Page 42 of Revenge Is a Dish Best Served… Wearing Heels?

But the biggest shocker was... Tristan Hawthorne had actually confessed to everything.

I would have thought he'd fight it, never admit anything, and bring in the power of his family to keep from being expelled. But he'd done none of those things.

He hadn't been exactly apologetic to me. He'd simply disappeared without a word to anyone. Which I'd been secretly glad about.

Well, not exactly glad. It took a long time for any words associated with happiness to even enter my realm of existence. For months after that beyond humiliating experience, I'd traveled through the daily grind of my life as a hollow shell of myself.

And two of Tristan's cronies, a couple named Preston and Sloane, had taken up the mantle of his bullying, slyly and under the radar of course, in subtle whispers and quiet moos whenever I had the misfortune to pass them in the hallway or cafeteria, making my life a living hell.

I never went to the authorities about them or any of the multitude of others who joined in, and I made Kayla promise not to say anything either. There was no point.

What would I do? Have the entire rest of the school expelled?

Sure, I was fortunate to have parents that would stand up for me, but let's be honest here. The only reason the school had come down on my side was money. And that was it.

If my family hadn't been the Stratton family? Well, Tristan would have received a simple slap on his wrist and finished out his senior year, celebrating his graduation along with the rest of our class.

Although he hadn't been there physically, the spirit of his horrendous bullying lived on, and his friends made sure I never forgot it. Everyone hated me even more because I'd been responsible for getting St. Lucius' most popular senior, the onethe whole school idolized, expelled. Even though he'd done it to himself, damn it.

With a heavy sigh, I tried to let it all go. That had been the past, and it was all behind me.

And now? Game on, Tristan Hawthorne. It's time to pay.

Thirteen

Tristan

Oddly enough, her event was in the same part of town as my own project. After days of digging—oh, who was I kidding? obsessing was the right word—I'd finally figured it out. Her "fashion pop-up thing in that old factory" was in fact a trendy, underground event for creatives right smack in the middle of Southside Flats.

She was definitely in the fashion industry, the secretive, sneaky little minx.

Well, two could play that game.

I was dying, absolutely dying, for a glimpse of her face without the mask.

What I hadn't counted on as I'd walked out the door for the evening? Archie wanting to come along with me.

But I supposed it was a Friday night, after all, and he didn't exactly want to start on his homework and didn't have any other plans. I'd assumed he would want to game until he crashed out in the middle of the night, so when he'd looked up at me and asked where I was going, like he actually wanted to go, I'd invited him to join me.

"What is this place again?" he asked, glancing around the hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

So yeah, this whole trying to spy on mystery woman was not working out very well with Archie in tow. We were across the street from the old factory entrance in a kind of dive, the only spot I could think of where I could watch people coming and going and keep myself somewhat out of view.

Finding an empty table by a window, I made sure to sit down where I could most effectively survey the scene, angling my rickety wooden chair just right.

"This is your big Friday night out?" Archie asked after I ignored his previous question. "We came all the way out here to try this restaurant?"

I studied the menu, its plastic surface smudged with grease. "Yep, sure did. They have great burgers I hear."

Without looking, I knew he was staring at me, the smoke coming out of his too-large ears as he thought. "Okay. Sure, Jan."

If I wasn't so invested in my mission, I might have found the whole situation comical... dragging my little brother on a stakeout to find a masked woman who didn't want to be found.

My phone rang and it was an unknown number. Strange. With all the mysterious things going on in my life currently, I decided to pick up.

"Hello!" a bright, cheerful voice said. "Is this Tristan Hawthorne?"

"Yes," I answered warily.