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I was going to follow Jake.
I got dressed at 10 a.m. that morning, but not in my usual clothes. I wasn’t dressed stylishly—just in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. It wasn’t great, but it was what I wanted. I also picked out a pair of dark sunglasses and a peaked cap and made my way out.
I walked down to Lincoln Park and got myself a coffee from one of the kiosks there. I sat down on a bench and drank it. To everyone around me, I looked like another regular person who’d stepped out for a walk. But I was watching the apartment across the street, waiting to see if I could see any sign of Jake.
I waited for half an hour, then for an hour. By that time, I was beginning to feel pretty stupid. Of course, there was no chance Jake would show. How could there be? It wasn’t like he was just going to walk out onto the street if someone was after him like he said. But then, as if by a miracle, I saw him.
Jake was coming down onto the street. He was dressed smartly—out of character for him. Still, I couldn’t deny he looked sexy in a suit, with a smartly done-up tie and an overcoat. I saw him walking up the boulevard by the park before he turned off into town. I waited impatiently for the crosswalk and dashed across, throwing the coffee in a trashcan on my way.
I followed Jake down Fullerton Avenue, where he stopped at a fancy restaurant.
That’s weird. It wasn’t like Jake to spend so much money on food, even if he could afford it. He was a guy who’d always been more at home in a pizza place than in a fancy five-star hotel. And yet here he was. Clearly, he was out for a business lunch.
I saw him sit at a table in the window, and pretend to be browsing at a newspaper stand while I waited and watched him for a while. Eventually, I saw a dark car pull up, and a guy got out.
I could have sworn I recognized him before, and then I did. It was from a CAA brochure—some newsletter about how the company was doing. Was he a lawyer or something?
At the table, the guy shook Jake’s hand, and they sat down. I saw Jake produce something from his coat. It was a large, plain manilla envelope. He put it on the table by the guy, finished his glass of water, and stood up. The guy turned around, bemused. He opened the envelope.
I was too busy looking for Jake to see his reaction to the contents. Then, I saw Jake exiting the building. He was going back down Fullerton, toward his house.
I sprinted back down the other side of the avenue, watching him go. Half of me wanted to cry out, wanted to scream and shout at him, call his name, see those green eyes fall on me. But I didn’t. He just turned the corner and went back down the boulevard to the front steps of his apartment, where he stopped and pulled out his phone.
I watched him from the other side of the road, and then slowly, I cringed—because I could hear my own phone vibrating.
“You gonna stand there looking incognito for the whole day, or are you going to come in?” asked Jake on the other end of the line. On the other side of the road, he turned around and waved at me.
Ifeltacombinationof shame, embarrassment, and deep resentment as I followed Jake into the building. We didn’t say anything to one another in the elevator. Once or twice I tried to catch his eye, but he just stayed, with his customary military bearing, staring straight ahead.
Once we got into his office, he closed the door behind me. Framed by Lincoln Park in the distance behind him, he stood by his window, looking wounded and tired. Somehow the dark circles around his eyes just made his face seem more well-defined.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But you wouldn’t tell me what you were doing or where you were going.”
“So you followed me,” he said. “Well, I was just dropping off a document with my lawyer. No espionage or secret business going on there.” He was defensive, and his tone was threatening.
“You won’t talk to me,” I said. “I’m scared and alone. Sam can barely look at me—even if he doesn’t know he knows, he does. I don’t have anyone.”
“Let’s go up to my apartment,” he said, sighing. “I don’t want to talk about this here.” His eyes flitted down the hallway as he said those words. Did he think he was being spied on?
Jake went to his computer and pressed a few buttons. Behind him, the set of reinforced doors slid open, revealing the elegant spiral staircase which led up to his apartment. He turned and walked through, and I followed. As I did, the doors clunked shut.
The stairs led up to a heavy oak set of double doors, and Jake opened them. His apartment was beautiful—if sparsely decorated. It was mostly finished in white marble, with pale, whitewashed walls hung with artwork. We were in the living room, which was about the size of the entire first floor of my and Sam’s house. At the far end of the enormous space, I could see an open-plan kitchen.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “And so empty.”
Jake turned and looked at me. “What were you expecting? Pictures of my family? Your brother’s already told you what a bunch of deadbeats they are.”
I looked down, blushing. Of course, Sam had already told me about Jake’s dad. But I didn’t think it was anything to be ashamed of. Right now, everyone had turned against him. But that didn’t mean I wanted to.
“Why don’t you let me help you?” I asked.
“Because I don’t want to put you in danger,” he replied.
“That isn’t fair. Whether you realize it or not, it’s you who keeps putting me in danger. Because you won’t tell me the truth.”
“Here’s the truth—all that matters of it anyway. I made a mistake three years ago, and now they’re blackmailing me to sell my company. The shareholders’ meeting in L.A. has been scheduled to convene at 4 p.m. tomorrow. I’m flying out there tomorrow afternoon to meet with Tom.”
“Why can’t I come with you?”
