All eyes were now on my manager, but he wasn't backing down.
“I said what I said. You have ten minutes to get your stuff and get out of here before I call the police.”
His threat crushed me even more. No one had ever threatened to call the police on me before. But I wasn’t about to let him see he’d affected me.
I quickly turned out of there and marched toward the back room where we kept our stuff. There, I texted Emerson.
Hi. I’m leaving now. Do you want me to take a cab or something?
Before I even had a chance to put my phone down, she replied.
Emerson
Already outside.
My heart pounded in my chest. I was grateful she was so close.
I packed up my stuff in record time and left the restaurant out the front, where Emerson was indeed already waiting for me.
Today she wore a casual hoodie and sweats. She’d probably gone home after work and changed. If I wasn't as emotionally charged, I might have taken the time to fully take her in and realize how good it felt to see her after being away all day.
But I couldn't stand being at the restaurant a moment longer.
“You're off early,” she commented as she held the door open for me and took my backpack. I had a minor freak-out, wondering if she’d see the flannel inside that I’d carefully taken off after school, but she didn’t even pay it any mind.
“Yeah,” I said curtly as I sat in the passenger seat. “Let's get out of here. I'm tired.”
She paused before closing the door, glancing back to the restaurant, but said nothing else. When we were a few blocks away, I felt like I could finally breathe.
“What happened?” Emerson asked. “Bad customer or a bad day at school?”
“It doesn't matter.”
Her hand found my thigh and squeezed. It felt more like a warning than a gesture of comfort.
“Do I need to remind you that you're not allowed to hide from me?”
I swallowed thickly, tears already starting to fall down my face. Damn it. I did my best to keep it in. I tried to be strong and embody Emerson, but after the professor at school and then the abrupt firing, I couldn't keep it in any longer.
She squeezed my thigh again, but this time, she was gentle.
“I got fired.”
Emerson swerved to the right and slammed on the brakes, parking us on a random street. I looked at her in shock as she turned to look at me because I had never seen her so angry.
“What did you just say?”
“They fired me.”
“For what?” Her jaw was so tight I was sure she'd crack a tooth.
“Apparently, not smiling at a millionaire,” I said with a bitter laugh. “And getting his order wrong.”
No, wait. It seems like shecanget even angrier.
“That's not funny.” It came out as more of a growl.
“I said the same thing. I also reminded him of my squeaky-clean record, but he still fired me on the spot.”
