"I wasn'trepresentinghim," I plead. "We were just in the same place at the same time, and I could see them breaking a thousand statutes. All I did was tell them to backoff."
He sighs, "And then you got in his car and took off with him."
"I did."
"You can see how it looks to the company. How it will destroy our reputation and drag our name through the mud." Running his meaty fingers through his hair, he adds. "An argument could be made that your public cavorting goes against our ethical standards, too."
"He was never found guilty,” I shrug, knowing the semantics and details don't matter. Firing me is at their sole discretion. Even if I had the means to take it to court, all they'd have to do is get the reporters to say on the stand that I was making legal arguments for Cormac, and my case would be over. I'm not going through that again.
"I'm really disappointed that it came to this, Brigit," he sighs. "If this all blows over, you can count on me for a letter of recommendation wherever you go next."
I nod, pressure building at my throat and behind my eyes. "Thanks."
"You have until the end of the day to empty your office and turn in your keys," he says as a dismissal. Not cruel or angry. Just matter of fact, like he didn't shatter the last thing in my life that still made sense.
It won't take me longer than an hour to clean it all out. I don't have anything here. It'll take me longer to give them all the info they need to scrub my passwords and take over my cases.
I'm not sure why I'm so upset, fighting the urge to literally throw my few things, including my useless license and a plant that died last month, into a little cardboard box. I was just thinking about how bored I'd become here.
That doesn't mean I wanted to lose my job.
Everyone has phases when they get bored with their lives. Adulthood is fucking boring, and it's supposed to be.
You sleep, work, eat, find some fulfilling hobbies, make time for your loved ones, and you do it over and over and over.
My drive home is dead silent.
No music.
Not even the roar of an engine to match the throttling inside my head.
Fucking silent battery car.
Oh, my god, I have a car payment. I have rent.
I think I have four months of savings, which is a lot, but not enough if this bullshit doesn’t disappear from the news, so I can start over at a new job soon.
God, at this point, I might just go back to making coffee.
No one atBean's Worldwould care if I wanted to fuck a murderer. I've seen the guys they've been with, believe me, a serial killer would be a step up.
Slower than usual, I pull into my parking spot, devastation dragging me into exhaustion.
Leaving behind the box of my stuff I won't be needing any time soon, if ever, I walk home, barely managing a wave to Clark, pouring myself into the elevator to collapse against the wall.
On my phone, I turn off the alarm system and unlock my front door, throwing my purse and everything in it on the floor, kicking off my shoes and leaving them just inside the door.
The very last of my strength is used to trudge across the wooden floor, over my fluffy rug, and fall face-first into the couch.
Only then, once I'm safe, in the quiet confines of my home, do I let the tears fall.
They pour out of me, straight onto my throw blanket, great heaving sighs that only stop when I fall into a fitful sleep on the couch.
A loud bang wakes me, god knows how much later, well past the sun sinking behind the mountains.
My foggy, crusty eyes painfully open, surrounded by darkness.
The only bit of light in here is coming from the clock on my stove. 8:33.
