The Business Trip

by Jessie Garcia

We were so young when we had Evan, and Jason had been a good father, but I was just bored and increasingly irked by him. Finally, one night, I built up the courage to ask him if he thought we were still compatible. He sat up from his reclined position on the couch, looked at me without speaking for a solid thirty seconds, and then said, “I guess we’ve both been feeling the same thing, huh?”

We never even tried counseling. It was an amicable divorce and it was fast. Thankfully, he told me he had no problem with me keeping Fred. I would have fought hard for my Freddie boy.

I liked my life, but I longed for the sort of easy companionship I had with Robert, just with someone who found me physically attractive.

I longed for adventure, change, a vacation, and a life partner.

Even my relationship with Evan seemed like it was slipping out of my control. He appeared to be upset with me, not Jason, over the divorce, for reasons I couldn’t fathom, and now he usually said he was too busy to talk.

He had chosen Jason’s house for both Thanksgiving and Christmas this past year, saying it was more fun with his stepsisters in the house. I practically had to beg just to get him to meet me for lunch the day after Christmas.

“That was Dave. He said a GM friend of his called him. Apparently, word is getting out in the news community that a news director named Trent in Atlanta is in jail. For something awful. And Dave’s friend said it involves another news director, a female.”

“I’m here to provide an update on the unfortunate tragedy that occurred in the residence behind me. Trent McCarthy remains in custody.

“That one is a Jasmine V. Littleton. The second potential victim is a Stephanie H. Monroe. Personal items from both were found buried in the backyard.

“Fire Trent McCarthy. I’m not waiting for a trial. Fire him now.” Letting someone go had never felt so good.

“Trent, you’re in jail for murder. Two women. Your name is all over the news, not just here but nationally. You’re trending on every platform. You were the first story in my national news feed. I don’t know if you did it or didn’t do it, that’s for the courts to decide, but I can’t bail you out. And that’s final.”

Steph had withdrawn large sums of money both in San Diego and Atlanta.

It all seemed like a bizarre dream now, how I had concocted this idea for a little weekend fun to scratch my rebellious itch, how it came to me the day Lucy had shown me the website: Find My Doppelganger. We both laughed as she pointed out how you could put in a picture of yourself and watch it spit out an actor or actress from its database whose facial features and skin tone closely resembled yours.

Just a few nights in Mexico, that was all I wanted. No one would get hurt; no one would know. It was fun.

“The cardboard box … the birthday card … I should have burned it all … the bastards are going to win, aren’t they?”

“Who are the bastards?” I asked, venom still boiling over in my voice. To me, she was the bastard. Jasmine paused, gulping air for a few moments before speaking. “Glenn … Trent … Drake … my mother … my brother and sister … the Fun Bunch … all of them, they’re winning. And you, you too,” she said, staring daggers at me.

You don’t know a thing about me. And by the way, the bastards you talked about. Guess what? They didn’t kill anyone,” I fired at her. “And you did.”