As the limo disappeared into the distance, my irritation started to simmer. Who did that guy think he was? Snapping orders, his laser focus on whatever ‘important’ appointment he had, like nothing else mattered.There’s a whole city out there, pal!I imagined saying to him.Ever notice the way the sun hits the river in the morning? Or how people actually have lives that don’t revolve around your calendar?But no, Mr. Workaholic was too busy marching through life. Maybe if he pulled his head out of his spreadsheets for five minutes, he’d realize there’s more to life than his next big deal.
Yet, as much as I wanted to stay mad, I found my eyes lingering on the spot where he’d stood, my mind betraying me with a little reminder of how good he looked in those perfectly tailored pants.
Ugh, why do the obnoxious ones always have to be easy on the eyes?
I shook my head. Nope. I knew his type. I used tobehis type. Living for the next deadline, the next achievement, always chasing after something that didn’t really matter in the end. No, thank you.
But as the limo disappeared around the corner, I couldn’t stop thinking one very irritating thing: Heaven help me… he was hot.
With a quick shake of my head, I turned away from where the limo had disappeared and headed back to the scene of the accident. The limo and shuttle had both been pulled over to the side of the airport-access road, out of traffic.
The limo driver, who moments ago was barely moving with his walker, was now gesturing wildly at a cop, who was scribbling notes on his pad. The driver’s frail act was gone—he looked like he’d just stepped out of a courtroom drama, pointing accusingly at my shuttle.
I barely had time to process that before I saw my boss, Jerry, standing next to them. Jerry was a short, stocky man with a permanent scowl etched on his face. His thinning hair was combed back in a way that made it look like he was trying to cover as much of his scalp as possible, and his eyes were narrowed, suggesting I was about to get the verbal equivalent of a slap upside the head.
“Kathleen!” he barked, his voice as gruff as sandpaper. “What the heck happened here? The limo driver says you plowed into him and then took off! Are you trying to get us sued?”
“What? No!” I protested, wide-eyed. “That’s not what happened at all! The limo backed into me!”
The cop, a no-nonsense type with a stern expression, looked up from his notepad. “Miss, you left the scene of the accident. That’s a serious offense. We’re going with the limo driver’s version.”
I felt my stomach drop. “But it wasn’t my fault! He backed into me. And I didn’t leave; I was helping his passenger get to another limo.”
Jerry threw his hands in the air, clearly not interested in excuses. “Helping his passenger? You should’ve stayed put! Now we’re in deep trouble, thanks to you.”
“Wait,” I practically shouted. “The passenger can prove it!”
The cop raised an eyebrow. “And where’s this passenger now?”
I looked around, my heart sinking. The limo driver, seeing my panic, smirked and jumped in. “Busy man, can’t be reached. Looks like it’s just your word against mine.”
“But—”
The cop shook his head. “Sorry, miss, but that’s how it’s going to be. You shouldn’t have left the scene, no matter the reason.”
I felt my face flush with frustration. The limo driver looked smug, and I had to resist the urge to say something I’d regret.
Jerry shook his head, his scowl deepening. “You’d better hope this doesn’t cost us, Kathleen, or you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”
I nodded, trying to keep my cool, but inside, I was fuming.
As soon as the cop and limo driver were out of earshot, Jerry turned to me, his grimace set in stone. “Kathleen, you’re fired.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks. “What? You’re going to fire me just for this? It’s just a little fender bender!”
Jerry crossed his arms, his expression as unyielding as ever. “You abandoned the shuttle. That’s negligence. And let’s be honest, you talk too much. People don’t need therapy when they’re heading to the airport.”
My rising frustration made it hard to keep my voice steady. “I just try to help people relax before their flights! Isn’t that a good thing?”
Jerry wasn’t having any of it. “That’s not your job. Your job is to operate the shuttle and ensure everything runs smoothly. You failed at that.”
My stomach flipped over, and the world tilted just a bit.You failed.The chorus of my life. But I didn’t have room for failure at the moment. My debts, my future—it all depended on keeping a job. And this one paid well. I would not cry. But I could curse Mr. Workaholic. I hope whatever meeting he was racing to was worth it. May his PowerPoint crash and his latte be lukewarm.
“Kathleen! Kathleen!”
I looked up to see Mr. Five Hours Early jogging across the road, waving at me. He looked more jittery than ever. “Excuse me,” he stammered, wringing his hands. “Could you… um… help me calm down? I, uh, get really anxious before flights, and you were so helpful earlier…”
I opened my mouth to respond with reassurances, but Jerry cut in with a dismissive wave. “We don’t have time for this. You’re on your own, pal.”
