(I’m done counting)
Iplaced a bookmark on a negative headline so I could read it later. Even though most outlets were praising him for “paying employees what they were worth,” he had yet to say a word about my new salary offer.
No email, no message, nothing.
The only thing he gave me was more work, and I’d finally realized that the rare moments when we crossed the line weren’t worth lingering around any longer.
I could hear his voice when I was sleeping, could see what he needed before he did, and I was starting to think like him, too…
“Miss Stone?” His voice came from—somewhere.
“Huh?” I shook my head, realizing I wasn’t sleeping. I was wide awake in the back of my town car.
“I have a meeting with a new pastry chef in twenty minutes,” he said. “You’re still not back, and I need you to be there to take notes for me.”
“I have therapy at three,” I replied. “Remember?”
“Not really.”
“I mentioned it Tuesday,” I said. “I need someone to talk to about the state of my life.”
“I recall telling you I’m a good listener.”
“But you’re not a professional therapist,” I said. “You said this was okay. You said it twice.”
“It’s starting to come back to me now,” he said evenly. “You need to come to work whenever it’s over.”
“I will.” I ended the call and checked my hair in the rearview mirror before stepping out in front of a huge office building on Wall Street.
Gray and black suits passed me as I walked up the steps.
Once I was inside, I made a left into the small Dunkin’ Donuts café.
A bell chimed above the door, and the scent of fresh coffee swirled around me.
For a half second, it felt like relief.
“Wow, you’re fifteen minutes early, Miss Stone!” The manager behind the counter smiled. “Come on back here, please.”
He gestured for me to follow him into a small office, and I settled into a chair.
“You know,” he said, handing me a croissant, “it’s rare for us to get someone from Sweet Seasons who wants to work at our stores.”
“Well, yeah, but—” I smiled. “The work-life balance here is a lot more promising.”
“I can see that angle.” He nodded. “We have three managerial positions open around the city. What shift are you most comfortable working?”
“I’m not picky.” I pulled out my résumé and handed it over. “I’ll take anything.”
He glanced at my résumé. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem a bit overqualified to work in the retail division.”
“I promise I’m not,” I said. “I’ll happily brew drinks, sweep floors—whatever. I just need a job with benefits so I can keep myself afloat and sane.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“I’m a really hard worker, and I’m not too good to do any job. I’ll do it well, and I’ll do it right.” I paused. “I was the ‘secret weapon’ under my old CEO, and I can show you exactly why if you give me a chance.”
“Oh, wow.” He smiled. “That’s… very impressive.”
