Heartbreaker

By Kimberly L. Corum

Tina isn't looking for love. She's looking for revenge...

Tina is in the business of breaking hearts and business is booming. So when she begins to fall in love with Earl, a professional race car driver, she begins to question her choice of career. But then her BFF, Charlene, who had been jilted in the past by Earl, hires her to break his heart. Tina is now in a conundrum. Should she follow her heart or do her job?

Heartbreaker is a novel about love, romance and getting even.

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Tradition Books
• Release date: Aug 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9780983705024

Book preview

Learn?

Use at Your Own Discretion

I was sitting in my favorite diner staring out the window and wondering what I was going to do with the rest of my life when they sat down. There were two of them. And they were both blonde.

Do you mind if we sit here? one of them asked.

I stared at them. Well, they were already seated. Not much I could do about it. Uh, no, I don’t suppose, I said and straightened up.

The other one leaned forward and stared at me, her eyes as big as saucers. It’s really you, isn’t it?

It’s really me, I replied dryly.

She really looked happy, like she’d made the discovery of a lifetime. Kinda like I was an artifact of some sort.

I told you! she squealed and slapped the other one’s arm, then held her hand out to me. I’m Ally and this is Nicki.

I shook their hands and then sipped my sweet tea.

We’ve heard about you for years, Ally said and smiled. We’ve always admired what you’ve done.

And what is it that you think I’ve done? I asked.

The glanced at each other.

You’re a ballbreaker, she whispered.

Not anymore, I said.

Oh, don’t say that! Nicki exclaimed. This guy was two-timing us. We didn’t even know each other!

The bastard!

Yeah, one day he screwed up and we met each other at his apartment.

And we got into a fight!

Yeah, but then, we started talking, Ally said. And we decided to find you.

Yeah, Nicki said, nodding her head so much her ponytail bobbed.

I’m out of business, I told them. Sorry.

They looked disappointed. Ah, come on! they whined simultaneously.

I stared at them. Then I got an idea. Why not hand the legacy over? There were still plenty of women out there being screwed over by men for no good reason. These girls looked like they had it on the ball, too. They could do some major damage. This might just work.

Look, I began. I’ve just been through some major crap and I won’t help you, but I can teach you a few things.

Huh? they asked then glanced at each other.

I rolled my eyes. I can teach you how to do it yourselves.

Oh! Right! Ally squealed.

This won’t be easy. There are rules to follow and if you don’t follow them to the letter, then you’ll end up like me.

What happened to you? Nicki asked.

I took a deep breath and said, I fell in love with one of my dicks.

Oh, no! Ally squealed.

Oh, yes, I replied.

So, you’re gonna teach us how to be heartbreakers? Nicki asked.

Something like that, I said. I’ll start at the beginning, then I’ll lead up to recent events.

They both put their heads in their hands and their elbows on the table ready to learn the lesson of a lifetime. I was going to tell them everything, down to last nitty gritty detail. It was going to take a while, but they seemed interested, more or less. And I had the time.

Okay, I said. This is how it started. I was getting ready to take a little vacation after I finished with Anne.

Anne? Ally asked.

She was my next to last real client.

Oh, she replied. Continue.

So, anyway, she started out by telling me—

But how did you meet Anne?

Uh, I’ll get to all that. Later. I stopped and thought about all the stuff I had to tell them. This was going to take forever. Maybe I should just write a manual.

Heartbreaking 101

A User’s guide

by

Tina Louise

I grinned. Yeah, that would be cool. But I would have to add this caveat: Use at your own discretion.

Go on, Ally said.

I smiled and took a breath. Then I got started.

TCB (Taking Care of Business)

Men suck. We all know that.

You know how it is, she began. You meet a man, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life. You fall in love.

The young woman looked out the window, hesitating before she spoke, as if she were half-ashamed of what she was about to say and half-glad she was able to. It was taking an enormous amount of effort on her part.

She continued, Everything’s perfect. You decide to get married and you begin to plan for your future together, how nice it’s all going to be. Everything’s going good…great! No complications whatsoever.

The client: Anne.

Age: 35.

Profession: PR exec.

Hobbies: Gardening and reading.

Goal: To see said fiancée suffer.

How she found out about me: Referral.

I stared at her. She was a beautiful young woman, very sophisticated and chic. She looked like she just stepped out of some magazine layout. I sometimes wondered how women like her got involved with these jerks in the first place. Temporary insanity, perhaps? Maybe.

And I settled for him! she nearly screamed. I settled! I didn’t even like him at first! He chased me!

She chewed on the end of her straw and glared out the window as if the heavy downtown Atlanta traffic was aggravating the crap right out of her. She seemed to ask herself, Where the hell are they all going?!

I said, Go on.

She jumped a little, as if she’d forgotten I was there. She took a deep breath, crossed her arms and went on, Then he decides he isn’t ready. I mean, the fucking wedding cake is in the oven! It’s baking!

O-U-C-H!

She regained what she had left of her composure. He decides I’m just not right for him. He’s too young to get married, he hasn’t seen the world, he hasn’t sown his wild oats, what-ever-the-hell that means.

She glowered out the window. She liked doing that—glowering. People in her position typically do. They’re usually surly, too. All their hopes and dreams have just gone down the tube. They’ve been betrayed, lied to, spat upon. They’ve been hurt. They just don’t know what to do or who to turn to.

That’s where I come in.

I want to see him in pain. I want his heart to break like mine is breaking. I want him down on his hands and knees, crying like a baby, the sorry sack of shit! She finally turned to me. Can you help me?

Could I help her? Was she kidding? Of course, I could help her. First, maybe I should introduce myself and explain why I’m sitting in a diner talking to this heartbroken young woman. I mean, this chick and I have just met.

My name is Tina Louise. You already know that. Don’t ask for my last name cause I won’t give it to you. I’m in my early thirties and people have told me I remind them of Catherine Deneuve, circa Belle De Jour. I dye my hair blond cause, for some reason, it’s easier to attract men that way. Blonde=Dumb maybe? That might be what they think. I know that when most men see me they think sex. I also know that when some women see me they think bitch.

But that can’t be helped, can it?

I am very serious about my work. And I have good reason. I not only help these women gain closure or whatever you want to call it, I help exact revenge. And once I do that, the guy’s gonna be smarting for a while, which means the next woman he dates won’t suffer nearly as much as the one he just dumped.

I deal in the deliberate breakage of hearts. I am a heartbreaker. Literally, I take action against the injustice inflicted on women by men through the means of heartbreaking. And, yes, I do pay taxes—a lot of taxes. I list my job title as Relationship Consultant, though I have been referred to as a Relationship Mercenary. And when I do a job, I do it right. I come on like gangbusters.

Back to Anne.

I asked her, How would it make you feel to get this done?

For the first time all day, or, perhaps, since the wedding cake incident, she smiled. It would make me feel pretty damn good.

You know I’m expensive.

Put it this way, I got two kidneys, but I only need one. That’s how bad I want this done.

I understand, I said.

She was getting agitated again. She spoke through gritted teeth, I want to see him suffer, Tina. I want him to writhe in pain. I want his heart to ache and his eyeballs to bleed and his…his dick to fall off and his… I don’t know!

His dick to fall off? That was a new one. I smiled at her. At that moment, she was clenching a glass of water so tightly that it shook and spilled all over the table.

I think I get the picture, I said and took the glass out of her hand. Did you bring the dossier?

She slid a big brown envelope over to me which contained the dick’s portfolio, i.e. information and a picture of the man in question. The son of a bitch was even smiling in it. From the information provided, I began to formulate my plan of attack…

The dick: Tony Holmes.

Age: 32.

Profession: Police officer.

Hobbies: None listed.

Kinks: Armpit fetish.

General weirdness: Is known to pick nose without tissue, thinks cubic zirconia is just as good as the real thing, always answers phone while engaging in sexual activity. Et cetera.

Favorite band: Def Lepard.

Favorite movie: Dog Day Afternoon.

Crime: Backed out of wedding a day before ceremony.

Punishment: Bring him to his knees and kick him when he’s down.

The plan: Find him, hook him, destroy him.

Estimated time limit: Three weeks.

She studied me, my reaction to him, and asked, What do you think?

There was no other way to describe it. I looked her dead in the eye and said, Piece of cake.

If I could have set a song to it, it would have been Tainted Love, the Soft Cell version. Oh, yes, this was going to be easy peasy lemon squeezy. I couldn’t wait to get started.

Simple Science

There is a science to it, albeit, a simple one.

I’ll break it down for you so we can get a clear idea of what we’re doing, including our objectives and our goals. Let me begin by saying always make them pay for everything—dinner, theatre tickets, what-have-you. Any man who is too cheap to buy dinner for a woman should never find himself in the company of one.

And if they don’t hold the door for you, feel free to jump their asses about it. That ain’t right. His mama should have taught him better.

Enough said. Here’s the skinny.

Practice Makes Perfect

What do we learn first? Get their attention.

This dude, Tony, was a cop who rode around on a little motorcycle. I already knew from his portfolio that he patrolled a certain area of town at a certain time.

Finding him wasn’t difficult. I spotted him almost immediately and followed him for a little while in my car until he stopped at a red light.

Here goes nothing.

My car was a black ’67 GTO convertible. Yeah, I know. The car’s a man magnet. They loved it. I loved it. It kicked ass. If they could resist me, which was almost impossible, they usually couldn’t resist my car and the combination of both of us was almost deadly. So it’s not surprising that Tony looked over at it, and at me, sitting there looking at him. I gave him a wink, which caught him off guard. He grinned to himself before turning back to the light.

What a sucker.

Just before the light turned green, I floored it and ran straight through. He was hot on my ass and turned on his siren. I let him chase me for about four blocks then pulled over.

Remember, you have to get their attention. Going to extremes in cases like this is okay. Just be careful.

My cell phone rang just as my car came to a stop. I stared at it. Should I pick up? What if it was an emergency? But I was kinda busy… It rang again. I picked up hurriedly. Hello?

Hey! Charlene, my best friend said. What’cha doing?

Charlene, I’m in the middle of something right now!

Shitfire! Don’t get so bitchy about it.

And there he was, tapping on my window, ready to read me my rights. I rolled it down and gave him a dazzling smile. Can you hold on for a sec? I said to him then hissed, Charlene, I have to go!

Well, listen, I need to know where the Cap’n Crunch is.

Maybe I should give you a little background on Charlene. She’s been my best friend forever. She’s also during that time managed to get me into a lot of trouble. She, too, could be a professional heartbreaker, yet she doesn’t have the discipline. And she really despises men for the most part. Not because someone hurt her once, though she has been hurt, but because she doesn’t have the patience to put up with their crap.

I love her, I really do, but she’s always getting me into situations that are at once sticky and embarrassing.

Case in point: A few years ago, she insisted we attend a Rainbow Gathering, which was mainly composed of hippies/hippie wannabes. We arrived together, then she took off and I spent all my time looking for her, wondering if she’d been abducted or something. For two days! In the meanwhile, some guy slipped something—who knows what—in my drink and I disappeared for two days! I don’t know where the hell I went or what I did. I finally came to and found myself weeping under a tree. Charlene waltzed up to me and said, You ready to go yet?

Tony cleared his throat.

I held up one finger for him to wait and whispered, I don’t have any Cap’n Crunch!

Well, stop by the store and get some on your way home, will ya? she asked pleasantly.

Yeah, whatever, I said and hung up hurriedly, then turned to Tony and gave him a big smile. Is there a problem, officer?

He nearly smiled back. He caught himself just in time. Yeah, you could say that.

I leaned out of the window so he could get a little peek at my cleavage. Note: At any opportunity, show a little cleavage. I think you know why. Truth is I wanted to get your attention. I giggled, reached into my purse and pulled out a fake business card. Why don’t you give me a call?

Then I winked, put the car in gear and pulled out, leaving him flabbergasted.

* * * * *

What do we learn next? Once you’ve got their attention, you can’t let them know you’re the least bit interested. You can’t! This is vital! If they think you want them, they’re going to be in control from here on out and then… Well, you don’t get paid.

A day later, I got a call from Tony. Yeah, a day later. He wasn’t about to let me get away, was he?

Hello? I said.

Hey, is this Maggie?

By the way, always use a code name and never give them your address. Meet them in public places or go to their pads once you’ve established trust. If they insist on an address, give them a post office box number, but expect a lot of love notes and other crap you will later have to destroy. After you’ve finished with them, change your phone number and always keep it unlisted. I, personally, have two lines—one business/personal line and one dick line. The dick line is the one that gets changed. That goes without saying.

Yes, this is Maggie, I said. Who’s this?

It’s…uh…Tony.

Uh…uh…uh. He sounded like a blubbering idiot. I rolled my eyes, then pretended not to know who he was. Yes? What’s this all about? Who is this?

I’m the cop who pulled you over, he managed to blurt.

Am I in trouble for something? I teased, switching gears on him.

Oh, no! You…uh…you gave me your number.

I did? I asked.

Yeah.

Oh! I forgot about that.

He seemed to relax and nervously chuckled. So, umm, listen, I was thinking about asking you on a date.

You were?