CHAPTER TWO: THE VAULT SLUT

Kimberly

I’ve aged in the half hour it takes for me to get the ancient coffee machine going. Grease spurts out of the engine. It fills Nancy’s coffee shop with an unpleasant smell, which is fitting for what my life has become.

I’m 32 years old now and I’m living a shitty existence in downtown Portland, making equally shitty coffee and waiting tables.

The coffee shop was the best I could do on short notice. Three years later, I’m still working there, because no one else would hire me. Not after the scandal. Not after the tabloid posts and the newspaper articles, painting me as the “the ungrateful slut wife, who made a sex tape with another man.”

No one cares whether the tape is real or not. There’s nothing a bunch of strangers would gladly believe more than a juicy scandal. At least once a week, a group of customers would come in here to get a coffee and would instantly recognize me. They would whisper, giggle and gossip about the millionaire whore, who had cheated on her loving spouse and gotten destroyed on the internet.

The worst of these spectators are those who come in thinking they can be rude to me, all because I’m a tainted woman. Today’s morning rush brings one of such groups.

They look like college students. They are all wearing Portland University sweat shirts. With the way they are openly staring at me, I know they all recognize me. I’ve dealt with vapid sorority girls before. This won’t be any different.

“Hello ladies. Welcome to Nancy’s coffee shop. What would you like to order?”

“Ohmygod. It’s her!” one of them whispers, loud enough for me to hear. My stomach sinks. But I keep my head up. My face is blank.

“I told you she works here,” another whispers. She’s blonde. “Look at her. It’s definitely the Vault Slut.”

Giggles break out. One of them pulls out her phone and sets it to record.

My stomach sinks lower. Hearing the public’s favourite nickname for me still feels like a slap to the face. Even after all this time, it still makes my eyes burn with sensation, but I refuse to cry. I refuse to give these thirsty girls the satisfaction of watching me break.

I take a deep breath and let it out softly.

I can get through this. I won’t lose my shit. I can’t afford to make a mistake and jeopardize my job. My mom is counting on my paycheck this month. We’re still behind on last month’s rent. And there’s Sophia’s hospital bills to take care of.

It’s funny how my parents used to gift out millions of dollars at charity events. Now, we could barely afford to pay our monthly rent. After my scandal, right before I had moved back home, my father’s company had fallen under bankruptcy. It turned out he was neck deep in debt, worth billions of dollars. We’d lost everything. Our cars. Our houses. Our lands. Everything. All that was left was a heartbroken wife, a scandalized older daughter and a fatally sick younger daughter.

“What can I get you?” I repeat my question to the university girls.

“Who said we wanted coffee?” blondie’s eyes gleam with malicious intent. “We only came here because we heard the vault slut works here.”

“Oh really?” I force myself to smile professionally. “Regardless of the reason you came, can I recommend our vanilla latte to you? It’s really good.” As much as I want to crawl into a hole and die, I really do have to make sales. My commission is riding on the number of sales I make this month.

“As if I’d ever order coffee from a rundown shit hole such as this one.” Blondie snorts. Her friends explode with cruel laughter. The one with the camera is still videoing. No doubt, this is going to end up on the gram, or worse, Tiktok before the day is over.

“If you’re not going to order a coffee, then I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.” I don’t think the situation is dire enough for me to go fetch Nancy. I can handle this. I’ve got it all under control.

“How dare you ask us to leave?” Blondie seethes. She’s emboldened by the fact that she’s on the other side of the counter. And as a staff, she must be reveling in the fact that I can’t touch her.

“You’re holding up the line,” I continue tersely. “If you’re done gloating, I suggest you get a move on, so I can get back to work.”

“Gloating?” she shrieks. Before I know what’s happening, she seizes the cup of setting milk on the counter and splashes my face with it.

Shocked gasps fill the shop. The girls giggle and whisper excitedly to one another.

“Not so mouthy now, are you vault slut?” Blondie smirks at me. She looks downright pleased with herself, as she watches my face drip with the creamy liquid.

That’s when I finally lose it.

After three years of being poked and humiliated at every turn, three years of being ridiculed and branded a slut for something I didn’t even do, I finally snap.

I grab the steel mug of steaming hot coffee from underneath the coffee machine and hurl it at Blondie. The boiling steam from the liquid swishes as it makes contact with her face. A second later, her screams fill the air. She’s flaying her arms and bouncing on the heels of her feet. Her friends flock around her like nasty little roaches.

The shop is filled with chaos for a moment and in that moment, I feel satiated. Thrilled to have finally exerted some sort of revenge on my bullies.

The feeling lasts for a total of eight seconds. Reality sets when I catch Nancy glaring daggers at me from the storage door. She marches towards me and for a startling moment, I think she’s going to slap me.

“Kimberly!” she shouts. She’s furious. “What the hell is going on here!”