“I’m sorry. I really am. Come see me for your last check. You can clear your locker out any time before Friday.” There’s a ruckus in the background, the sound of something clattering to the ground. “I have to go. You’re a good guy, Colson. You’ll find something that suits you better than this place.”
Then he hangs up.
The entire world caves in on me, and I have no clue how to make it out alive. I need a goddamn job. Not just to keep myself afloat, but for other obvious reasons.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck,fuck!”
A knock at my door startles me, and I twist back to see it’s still closed. I got home from work a little bit ago and was about to hop in the shower before Jay called.
“Bro, I know you’re in there,” Sebastian says from the other side of the door.
Where the hell did he appear from?
“It’s open,” I call out.
My cousin walks in with a bag of M&M’s. He chucks one into his mouth and leans against the door frame. “What are you yelling about?”
I didn’t realize I was that loud, that my voice would carry down the hall to the living room or next door. I suck in a breath and toss my phone on the nightstand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever it was you were doing.”
I fall back on the bed, my hands coming up to cover my face.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll need to start a job hunt first thing. Thanks to Mom, I don’t have the security of a savings account. She took most of what I was able to save and spent it in less than an hour.
Goddammit.
“That was my boss,” I tell him, letting out a big breath and lowering my hands to my stomach. “They let me go.”
“What? Can they do that?” The concern in his voice only makes it worse.
“They were bought out by these new owners. He said they’re laying off a lot of people.”
“That’s shit.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What are you going to do?” The concern is there, but it only makes me think how much different it would be if I were him. I’d have parents to fall back on. Someone to help keep me afloat while I figured things out.
“I don’t know, but I need a fucking job.”
He walks into the room and sits next to me, the bed dipping from his weight. He offers his bag of candy when I sit up on my elbows. I dump a handful of chocolate-coated candies into my mouth. It takes me back to when we were shithead preteens and he’d eat a bag of these by himself weekly.
“Call Mom. She’ll help you.”
He says it like it’s so damn easy.
“I’m not calling Aunt Bess.”
I’m not taking handouts when I should be man enough to handle it on my own.
“You’re too proud.”
“I can’t be like her,” I mutter. I can’t take and take and take from everyone around me.
Iwon’tdo that.
His voice softens, and it reminds me of the boy I grew up with, the one who offered to punch Finn and his group of friends in the face without knowing who they were when they picked on me in middle school. I used to tell him a lot back then. Would he still offer to punch Finn’s lights out if he knew that the bandage on my neck is covering the mark his lit cigarette left?
