So then where had it come from?
Once he’d come back up with the dogs, he searched the apartment for some reasonable explanation—something he might have bloodied his hands on, a cut in Bella’s fur he might have touched in the night.
Nothing.
His mind whispered reminders of clinical side effects—short-term memory loss, impulsive outbursts—and he quickly shut them down. It couldn’t be that. Not now that the treatment was working so well.
He checked the time: he had to get to work. Maybe he should call in sick.
Then again, the distraction might be good for him.
He set about getting ready and finding something to eat.
Because now that the panic was abating, he realized he was ravenous.
Two hours into Emmett’s morning shift, Rick summoned him to his office for “a little chat.”
The request ripped an ulcer in the pit of Emmett’s stomach, compounding his lingering dread from earlier that morning. What fresh hell awaited him now? He’d managed to avoid the manager’s office since the ass-crack incident heard around the store. Apparently one of the supervisors had “somehow” found the security footage and sent it around to a bunch of staff. Jazz had begged him not to quit.
He didn’t want to. Things had been getting better on the whole. His coworkers had been so complimentary about his weight loss, saying he looked incredible, wanting to know his secret.
Now Emmett feared he might be fired. Had Rick somehow found out about whatever happened the previous night? How could he? Emmett was just being paranoid.
He knocked on Rick’s door, which opened to reveal the managerreading baseball stats on his computer. He startled, minimized the window, and swiveled around. “Emmett. Come in.”
“You wanted to see me?” Emmett took his usual seat. “You’re not firing me, are you?”
“Ha!” Rick barked. “You’ve got a great sense of humor. I’ve always liked that about you.”
Emmett braced himself, suspecting—incorrectly, this time—that a joke was about to be made at his expense.
“So, Emmett. Emmett Bobemmett. As you know, we’ve had our ups and downs over the years. The occasional miscommunication, you might say.”
Jesus, Emmett thought.Heisgoing to fire me.
“But I have to hand it to you. You’ve been doing one hell of a job these last couple of months.”
Emmett sat back in his seat. “I have?”
“We’ve all been saying it. You’re responsible, dependable. I never have to worry about you coming in late or calling in with a hangover. You do what needs to be done without having to be asked, and your customer service is ten out of ten. You could teach a class on it.”
Emmett didn’t know what to say. These things had always been true. Why was Rick just now noticing?
Don’t be stupid. You know why.
“Thank you, that—means a lot.”
“Glad to hear it. Because I want you to know how much we value you, and that we see a bright future for you at the store. You always lead by example and, well, we think it’s time we make it official. I’d like to offer you a promotion to team leader for service and engagement. I said you could teach a class on customer service—actually, I’d like you to do just that. With your skills and your teaching background, I think you could really help us shape up in that area.”
“Wow,” was all he could muster.
“Starting pay is $24.50 an hour, a good bit more than we’ve got you at now with room to grow. How does all that sound?”
“It sounds— I’m at a loss for words. Thank you.”
“You should be thanking yourself. You’ve earned it.” Still, Rick looked self-satisfied. “I’ll have HR write up the paperwork. Change will be effective next week. Now back to work.”
Rick turned toward his screen, then paused to add, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you: Whatever you’re doing, good on you. That takes discipline. There’s obviously a lot more to you than I realized. I mean, a lot less, am I right? Ha!”
