Chapter 15 Cam W — Final chances
We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not
Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare
“That smells amazing. I’m so fucking hungry I could eat Damon’s cooking,” I yelled into the kitchen as I entered my mate’s house.
“Lucky for you that Cordy cooked then,” Damon quipped, handing me a beer.
I looked around, disappointed to see that Miranda wasn’t there.
She’d been hanging around Cordy and Damon a lot since she dumped dipshit.
I was still flirting with her, but she never reciprocated.
She had lost her spirit a bit, and I hated that.
She was quiet and reflective all the time.
“Miranda not joining us tonight?”
“Don’t say the ‘M’ word,” Damon hissed in a faux whisper.
Cordy slammed down the garlic powder. “Fuck that asshole. I’m going to go Miranda on his ass. What she did to Harrison will look like a fucking Bible story.”
“Bible stories can be pretty bloody and gruesome,” Damon pointed out.
“What did he do?” I asked. We all knew which “he” I was referring to. I wasn’t a violent man. My fighting history was restricted to drunken tussles with Damon and Samuel, but for Miranda, I’d have a good crack.
“He took her phone and declined her scholarship at that French retreat. He said it was to keep her close, but I think he was punishing her.” Cordy seethed. “Damon, google ‘prank war.’ No, google ‘revenge that doesn’t put people in jail’. Actually, fuck it. I’m willing to go to jail for this.”
“Fuck. Can’t she ask them to reconsider?”
“No, her place is already gone. Her boss begged and they said she could come but would have to pay her own way. Which she can’t afford.
The Arts Council kicks in for some, even for non-scholarship holders, but it’s still twenty-five thousand dollars for the accommodation and course. Even Mom and Dad can’t spare that.”
“We should do a GoFundMe. If we get enough people to kick in, she can go. How long do we have?”
“She accepted it but only has two weeks until she has to turn it down. I like that idea, but seriously, that’s a lot of money. She’s an artist. Most of her friends are broke.”
“I’d kick in, and I know you guys would. Your parents, even Lucy might have a little bit saved. I’m sure we could do it.” I had to help her do this. She’d worked so hard and he’d shit on every one of her dreams.
“It wouldn’t hurt, Cordy. Worst case, if we don’t raise the money, we just return everyone’s donation,” Damon reasoned.
The very angry woman behind the counter began to smile.
“I have a call to make. Damon, please keep stirring this.”
He jumped up eagerly, swishing the spoon around without touching the base of the pot. This was why he was such a shitty cook. He was all enthusiasm and energy, with very little focus or actual skills.
Ten minutes later, when Damon had well and truly ruined Cordy’s cooking, she returned to the kitchen smiling broadly.
“Jules is on it! She reckons Seamus’s work might kick in too. She’s setting it up now. Don’t tell Miranda. We don’t want her to know in case we can’t raise enough, so if you share it on socials, make sure you block her from the post.”
She’d get there. I was more certain of that than I was that dinner would be awful.