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Taryn
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Melinda looks at me with genuine regret in her eyes. I can see it, it’s soul-deep. She really hates having to do this, and I can tell she’s fighting back tears. But I’m hurt, too.
“I’m so sorry, Taryn. We have to make cuts. Unfortunately, you’re the first.”
What I want to say is—maybe you don’t need a secretary fetching coffee and answering phones for you—but I don’t. Go ahead and fire your only IT person. See what happens next time someone downloads a virus or can’t figure out why the update to their PC crashed it.
“I understand,” I reply quietly, standing from my chair in her small office.
“You’ll be given a month’s salary as a severance on your last paycheck. I have no doubt you’ll be able to find another job quickly. You’re so skilled and talented,” my boss finishes, still looking remorseful.
I know it can’t be easy for her either. I’ve been working here for four years. And while I can admit, no, I don’t do eight hours of work every day, I am a useful commodity here. Every time they got new software, or their computers needed updates, it was me who did everything. I even manually installed all equipment. I love doing the manual stuff. I’ve lost count of how many computers I’ve built or how many I’ve taken apart and put back together again with upgraded guts.
I walk out of her office and into my cubicle. I use the box under my desk assigned to shredding to start packing up my stuff. Melinda told me I’d be paid for another week, but I don’t see the use in hanging around. She’ll be lucky if I send all my work to my backup—her secretary Cindy, who can do the bare minimum.
Makes sense why she was in a hurry to have me train her as a backup.
I see movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Hi. This sucks.” Christa pats me on the back and rubs it.
Shrugging, I try not to cry. I know they aren’t firing me because I did a bad job, it’s just budget cuts. But it still stings. “I’ll live.”
“Dinner tonight, my treat. I have gossip.”
I turn to her. “About who?”
She shakes her head and chews the side of her bright-red lip with a smirk. “You’ll see. Gotta show up to find out, though.”
I’m in no mood to go to dinner. I want to do what I do every night. Go home and wallow.
“Please,” she says as I continue emptying out my drawer and unplugging the mouse from the computer tower. It’s my personal one.
“Fine,” I say on a sigh. “Where? No Thai, I’m sick of it.”
“Anthony’s?” she questions.
“That place is too fancy,” I comment.
“Yeah, but they have the best eggplant parm, and it’s Thursday, so... wine specials. We’ll sit in the bar with the rest of the losers.”
That elicits a laugh from me. “Okay, fine.” I finish up the rest of my packing.
Christa grabs one box and I take the other as we weave our way through the office. Everyone is smiling sadly, some even have tears as I leave. I don’t speak to anyone, I just keep walking with my head held high, avoiding eye contact.
After she helps me load the boxes into my little Audi, I drive home with the landscape blurred by tears. Why did they even let me come back on a Monday after my bereavement leave if they were just going to let me go on Thursday?
I angrily swipe my face with the back of my hand and push the gas down.
***
“Ah, this is just what I needed,” I say, smacking my lips after setting down my wine glass.
“Me too,” Christa says, signaling the bartender.
He comes over with a smile on his young face. “Another?”
She nods. “Yes, refills for both.” She points to her glass, then mine.
“You got it,” he replies with a charming smile.
Christa checks out his ass in his black slacks. His white shirt fits snug around his waist and arms, and she lifts an eyebrow. “Mmm.”
“Hitting on bartenders now?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Maybe,” she replies.
He returns with the bottle and fills our glasses. “Let me know if you ladies need anything else.”
“A dessert menu?” Christa asks, batting her large false lashes at him.
He reaches down and pulls out a thick book-like menu and sets it on the bar. “Let me know if anything looks good. Are you done here?” He points to our nearly empty plates.
I nod, having only eaten half my lasagna because my appetite sucks. “Yes.”
Christa also nods and thanks him for the menu.
“Chocolate will make everything better,” she says, opening the menu. She quickly decides on a dessert and closes the menu.
I try to smile. She’s not wrong.
She looks up at me. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re only twenty-six. You’ll find another job.”
“I know,” I reply. The Denver Metro area is near second to Silicon Valley. I’ll be okay. “I just... miss Mom, and now this. I can’t believe they let me go right after her death.”
I look up at my friend and she’s biting her lip in her telltale stress way.
“What?” I ask.
“Well... they were planning on letting you go a week or so ago. Then your mom... and, well, they knew they had to wait.”
“What?” I snap. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Christa puts her hands up in surrender. “I was going to. I found out last Friday that it had been planned before that. I didn’t want to ruin your weekend, then your mom passed...”
I sighed. Would it have made a difference if I knew? Probably not. It still hurts. Tears spring to my eyes and Christa puts her hand on mine on top of the bar. She uses the other to push my glass toward me. “Drink.”
I obey, swallowing all the wine in one big gulp. She lifts the glass to her lips and sips hers. The alcohol hits me right away and my body calms. I physically feel my shoulders untense and my legs uncross underneath my skirt. I twist my ankles together and hook my heels on the stool’s foot-rest bars.
“Better?” she asks.
I nod, trying to smile but still, the sadness lingers. “I’ll live.”
The bartender delivers us death by chocolate cake and we chat while enjoying the decadent dessert.
“So what case are you working on?” I ask Christa, desperate to change the subject.
She swallows a bite of cake with some chocolate on her lips. She licks it off and says, “Oh, you’re gonna love this one.” She sets her fork down. “Get this. These two dudes go into a cell phone store and literally just start helping themselves to a bunch of shit. They walk out with thousands in merch and nobody stops them! So one of the workers runs out and gets the license plate of the car the guys hopped into. Then she calls the police.”
“Wow, good for her! No security?”
“He was on a break or something,” she replies with an eyeroll.
“So the firm is defending these thieves?” I ask, incredulous.
“Girl, no. The cops caught the guys and they were on their, like, fifth strike or something for theft. The employer freakin’ fired the employee for reporting it!”
My mouth drops open. “You’re lying.”
She chuckles. “I’m not! They said they have a ‘no report’ policy. Like what the what? Just let these people steal? No. Hell no. We took the case to sue the employer for wrongful termination. She obviously doesn’t want her job back, but she wants compensation. Talk about going from hero to zero in the span of a few hours!”
“That’s literally insane. What kind of world do we live in?”
“That’s what I keep saying. I just don’t get it. I’m happy we took the case. I hope she sues that store out of business. So ridiculous.”
Gah, the change of subject was not helping my mood. Crime is never uplifting.
“So how are things with James?” I ask, trying another tactic.
“No.”
I furrow my brow. “That wasn’t a yes or no question.”
She bites back a smile. “It’s nothing. He’s moved on, I’ve moved on. He’s already been deleted.”
“Okay. Well, you seeing anyone new?”
She glances at the bartender, who’s cleaning glasses before he stacks them on the back bar, then looks at me. “Well, I have a new perspective.”
Laughing, I say, “Let me know how that works out. I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”
I get up and head toward the restrooms, stopping to admire all the artwork on the walls of the hallway that leads to the bathrooms.
After taking care of business and washing my hands, I exit and see a man at the end of the hallway, his back to me. His ass looks very nice in his tailored suit pants and his shoulders are broad, leading down to a trim waist in his fitted black shirt. When I look at the back of his head, there’s something familiar and I suddenly realize he looks a lot like Carter Lockwood.
It seems I’ll never get that guy out of my head.