Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“I don’t think you do.”
“Well, we’ve reached a point where we need to uphold the integrity of our policies,” she says, clearly coming to the end of our conversation. “I hope this serves as a lesson in your future endeavors.”
This condescending bitch!
I force back my tears and quietly stand up.
“Here’s a packet of exit paperwork.” She shoves a large, thick envelope at me. “You can call Jim if you have any questions about the extension on the insurance…”
Insurance. Shit. The whole reason I’ve kept this job for so long is for the benefits. I stand and snatch the packet out of her hand. My jaw’s set so tight I could crack a tooth. Nope, don’t do that, you don’t have dental insurance anymore, either.
Anger and pure pettiness burn through me. I “accidentally” kick over the pile of papers I’d had to set on the floor, and oopsie, step on them on my way out of the office. Not even the satisfying crunch and rip of paper under my heels soothes my misery.
My vision blurs as it’s harder to hold back my tears. I hurry to my station and gather my stuff. Thankfully, I’ve never kept a lot here. No personal pictures or mementos.
I cast a few furtive glances at my coworkers but everyone’s mighty focused on their work today. No one dares look my way. As if my firing might be contagious. Did everyone know ahead of time this was happening? Everyone but me?
Tammie hovers near my desk. Is she going to bounce me out of here if I take too long?
What am I going to do?
I hurry outside to my car, my heels clicking over the pavement.
It’s okay.
I have savings.
Libby and I will be fine.
I can find another job.
I throw my stuff into my car and choke back a sob.
You will not cry in the parking lot. Keep it together and get away from here. Then you can break down.
With no idea where to go, I start my car and peel out of the parking lot, turning left onto the main road and pressing hard on the gas.
Shock and embarrassment drown out my fears. I’ve never been fired before. Fury burns through the other emotions. I can’t believe they fired me for taking care of my sister. How fucking heartless.
My throat tightens to the point of pain, and I choke back a sob. Blinking though tears that refuse to be held back another second, I flip on my blinker and turn into a small parking lot, jerking to a stop at the side of the building.
I’m too embarrassed to call Dex and tell him what happened.
Serena just went through something similar. She was let go from her job because of her involvement with Grayson—who was originally her patient. She’ll understand. And she won’t judge me.
I send her a text first.
Me: Are you free? I need to talk to someone.
Instead of answering, a video call pops up on my screen. Even though I’m not feeling camera-ready, I hit accept.
Serena pops on my screen looking flawless and well-lit.
Her pretty face scrunches with concern. “Emily, what’s wrong?”
“Did I interrupt you filming a makeup tutorial?”
“I was filming but you’re never an interruption. It sounded important. Are you okay?” She squints and her face moves closer to the screen. “Are you crying?”
I sniffle and wipe the back of my hand against my damp cheeks. “No.”
“What happened? Is Libby okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s at school.”
Her brow furrows. “Are you and Dex okay?”
“We’re good.” I sniffle. How am I going to tell him he has a loser girlfriend who can’t even keep a job? “I just got fired,” I finally admit.
“What? Why? Oh no, I’m so sorry, Emily. That’s awful. What happened?”
I recap my shitty day, hiding nothing and getting angrier with every word. At least it’s better than crying.
“Assholes,” Serena mutters. “I can’t believe they did that when they know you’re the only one your sister has.”
“It’s my own fault. I’ve been an overprotective psycho since the accident. I could’ve let her take the bus, but I didn’t want her getting jostled around or struggling to get on and off with her cast.”
“I don’t blame you for that at all,” she insists. “It would’ve been easy for her to injure herself some other way riding the bus. Or slow down the healing process for her arm.”
I can’t tell if she’s giving me a clinical opinion based in fact or validating my fears to make me feel better. Either way, it does make me feel a fraction better. For a second, anyway.
“No offense, but they always kind of sounded like jerks to me,” Serena continues, shifting into killer best friend mode. “Especially George. Now this Tammie chick is on my shit list too.”
“Maybe it’s me.” The truth of my situation speeds at me like a freight train. “I can’t get along with anyone, lately.”