Chapter 6
Sabrina
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My phone vibrates,dancing across the surface of my desk, and I glance down at the screen, frowning when I don’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Sabrina Laroque?”
“Speaking.” I tuck my phone against my shoulder as I continue translating Mr. Holcomb’s chicken scratch of requests, typing away at my computer.
“This is Eric Chamberlain from Byte-ware, in regards to your application?”
Fumbling to catch my phone, I nearly fall out of my seat with how quickly I get to my feet. “Oh!” Exiting out of my screen, I make a beeline for the bathroom beside the elevator to get out of earshot of the other people in the room. “Yes, what can I do for you?” Shoving open the door, I quickly lock it behind me, thankful it’s a single person setup.
“I know it’s last minute, but the person I had scheduled for an interview today cancelled, and your name was next on my list. Would you happen to be available?”
With as hard as it’s been to even get a callback from anyone? Definitely worth the risk of faking sick and bailing early for the chance.
“Sure, what time?”
“Is one acceptable?” he asks, like any sane person would say no.
“Absolutely, I’ll be there.”
He quickly rattles off directions of where to go inside the building and hangs up, leaving me staring at my hopeful reflection in the mirror above the sink. As I pull my phone away from my ear to check the time, my eyes widen.
Motherfucker, it’s quarter after noon. There goes any chance to believably play sick. Guess poor old grandma had a stroke.
Rushing out of the bathroom, I grab my purse from my desk on the way to Mr. Holcomb’s office. Rapping my knuckles on the door, I open without waiting for an invitation.
“What now?” he barks, looking up from his phone with a scowl.
Late fifties with thinning, grey hair, a short temper, and dull eyes still bloodshot from his bender last night, he glares at me like I’m the last straw, when not a single person has bothered him in the five hours he’s been here. Forgoing the plastic smile I typically reserve for dealing with him, I bring every depressing topic I can think of to the forefront of my mind, forcing tears to spring to my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to leave early today. My grandmother was in an awful car wreck and they’re not sure if she’s going to make it.”
The callous bastard huffs. “So you’re, what, going to be sitting around waiting for her to come out of surgery? How’s that going to be useful to anyone? May as well wait to see if there’s any point driving over there.”
How dare he expect my hypothetical grandma to die alone.
“I’ll have Becky ensure anything that can’t wait until tomorrow is handled.”
“At least I can rely on someone around here,” he snippily retorts, and my tears instantly dry up.
“I haven’t missed a single day in my five years,” I challenge, growing incensed.
