he pulls out is just large enough to contain a hard backed novel, but something is definitely off. The book has a hole in the middle and Jameson reaches into it, pulling out a glass tube filled with white powder. He takes out a mirror, pours some powder on it and proceeds to snort the powder through a the tiny golden straw he'd plucked from the cup holder. After a few decent hits, Jameson leans back and starts to cry. His loud, hiccupy sobs echo eerily throughout the car
I shut off the tv and was momentarily perplexed. Bent on revenge, I'd planned this scheme to the letter. Even though he was pitiful, I knew this was the only way to help both him and myself.
The next morning I'd planned on going early to the office and getting right on the computer to upload the footage. I would send a mass email to that the entire office would see Jameson's car episode. The moment he tried to delete the email, his computer circuits would fry from the virus I'd embedded earlier. As I stood right next to Jameson's cubicle, glorious satisfaction seemed only moments away.
"Excuse me," a male voice said suddenly breaking the silence. I looked up, and there was Jameson!
My chest contracted so hard I had to cough. My face was on fire but I still

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