Page 86 of Look What You Made Me Do

“Cam.”

Cameron took a swig out of the bottle, not bothering to acknowledge Jake’s appearance. “My sister sent you, didn’t she?”

Jake sat. “She’s worried about you.”

“Well it’s a bit late for that now.”

The bitterness in the teenager’s voice hung heavy in the air and Jake remembered they weren’t that different, he and Cam.

“Getting drunk?”

Cameron shrugged. “You gonna snitch?”

“Is it helping?”

Cameron held the bottle up to the ambient light, inspecting the line of amber fluid sloshing against the glass. “Give it another ten minutes.”

“So, what? You’re just going to drink till you pass out? Is that your way of getting back at her?”

“Got a problem with that?”

Jake held onto his temper, forcing an air of nonchalance. “Well, it’s not particularly smart.”

“Oh, right,” Cameron sneered. “You telling me that you’ve never drowned your sorrows before?”

“Nope. I’m telling you as someone who’s drowned his sorrows a little too often, that it’s a dumbass thing to do.”

Cameron glared at him. “I’m the laughing stock of the school. I thought I’d gotten away from all that crap when she took me away from Trently. She should have just left me there.”

Jake nodded and stayed silent for a few minutes letting the angry teenager drink and stew for a little longer.

“You know what I learned a long time ago, Cam?” he asked eventually. “You can’t control what people say about you. You can only control how you react to it. Now, you can get mad, you can get drunk, or you do what I do.”

“What’s that?” Cameron eyed him with suspicion.

Jake held his hand out for the bottle. “You get even.”

Cameron regarded his open hand for a moment and Jake could see both the conflict and the sheen of tears in his eyes. After a beat or two his jaw clamped tight and he said, “Okay.” Taking one last swallow, he handed the bottle to Jake. “I want even.”

Jake grinned. “Good choice.” He tipped the bottle upside down until the last drop of amber fluid had drained away to the grass below. “Now let’s go win this game.”

18

A few days later, Ella was standing in front of a glass door simply labeled Lawyer, conscious that Trently was, as always, watching her. She couldn’t believe she was back. She almost turned around and told Jake to forget it. But he squeezed her shoulder and the urge to flee subsided.

He was right. She needed to find some peace.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she pushed the door open, the blinds swinging slightly from side to side with the movement. The door shut behind them and she was aware of the rattling as their momentum settled.

Ella blinked as her pupils adjusted to the low light inside Sol Levy’s wood-paneled office. There was no pretentiousness in here – no highfalutin’ secretary, no gilt-framed art, no leather Chesterfield. Just Sol in his three-piece suit sitting at his big old mahogany desk with real leather inlay, framed by a bank of mahogany bookshelves crammed with leather-bound texts.

“Ella, how lovely to see you, my dear.”

Jake’s warmth behind her was welcome as the elderly lawyer peered at her over the top of his bifocals and half stood, acknowledging Jake with a nod. “Please, sit, both of you.”

He indicated the chairs opposite and they sat. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Levy,” Ella said.

Sol smiled at her. “I’m pleased you decided to come.” He reached down, opened a drawer and extracted a thick, cream-colored envelope. “I believe you’re after this.”

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