“Neither was the last one, right? What was his name? Sean?”
I open my eyes to find him right in front of me. He knew. He knew all along. Maybe he even believed the rumors.
“Did you consider what kind of implications your indiscretions will have for Wesley?”
“Yes,” I say. My heart rips through my chest, broken. “I think about my mistakes all the time.”
“He’s been out of school with no job for two years. He certainly won’t be receiving any references from me. He has his mother’s great big house to take care of now.”
My heart sinks. I didn’t know about that, though. “N-no. I hadn’t thought of that.”
He shrugs. “I could be persuaded.” He pauses meaningfully. He’s like the caricature of a villain. “To give him his job back.”
All the showers in the world couldn’t scrub the grime from this interaction off my body. There was a time I aspired to this office. A time when I wanted so badly to gain the approval of the person in here. Richard is not that person.
“That’s the difference between you and Wesley Chambers. Mr. Chambers would never want to work for a man who uses sexual coercion to get him the job. He is a good person. You...” I look him up and down, let the disdain seep through my eyes, curl my mouth, and emanate from my pores. “You...are nothing.”
He takes a step forward and I take one back blindly, hoping I don’t trip over the chair. He looms over me, an angry, impotent man. He wants power over me. I’m done giving it to him.
“Take another step and I’m calling the police,” I say. “And I’ve solved your little team player problem for you, Richard. I fucking quit.”
Chapter 42: Wesley
I drink coffee in my kitchen as the sun starts to peek in through the windows. This was my mother’s favorite time of day, before we were awake and demanding breakfast and asking whether the clothes we wanted to wear were in the laundry still. When she was sick, I’d set my alarm at ass-crack o’clock to help her downstairs and shove a warm cup of coffee in her hand, then go back to bed so she could sit like this and revel in her alone-ness.
I want to be like her. But alone is too close to loneliness. I can’t take any more of that right now.
Amy is still sleeping off the success of last night. Her party feels like forever ago. Certainly not less than twenty-four hours ago.
My phone chimes a message and I throw myself at it across the kitchen island. Because maybe it’s Corrine.
Even though I know the chances of it being her are highly unlikely, my heart still breaks a little when I see that it’s Emily instead.
I just got a message from Richard that Mark is now in charge of the softball team? WTF Wes. Are you not coming?
And then my heart breaks all the way.
My team. I’ve lost my job, the woman I love, and now my team is in Mark Gutterberg’s hands.
Throwing my phone to the side, I stand. I dump the rest of my coffee in the sink and pace the length of the kitchen. I want to wake up Amy just to piss her off. I want to talk to Corrine. I want to hold her. I want to hit a ball until I have blisters. I want to go cheer my team on anyway. I want to rip the clipboard from Mark’s hands. I want to know that Corrine’s mom is going to be okay.
I wantmymom.
The sun leaves perfectly rectangular squares of light in three sections across the kitchen floor now. I stand in one to try to feel warmth.
My phone chimes again.
“Fuck off, Emily,” I whisper and immediately regret it. None of this is her fault. My feet drag as I walk back to the island, heave myself onto a barstool. Trying to be like Mom isn’t working. I should probably just go back to bed.
But it’s not Emily. It’s Jeremy.
Dude, I am hurting.
A laugh bursts out of me.
Although Jeremy means his hangover, I write back,
Me too.
