| |
—Holly—
––––––––
None the wiser of the greater powers at play, I said goodbye to Isaiah again as the sun rose this morning, then started getting ready for work.
All seemed normal at face value, but niggles of unease sat uncomfortably high under my ribs and refused to be swallowed away.
Isaiah was unusually subdued last night. That worried me. I actually thought he was going to call our casual sex arrangement to an end, right up until he’d fallen asleep tucked against me. Arms locked tight like he was scared I’d disappear.
It took me the longest time to fall asleep despite constantly telling myself everything was okay. I simply didn’t believe it. I wished I could, but something felt amiss.
The unrest continued to grow as I left my apartment and went to work. I walked the two blocks to my usual bus stop feeling like I was wading through a dream.
Pushing through doors of the Dream Weavers office was just like every other day, complete with everyone in the open-plan office pleasantly greeting me.
I had a busy day ahead. In addition to finalizing the details for Elio and his family attending the ball game this weekend, I was in the midst of planning another experience for a special ten-year-old girl called Florence.
I’d barely been in the building for a minute before Juanita called me into her private office. The tone of her voice immediately set me on edge, and I smoothed my pencil dress down as I hit her doorway.
“Morning, Juanita. What’s—”
My phone came to life in my hand, interrupting my greeting.
Isaiah.
Pursing my lips, I ignored the call, flicked my phone to vibrate, then returned my attention back to Juanita.
“Sorry about that. What’s up?”
Her expression remained grave despite my best efforts to be upbeat. “Come in and close the door, Holly. This won’t take long.”
“Uh... Okay.” The dread in the pit of my stomach compounded.
With the door closed, I started toward her desk, and she raised her hand before I had the chance to take a seat.
“I’m gonna stop you right there. You’re fired.”
“What!” I exclaimed as my body heated with shock. “Fired! Why?”
“Because of your indiscretions during Elio’s visit to the Bears’ ballpark earlier this week.”
My heart plummeted, taking my breath with it. “Wha— Wh—” I stuttered, totally blindsided and lost for words. “I don’t understand.”
Juanita looked remorseful. “You don’t know, do you?”
My voice pitched as I threw my arms wide. “Know what?”
“You broke the internet this morning, Holly.”
“How?” I cried, still failing to comprehend the full extent to which my life was over.
Juanita turned her laptop around and tapped the space bar, triggering a video to play. A video that showed two people—a woman lying on a large black table, and a man—
I crumpled forward and pressed a hand to my mouth as nausea hit without warning. “How did you get this?”
“It’s on the latest gossip pages, hon. You have to understand that I can’t have you working here after this. The incident occurred while Elio and his family were at the Bears’ ballpark... while you were there for work.”
I nodded despite being heartbroken and numb. Disbelief didn’t cut it. Neither did devastation. Emotion wedged in my throat and stung the back of my nose. My eyes clouded with a sheen of moisture that couldn’t be blinked away.
“I’m so sorry.” I released a shuddering breath. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just—” Another phone call vibrated against my palm.
The minor distraction came second best to Juanita’s icy tone. “Pack your things, Holly. I need you gone.”
“Please don’t fire me, Juanita. It won’t happen again, I promise,” I begged, literally, with my hands pressed together in front of my chest.
She shook her head, holding strong despite my desperate imploration for her to change her mind.
“Once is too many times. You have five minutes before I call security.”
Soul destroyed and barely holding myself together, I nodded and ignored another incoming phone call. The curt and callous dismissal cut deep. Not only did I pride myself in my work and was incredibly passionate about what I did, I viewed myself as a role model for the sick kids I planned amazing adventures for. Through my own reckless selfishness, I’d let them all down.
Everyone in the office stared, stunned into silence as I tearfully packed what little belongings I had on my desk, all while declining Isaiah’s and Scout’s persistent calls. I couldn’t so much as glance at my colleagues—the humiliation was too great.
I ignored their murmured questions and whispers as I headed for the door, and I forced my chin to stay lifted while walking to the bus stop.
Crushed and falling apart, for the first time in my life, I genuinely didn’t know what to do. I’d never been fired before. Never been in disgrace. And I sure as hell hadn’t ever starred in a leaked sex tape.
Shame clenched my stomach. Nausea kept rising without warning, and I kept my head down as the bus pulled up. I found a seat away from the other passengers and fumbled through my handbag for my phone. Against everything screaming at me not to do it, I searched myself on the internet. The regret was immediate.
The video was everywhere. It just got worse with every site I went to. Some also showed photos of me so the world knew exactly who the now-infamous Holly Gatlin was, while others had horrible headings like: Another notch on a new low, or, Like Uncle, like Niece, or Morillo brings mistress to the clubhouse.
Tears streamed down my face, relentless no matter how many times I swiped them away. I managed to keep the chest-shuddering sobs contained until I threw myself through the front door of my apartment.
My belongings dropped to the tiles at my feet. Unable to think straight, I froze as numbness swept through my extremities and locked me to the spot. The blindside and dismay made the morning seem surreal. Like a nightmare. One where the bitter aftertaste stayed in my mouth and sat heavy on my lungs.
Bile rose as my thoughts turned to the children I’d been dedicated to. My family. Oh god, what would my family think? My parents and grandparents. My uncles... Scout.
I’d fucked up in the most monumental way, and the repercussions of my actions hit again and again. Each ripple effect generated wave after wave of stinging self-reproach.
Sobbing uncontrollably, I kicked off my high heels and blindly climbed the stairs to my bedroom. Sitting on the edge of my bed, claustrophobia hit out of nowhere. My business attire was suddenly too tight, the neck too restricting and the fabric too itchy. I tore at my clothes, casting them aside yet still unable to be freed.
Bending forward with my arms locked and fingers digging into the bedding, I panted through a panic attack. The grip on my lungs squeezed as each breath punched in and out in the most frightening way.
My throat burned. My breath rasped. Then, out of nowhere, a cold, sparkly sensation crept over my scalp. As my vision started to fade, fear had me squeezing my eyes closed as hard as I could. Stance wide and gripping the mattress for dear life, I fought to hold on to a world that twisted and warped.
It took countless minutes to be able to open my eyes again without the room spinning. I found myself on my knees with my forehead pressed against the twisted sheets.
One peek through a partially cracked eyelid confirmed the world had stilled. The complete and utter devastation had passed for the moment—so too had the urge to vomit.
Forcing myself to stand on shaky legs, I slowly made my way to the bathroom. The mirror revealed a disaster: bloodshot and mascara rimmed eyes, disheveled hair, and blotchy skin. My reflection spoke of a ride to hell and back, and it sure as fuck felt like it.
After washing away the ruined makeup in a daze, then completing my morning facial routine on autopilot, I applied cooling under-eye patches from the kitchen fridge, then reached for the largest wine glass I owned.
The Chardonnay followed. I’d never opened a bottle of wine so fast in my life, not to mention so early in the day, but I topped off the glass, then drank it back while still gripping the bottle in my other hand.
Once I hit the bottom, I topped the glass off again and had it poised at my mouth when urgent knocking pounded on my apartment door.
“Holly! Are you home?”
“Fuck.” I set both the glass and bottle down and rushed for the door. My heart dropped when I peeked through the peephole. I couldn’t let him see me like this. Not this low.
I whispered another curse, then forced my tone to lighten. “I’ll ah... be back in a second!”
