AllFreeNovel
Share Us
See, I haven’t told her about getting fired. It seemed small in comparison to her having to go to the hospital. Now, I don’t really have an excuse, but the whole story tastes like poison on my tongue.
I lean against the countertop, fiddling with the ends of my hair. “I got… fired from the Harrisons. Eric, the husband, was… flirty. His wife didn’t like it, so I was let go.”
There it is. The abridged, G-rated version. Out in the open, more or less. No need to get Mom all worried about how long it was going on, or just how far Eric tried to go before Jess stepped in and gave me the Louboutin boot in the ass.
Mom frowns. It’s a deep, deep curve in her face. “Did he do something to you, Via?”
I wave my hands like frantic windshield wipers. “No, no, no, Ma. Nothing like that. I mean, he got handsy, but it wasn’t bad. He never got anywhere with it. His wife just saw, and naturally, no woman wants to see their husband with another woman, so… that was that.”
“But he came onto you! That’s not right. You were his employee. Isn’t there some kind of report you can make? What’d Judy say?”
“That, because I never said anything when this started, it’s my word against a client and there’s not a paper trail showing harassment.”
An array of emotions flash across Mom’s face. Pity. Frustration. Eventually, it settles into calculation.
Soft round the edges though she may be, Lisa Carter has never shied from a fight.
“You know, as the times change, some things just stay the same. I can’t believe this is what women your age are dealing with these days. You’d think men would have wizened up and learned some manners by now, but no.” She sighs, pulling me into a hug that I don’t refuse. “My sweet Via. You’re always dealing with the hard things. But you said you got a new gig? How’d that happen?”
Here we go. Time to focus on the good news.
“Judy’s giving me another chance. I’m still one of her best employees, and even if I messed up in not reporting Eric sooner, she didn’t want to let me go over one incident that wasn’t my fault. I interviewed with a hockey player?—”
“An athlete?” my mother balks. “Honey, that’s no better! Those young men with too much money and twice as much testosterone? Oh no, no, no. Always in scandals hooking up with women that they shouldn’t. Or worse! Drinking, drugs.”
“You’ve been reading too many magazines in the grocery store checkout aisle again. I highly doubt he’s into drinking and drugs.” I laugh. “Like, he’s a bit of an ass, but what athlete doesn’t have that kind of air about him?”
I don’t talk about the fact that I literally stormed out of my interview with him because of said dickish air. The last thing I want is Mom having more of a reason to worry about what I’m getting myself into.
“Olivia…”
Oh no, she’s using my full name. Always a bad sign.
“Ma—”
“Who is this mystery hockey player, anyway?”
I roll my eyes and decide to indulge her. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?
“Reese Dalton.”
That. That’s the worst that could happen.
Mom’s mouth falls open. Recognition surges in her eyes. “Reese Dalton? The Reese Dalton? He has a child?”
First of all, Mom knows who Reese Dalton is? Color me surprised.
Second of all, does that mean she knows something that I don’t?
“Uh, yeah. Reese Dalton, Dallas Bulls hockey player. I guess he’s really good at what he does, because he’s paying me the price of a small island to watch his niece.”
Mom makes quick work dashing out of the kitchen. I hear the patter of her feet into the living room, and then back again into the kitchen. In her hand is one of the aforementioned grocery store tabloids she can’t get enough of.
Mom is a tiny bit of a celebrity buff. She’s always on the up and up of the latest gossip. The habit started on her frequent trips to the hospital. There’s always trashy bogus magazines and rag papers for free reading in waiting rooms. Some people get attached to drinking, or smoking, or eating junk food when they have a chronic illness. It gives them something other than being sick to hold on to.
Mom? Her thing is gossip. It’s one thing I wish she didn’t indulge in, but the drama entertains her better than any daytime soap.
“Mom, please tell me there’s not a below-the-belt pic of my future boss sandwiched in those pages somewhere,” I groan.
