Chapter 2: Humiliation and Payback

I felt my jaw drop and my skin go cold, like someone had tossed ice water down my back.

Mr. Ellison hustled over and pumped Autumn’s hand, grinning: “Ms. Ramirez, so glad you could make it!”

Autumn’s smile was cool, her handshake firm. She turned to me, eyes glinting: “Mr. Ellison, your staff are definitely… spirited.”

Her voice was smooth as silk, but her gaze had a wicked spark. I felt like I’d just stepped on a rake in front of everyone.

“Heh, young folks—haven’t even had a drink yet and already causing trouble. Ms. Ramirez, please don’t mind them,” Mr. Ellison said, shooting me a look that could kill. His face was turning a shade of green I’d never seen.

I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek, forcing out a smile: “Good evening, Ms. Ramirez.”

“Ms. Ramirez, you’ve got a sharp eye for talent.”

How was I supposed to know women came to nightclubs for business meetings too?

The marketing manager caught on quick, ushering the other women away with a wave.

Just like that, I was the only guy at the table without a companion, feeling like the world’s biggest loser.

But Autumn wasn’t about to let me off the hook.

When the karaoke started, she picked a male-female duet.

“Mr. Ellison, looks like your employee’s flying solo. Mind if he sings with me?”

She flashed a smile so fake it could’ve been on a reality show: “Is that okay?”

Okay, my foot—and my cousin’s foot, for good measure!

But with my boss glaring daggers, I had no choice but to slap on a businesslike grin: “Of course, the client’s always right. As long as Ms. Ramirez is happy.”

A real man knows when to take one for the team. If it helps the business, what’s a little public humiliation?

After our first song, Mr. Ellison ran out of compliments, but kept piling on the praise anyway.

His flattery was so over the top it made my teeth ache. I wanted to sink into the couch and disappear.

Autumn seemed to enjoy every second, picking a second, then a third song—her revenge in full swing.

Everyone else was cozying up with their picks, eating, drinking, and laughing. I was stuck as the club’s free male singer, doing duets until my throat felt like sandpaper.

After five songs, Autumn finally let up.

But as soon as I collapsed onto the couch, she appeared with her wine glass: “Logan, right? You sing pretty well. Want a drink to soothe your throat?”

Who soothes their throat with booze? She was playing me like one of those drama queens on TV—making me her entertainment for the night.

Mr. Ellison’s eyes lit up, seeing dollar signs: “Absolutely! Let me introduce—this is Logan Pierce, our tech genius. If you trust him with the project, you’ll be in good hands!”

Autumn swirled her wine, half-smiling: “Oh, Engineer Pierce does seem reliable. Not the type to stab people in the back.”

I knew she was mocking me. After our breakup, I’d started all those rumors about her being cold and heartless, and her reputation took a nosedive. Even her student council spot got snatched by someone who couldn’t stand her.

Not long after, she disappeared from campus.

Mr. Ellison was oblivious, still bragging about my skills while I tried to keep my face from twisting into a grimace.

By the end of the drinking session, I was close to puking.

Autumn took full advantage, pushing me to drink more and more—her own personal payback.

Even so, Mr. Ellison gave me the job of escorting Autumn home, as if it were some kind of honor.

I passed out in the Uber, and when I woke up, we were in the western suburbs, nowhere near my place.

The driver nudged me awake: “Dude, where’s your home? I’ve been driving for almost two hours.”

“What?” I jolted upright, confused.

“That lady who got out earlier said your home was near West Suburban Park. Told me to drive here and wake you up.”

“…My place isn’t here, I live in the east, Willow Creek Apartments.”

“So what now? Want me to take you back?”

“Of course! It’s pitch dark, I’m not getting out here.”

“Alright, hang tight.”

As I settled back, something felt off.

“Hey, where did that lady get off?”

“Oh, she got out in the east—Maplewood Estates, just a block from Willow Creek.”

Damn!

She played me like a fiddle!

I slumped in the seat, hands covering my face. The empty streets outside were freezing, my breath fogging the window. The only sound was the hum of the Uber and the distant wail of a train. Chicago at night—lonely, bitter, and cold. I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound hollow in the dark.