Her phone pinged and, craving distraction, she moved away from the elevator to check it. It was an email from Devon at the office. The subject line: ‘I feel so fucking awful...’
She knew she should leave it until she was more prepared for bad news but she opened the email anyway.
Babe, they’re doing a round of redundancies at work. Katie and Matt got told yesterday and you’re next. I’m so sorry but I wouldn’t want to be blindsided by Bridgette. Please don’t tell anyone I told you, I’m so sorry, D xx
Cheryl waited for the shoe to drop, for the mistake to be corrected, but nothing happened. This was real. At the same time she’d have to spend every penny she had putting her mother into care, she was going to lose her job.
She didn’t remember going up the elevator, but she must have because she was suddenly in the middle of Patrick’s hotel suite, watching him bounce toward her.
“How was the call?” he asked happily. “Do you want champagne? I know it’s 11am but we’re on holiday and it is my birth—”
“I need to go home. Right away.”
Patrick’s face fell. “What? Why?”
She must have told him about her mum’s accident, but she could barely hear herself. Her brain was reeling through options. She needed to contact Wheelers Hill and see if her mum could get a room. The first few payments could come out of her apartment savings. Where should she apply for a new job? Who was hiring? Would Bridgette give her a reference or was taking one day off enough to get her blacklisted?
“Cheryl,” Patrick was saying. “I, uh, does this mean you can’t come to the awards?”
She blinked. Had he not been listening? Or had she explained everything that badly? “I need to go home. My mum’s in the hospital.”
“But she’ll be okay, right? Someone else is looking after her?”
“Felicity is a paid carer. She’ll stay at the hospital until I get there, but she’s off the clock and there’s no one else I can call…”
“Right.” Patrick rocked on the balls of his feet. “So, you won’t stay tonight?”
Rage blared through her at a hundred decibels. She held back a scream by the skin of her teeth. “No. Can I change my flight home to today?”
“Um, I dunno. Felix booked the flights.” Patrick’s face was pale, his freckles stark. “Is everything… Your mum’s okay, isn’t she? She’s not going to…?”
“She’s not going to die. At least not today.”
“Right.”
Patrick didn’t look twenty-four. He looked like a little kid. Cheryl bent to collect yesterday’s shoes, piling them into her suitcase along with her discarded tracksuit pants. “I need to be with her. I’ll just go to the airport and take the first flight home.”
He grabbed her hand, his fingers so hot they were disgusting. “Are you sure? You look really upset.”
She shook him off, moving to the bathroom to collect her toiletries. “I am upset. On top of everything else, I’ve lost my job.”
He blanched. “What? How?”
“Redundancies,” she said, zipping her toiletry bag shut. “I thought I’d done enough to stay safe, but I’ve been blowing off work to see you, so I guess not.”
Patrick swore. “How can Bridgette do that?”
“She just can.” Cheryl threw her toiletries bag inside the suitcase and zipped it shut.
“KitKat,” Patrick said weakly. “Talk to me?”
But she didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to get away from him. She stood her suitcase upright and wheeled it to the door. Patrick followed, his hands tucked into his armpits. “Wait, do you want me to come with you?”
She paused, one hand on the knob. “Can you do that?”
“I mean… the sponsor will be pissed, they paid for me to come over here. I dunno...”
She looked at him and saw what he wanted her to say. Hatred surged through her like lightning, and she wanted to scream at him for looking so measly and helpless. Who was he to look helpless? She was the unemployed broke bitch with a dying mother. He was a rich young white dude with married parents and his own home and a professional football career. Yet here he was, needing her reassurance. The baby of his flawless little family wanting her to make all the decisions.
