Viv waited for her outside the van. “Oh, honey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just want to get my things and go home.”
“Bitch said not to let you in the van.” Viv held out Jo’s blue jean jacket and bag. “Like you’d steal anything that belongs to her scrawny ass. The woman’s pure evil.”
No arguments there.
Jo dug in the tote for her phone. She’d have to call for a ride back to work where she’d left her car, since she’d ridden in the van with Viv. And she’d have to get the rest of her things from her workstation tomorrow. It was hard enough facing Viv right now, but having to face everyone else, wondering if they believed Giselle’s lies made her want to vomit.
“I’ll box up what’s left of your stuff tonight,” Viv continued as if reading Jo’s mind. “I’ve seen the look in that bitch’s eyeswhen she looks at your new cake molds. I don’t trust her not to claim ’em for herself. I’ll bring everything by your place tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Jo looked up from her search. “What am I going to do without you?”
“You’re gonna do just fine. ’Sides, it won’t be for long ’til you have your shop open. It’s gonna happen. You’ll see.”
“I wish I could be as confident as you are. I can’t even find my damn phone.” As Jo spat the words, her fingers wrapped around the elusive device. Thank god. It had all her contacts, including prospective clients.
“If you’re calling a ride share, I already did.” Viv laid a hand over Jo’s inside the bag. “It’ll be here any second. The least I can do after leavin’ you by yourself with that guy.”
“She would have found an excuse sooner or later, but thank you.” Jo steeled herself for the embrace coming her way, afraid it would break her. She was going to miss Viv and Theo. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t even think about it.” As expected, Viv opened her arms and wrapped Jo in a tight hug. When Jo pulled back, Viv’s eyes were watery. She sniffed. “You know, this is probably a blessin’ in disguise. Nothin’ to distract you from goin’ hard core after your dream.”
Jo just nodded because no amount of Viv’s positivity could stall the sudden cyclone of panic whirling in her brain. Without a job, she’d go through her savings in no time. There’d be no dream, no pâtisserie, no creative freedom.
The car pulled up, and after another hug from Viv, Jo climbed in, ditched her mercenary heels for warm socks and theworn but comfy pair of cowboy boots in her bag, and ripped off her tie. As she unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, she sank low into the seat and closed her eyes.
God, she hated Valentine’s Day, but this one would go down as the worst one ever. She couldn’t wait to wash it away.
Maybe Viv was right. She’d been miserable working for Giselle. And there were other jobs. Tonight, she’d allow herself to wallow in self-pity with a hot bath, a glass of wine, and a pep talk from Brooke. Tomorrow, she’d make a list of bakeries and caterers, whip up a few dozen sample boxes of her grandma’s best recipes, and pound the pavement until she found a job.
The rideshare dropped Jo off beside her twelve-year-old, bucket of rust that only started if she held her tongue just right. The air had grown cooler during the drive, so Jo slipped into her jacket before she slid behind the wheel. The heater only kicked in during the summer.
The engine sputtered to life, and as she hit the ramp onto I45, she went on autopilot. A list of to-dos for damage control whirled in her brain like cotton candy. She could taste them, but then they were gone.
As she pulled into the apartment complex, a police cruiser rolled out. It wasn’t the greatest neighborhood, a little rundown and an occasional drug bust down the street, but they’d never had any trouble unless she counted the creepy tweaker who lurked in the stairwell begging for money and the couple next door. Their arguments got loud, but no one ever called the cops. Probably because their makeups were just as loud…and twice as entertaining.
Jo got out of her car, mace in hand, just in case. She entered the dimly lit foyer and exhaled a breath of relief. Notweaker tonight. She checked the mailbox and stuffed the bundle of junk mail into her bag. The stairs to the second floor seemed extra-long, the hallway to her door longer.
Forget the shower, food, and conversation. She was going straight to bed.
Before she could get the key in the deadbolt, the door swung open, and Brooke greeted her with red-rimmed blue eyes. Her face was ghostly white except where she chewed her bottom lip.
Jo’s first thought was that Brooke and her boyfriend Aaron had an argument or he’d broken up with her. A little out of the blue, but then he’d been “out of town” a lot over the last few weeks. In guy speak, that translated to a side piece. At least, that was Jo’s experience.
“Oh, thank god, you’re here.” Shoulders hunched, Brooke wrapped the tattered cardigan she only dragged out of the closet when she was upset around her middle. Not a good sign. “I didn’t think you’d be home until later. I can’t believe Giselle let you go early.”
“You have no idea,” Jo muttered, unable to hide her sarcasm and grateful that Brooke seemed too distracted to notice.
Aaron stepped into view, hands on his hips, disapproval wrinkling his forehead, and a legal eagle vibe rolling off dark gray trousers and a burnt orange pullover. “I told you to let me check first.”
Still here and being overprotective, so not a breakup.
“It’s Jo,” Brooke shot back at him a little too loudly.
“But it could have been anyone,” he pointed out with a hint of frustration that grated on Jo’s already frayed nerves. He drove fingers through dirty blond waves. “This is what I’m talking about. This is why—”
“We’ll talk about it later.” Brooke shook her head at him, a warning in her pinched brows.
