Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Actually, I showed up with one specific reason in mind,” I said as I took a look around the kitchen.
The kitchen at La Pearl, one of the only fancy restaurants, as well as one of the only four-star establishments in two counties, was run by Erich. It was owned by a private benefactor that Erich had never mentioned, but I assumed was his mother.
Though the food was good, because Erich really was amazing in the kitchen, the work environment at La Pearl was hostile.
Erich was a tyrant to work with, and his turnover rate was horrific.
But looking at how he treated his staff? How he treated me sometimes? It just wasn’t worth it.
Not for my sanity, and certainly not for my overall health.
A pan dropped, and Erich’s head whipped around, eyes locked on the poor, unfortunate soul that’d had the luck of dropping something in his kitchen.
The young man, all of twenty, looked like he was about to die.
He started to scoop up the bread rolls that’d hit the dirty floor, and I could practically see the steam rising off of Erich’s head.
I put my hand on Erich’s arm and stole his attention.
“I’m quitting.”
Erich’s head turned so slowly that it could’ve been a comedy act out of a rom-com TV show.
“I’m sorry, you what?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t heard me correctly.
“I’m quitting,” I repeated. “As of today, I will no longer be employed at this restaurant.”
And I hoped that I’d know by the end of the week that I had a job elsewhere. Otherwise, I was going to beg my friend Anisa’s dad to give me a job at one of his hotels.
“Please repeat that, but more slowly. I think I didn’t hear you correctly,” he ground out.
He’d heard me just fine. He was just hoping that I would take it back.
“I just don’t like baking,” I lied to Erich. “I’m sorry.”
Erich looked at me like he’d rather throttle me than accept my resignation.
“You’re supposed to give me two weeks’ notice,” he said calmly.
I shrugged. “I don’t really care.”
Sure, most people would give two weeks’ notice. But not here. Once you gave your notice, if you even gave it because some people didn’t even have the courage to do that, you never came back. Mostly because Erich would make your life a living hell if you did.
I’d seen him do it.
At first, I thought it was funny. I mean, who wouldn’t? He was pissed that he was losing a worker he’d trained to be exactly what he needed. And then they left as soon as they’d learned the trade.
At least, that’d been what I’d originally thought.
But over the course of the month and a half that I’d been there, getting my feet wet while also living out of the area and driving in every day, I’d noticed a few things.
And all of those things were bad.
He was hard and brash. He said such demeaning things that it was a wonder that people even spoke to him at all.
Honestly, I was tired of the meanness.
I watched his eyes narrow as if something I’d said made him amused rather than pissed.
Which I’d most certainly not intended to do.
I didn’t want him taking this the wrong way.
“I’ll get the two weeks in another way,” he teased.
No, he most certainly would not.
Which I let him know seconds later.
“I’m sorry, but no, you won’t,” I apologized while backing away.
At least I’d done this in person.
I mean, I could’ve been a total coward and texted him my intentions not to come back.
“I’ll see you tonight?” he asked, sounding rather hopeful.
I shook my head.
His attitude toward me, and others, leaving the job had finalized our relationship, as well.
“No,” I disagreed. “You won’t.”
His eyes narrowed as if sensing that this wasn’t a joke. That he wasn’t going to get his way in any of it.
“What are you really trying to say here, darling?” he asked. “Because I’m sensing something that I shouldn’t.”
I nearly rolled my eyes.
Erich was that full of himself and confident in his sexiness that he believed that no one would ever leave him.
“I’m trying to say that not only have I quit, but I no longer wish to see you anymore.” I told him. “You’re not a very nice person. I don’t like you.”
He blinked. “And you’re not part of the problem?”
No, no, I wasn’t.
“No,” I told him point blank.
He snorted, as if what I’d said was vastly amusing to him.
“Some people don’t want to be fixed, because being broken gets them attention,” Erich snarled.
I felt that hit down deep in my soul.
“Erich,” I said quietly, “you don’t even have any inkling, not one iota, of what it feels like to be broken.”
With that, I left, not once looking back.
And when he texted me later that day, I blocked his number.
My final paycheck would either arrive, or it wouldn’t.