The Karma Credit Plan

She was slowly starting to get a bit angry, which told me that she wasn't over him as much as she pretended to be.

"You know, some part of me is still waiting for that idiot to come home to me. We are divorced, but I never looked at another man until now. That asshole! I hate him! I so want to really, totally get rid of him. He is like a stain I can't seem to remove. I so hope that he's okay..."

She started to cry now. A few reactions were hard wired into my brain. Eat when hungry. Sleep when tired. Console a crying female.

After a while she calmed down and looked at me in that strange dreamy way again. I could have sworn she was flirting. I was drawn towards her, but was afraid that she just wanted to use me for revenge on Victor. The thought of letting another rich woman into my life didn't seem like the best idea, anyway.

"So, what about you becoming my lodger?" she asked playfully. It was amazing and a bit scary to see how quickly her mood had changed. It must have happened at some point while I was holding her.

"I'm... really? Even your broom closet might be out of my price range."

"I'm willing to accept other forms of payment."

We both smiled. This mock-negotiation was fun, even if I didn't think for a minute that I'd ever live there.

"Well, I don't have much else to offer."

"I doubt that. I'm sure you can offer something."

"Hmm, I can cook." I was trying to avoid the obvious.

"All right, that's a start. How many meals would I get per week?"

"Hmm, breakfast every..."

"Nah, I don't need breakfast," she interrupted me.

"Okay, then. I have to work some days, but three dinners per week should be doable."

"That sounds nice, but it might not be enough. You surely must be good at something else," she grinned mischievously. We both knew where this was leading and I couldn't remember having looked forward to anything as much in my whole life.

She just stood up, and pulled me along, smiling widely. Holy shit, I was about be eaten alive and I was completely willing. Grinning like a moron, even. So what if it was revenge on Vic. I no longer cared. Vic who? Of course, we had wild sex for hours and tried every position known to man. No, that's not how it works in reality. It was clumsy, it was awkward and it was wonderful for both of us. At first it was not even about physical gratification, that would come later. This felt like we both wanted to make a statement, I just didn't know what it was. Whatever it was, it was the best thing that had ever happened to me, despite our less than professional performance.

Afterwards, she traced my ribcage with her forefinger and she looked as completely happy and relaxed as I felt.

"Simon, you are a very attractive man, but you could use some meat on your bones."

"I've been on a rather strict diet," I answered, ignoring the first part.

"Stay with me for a while," she suddenly said. It was almost as if she was pleading. "No, don't say anything now. I need some company. No need for payment, that was just fun. Please stay. You need it. I certainly want it."

Here I was, in bed with a sweet beautiful woman, who was offering to let me stay in her mansion. With benefits. There had to be a downside somewhere, but right then, I couldn't think of it. The best I could come up with was if something looks too good to be true, it usually is. Still, turning her down because of some saying would be like being afraid of winning.

I didn't think our relationship would last. She was hurt by Victor's irresponsible behavior, but she obviously still had feelings for him. She longed for some company and I came along at a convenient time.

I was currently homeless, had just learned that my wife had dumped me and could use some company as well. It was all just too convenient to be the basis for real, lasting attraction.

She looked at me almost pleadingly. Right then, I didn't care if it really lasted or not. It was worth a try and I didn't risk anything. I wasn't emotionally involved and she didn't exactly seem like an axe murderer.

"Yes, I'd love to," I said with more conviction than I felt.

She squealed and hugged me fiercely. Damn, that felt really good until it dawned on me that the whole arrangement had one glaring flaw. I was about to start a relationship with the woman who was the big love of my only real friend's life. Somehow, I still regarded him as my friend. Yes, he had put me into that hell hole, but he had tried whatever he could to make it up to me, including saving my life and getting me out. I was convinced that I wouldn't have survived it without his protection. Despite his problems with Juliette, Vic had told me that never doubted that she was the woman he wanted to grow old with. Shit, why did it have to be so complicated? Couldn't I just meet a woman like her, without all this entanglement?

"Simon? You're thinking of him, right?"

"Yes," I sheepishly admitted.

"Don't. He had it all. He lost it all, including my love, through stupidity and arrogance. Even if I had never met you, I'd never get back together with him."

"Okay, that helps," I said, and it really did.

"Don't forget what he did to you. He used you and destroyed your life."

"All true, but it didn't stop him from being my friend. He didn't pretend; he really was."

"Yes, and I know he really loved me. He always cared for people he liked, but he hurt them all the same."

I was silent for a while. I knew she was right, and she had known him far longer than I had.

"I guess I'll have to live with that then, Juliette. You're worth the effort."

"You won't regret it," she sincerely said while hugging me once again.

"Could you please go get some groceries, honey?" she asked me the next morning, and I almost had to laugh because it already sounded as if we were an old established couple. She was in the kitchen cutting out biscuits, and the tip of her tongue stuck out of one side of her mouth.

"Ah, Juliette, I don't seem to have a car," I had to remind her.

She looked at me as if I had two heads.

"We have plenty of cars. The keys are in there. Just take one. Ah, I need some wine as well. Choose a nice dry red one, okay?"

It was that easy with her. "We" had cars. Christine would have ranted endlessly about me being a disgrace, unable to afford my own car. The worst was still coming, though.

"Ah, I'm also kind of running out of money."

Again, she seemed surprised. "Why didn't you just say so? There is some cash in that drawer; take what you need. I'll give you access to our accounts on Monday. I finally have a man I can trust and I'd be a fool to let money complicate our relationship." Then she just continued to cut out biscuits in her special, highly focused way. Her tongue had escaped her mouth again and it looked adorable.

We never again exchanged words about the distribution of money in our relationship. She had plenty, I had none and it was no issue for either of us. She shared hers, I used what I needed and it was not worth wasting breath about. She might have had some greed in her somewhere, but I certainly hadn't found it yet. Trust, on the other hand, was everything to her.

I felt like it was time for a confession.

"Ah, Julie. I have to confess something. I feel honored that you trust me and are willing to share what's yours so easily. I'd feel like shit if I kept secrets from you."

She looked up from her biscuit task and retracted her tongue, looking worried.

"If it doesn't affect us, I don't need to know. I feel happy with you and I'm afraid that..."

"It's not that bad," I interrupted her. "At least I hope it isn't."

"Okay..." She still looked apprehensive.

"You know, when I fled from that prison, there was a rather large pile of diamonds in that guard house. I, ah... I just took them. I could say that it was a rational decision, that I wanted to harm the drug dealers, the jailers who made me suffer for so long. I could rationalize that I'd be shot if a guard saw me, with or without the diamonds. The truth is, I just took them because I could, without thinking about it."

She looked pensive, but not taken aback. "You still have them?"

"Yes."

"Here in the house?"

"Yes, in my backpack."

"Let's put them into the safe."

"That's it? You don't mind?"

"Mind? No, of course not." She was almost giggling with relief. "I was afraid you'd come up with something really bad. Even worse than suddenly owning a pile of diamonds. What are we going to do with them?"

"I have no idea. I don't even know how to sell them. Besides, I'm afraid they'd bite us in the ass in case some drug lord tracked them back to us."

"Let's just keep them for rainy days. We have enough money anyway."

Again, "we" had money. They were also "our" diamonds. Perfect. This was how things should be. I just kissed her as an answer.

"Do you think he's still alive?" she asked pensively, out of the blue.

"You're still worried about him," I said, trying to hide my irritation.

"Yes, like I'm worried about a puppy trying to cross a busy street," she tried to reassure me and I believed her.

"That's a good way to put it. Honestly, I'm worried the same way. I really hope he's okay, wherever he is, Julie."

"Yes, so do I, but he's the past. Let's not dwell on him. I'm too happy with the way things have turned out."

So was I.

Just like that, we were a couple. We shared her money and her bed. None of this was discussed; there was a mutual unspoken agreement. Victor's shadow continued to loom over us, but apart from that we were really happy.

I kept my temp job in Pablo's restaurant and contributed my meager earnings to the vast amount in our bank account. It felt a bit weird to drive to my low-paid job in a fancy Porsche, Jaguar or whatever car was at hand that day. My colleagues seemed to be a bit confused about it as well and made a few jokes, but didn't really broach the issue.

I was being paid to work 20 hours per week, but actually worked almost twice that long.

I finally came home one evening, again much later than I had hoped and not in the best mood. Pablo had been quite the ass yet again, exploiting my kindness and my abilities. The only thanks I got was insults and demands.

"That asshole," I exclaimed after having greeted my woman.

"Pablo?" She didn't seem to be in the best mood either. She had probably been waiting for hours, when we could have been having a nice time together instead.

"Yeah. I really don't know why I'm still doing this."

"Then don't."

"Julie, I don't know." It didn't seem that simple to me, but I couldn't find the words to explain why.

"Look, I totally get why you are doing this. You want to retain some independence. You don't want to rely on me totally after your experience with Christine and I really get that. The problem is, that job is just not worth it."

I looked at her in surprise. Could it be that she was right? If I was honest, I had no idea why I really continued to work at Pablo's.

"Subject to your approval, Doctor Watson, I propose the following course of action."

I had to laugh. "Please proceed, Holmes."

"Step one: you quit your job.

"Step two: you finally get off your lazy ass and marry me."

I was suddenly too stunned to laugh. Was she serious?

"Ah..." was the extent of my eloquence.

"Come on, it's not that difficult. Concentrate, Watson."

Behind her joke, I could see that she was nervous.

"Ah, Miss Juliette," I theatrically exclaimed. "This is all so sudden." That earned me a solid punch in the ribs. "Of course, I want to, Juliette. There's nothing I'd like to do more."

While she hugged me fiercely, I still wondered if she was really serious about this.

It turned out that she was. She wanted to marry me and I definitely didn't have any objections, so that was what we did. No complications, no prenup, no big wedding, nothing. She never cared about my financial or social status. Those things were simply not important for her. This wedding was just for us and we didn't need a big party or a long guest list.

After the wedding, nothing really changed except me quitting my job. It broke my heart to tell Pablo. Not! She had to take care of her company three or four days per week. I continued to expand my culinary horizons, but I did it at home. She was blown away by my abilities, or at least pretended in a believable manner. Creating and testing new recipes was better than doing nothing at all, and Julie's appreciation made my day, but I still felt a bit restless, waiting at home until she returned from work.

I unsuccessfully tried to contact Victor to help him in any way I could. She pretended not to notice and just smiled. I wasn't even able to find out whether he was still alive. Sometimes, when we had sex and she had a kind of far-away look, I wondered if she was thinking of him. I tried to quash that ridiculous thought, but it was stubborn.

"Simon, you're too good to just do this at home," Julie claimed after having enjoyed one of my dinners. Not having much else to do, I cooked for her all the time, and she immensely enjoyed being taken care of. She had never experienced this with a man, she claimed. "Your cooking is easily on a pro level."

"Well, technically, I am a pro."

"Yes, of course," she tried to assure me, obviously afraid of having overstepped a boundary. "I just mean... I don't know how to put it..."

"Just spill it. I can take it."

"Honey, you love cooking."

"Right."

"You have traveled the world to improve your skills."

"I have, though we both know how that turned out."

"Yes, but what came after makes up for it, doesn't it?"

"Absolutely." I kissed her adorable nose, and pretty much anything else I could reach, until she gently pushed me away and resumed her train of thought.

"Late at night, when you can't sleep, what are you dreaming of? Apart from me, I mean," she said, smiling.

"Ah, now I see. You suspect I'm secretly dreaming of opening a top-notch restaurant, showing them all, becoming rich and famous?"

"Oh, you're not?" she asked, with that 'I know what you're thinking' grin that I could never resist.

"Of course I am," I said, earning me a solid punch to the ribs. "Ouch," I exaggerated. "Except the rich and famous part, to be honest."

"Well, you are already rich."

"Right, thanks to you." She just waved her hand, dismissing it. "And I don't need to be famous."

"Still, why don't you do it? You can pretend all you want, I know that you want it."

"Do what?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what she was hinting at.

"Open a nice restaurant. Fulfill your dreams. Create the menu you always wanted to. Design your restaurant however you want to."

"I don't know. These things either eat you alive and I'd have no time for us anymore, or they are money pits. Or both."

"Okay, let's rule out the former, but we certainly can afford the latter. Think about it. I'd be so proud to see you sharing your talent with others."

"I don't know. Such a restaurant costs a bundle to set up and might burn another each month."

"Tell me, what does it look like in your dreams?"

"Julie..."

"Come on. I know you dream about it. Let's dream together."

"Well, it needs to be small. Preferably in some nice historic building. Eight tables max."

"Go on." She smiled, and to this day I think she saw it in her mind as clearly as I did.

I continued to fantasize and even made a rough sketch of the floor plan until we decided that we had other, more important and pleasant things to do.

"Julie, you're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Well, of course."

"Okay, let's go and see it."

The building she had found was hundreds of years old, perfectly renovated and strategically placed in the city center. We entered the souterrain, where once a restaurant had been. It was very small, just what I needed. The kitchen would have to be completely renovated. Come to think of it, almost everything would have to be redone.

"You like it, Simon?"

"It's perfect. Should we take it? We'd need to buy the complete building."

"I think it's a good investment, but it's your money just as much as it's mine. If you want this, let's go for it."

So that's what I did. We did. I was never quite sure which pronoun to use in situations like this. I was finally going to have my own high-end restaurant. There was no pressure to be financially successful, no need to obtain stars, Michelin or otherwise. This was just for me. I'd be able to create works of art, to expand my abilities and I didn't give a shit about what anybody else thought about it. Well, maybe a bit. And I really wanted Juliette to like it.

I'd like to say that the restaurant was a huge success because of my culinary skills. The truth is, I cheated. Juliette had shown me all of "our accounts," as she had called them, and after having gotten over the shock, I decided that the restaurant really didn't need to be profitable. It just didn't matter.

I decided to set the prices ridiculously low, given the quality on offer. It meant that the place would lose thousands each month, but it was also liberating. I could experiment to my heart's content. I could buy the best ingredients without a second thought, whatever they cost. In some way, it was a gift to each guest. In truth, it was a gift to myself.

Julie was in on it and agreed enthusiastically. She often brought her friends along to show me off whenever she wasn't helping me in the kitchen. That was just her way. She enjoyed spending time with me and no one would have guessed that the beautiful woman in the apron was a multi-millionaire and successful businesswoman. She soon got the hang of it and we had one hell of a time.

Our town wasn't big and our place was one of the few offering high quality food. Combined with the very reasonable prices, it meant that we were solidly booked for weeks, sometimes months, and we were becoming minor celebrities in our region.

I usually interacted a lot with my guests, but on this night, I was a bit busy as Julie was busy in her company and my sous-chef, Boris, was a bit slower than I would have liked. We had just gotten out of the weeds, so I decided to start my tour through the dining area, see who was there and have a little chat. I turned around and saw the devil.

Well, not the devil himself, but there was his proxy, Christine, standing in my door, which came close enough. Gone was the arrogant sneer; instead, she almost seemed shy. I was surprised that her face was able to do that, and asked myself how long she had practiced in front of a mirror. I hadn't thought about her in months and couldn't have been happier.

"Oh," I said, having not much else to say to her. Boris sensed the tension and fled the scene, just slowly enough not to cause a sonic boom in his wake.

"Simon," she breathed passionately. She might have watched Gone with the Wind a few too many times before she came here.

"That's right," I drily replied.

"Simon, honey, we really need to talk. So much has gone wrong, so much hurt has been caused."

True enough, I thought, but kept my mouth shut.

"I know you might think that I did you wrong, but you have to put yourself in my place. You were gone for so long. I felt so lonely, so weak, so vulnerable..."

I zoned out a bit, as I had already heard that speech when she dumped me. I thought about the truffles I had received yesterday and decided that I really needed to find a better supplier.

"...we belong together, Simon. You know that. I know that. We're just wasting precious time..."

That was a new one. I wondered what poor Philipp had done wrong. Had he mixed the white and colors in the laundry? Did she find his financial progress short of the standard she required?