I sighed and slid out from our linked arms. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“No, I promise. He does.” She held up her pinky and wiggled it at me. “Will you come by the apartment?”
How could I refuse such an earnest ask?
I rolled my eyes with fondness and linked our pinkies. “I promise.”
At the very least, I’d get to visit a friend.
47
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Once Shelby tinkled off to talk to Cassandra, I called Andre. My shift was almost over, and I wanted to chat while I was still riding this high. The busy signal beeped. I sighed and set down the receiver. Maybe he had meetings. Or ex-wife legal hearings. One of the boxes in the sorting shelves sat funny, so I took out the shoes and repositioned them properly.
It was eerily quiet upstairs. Was he talking to someone or just listening for once?
Gathering my resolve, I climbed up the stairs to his office. Andre slumped over his desk, loosely cradling the phone receiver between his arm and cheek. The earpiece stuck up way over his shoulder and his glasses were askew.
“Andre, I have to talk to you,” I said.
He sighed and slumped more to the side.
“Andre?” I crept over to the side of his chair.
His eyes were closed.
Worry ribboned around my lungs. Was he okay? I reached for his shoulder. “Andre.”
A snore tickled the back of his throat, and my panic flared into fury. My drunk-ass boss was sleeping on the job.
Well, I wasn’t going to let that stop me from quitting.
I stormed downstairs to snatch the one thing I knew would get his attention, then rang it right behind him.
Ding!
Andre jerked awake with a snarl. “Someone get the damn—”
“Bell?” I rattled it at him.
He paled and wiped his sweaty face. “That’s for customers.”
“It’s an excellent boss alarm too. I tried waking you up the normal way, but you were in too deep.” I glanced pointedly at his water bottle. “Some might say it’s affected your productivity.”
“What do you want?” He shoved the phone into the receiver, untangling the cord from around his arm. “You want to leave early? Meet your boyfriend for another party?”
“Excuse me?” Why was he so bitter about New Year’s Eve? Everyone wanted to celebrate with people other than customers. It wasn’t my fault he was drunk and lonely. “I’m putting in my two weeks,” I declared.
“You’re quitting?”
Ding ding ding!
I tapped the bell in confirmation. No wonder people loved to hit this thing.
Andre recoiled and blinked. “Where are you going? Is it an up-and-coming store? How are their benefits?”
“They’re not hiring condescending alcoholics, Andre. Get help, okay?” I flashed him a plastic smile, then sashayed away.
