Karma in Overdrive: Trish’s Circle of Death

Karma in Overdrive

Trish’s Circle of Death

By Justice Gray

~~~

Smashwords Edition

The Garbage Collector Series

Book 3

Justice Gray

realitytodayforum@gmail.com

Copyright: © 2013 by Justice Gray. All rights reserved

No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of author.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

DREAM GIRL

JIMMY

TRISH AND JIMMY

THE MARRIAGE

THE LIFE

GETTING COMFORTABLE

END OF HAPPY TIMES

THE BREAK UP

CUTTING TIES

BILL

GOING AROUND IN CIRCLES

RESURRECTION

SPIKE

WASTING TIME

TRISH REJUVENATED

BOB

PERFECTION

HOME ALONE

ALL MEN ARE DOGS!

BEGINNING OF A NEW END

THE FINAL STRAW

CIRCLE OF LIFE

DREAM GIRL

She was the girl with looks from heaven rather than the girl next door. Her seductive eyes, a crisp Mediterranean blue, rendered many great men helpless, filling their minds with lust and fervor. Eyes that were set in a perfectly sculpted face, like expensive china, subdued the toughest hearts and broke the strongest will and to top it all off, she had a perfect body. Curves she had aplenty, with svelte, supermodel stats, complemented by a silky, creamy skin tone. One could say that God had truly spent a little more time on her.

She carried an air of sophistication about her, one that would make people think she was from a wealthy background, especially since it was culturally ingrained that beauty was born with the riches. As a result, men sometimes thought twice about approaching her, fearing rejection if they couldn’t measure up or fearing she was made up of too much high-maintenance material.

She had heard about every pickup line out there. Some were tempting, some made her laugh and some were downright insulting. Like the one who offered her nothing but sex, and he didn’t look like that was much of an offer.

I ain’t got no money, but I can sure give you a good time, he had said, his roving eyes tracking her every swing.

To which she raised an eyebrow, scoffed and walked away. Damn fool, she thought to herself, I don’t need a good time from the likes of you.

Contrary to popular belief though, Trisha Owens was born into a broken family and grew up in an alcoholic, single-parent home. She carried herself with an air of confidence, one that would never have given a hint as to the turbulence often found at home.

She imagined that the absence of her father was what drove her mother to come home drunk night after night, but this didn’t stop her from feeling neglected and unwanted at times. She was still just a kid after all, and a girl needed her mother—even a girl who would tell you otherwise.

Trish, as everyone called her, had high ambitions growing up, largely motivated by the desire not to replicate her mother’s drunken lifestyle. One night, at the tender age of fifteen, she came home to find her mother passed out on the couch half-naked and with several empty whiskey bottles on the carpet. Next thing she knew, a bare-chested, tattooed man, whom she had never met, stumbled toward her from the kitchen.

Mom! she had screamed, thinking that he was an intruder.

Mrs. Owens, startled, got up and hazily said: Why do you have to scream, Trish? What? Ain’t you never seen a man before?

The drinks have taken over Mrs. Owens’ faculties, and she didn’t think about what she was saying to her daughter,

I think it’s time you got yourself a man too, Trish. A good man would take them spoiled, childish ways outta you….he’d teach you that you ain’t no better than the rest of us, she said with a drunken laugh.

She didn’t stick around to hear the rest of her mother’s slurred ramblings. Mr. Tattoo had started to look at her like a prized piece of prime rib, and it made her feel sick and dirty. She ran to her room and locked the door, and vowing to leave as soon as possible.

A few weeks later, her mother checked herself into rehab after she ended up in a hospital with alcohol poisoning. Following her stint in rehab, she apologized profusely to Trish. Now sober, Mrs. Owens realized that she had pushed Trish away from her, and she did love her daughter, though she often had a difficult time showing it. Trish couldn’t help but forgive her, softening her heart and replacing her vows to leave with thoughts of staying by her mother’s side.

Six months later, however, history was repeating itself. Mrs. Owens stopped attending AA sessions and reverted to visiting the many bars that littered the street corners across town. Trish was shattered by her mother’s behavior, and she started to push herself harder in school, hoping for a scholarship to one of the top universities in New York. Her hope was for this to take her far away from her mom and give her a way to eventually gain the lavish lifestyle she had always dreamed of.

However, as she grew into a young woman, her shape and beauty couldn’t be denied. It wasn’t long and she began to notice the turning heads, lustful stares, compliments and catcalls. It was then that she realized her beauty had power, and the taste of that power started to take over. Her dreams of funding her own jet-set lifestyle by going to college and getting a good career became replaced as her imagination ran wild with schemes of how she could ride the wave of her beauty all the way to the bank. Trish didn’t set out to be so shallow, but she swore it seemed as if men were just begging to be taken advantage of. She had seen how her mother had been treated by the men in her life, and Trish figured that if men could use women, then women could use men too.

Trish began to change as she transitioned from teenager to adulthood, and she lost many of her childhood friends. Those girls had no tolerance for a girl who would turn on her charms and steal their boyfriends if she figured something was in it for her. Trish really didn’t care, or so she told herself. She was finding herself running with an entirely new and much older crowd, as she was quickly snatched up by rich and powerful men who showered her with gifts and showed her off to their friends, social circles, and took her to horse races and golf tournaments, yacht clubs and restaurant openings. Men loved having such a lovely trophy on their arm, and Trish loved the attention and the trinkets. Slowly but surely, she began to master the art of seduction. Seduction is a dangerous art for such a young woman as Trish. Lovely temptress that she was, arrogance began to replace confidence. Trish was a beauty, and she knew how to use that beauty to get what she wanted out of life. Much like a Maserati is to a new driver, so is such beauty to someone so young. That kind of heady power can lead one to do things that can nearly be the death of them if they aren’t careful.

JIMMY

Um…hello, miss? Jimmy O’Dell said as he approached the counter.

Trish slowly lifted her head from the fashion magazine she had been engrossed in for the past half hour. She loved looking at all of the beautiful designer clothing, and she also loved comparing herself to the gorgeous models who graced the pages of those magazines.

The patients had been slow in coming on this typical Thursday morning, and it was already close to noon. This was only the fourth person to come in to see the dentist so far that day. Trish was so bored, and she hadn’t even noticed when the glass door had swung open.

Good morning, I’m Jimmy O’Dell, and I, ah…I’m here to see the…uh… dentist, he said by way of introduction.

Trish wasn’t sure if the man had a speech impediment or if he was actually tripping over his own tongue. It seemed a lot of men had that problem when they tried to communicate with her, especially for the first time, and Trish had become used to it. It was either that or maybe he was annoyed that she hadn’t acknowledged him promptly. Trish wasn’t sure which, and she wasn’t entirely certain that she cared.

She blinded him easily with her disarming smile as the tongue-tied Jimmy tried to maintain eye contact with her, then looked away. She gave him a quick once-over before responding.

Good morning Mr. O’Dell, let me check for your name. You did make an appointment, right? Trish purred.

She tried to remember speaking to him over the phone. She was one of two of the dentist’s assistants, but she took most of the calls and scheduled most of the appointments. Sheree, the other assistant, spent most of her time actually assisting the dentist, Dr. Marsden, while he attended to the patients. Trish preferred this arrangement as she had an aversion to bodily fluids. Of course, she didn’t tell anyone about that, but from the day she started working there she made it clear that she preferred to do the clerical and receptionist tasks and let Sheree handle the nitty gritty of dental assisting. Plus, she had no desire to cover her pretty face with one of those awful masks assistants were required to wear while working with patients beside Dr. Marsden. No thank you, Sheree could play assistant to the good doctor all she wanted. Besides, Trish always had the feeling that Dr. Marsden didn’t really care for her, so she preferred to stay out of his way anyway.

Truth be told, Dr. Marsden had only chosen to hire Trish because one of his good friends had called in a favor and asked him to give Trish the job. Dr. Marsden was no dummy—he knew his friend had been playing with Trish outside of his marriage. By keeping her employed, she was less of a financial burden to him, thus making his affair less detectable by his wife. At the very least, Dr. Marsden figured Trish’s sultry good looks and flirtatious smiles could certainly help his practice attract and keep new patients—male ones, at least. Even though she had no experience and no certification, he hired Trish as an assistant.

It did appear to have been a wise marketing move, as the office’s customer base had increased by almost twenty percent during the thirteen months she had been there. Even if she lacked experience and could often appear aloof, the numbers didn’t lie. Some of the new male patients who became regular clients would occasionally forget Dr. Marsden’s name, but they didn’t forget Trish’s, and that was enough to keep them from missing their appointments. They looked forward to their chance to try to hit on the pretty assistant behind the counter. Dr. Marsden may have hired Trish as a favor, but he kept her because she was good for business. Granted, Sheree often had to stay late to fix the mistakes Trish made with some of the paperwork, but it was a fair trade as far as Dr. Marsden was considered.

Thank you…uh yes, I did, Jimmy stole a glance at her as she focused her attention on the computer screen.

His eyes quickly scanned over her streaked brown hair and exquisitely made-up face before looking away, just as his eyes were venturing lower to the impression of her bosom beneath the pale blue scrub top.

In his mind, she seemed a bit out of place, working at a dentist’s office. He was struck by her beauty the second she raised her face to respond to him, and he wondered if she was someone he had seen on TV.

Ok yes, Mr. O’Dell, she broke into his thoughts, the dentist will see you in a few minutes. You can have a seat while filling out this form, sir.

Well, thank you. You can call me Jimmy; ‘sir’ makes me feel old, he said, seeming to have regained his composure. His hand shot forward to grasp hers in a lingering handshake.

I would ask what your name is, but it’s…

Trish, she cut in.

…right there on your name tag- Trisha.

They both broke out laughing; a light, cordial chuckle as if they were long-time friends who just ran into each other and were catching up over a cup of coffee. Something about Jimmy O’Dell had Trish’s senses singing.

Well, everyone calls me Trish, she said, flashing that mega-watt smile yet again.

Okay, Trish. Nice name. Let me uh…fill out this form…and uh, get back to you, he said, undone again by that smile.

He stumbled a bit as he turned to sit in one of the waiting room chairs. It was obvious her presence was having an effect on him. Trish knew this, and couldn’t help revel in it a bit. She had grown so accustomed to knocking men off kilter with her allure, but somehow it never got old. She couldn’t help but love the rush it gave her each and every time.

She sized him up as he hunched over in his chair, filling out the form. He appeared to be about mid to late thirties, roughly six feet tall with lean, muscular arms protruding from his grey polo shirt sleeves. His dark hair, slightly aquiline nose and olive skin indicated a European descent, maybe Italian or Greek. She found herself attracted to him, especially after noticing the huge Rolex he was wearing. No wedding band was a bonus too—Trish had dated her share of married men, but a single man meant he was free to spend all of his money on her, and her alone.

Mr. O’Dell, the dentist is ready for you when you are finished, OK? Sheree’s high pitched voice interrupted her thoughts, and for once Trish wished she was less prompt.

Sure, be right with you, Jimmy replied.

A few minutes later, he handed the paperwork to Trish.

I hope I’ll see you when I’m leaving? he asked, eyes never leaving hers.

"I’ll be here, this is where I work," Trish quickly replied, flashing her sweetest smile yet.

There was something about Jimmy O’Dell that struck a chord deep within her and caused her whole being to exhale, like Whitney Houston in that famous movie.

Trish had never given much thought to men, other than what they could do for her, but Jimmy O’Dell made her heart race.

She stared after him as Sheree reappeared and ushered him out of the waiting room. Sheree caught the look in Trish’s eye and just smirked and shook her head. She had seen Trish at work plenty of times before, and if Trish was thinking what she thought she was thinking, then this guy had no idea what was in store for him. Good luck to you pal, was all Sheree could think. She had seen Trish chew up and spit out men like Mr. O’Dell before. A part of her felt bad for him

As she started to enter Jimmy O’Dell’s information into the computer system, she began to reflect on her life.

She was almost twenty-eight years old now, drove a BMW 5-series car she could hardly afford to maintain, and lived in an upscale apartment. All of this drained her monthly salary, leaving her with very little disposable income. She had no man of her own, no children, and she hadn’t seen or spoken with her mother in well over three years now. She was very much alone in the