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Genuinely, what the hell am I going to do with myself?

It feels like forever that I’ve been living like this. I’m used to this schedule, even if it is running me into the ground.

I’m going to be so fucking bored.

Especially without Owen around to create even more work for me to do.

My phone starts ringing, rattling across the table in front of me. I peel my eyes open and scoff.

It’s like I summoned him.

My mind is blank as I stare at his name on the screen. What else could he possibly have to say?

And do I even care?

I shake my head, blowing out a breath.

No.

He doesn’t get to have access to me anymore.

Maybe I’m making the wrong decision here since there are still some things of mine that got left behind at the apartment last night but I can’t help but feel fiercely protective over this newfound peace of mine. Figuring out a way to collect those things will just have to come later. Or I will have to write them off completely - I still haven’t decided. Either way, those things aren’t worth listening to any more of his bullshit.

With my resolve strengthening, I stare at his name as my phone continues to ring, rattling around on the table in front of me before finally, falling silent. In the easy quiet of my new apartment, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes.

My phone pings.

Prying my eyes open, I watch it carefully, like it’s a bomb that’s about to go off. It’s gotta be another voicemail from Owen and I have absolutely no desire to hear anything he has to say. With my mind made up, I scoop the phone up off the table, intent of just deleting whatever message is waiting for me and pause.

It’s an email from Brett.

“What the fuck?” I whisper as I open the message.

He sent out an updated schedule and I click on the link, my head jerking back and my brows furrowing as I look at the next two weeks. My name is completely missing from my usual shift and in its place is Brett’s name.

Did he misunderstand me somehow?

Why would he completely take me off the schedule?

My phone pings with another email from Brett. I open it and my jaw drops.

Ms. Scott,

Effective immediately, you have been terminated from your position as Front Desk Clerk at The Grand Cypress Hotel. Please return your uniform and key card in the next seventy-two hours. Your final paycheck will be available for you to pick up on May tenth after one pm.

Best regards,

Brett Davenport

Are you fucking kidding me?

My heart hammers in my ears as I read the message again and again, trying to make sense of it.

This is bullshit.

I’m a damn good employee and I’ve worked my ass off for them for the last six months.

I don’t deserve this.