But as he continued to speak about the perks of the job, a nagging sense of dread filled me. My father had given us many promotions before, but the second Tara had thought about looking elsewhere, she’d been cut loose like dead weight. So while I was sure that my father cared about us—or I wanted to feel sure, at least—I couldn’t help but wonder if this was really an altruistic move, or if there was something more manipulative behind it.
The answer actually came to me relatively quickly. All I had to think about was what I was trading in to get that promotion. It wasn’t expertise or experience, since I was so young.
It was time.
Time in the bubble of my “perfect life.”
Time at work.
Time away from Tara and any other “threats” to the bubble.
Time spent in the political game at NME Services.
Time that was not my own.
Six months ago, I would have accepted this without hesitation. It felt like the natural next step in the path our father had laid out for us, a path that ensured I would never have to suffer financially or struggle in my career. But now, I was beginning to think that a complete lack of struggle was a curse in itself. I didn’t want Steele’s heartache and life, but that didn’t mean I wanted a ride that had no bumps or no moments of trouble along the way.
“I presume, Elizabeth, that you will accept this offer when the time comes,” my father said, not at all in the form of a question.
“I, well, I think it would be good for me to think about it this weekend.”
“I do not understand; what is there to consider?”
“I just think—”
“Elizabeth, I understand that you have a diligent approach to work and want to take your time with most matters, but it is utterly preposterous that you would need to contemplate a doubling of your salary.”
He’s desperate to keep me in the firm. He’s scared about losing another Rogers.
“We will discuss this further when you get home tonight.”
Without warning, the line went dead. I stared at my cell phone, scoffing in disgust. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to have to confront my father.
This was the breaking point I’d suspected would come. If my father was just going to not only lay out the path for me but then force me to go on it, was I really walking the path? Or was I still being carried along?
I was terrified at leaving it, yes, but that fear was rapidly losing out to the desire to just break out. I could only take so many “professional” calls with my father before I got sick of a lack of “personal” ones. I didn’t have a father so much as I had a CEO in the house. I was fucking over it.
I sat at my desk until I knew that the other employees at the office had left. I didn’t want to talk to them or have to explain to them how my day had gone. It was one of those days where I just wanted to…I didn’t even want to go home. I didn’t want to go to Tara’s, seeing as how she’d probably not want me to make her couch a second home; I just didn’t have a whole lot of other options.
Hell, at this point, I’d take hanging out with Steele again. Maybe I wouldn’t spend the night in his bed, but at least sleeping on…well, his couch was kind of gross. Maybe I’d take his bed and kick him to the couch.
Really. That’s what would happen?
I at least could laugh at myself for the ridiculousness of that thought.
Finally, I left my office and headed to my car. It was now early evening, the time in which I normally started to think things would start to get dangerous in Santa Maria. If Steele were by my side, I wouldn’t have thought much of it, despite his consternation about this town causing too much trouble. Nevertheless, without him really reaching out to me right now, I decided to just head…home, I guessed.
I didn’t have any other options. Maybe I’d stop and do dine-in somewhere along the way, just as an excuse to slow down getting home. But first, I had to get out of Santa Maria, barring Steele calling me at the last second.I’ll pass the shop on the way home. Maybe I’ll get to him there.
I drove out of the parking lot, my mind focused on everything but the road. Part of me said to take the job; part of me said to refuse it. A part of me even suggested trying to push for the most absurd requests I could: triple my salary, give me matching 401k benefits, full medical and dental care, and so on. But they weren’t addressing the real problem.
I turned left to start heading toward I-40 to take me home. I got past one light.
And that’s when I slowed my car down before coming to a complete stop. I couldn’t go any further.
About a dozen Bandits had formed a blockade around the front of the Santa Maria Auto Repair shop and were either approaching the building or were firing upon it. They weren’t blocking the road, but they were not very subtle about their presence, and I knew they’d see me the second I drove by.
And then one of them looked at me. I made eye contact with him.
