Miserable, I walk to work. The marketing department is in a high-rise building that houses a bunch of other startups. I step through the revolving doors, heels clicking, and feel a little bit like my old self. The elevator is oddly empty, as is the hall leading to my department.
I push open the door, entering the main area populated with cubicles.
“Janie!”
Jumping out of my skin, I turn. Cynthia, who sits at the cubicle beside mine, is at my elbow. For some reason, she’s in jeans and a sweatshirt, her red hair tied up in a messy ponytail.
“Hey…are you okay?” I ask.
She glances around. “Did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
She looks around like we’re being surveilled, dipped her hand in my elbow, and pulled me across the room to the break area by the fridge.
“Did you get the email about the private memo?” she whispers.
“No, I’ve been out,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “Yeah, why were you gone for so long?”
“Shane and I broke up.”
“Good. He kinda sucked.”
Rolling my eyes internally, I nod. “Yeah, I know. Everybody told me that once he was gone. Okay, what is going on? Because it’s weirdly empty in here?”
She inches closer, like she’s afraid the security cameras are going to read her lips. “The company is going under. They sold for parts but didn’t tell anyone. One of the upper level partners felt bad, and he leaked a memo about it on purpose. A bunch of people walked out. Everybody else is just staying to get unemployment.”
My stomach drops, like a rock in deep water.
“What?” I whisper.
“Yeah.” She nods, eyes huge. “Do you want me to forward you the email?”
I stare, words not computing. I thought the company was just being incredibly accommodating to me, letting me work remotely. Turns out, they just didn’t give a fuck because they were going to let me go anyway.
Blinking, I turn and look at the cubicle in the corner.
There’s a little bouncing flower on the windowsill. Shane gave me that for our first anniversary. I remember being so disappointed over it, wishing secretly that he’d gotten concert tickets, or hell, just a night out at my favorite restaurant. An office toy felt so…impersonal. It was salt in my wound that he was so damn proud of it, like he deserved points just for remembering the occasion.
“No,” I say quietly.
“What?” Cynthia whispers.
If I was waiting on a sign to move the fuck on with my life, this is it. A big, neon sign dropping from the sky telling me to go back to Ryder Ranch.
“Is Richard in his office?” I ask quietly.
She nods. Turning on my heel, I stride across the room and down the hall. The boss, Richard Derwell, the young techie hotshot who spawned this entire operation, has the biggest office in the building. It’s entirely made of glass, save for the inner meeting room. I can see him sitting at his desk, typing away.
I rap on the glass. He turns, waving me in.
Pushing open the door, I lean in.
“Hey, when were you gonna tell me I was getting let go?” I ask.
I’d never had the courage to talk back to someone like this before now. My breakup definitely made my skin thicker. He stutters for a second, glancing around, then reaches in the desk and takes out a folder. I know it has my name on it.
