by Brea Viragh
“And you’re still going to insist nothing happened when you went to get food and came back with nothing to show?” Essie drank her coffee and stared at me over the rim of her mug. All wide-eyed innocence and a hint of sass. “Right?”
“Right.”
The insistence was meant to get her off my tail. Luckily for me, it worked.
“Fine, you can have it your way. For now. I reserve the right to grill you later when I’m less tired and more in possession of my wits. What do you want to do this afternoon?” Essie asked. She leaned a hip against the counter. “We have hours to kill before I have to be home. I promised Isaac I would cook him a pot roast. Not sure what I was thinking, agreeing to a damn pot roast after a school fair.”
“Actually, I have to head into the store for a little bit and do some unpacking. We got a shipment of new oil paintings from one of our local artists. I’ve put it off for too long, and with inventory day looming ahead, I need to actually see what I’ve got. Can’t do it with boxes everywhere. You know I’m the only one who works.”
“It’s Sunday!”
“I work seven days a week whether they pay me for it or not,” I said, jamming my thumbs in my pockets.
“I’d hoped we could relax and have a girl’s afternoon to decompress. I have a piece of sponge cake left in the shop. I can grab it real quick and put your name on it. Well, on half of it. I lay claim to the other half. It’s too damn delicious to let it all go.”
My stomach grumbled its opinion loud enough to sound across the kitchen. “I wish I could.”
“You can, you don’t want to. Which makes me think something really crazy happened while you were gone for fifteen minutes. Were you abducted by aliens? Where is the real Shari? When are you going to tell me the truth?” Her mouth widened in an O. “Jeezums, you were making out with what’s his face! Fenton.” She snapped her fingers in my face. “You squirrely witch! It makes sense why you were asking about him.”
I ignored her and studied the floor. When was the last time I’d mopped? Not this month. “No, I wasn’t making out with him! I’m fine, I swear. I remembered the crap-ton of work waiting for me. You know how Rayne gets when things aren’t done on time. Not that she ever bothers to come in on weekends to get them finished.”
Essie sighed. She was done with me, apparently. “Why don’t you bring her the sponge cake? It will go a nice way toward soothing the savage beast. Yours or hers, whichever one needs it more. I’ll happily donate if it means you won’t get your ears chewed off by that woman.”
Essie and Rayne were not on speaking terms since the last time my boss ventured into my best friend’s sweet shop. She’d spit biscotti on the floor claiming it was dryer than a brick. Needless to say, Essie didn’t appreciate the comparison.
“Yes, you’re right.” I shifted my gaze from floor to face. “I’ll follow you into town and we can do the ole college pass off.”
I’d worked at Doma for the better part of three years. It was a quaint little gallery north of the stoplight, with a few of the country stores and the locally famous dances they held every Friday night.
The gallery catered to local artists of all mediums with displays highlighting potters, painters, woodworkers, and more. I’d started as a sales associate on the floor and quickly worked my way up the ladder to management, which suited my sense of freedom. I was in charge of the merchandise and displays and making sure the products were featured to their fullest potential.
It might have been a cliché, but the women I worked with were more than friends, more than coworkers. They kept me going, and better, they kept me happy with my job. Which seemed to be a rarity these days.
I loved it: being surrounded by art, feeling the soul of each object and the effort put into making it beautiful. The displays were left up to me as well as the acquiring, promotion, and community relations arm of the business. I handled showings and events to the point where I came to think of Doma as my own.
I ran my life the same way I ran the gallery, with an appreciation for beautiful things and an underlying foundation of order despite the chaos on top.
Despite the dubious horrors of the day, I felt my lips turn up in a smile and the knot in my stomach loosen when I pulled into my parking spot across the street. This was my space, my chance to shine. And I was damn good.
The town big-wig may own the gallery space, but she never questioned my decisions. The two of us worked together to make sure the ambiance—and sales—were up to par. We got along well enough when Rayne stayed out of the office and let me do my job without her input. Her frequent input despite her lack of presence or willingness to work. She was too scattered to keep on topic when she came in, and I’m too stubborn to let her go off on a tangent. It ended as you would expect.
Twenty minutes later I was juggling the cake, much larger than Essie had led me to believe, in one hand and my keys in the other. The back door to the gallery stuck on its hinges and I used my chin to push it open the rest of the way.
“You’re here late,” Valentina, natty as always in a button-up shirt and bow tie, said in modulated tones when I walked in the door. “You know you can stay home sometimes. Right? The rest of us can pick up the slack.”
The cake slid down on the front counter with the rest of my various female paraphernalia next to it. I paused in front of the large glass window that fronted the store and, pointedly ignoring the voice, I shifted a few vases and crystal platters on display.
“Aren’t you going to answer me?” Valentina pushed.
“You’re here on your day off, too. I thought I told you that you didn’t have to come in,” I replied. “I’ve got everything covered. Things with the fundraiser took a little longer than I expected but I’m here now.”
The display I’d put together last week was as close to perfect as it would get. There were stacks of papers with my name on them and knowing Rayne, there would be bills in need of paying. Not to mention boxes of stock to catalog and unload because lord knows what kind of stock we had to put into rotation. Those were the types of things she waited until the last minute to do that wouldn’t keep until next week.
I’d seen the need and stepped into the void without her having to ask. It was part of what made me good at the job.
“You might have told me not to come in,” Valentina answered, pushing her glasses higher on her nose, “but the manager told me to come.”
“Don’t be daft. I might have a splash of sun poisoning, but I think I remember what I said.” I turned to my coworker with a lowered brow and a raised upper lip.
Valentina was too cute to have an attitude. The perpetual kind of cute that lingered no matter the age. If I didn’t know her, I’d put Valentina squarely at twenty-two years old, with dark pigtails and perpetual gum-chewing habit.
I’m sure carbon dating would put her closer to thirty-five. She wore it well.
“I’m the manager and I distinctly told you I had it covered,” I said. “Or maybe you weren’t listening to me. It wouldn’t be the first time. You have a hearing problem.”
“I was listening. You’ve been replaced.” She pushed her glasses higher again, gum snapping. On Valentina, it wasn’t a power move. She didn’t have enough guts. Only gum. “I’m surprised Rayne didn’t call to tell you. She hired this guy last week.”
I stopped at that. “Rayne hired someone else?” It must have been a joke. An elaborate joke that would shortly involve either a horde of people or cameras jumping out of the woodwork to scream surprise. “I haven’t heard a thing from her.” Not even a text. “Are you serious?”
At once the weight of the day came crashing down on me. It knocked me clean through the floor and through to China. The headache felt like there was a tiny man taking perverse pleasure in sawing open my head from the inside, out.
“Deadly serious,” she answered, lowering her head to stare at me beneath her bangs, eyes wide. “Be prepared. The boss brought in brass from New York to help her run the store. The guy star
ts full-time tomorrow and told me to come in to do inventory today. He wants to be prepared for Monday.” Valentina dragged a hand down her left pigtail and curled the end around her thumb. “Word on the street says the guy is Rayne’s cousin.”
“Boss brought brass. Try saying that ten times fast,” I muttered, fighting the urge to knock my purse off the counter in a snit. Her cousin, huh? I knew better than to trust the word on the street. There were too many differing opinions being aired for me to trust every one of them as truth. Otherwise, I’d be stupid and overwhelmed.
In all the years I’d worked at the shop, Rayne had never mentioned hiring an extra person to help manage. I’d assimilated the duties she couldn’t cover and handled the workload with, if not ease, then grace.
I kept my head down and my tongue itched to say something about doing the things I wanted to with complete autonomy.
Rayne may be absentminded at times, and occasionally negligent, but I had a hard time believing she wouldn’t tell me about a new hire. A new hire with power. So what was going on?
I scooped up my purse and the cake and hurried into the office space with Valentina on my heels. “Tell me more about this cousin crap,” I said.
“Distant cousins, from what I understand. Twice removed. I heard he was sniffing around for an in and Rayne scooped him up,” Valentina continued. “His last startup failed but his first two were successes before he sold them off for top dollar.”
“I’m sure you’re more or less right on the family dynamic.” I let the cake drop on the desk with a splat. Suddenly I didn’t feel like being generous.
“Don’t poke at it, Shari. For real.”
“Why would I poke?”
“You’re you.” Valentina crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ve worked together long enough that I know how you operate. I’m sure Rayne will talk to you about this soon. I’m not sure why she hasn’t yet. Try not to take offense.”
“Sure,” I responded too quickly.
“And don’t work hard today. In fact, go home.”
“I like to think I get things done,” I answered in a chilly tone. “I earned my spot in this office and I’ll fight to keep it. I’m damn good at what I do.”
“I know, you really are. The best,” Valentina soothed. Her gum snapped.
Yeah, I got things done. And it seemed I was going to be helped out the door. Premature, maybe, but I knew my boss. I thought I did. She would do anything for family. Loyalty, I decided as I sat down behind the desk. I couldn’t fault her for that. She’d been good to me when I needed a job, when it had taken me a little longer than most to figure out what I wanted to do and where my passions stood.
Fingers crossed I could say the same in the morning.
CHAPTER THREE
“Pack up your work area. I’m sorry, Shari, that it has to end this way.”
My eyes literally bugged out of my head while she sat there calmly discussing my termination. “This is ridiculous. Rayne, talk to me. You can’t let me go so suddenly. I’ve put in years of hard work here and I deserve more than a slap on the back and a box to put my shit in. Come on.” The last word came out with a little too much heat and way too much whine.
It was too late to take it back.
“How could you fire me?”
“Don’t think of it as being fired, really.” My horrible boss leaned across her desk and laced her fingers together. I think she was going for open and sympathetic. In my mind, she looked like a bad actor auditioning for a part that was way out of her league. There was no way I’d believe the performance. Not when I was the one getting the boot.
“Think of it as an opportunity to start fresh with your career,” Rayne continued. “This isn’t really what you want to do. Not long term. In a way, I’m helping you out. Without this, you never would have made a move. You would have been stuck here until the end of time.”
Or until she closed. Which, without me, I sort of hoped she would. I felt my head bob. “Yes. Yes, this is exactly what I want to do.” Who was she to decide?
Rayne was a typical free spirit, hair braided and beaded down to her waist and wrists jingling with bracelets and rope. The type of woman to speak up for whatever cause came to mind. She had hazel eyes, a pert nose, and enough piercings in her eyebrow to guarantee she sunk if she was thrown into the water. She was also the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in town.
Once upon a time, I’d considered her my friend as well as my superior. Now, well, I was taking one of those off the table for good. I wasn’t ruling out the second.
“If you aren’t going to look at the bright side, at least try to take some time for yourself. I’m sure you’ll find another position in no time. I’m not worried about it. See? Not even worried. Everyone in town knows you’re a hard worker. You can do anything you want to do.”
“Sure, you aren’t worried. You aren’t the one paying my bills. You aren’t the one with credit cards that come after you when you’re late.” I let my eyes roll back in my head. “Are you sure there is no way for you to reconsider?” Begging was one thing, but I had to throw the question out there.
“My hands are tied.” She held them open, palms facing up.
It was a cop-out response. This time, I didn’t bother minding the sarcasm in my voice. “I bet they are.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No, you don’t have to beg. If I wanted to see that then I would have come with you on your last date.”
“You little—” She stifled a growl, fingers clenching. “This was purely a business decision. Oscar is my cousin, yes, but there was no nepotism involved. He was very successful at helping a number of small businesses double their bottom line when he lived in New York. And his first two startups sold for triple what he put into them. We are lucky to have him here. Can’t you see this wasn’t personal? This was the best move for my gallery.”
My hands dropped into my lap. “At least tell me you’ll spare a box so I can clear my crap out of here without making multiple trips to the car. Or do I have to run that by Oscar?”
I wasn’t prepared for this blow. The cushion of money in my bank account did not make being fired any less humiliating. Or shocking. What was I going to do until I found another job? Savings could take a girl so far, but unless there was a fresh influx of cash coming in every week, within a few months I’d burn through it all. I hadn’t been putting enough money aside to get me through unemployment.
Looks like I’d be living lean for a few weeks. Rice and beans for this gal. To look on the bright side, as Rayne suggested, maybe the necessary frugality would help my pants fit a little better.
No, it wasn’t helping. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to look on the bright side.
And at the end of the day, I wasn’t really the type to look on the bright side, either. It took everything in me to keep from lunging across the desk to give the woman a good smack in the face. She deserved it.
“The business needs a facelift,” she implored me. “Things change. People change. I have to think about what’s best for the gallery. Don’t you understand? I think it would be better for us if you left quietly. I’m so sorry. Before you say anything, I know, it’s customary to give you two weeks, and I couldn’t give it to you. I’ll be the bad guy here. Like I said before, if there’s anything I can to do help you through this, please let me know.”
I didn’t have to do anything. Not anymore. Part of the problem with working for someone else. My throat closed. When I managed to speak, my syllables were thick. Wet. “Do you know how long I’ve worked here? What I’ve done for you? For the community?”
“You’ve been a real asset,” she assured me, “but these are different times. We’re moving forward. I need to think about my business model and do what’s best for the company.”
“Kissing your cousin’s ass, you mean.”
“However you’d like to see it. Nothing I say will change your mind,” she said. “I’d like you to know…I want to remain f
riends. Terminating your employ won’t change that. We’ve known each other a long time, Shari.”
It was a sock to the kidneys. Or rather, waking up in a bathtub surrounded by ice with your kidneys removed by some helpful black-market purveyor. I wasn’t sure what was worse. Losing the job I loved, or the fact that I hadn’t seen it coming and everyone else had. It was a great way to start a Monday morning.
I schooled my face into a portrait of serenity. A little angel. We were in the office, with paper thin walls cutting us off from the rest of the gallery’s staff. They would know within seconds of my termination if they didn’t already. Valentina seemed to have been given a heads up ahead of time. She was a little snake. I wondered if she would be given a position in the new business model Rayne was trying out.
Sure. Probably.
“We want to move in a forward direction, Shari,” Rayne told me again. Like repeating it was going to make it stick or soothe away the ache. “It may take time, but you’ll see. This is what’s best for everyone involved.
“Rayne, I know your new…manager…” the word slid out with more distaste than I wanted, “has the corporate experience I lack. I understand he might feel territorial with me around. It doesn’t change the fact. I’m an asset to you.”
“Yes, I know! I know you’re an asset. That’s what makes this so damn difficult.” Rayne raised her hands in the air as though imploring for divine intervention. Good luck getting an answer there. She’d have better luck trying a different direction. I had a feeling those two were on a first name basis. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m booting you to the curb after what you’ve done for me. I’m supremely grateful for your years of hard work.”
Despair slithered beneath my sternum. “Then please don’t fire me like this. You know what I came into see this morning? A box of wooden candlesticks left on the street. It’s supposed to rain later this afternoon.” I used my hands to illustrate the point. “Do you get where I’m going with the story? Oscar wasn’t here to take care of it. And you know what happens to unvarnished wood in the rain? It warps, or worse! Your inventory might have been ruined if I hadn’t come in when I did. Not exactly the best way to start off his new position here. He has no clue what he’s doing here—”
