Evil Thing (Villains 7)

But we’re jumping ahead. I know what you want to hear about. Well, let me tell you my version of the story.

As I drove home after having coffee with Anita I became more livid. And as that anger grew I saw everything more clearly. I won’t lament over my muddled thinking before. I won’t question why. None of that matters. My only regret was doubting my mama. She was the most magnificent woman I have ever known. Self-possessed, beautiful, rich, and always dripping in furs. She showed me how much she loved me by giving me furs for as long as I could remember. And always with the same message. Distinguish yourself. Well, I decided I would, and I would redeem myself in her eyes—for the times I drifted away from her and doubted her. I would finally be able to show her my love the way she had shown me hers. And I would show her I was a strong, capable woman, just like her, able to survive even the greatest of heartbreak and misfortune. And if I happened to take down my enemies in the process, well, simply splendid.

And I still will! Just because those dolts ruined everything the first time around doesn’t mean a thing! I never should have trusted them with the job in the first place. I can’t believe I gave those idiots the rest of my money to buy every Dalmatian puppy in every shop, only for them to lose them along with Perdita, Pongo, and their puppies! Perdita was rightfully mine, and so were her spotted little beasts!

Never mind. I will wait. I will wait until the time is right. I was in too much of a hurry. I see that now. And I should have kept a closer eye on those fools. I should never have left them and those puppies alone in Hell Hall. But I couldn’t wait. I had to tell Mama what I had in mind. I had to tell her I would finally make her grandest wish come true. I made mistakes. I should never have left those fools alone in Hell Hall and I should never have gone to my mother empty-handed. I shouldn’t have told her my plan before it was complete. I see that now. I’ve learned my lesson.

I mean, darlings, you’ve already read about it in all papers, haven’t you? It would be boring for me to tell you about it. But let’s say you don’t read the trash rags, or have somehow never picked up a newspaper in your life or seen my face splashed all over the news. Let’s say you haven’t seen those tearful interviews with Anita and her fool Roger recounting how I came swooping into their lives and stole their puppies. I know you have, but for argument’s sake, I’ll tell you anyway.

I called Anita shortly after our coffee date and I told her everything I had originally planned to tell her that day. How she was right. How I detested my mama. How she’d taken everything from me. Not that I meant a word of it, mind you. But I had to make her believe. I told her to make her sweet, simple soul sorry for me. I wanted those puppies. And who better to give them to than a brokenhearted, abandoned widow? As I predicted, Anita agreed that I could have them. She always was a simple fool.

But I made a tragic mistake.

I went by the house to say hello and check on Perdita’s progress. I should never have tried to pretend Anita and I were still friends. What I could hide easily on the phone was impossible to conceal in person. My contempt for her, Roger, and their stupid dogs was written on my face from the minute I first looked at their dull faces. I couldn’t stand to be in their hovel of a house—and Roger knew it.

At the time I thought I’d played my role remarkably well. I was the sad, lonely wretch I needed to be so she would feel sorry for me and give me those puppies. I played the roll magnificently. I stood on the doorstep, ready to make my grand entrance, when I heard voices from inside.

That fool Roger was singing! Oh, it was too much, too much I tell you. Then I heard the words to the song. He was singing about me!

Evil Thing? Evil Thing, can you believe it?

Rage seethed through me. Well, I would show them. I would give the grandest performance of my life!

And then it happened. I rang the bell, and who opened the door but Mrs. Baddeley! I was only momentarily thrown off by seeing the dumpy woman standing in Anita’s doorway. Was this the servant she had told me about in her letters? The one they called Nanny? They didn’t have children! Anita must still look to her as some sort of mother figure. Oh, who knows. Who cares? Not me. I pretended not to recognize the fool, pushing her aside and focusing my gaze on Anita. It was the best, most spectacular entrance I had ever made.

I swooped right into Anita and Roger’s. I walked into that house and I was ravishing. Black dress, jade jewelry, my white fur coat lined in red, and red shoes!

“Anita, darling!” I said, my arms outstretched. I really was too much. Too much fabulousness for that little hovel.

“How are you?” asked the little woman in her little house, her voice as soft and timid as a mouse. Ha! I rhymed! And better than that Roger does in his silly jingles. Of course I’d heard Roger’s insipid song about me while I was standing on their doorstep, and I’d heard their conversation. So Anita told Roger how I’d watched after her in school. How I’d defended her. He called me her dearly devoted schoolmate, and so I was. Now I was going to call in on that friendship. It was time she repaid me for all the trouble I’d gotten into standing up for her. Time I was repaid for all those nights she lived at my house, ate my food, and grew close to my servants. Time I was repaid for them loving her more than they loved me.

And then I remembered. I was supposed to be striking a tragic figure, not an impossibly magnificent one. I thought I’d better tone it down. I had to remember I was the grieving, abandoned widow, after all. I was lonely and sad and needed puppies to bring cheer to my dreary, empty life.

“Miserable, darling, as usual. Perfectly wretched,” I said. I had to keep up appearances, didn’t I? Perdita was nowhere to be seen, and that goofy-faced Pongo was under my feet as I searched their little flat, trying to find the wretched beast.

“Where are they? Where are they? For heavens’ sakes, where are they?” Where was Perdita? I couldn’t find her, and I didn’t see a solitary puppy anywhere. I was promised puppies! How was I going to distinguish myself without those damn puppies? Oh this was a mess.

“Who, Cruella? I don’t—” Anita began.

Who? Who? Who in hell do you think I mean? I thought. My goodness, what an idiot Anita had turned into. And it was no wonder with all the racket coming down from the attic. That damnable horn-blowing fool was up there making a menace of himself. I have no idea how Anita lived with such a horrible man!

“The puppies, the puppies!” I said. “No time for games. Where are the little brutes?” I almost let the puppy out of the bag with that one. Cruella, watch yourself. Anita needs to think you want to love and protect the beasts.

“Oh! It’ll be at least three weeks. No rushing these things, you know,” she said, not even blinking an eye. Maybe she hadn’t heard me call them brutes. Roger was playing his music so loudly I could barely hear myself think.

“Anita, you’re such a wit,” I said, deciding I needed to butter her and that wretched Pongo up. “Here, dog, here. Here, dog.” But the beast only growled at me.

“Cruella, isn’t that a new fur coat?” asked Anita. I guess it was new to her. It was the coat Mama had gotten me for my twenty-fifth birthday. But I wasn’t going to tell her that. As far as Anita knew I now hated my mama.

“My only true love, darling. I live for furs. I worship furs. After all, is there a woman in all this wretched world who doesn’t?” And it was true. My plan was coming together even more as I heard my own words. There wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t love furs, and my mother was clearly no exception. She loved them even more than I did. Good grief, I thought. Does that horrible man have to play his horn so loudly? It really was getting on my nerves.

“Oh, I’d like a nice fur, but there are so many other things—” Anita started to say, but I cut her off.

“Sweet, simple Anita. I know, I know! This horrid little house is your dream castle,” I said. “And poor Roger is your bold and fearless Sir Galahad!” I said, laughing.

“Oh, Cruella,” Anita said quietly. I knew that tone. It was the one she used when I had gone too far. She used it all throughout our childhood, the condescending little twit. But I had forgotten myself. Don’t be a fool, Cruella. Don’t mess this up. Pick another topic. Say something sweet.

“And then of course you have your little spotted friends,” I said, transfixed by a photo of Pongo and Perdita. “Oh yes. Yes, I must say, such perfectly beautiful coats.” I had to get out of there before Anita realized what I was up to. It was clear Pongo didn’t trust me, and I have to admit, I found it difficult playing my role. It was like the day when I had yelled at Jackson and my mama, after Jack died. I’d seen myself acting out, saying things I hadn’t intended, but I couldn’t help myself. The same thing was happening with Anita. I’d have it in my head to say something sweet to her, say something kind about that fool Roger, but when I opened my mouth only the truth came out. I had no idea what was happening to me. It was maddening.