“Oh, great! You’re here. I was hoping to talk to you too,” Price said as he folded his hands and rested them on top of his desk. “How are you holding up with the news?”
“Um. Fine?” I arched an eyebrow in panic. How does he know about my step-father?
“Thank God. Are you sure?” He rubbed his face, his diamond-crusted wedding ring sparkling beneath the fluorescent bank of lights above. “I thought you’d be upset. I mean, I wouldn’t be okay…”
I bit my lip and studied his face.
“Wait,” he stretched out the word. “Have you talked to Cash yet today?”
I hiked my thumb over my shoulder. “I just came from his office; he’s leaving. I told him I need to deal with a family emergency back home.”
“Oh, good.” His shoulders slumped as he let out a deep breath. “I’m glad he explained everything to you. It couldn’t have come at a better time. Right?”
“A better time? Since when is it a good time for someone… What are you talking about?”
“You know. The layoff.”
I didn’t need a mirror to see my blank expression.
Price’s furry eyebrows squished together into one elongated caterpillar as he took a few seconds to put together what happened. It was a domino effect. Next, he ground his teeth and his face reddened, the giant vein in his forehead protruding as an epic finale. “That fucking son of a bitch. Cash didn’t tell you, did he? I asked him to do one task today. One task!”
“What’s Mini Cash going to do without you?”
It started to make sense. I thought the wording was bizarre considering I’d only be gone a week. Plus, his sudden desire for a heavy, morning sandwich wasn’t like him. I’d officially assigned “coward” as one of my latest descriptors for him. Maybe there weren’t enough thumbs and pinkies on the planet to have Cash remain on my elite “ten fingers and ten toes” plan. “Pastrami on rye. Yeah, right,” I muttered under my breath.
Price cocked his head to the side. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” I pursed my lips in a thin, tight line. “No. He didn’t say a word about that. So, let me get this straight. You’re firing me?”
“Well, technically we’re laying you off.”
I let out a slow and frustrated breath. “I’ve been here for more than a year now, nearing two. I have a perfect attendance record, and I’ve jumped through flaming hoops to make you happy. Literally. Flaming hoops. Don’t you remember the company picnic?”
“Blue, don’t make this harder on me than it already is.”
“Hard on you? I’m the one losing my job here! The practice is thriving. I’ve seen the numbers. Who else is being canned?” My nostrils flared.
“Today? We only needed to let one person go.”
“Wait a damn minute. You’re keeping that gorilla at the front desk and firing me?” My eyes bulged. “She hides in the supply closet and stuffs her face with cupcakes and miniature pies while the phone rings off the hook. One of your patients waited at the front desk for thirty minutes last week because Gloria said she had to finish off her two-liter of cola before she’d sign them in.”
Price held up his index finger in the air as he corrected me. “Ah, ah, ah. We’re laying off here, not firing. And Gloria has issues with low blood sugar. You know that. Plus, we’re skirting around the topic.”
“Why? What did I do that was so wrong?”
“Your position has been eliminated due to…cutbacks. Gloria answers phones and greets patients. You work on special projects. The two are like comparing bananas,” he gestured toward me with an open palm and then pointed in the direction of the reception area, “and watermelons.”
“You can say that again,” I muttered.
“Look, I’m offering you a severance package that rivals—”
Thinking back, I should’ve accepted it graciously, but rage roiled through my stomach. Every unreasonable request. Every unattainable project deadline. Every unpaid hour of overtime. It all bubbled up and over at once. “Fuck your severance, Price. This is unbelievable,” I said through gritted teeth as I headed toward the door.
“Ms. Brennan!” his voice held an air of authority and demanded obedience.
My shoulders drooped, and I suddenly felt like a puppy who’d peed on the rug when the back door was open and only two feet away. From past conversations I’d overheard, I knew that authoritative tone well. I’d done the forbidden and crossed a clearly-marked boundary.
Why am I letting this man make me feel ashamed?
I spun around, refusing to let him know I cared. “What?”
“Do you want me to be honest with you?”
I awaited his answer.
“There were no cutbacks.”
“What does that mean?”
He held a piece of paper out to me. A sticky note was affixed to the top with my first name and my signature scribbled in blue ink next to an x at the bottom. “Here. It’s still warm from the copy machine in HR.”
“What’s this?” I stomped across the room and ripped it out of his hand. My cheeks reddened as I scanned the single page of legal mumbo jumbo, a section circled with yellow highlighter.
“Is this document familiar to you? It should be. You signed it on your hire date,” he said. “A few minutes ago, you asked what you did that was so wrong. It wasn’t ‘what’ you did. It was ‘who’ you did.”
Oh, shit. Shit! Shit! Shit! That’s why he made me feel mortified. It was warranted! Message received, loud and clear, boss man. My toes curled up in my shoes as I looked at the intricate autograph on the bottom. It was mine. He knew.
“You should’ve paid more attention to page thirty-three of the handbook, which is now in your possession. I’ll help you out a little in layman’s terms. Paragraph seven. Sentence two. It’s against company policy to fuck your boss, on or off company time. Cash may be too much of a pretty boy to think I’d never act on it, but you, Blue? Come on. You’re smarter than this.”
His tone felt parental, and I wanted to melt into the floor.
“You’re damn lucky I’m not firing you and ruining your reputation for the next company who considers bringing you on. So, it’d be in your best interest to accept my generous severance package. If you play your cards right and leave before I have to call security, my letter of recommendation will arrive in your mailbox next week.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it again. There was nothing left to say. No rebuttal. No argument. Backing out of the corner was beyond impossible—I’d fucked up.
“Now, get out.” His focus went back to a stack of papers on the desk, and it was like I didn’t exist. The silence spoke volumes as an invisible door slammed. In a much different way than Cash, he’d dismissed me without my needing to leave the room. Price’s version didn’t involve a swift getaway to a diner where a sweaty man with yellow pit stains sold smelly meat sandwiches. Yet, the finality felt the same.
I was on display, figuratively naked as humiliation filled me from head to toe. One fact was certain. Nothing could overshadow the rage consuming me, even if it were aimed at Cash. Price just happened to be my target. I slammed his door shut behind me. A picture fell from the wall, its glass pane shattering when it met the floor. For all I cared, Gloria could clean up the mess. After all, she was still getting a paycheck.
With tunnel vision, I stormed to my office, passing by Justine on my way. She gave me a questioning look, but I didn’t bother to slow down. An empty box of rubber gloves on the shelf of a nearby supply closet was spacious enough for my meager number of belongings. If being canned were an Olympic sport, I’d have taken the gold in packing up. It took less than one minute to jam an orange, a small day planner, and my magic 8-ball inside. Done. Giving the room one last glance, I turned off the light. Sayonara, spreadsheets. Vindictiveness tapped me on the shoulder and
whispered sweetly into my ear. At the last second, I went over to my computer monitor and cleared the contents from the months-long project I’d been working on for Price and hit ‘save’. The IT guru could likely retrieve them all with a few simple keystrokes, but the spiteful and childish action made me feel a fraction better. Minutes later, I did my walk of shame through the lobby of Jensen & Jensen, a pathetic number of knickknacks tucked underneath my arm, rolling around inside the near-empty box.
“I heard the great news! It’s like Christmas came early! Someone, get me a growler of rum with a splash of eggnog.” Gloria grinned as she clapped excitedly. “I’d say I’m gonna miss you and we should exchange numbers to keep in touch, but we both know that’s not true.”
I sneered at her. “I hope you choke on your next box of donuts, Gloria.”
“Bye, bye.” Gloria waved and wiggled her fingers in a dramatic gesture with a sugarcoated grin, flipping me the bird with her other hand. “Don’t let the door hit your scrawny ass on the way out.” The smile slipped from her face.
I walked out to the parking garage and kicked the tire of my hatchback before I got in. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Daveigh’s words about money resonated. Rent was due, my car payment was due, and my utility bills were due. And I had a broken taillight on my growing expenditure list. I needed cash…and not Cash Jensen.
Whether I liked it or not, I was pinned in a tough spot. Until that moment, I had no intention of going back home to Steele Falls, but being laid off changed things. Fired. Laid off. Whatever Price decided my fate should be with my hasty exit. I needed time to think, but I already knew what had to happen. Every avenue, regardless of my excuse, would point me in the same direction on the map. North. There was only one answer to my problems, and I hoped it wasn’t going to create a dozen more. A trip to Steele Falls to face the demons of my past was on the table for discussion.
I went home and opened the web browser eleven times with the intent of booking a flight out of the Santa Rosa airport. A last-minute trip to the dinky airfield nearest Steele Falls was outrageously priced, and I could only afford a one-way ticket. Seattle Tacoma International was just as expensive. Plus, it’d include a four-hour drive. Whichever plan I chose would take everything I had left in my checking account and the measly amount available on my credit card. I banked, pun intended, on funds from my share of the will to be my savior in getting me back home to float for a while after the funeral was over. There was no telling how long it’d take to find a new job in Sacramento during the current economy. As much as I wanted nothing from my step-father, I was out of available options.
Fear of facing my past won out once again, and I slammed the laptop shut. Make that twelve times I remained a chicken. I stood up and paced the room, rubbing the back of my neck.
Stop being a sissy, Blue. You can do this. Your history is ancient. Gone. That life can’t hurt you. Not again.
Convincing myself to go because the area was a desirable vacation spot wasn’t an option either. Sure. It was near the beach, but there were no tropical palm trees or drinks served out of coconuts. The weather was constantly cold and windy, the Pacific frigid. Swimsuit season barely existed. When it did, it wasn’t for the faint of heart. Die-hard surfers and swimmers exited the relentless waves with numb fingers and trembling, blue lips.
Steele Falls was a small town in Washington State, flavorlessly sandwiched in a cranny between Hoquiam and Ocean Shores. It was nothing shy of bland. Some argued you’d miss the city if you blinked. If you asked me, I didn’t miss it at all. Not a damn bit.
Children grew up there, dreaming of ways to get out of the sleepy and dilapidated city. Adults longed to retire there. Either way, few stuck around the aged tourist trap for long. Hurry up and get out or hurry up and arrive to die.
I was one of the escapists, the lucky ones. Leaving meant I was finally home.
It was depressing, and leaving was the best decision I’d ever made. Since I could talk, I’d conjured up ways of busting free to somewhere busier and more exciting. Up until hours before I actually left, I had big plans in place. Elaborate plans. But it was a magical fantasy that faded into the sunset. Life didn’t turn out how I’d expected when a figurative curveball hit me hard. I succeeded in starting over elsewhere, but it cost me what I’d valued most. Big time.
For the thirteenth time, I opened the computer and hit refresh. The website had timed out once again, likely annoyed with my fickle attempts at purchasing a ticket. Lucky number thirteen didn’t live up to its name. My eyes bulged when I saw the change in price. I was positive the airline had enough of my wishy-washy behavior, in the amount of a $500 price hike.
Well, that seals the deal on not flying in a giant, tin can at 35,000 feet.
I flopped back onto the couch and covered my face with a throw pillow. Driving was my other option. It’d take about eleven hours to get there in my unreliable car, which wasn’t the end of the world. I had nothing but time and no job to go back to. Money and bills did remain factors though. Besides, my car might not make it without requiring a funeral of its own. There was no doubt I needed a getaway vehicle. I could only hope it wasn’t a pointless trip for as much as the visit was about to cost me, both mentally and financially.
“Guess I’d better get to packing.” I stomped down the hall to yank my suitcase from the closet. It was buried at the bottom, practically invisible. Secretly, I’d been hoping to stay in Sacramento and not need to use it again. So much for that.
I turned on the television for some background noise, tuning in to the nightly news. A perky blonde newscaster was mid-story, rambling about a drug bust at a local motel. Most of the words usually went in one ear and out the other. But that day, I listened. The problems in the rest of the world were a welcome distraction as I hoped they’d be enough to make me forget about my own. The channel cut to a low-budget commercial with a catchy jingle as a freckled, red-headed man known nationwide as Gonorrhea Guy pretended to fly in front of a fake sky. He wore a goldenrod-colored spandex onesie, which was telling in itself. But the giant STD logo on his chest, accented with a black circle and a backslash around it was an unnecessary touch. A mile-long string of side effects scrolled along the bottom of the screen of the antibiotic advertisement. He spoke one line with a hint of a southern accent and a wink before the bit ended. “Gonorrhea, be gone!”
“Ugh. Gross.” I flipped off the television.
As I stuffed a neon pink bag with toiletries, there was a firm knock at the door. “What now?” I muttered.
Then, I remembered Mrs. Sheetz mentioned stopping by to bring me dinner when she saw the expression on my face after work. With a box tucked under my arm and my early arrival at the bank of mailboxes, it was hard to come up with a fitting lie for what happened. I tried to tell her it was a dead pet, but she didn’t buy it. She also didn’t believe they were new shoes when I tried to mask the latex label. As much as I’d asked her to not go to the trouble, she insisted. The nosy, old coot wanted the details on someone else’s life since she didn’t have her own to dissect.
Another knock.
“Mrs. Sheetz, I’m kinda busy right now! Not really hungry either!” I yelled from the bedroom.
The rapping on the door had turned to pounding. More dire. More urgent.
“Fine. I’m coming.” I tossed a full-sized bottle of shampoo on the bed and headed down the hall, tripping over Catzilla, my fluffy tabby.
The peephole confirmed I didn’t want to open the door. I’d have rather taken a dozen visits from Mrs. Sheetz and maybe an encounter or two with Gloria instead of endure who stood in the hallway.
“Go away,” I grumped.
“If anything, you know I’m persistent,” he said. “Besides, your neighbors will wonder what’s going on pretty soon if I have to cause a scene. Don’t make me do it.”
“You’ve got to fucking be ki
dding me.” I rested my forehead against the paneling for a few seconds. Taking a breath, I stepped back and ripped the door open, surprised it remained on its hinges. “What are you doing here?”
Cash stood in the hall, holding a dozen red roses tied with an oversized white bow. “What? We have dinner plans.” He eyed me up and down. “But I don’t think the dress code at the restaurant allows for oversized bathrobes or animal slippers. Why aren’t you ready?”
I tightened the sash around my waist and crossed my arms.
“I get it. You showered because you pissed yourself this morning. Don’t be embarrassed…”
“I didn’t pee my pants! It! Was! Water!”
“Okay. If you say so.” He extended the bouquet toward me. “I brought roses.”
“Is this punishment?” I asked, taking a single step backward. “What the hell did I do to you?”
“What?” He gave me a blank look.
“Those.” I nodded at the flowers. “I’m allergic. Remember? I told you the past four times you’ve brought me ‘I fucked up again’ roses.”
He snapped his fingers. “Right. Allergic.”
Silence. Awkward, painstaking, unbearable silence.
How did he not get it? Why was he still standing there?
“So, can I come in?” he asked, hope spelled out on his face.
Is he really that dense?
I suppressed my belittling laughter and blocked the doorway. Looking into Cash’s eyes, my tone was acidic. “First of all, I told you I have to go out of town. And second of all, Jensen & Jensen fucking canned me this morning and you couldn’t even tell me yourself! No heads up. No nothing. You let your brother do the dirty work and fire me! Why did you tell him we were sleeping together?”
“Not fired. Laid off,” he replied.
“For fuck’s sake, you sound like Price. Let’s call a spade a spade here. That doesn’t make it any better.”
“It makes a difference. Severance compensation. Letter of recommendation. Applying for unemployment. Potential turnaround rate for re-hire at another company.” He paused as he counted on his fingers. “Stop looking at me like you want to hurt me.”
Blue Page 4
