Page 7 of The Revenge Game

I can hear Leo huff a sound that means he’s about to go into protective mode.

“So, what did you mean you want your part in revenge to be more hands-on?”

“I’ve just got some ideas of a few things I can do to get him back for what he did in high school. And because he doesn’t recognize me, he’ll never suspect I’m doing it. I’m not going todo anything illegal or physically harm him. Just…some carefully orchestrated social humiliation. I just want him to feel how he used to make me feel.”

Part of me knows this whole scheme is ridiculous. I’m not a scared kid anymore. I’m a successful guy who’s built something meaningful to make people’s lives better.

But then I remember Justin’s laugh as his friends made crude gestures every time I raised my hand in class, and suddenly, my revenge plan doesn’t seem ridiculous at all.

It’s just karma finally calling in its debts.

There’s silence after I trail off. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve left Leo speechless or if his silence is pointed. Knowing Leo, it’s probably the latter.

“It’s David vs. Goliath,” I speak again into the quiet space between us. I’m aware I’m at the point of overexplaining, but I continue, “I’m taking a stand for the little guy.”

“I think you might have misinterpreted who is David and who is Goliath in this situation,” Leo says.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, you’re a multi-millionaire tech genius who can bring considerable resources to this project. Do you think he stands a chance against you? And you need to think seriously about whether embarrassing him will make you feel better about the past.”

My stomach swirls at Leo’s words. Will embarrassing Justin help me come to terms with my memories from high school? Knowing I got the last laugh?

I guess we’re about to find out.

Because plans are already in motion. Justin Morris is about to discover that karma sometimes wears glasses and knows how to code.

“It’s a bit too late for second-guessing everything now,” I say.

“What do you mean it’s too late?” Leo’s voice is layered with suspicion.

“Well, I’m moving into an apartment down the hall from him this weekend.” I decide to skip telling Leo how the previous tenant of the apartment three doors down from Justin is now settling into a riverside apartment in Chelsea that comes with her new job in developing sustainable housing. But hey, I’ve been meaning to diversify my investments into the property market.

“You’re moving into his apartment building?”

The incredulousness in Leo’s voice makes me aware of how close I am to flirting with stalker behavior. But there’s something strangely liberating about admitting I’m being ridiculous. It’s like I’ve circled all the way around from trauma, through success, past maturity, and landed back at “elaborate high school prank” territory. But instead of toilet-papering Justin’s house, I’m infiltrating his life with the precision of a black ops mission. I’m like James Bond. If James Bond were a socially awkward coder with unresolved issues.

“Yeah, I figure being in close proximity will help me execute my plans.” I take a deep breath. “I’m also starting work at his company on Monday.”

Chapter Three

Justin

No place does the color gray quite like London.

Although it’s June, the sky is brooding gray as I leave my apartment—even after living in London for three years, I can’t make myself think of it as a flat.

The sidewalk is a more subdued gray, like it’s the place where color goes to die.

On this Monday morning, even people’s faces seem to be shades of gray as they scurry toward work, eyes grim and mouths set in firm lines.

I’m caught up in this sea of gray as I walk down the high street, scanning the sidewalk for my target.

I finally spot him sitting on a square of cardboard outside the Heart Foundation charity store, the bright-colored clothes in the window making his hunched figure look even more monochrome.

“Hey, Amos.” I crouch next to him, trying to block my nostrils. Amos’s highland terrier Kryptonite snuffles over to me, her tongue flicking out to rasp my hand.

I’ve discovered shallow mouth breaths are necessary when I’m around Amos. I’ve brought him vouchers for hotel rooms, thinking at least he could have a shower and clean sheets, get outof the awful London weather when he needs to. But I don’t think he’s used any of them.