Page 26 of Look What You Made Me Do

He was a long way from the Super Bowl.

A large crowd sat on derelict wooden bleachers as he turned to Pete. “How do I look?” he asked, taking his glasses off.

“Like crap. And you stink of booze. Here.” He rifled around in a backpack and passed over a can of deodorant.

Jake lifted his shirt, the action turning the bolts in his temples a little tighter, and sprayed. The car filled with a truly sickly smell, like Old Spice and Brut had a fight to the death and they’d bottled the festering remains.

“Jesus! What the hell do you call this?”

Pete dropped his voice an octave. “Metrosexual Mojo.”

Jake half-laughed, half-snorted both at the name and the delivery and then instantly regretted it.

“Laugh away, boss, but the ladies go crazy for it.”

“This? This gets you laid?”

“Never fails.”

Jake pushed his sunglasses back on, wondering what the hell was wrong with women these days. “Were the women of your generation born with malfunctioning olfactory centers?”

Pete laughed and sprayed some more deodorant in Jake’s general direction, ignoring his boss’s protest. “It sure as hell beats your Eau du Alcohol Poisoning.”

Jake wasn’t entirely sure about that as the sickly aroma intensified in the close confines of the car. “Let’s just get this thing done.”

“You’re late,” Ella hissed as he approached.

Jake winced, her tone just the right frequency to twang his already fragile neurons. And frankly, it irritated the crap out of him. He was here, feeling like death warmed up, doing her a favor, saving her ass.

A little gratitude wouldn’t go astray.

Squinting at his watch through bleary eyes, he said, “Ten minutes.”

“These kids don’t give you ten minutes.”

Jake looked over her shoulder at the motley collection of students. They were watching him curiously but there was a wariness to their gazes he wasn’t used to seeing. Usually, crowds surged forward, smiling and talking all at once. They slapped him on the back, shook his hand, shoved bits and pieces of paraphernalia at him to autograph.

These kids looked at him with a guardedness that was beyond their years. Jake rubbed his temple. “Tough crowd.”

“You have no idea,” she muttered.

Even through the pounding at his temples, Jake couldn’t mistake the dejection and disappointment in Ella’s voice and his self-loathing raised another notch. “Hey,” he said, lifting a hand to cup her face. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

For a moment she seemed to soften, lean into him before recoiling. “Jake!” She stepped quickly back and his hand fell away. “You stink.”

Her raised voice slammed into his brain and Jake reached for his temples. “Ella. Do you think you could keep it down?”

She stared at him like he’d grown another head. “Oh my God!” she hissed, snatching at his glasses, whipping them off. “You’re hungover!”

“Ella.” He snatched them back and shoved them on his face.

“How could you?” She stepped closer, her voice noticeably lower. “What kind of example are you setting for these kids?”

“They won’t know.”

She snorted. “You smell like a collision between a brewery and a cheap perfume factory.”

“Hey,” Pete protested.

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