Love is just 4 letters - 16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16
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I hate him.
Can’t stand him.
I want him to die the most horrible of deaths for breaking my heart.
How could he do this to me? I was nothing but a friend to him. I loved him. I wanted him to be mine, but that just wouldn’t be.
Mother fucker just had to be gay.
I know he thought that I was just some gold digging bitch who wanted him for his money and status, but that is not true. I loved him, for all that he stood for. He was such a nice person, so caring and giving. But he pushed me to the curb almost as soon as I reunited with him. So I pushed him out my house.
That bastard, who the hell does he think he is? I should be the one with him, not that asshole. I thought the fucker had a wife, but then, I guess some things happen.
I’ve seen the two of them together, acting just like fags do. Having sex at the most obscene times; in broad daylight, on the couch, in the kitchen, places that have windows.
Makes me sick to my stomach.
But I’m going to get them; oh I’m going to get them both. But before I can…I’m going to need some help.
So I’ll make a call to the bastard’s boyfriend’s ex.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. How have you been?”
“Fine, haven’t heard from you in a while. How did you get this number anyway?”
“Let’s just say I have my sources. Listen, I need your help with something.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it involves your ex-husband.”
“I hate the gay mutha-fucka. What do you have in mind?”
“Well, you know that he is with his boy right now, right?”
“Yeah, I never really liked him either. Got on my nerves how close they are, and it seems that whenever they are around each other, he they never paid any attention to me.”
Seems every thing is going according to plan. “Yeah, I know what you mean. You’ll never guess what I found out about his boy though.”
“What?”
“He’s gay.”
“What? How did you find out.”
“When he was at my house a couple of days ago, I tried to make a move on him. Just came right out and told me that he was gay and that he doesn’t want me in any way, shape, or form.”
“Can’t stand gay niggas. They the worst, always thinking they better than everyone else and will break your heart so damn fast.”
“And didn’t you say that your ex was gay?”
“Yeah?”
“Does he have a, ugh, boyfriend?”
“Yeah…so?”
“Who do you think his boyfriend is?”
“…No.”
“Sure enough. Now here’s the plan. I’ve been, uh, monitoring them. Even shot one of your ex’s friends.”
“Damn girl, you really are out to get them aren’t you?”
“Damn right I am, I will never forgive them for what he did to me. I’m out to ruin his life. Now listen, I’ve learned that they are planning a wedding for the man that I shot and his, ugh I can’t believe I’m saying this, and his boyfriend this August. On the 29th, I plan to somehow get the press out there, and embarrass the hell out of them. Outing them in the process, and destroying the chance of those two fags getting married. What do you think, do I have your cooperation on this?”
“You got it, anything to screw them over. Where can we meet?”
“I’ll call you, just be ready. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone.
Everything’s coming along smoothly.