“Well, she didn’t have a reason to be rude to you. You’re not a lonely freak who’s supposed to fix everything: your hair, your personality, your family. God forbid she actually show up on time and hand me the cell phone. How am I supposed to work like this?” I gestured to the windows, then my stomach dropped.
Sal was out there, shaking turkey-themed clapper toys to greet people. There was no turkey plush or hug waiting for me over there. He might as well have been smacking me across the face with that thing, and I was going to see him every fucking workday. Smiling. Laughing with people who had no idea what he meant to me.
He must’ve sensed me looking, because he awkwardly glanced my way, his throat bobbing and smile tightening.
All he must’ve seen was that scratched fucking glass between us: a reminder we were a disaster waiting to happen.
Ash crossed her arms and frowned. “I think you’re overreacting. You should apologize for the lack of customer service. Or I will.”
I snapped my gaze to her. “And say what? You’re sorry you hired me?”
She sighed and looked away. “Listen, I know you have a thing for Sal, but just because he’s seeing someone doesn’t mean you can lash out.”
“He’s not seeing someone.” I shook my head, and tears leaked out, coating my cheeks. “Hewasseeing me.”
Ash took a step back and touched her hair. “Oh, yikes.”
I clenched my fists around the mouse. Of course it was horrifying. He dated me. According to them, I was incapable of a decent relationship. The one who overreacted to everything. Well, this job clearly hadn’t changed anything. “You’re probably happy he dumped me. I wasn’t loving enough, remember?” I stuffed my laptop into my bag and wiped my face on the fleece. “How about I do you both a favor and let you find someone else?”
“What?” She frowned.
I slung my bag over my shoulder, popped my soundproof headphones on, and flipped the power switch. “I quit.”
31
Power Off
Electronic music blared in my ears, muffling out Ash’s protests as I strode away. Each heavy step heightened my resolve. I had to leave.
It was better for everybody.
I went home on autopilot, ignoring the stiffness in my fingers from the cold setting in.The numbness would wear off. Just before I pulled into the driveway, a neighbor kid zoomed by on some kind of black mini car and cut me off. I slammed on the brakes to avoid plowing right through them, the seatbelt strangling me in inertia.
I would not let this beat me.
I laid on the horn.
The kid jerked to a stop and gaped at me.
“Um, hello? Look both ways. Right of way. Basic safety applies to vehicles.” I gestured for them to move aside. It didn’t matter if my words were muffled with the window rolled up; they’d gotten the message.
“Sorry about that.” A parent wheezed, jogging to catch up and tow them out of the way. “New driver.”
Did that matter? I upturned my palms at them.
Why the hell would they give a kid a car? Especially a model that went that fast? Our neighborhood wasn’t a go-kart course, let alone a playground.
“Go on, just watch for cars,” the parent encouraged their kid.
I scowled and pulled into the garage, closing it behind me. That ‘car’ was probably an early holiday present. Stupid design. Enclosed legs meant no room to grow. A parent couldn’t supervise. Too high of speeds. Hard seat. Who approved that for child safety?
I yanked off my baseball cap, then the elastic band around my dark hair, shaking off the static irritation fused to my skin.
Maybe a safe car wasn't exciting enough. What did I know about fun? Even my friend with benefits ditched me for the prospect of someone without so much baggage.
But I could have fun. Without him.
I stormed into the living room. The empty drum set mocked me.Just Rock.
