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“Malory.” One word and she shutters her features and strides from the room like an ice queen.
“Five hundred dollars a square foot,” he says and I blink at him. “The cost of that flooring is five hundred a square foot.”
My mouth pops open.
“And I expect you to pay for the repairs.”
I blink rapidly. “I–I can’t. I don’t have that kind of money.” My mind races through the square footage. I don’t know how many will need to be replaced. Ten? Twenty? More?
“You will have that kind of money by the end of the summer. You can pay us back before you leave.”
My entire body goes cold and I lose all sense of decorum. “Do you realize what kind of hostile work environment you’ve created here? Do you know that I’ve been bullied by one of Cooper’s girlfriends? That in the middle of the night last night he forced me to get up and clean vomit from his rug while he took a different girlfriend down to my bedroom and had sex with her there?” The words blurt from my mouth without much thought to the consequences. “Do you know that Ethan treats me like scum, like I’m nothing? And yet he acts like he has the right to control me.”
“Are you done with your tantrum yet?” Mr. King asks.
“No!” I’m just getting fired up. “While I was cleaning up that vomit last night, I saw your text about me being here for Ethan. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not a plaything for your son.”
I feel like I’m sinking into the carpet, but I hold my knees tight and my body tall. This man could squash me like a bug if he wanted. He has all the resources in the world and I have none, but I do have my pride and I’m done letting him take that away.
He pushes back from his desk and stands, sauntering around the desk to meet me. He’s so much taller than I am, taller even than both of his sons, and it takes everything in me not to get intimidated. Okay, who am I kidding? Of course, I’m intimidated. Everything about this family screams intimidation, especially the patriarch.
“Alright, let’s play this out.” His voice is business-like. Calm. Calculated. Cutthroat. “Let’s say you quit this job and leave Nantucket in two weeks, because you do have to give us two weeks’ notice, that’s in your contract. Well, that still leaves you how many weeks until you’re due to check in for school?”
I swallow hard because I know my voice is about to wobble. “Six.”
He thinks about that for a long moment. “And where will you go for six weeks?”
No clue.
And that’s the sad truth. I won’t have anywhere to go unless I’m willing to go back to the state home, but I will have three full paychecks’ worth of money saved up from this job. That will have to be enough to get something figured out. In an ideal world I would head to Boston early and find short-term lodging and employment. I tell Mr. King as much and he laughs in my face.
“The world is cruel. You of all people should know that your plan is doomed to fail.”
“I’m resourceful. I’ll figure it out.”
He tilts his head. “You’ll end up back in that state home you were living in. Is that really better than staying here?”
He’s right. It’s not better. Memories of the last two years flash through my mind: crowded bedrooms and complete lack of privacy, constantly having my things stolen, getting into fights with the rough girls or watching the sweeter ones get bullied, getting yelled at by the overworked adults, and sometimes even going to bed hungry. But all those things I can deal with. What I can’t deal with is returning to the worthlessness I felt day in and day out. By the end, my anxiety was flaring its ugly head every time I even walked through the front door.
I never want to feel that way again.
“It’s not worse,” I admit.
“And what about the bill for the hardwood flooring?” he presses. “You can’t pay us back if you don’t have a job.” His threatening question is like two hands squeezing around my neck. I know I’m breathing but it feels like I’m not. It feels like I’m suffocating, all the air in the room gone. “Do you expect us to bail out your mistake because we’re wealthy?”
I give a shaky nod and he laughs again.
“Sorry, Ms. Davis, but I’m a businessman and I didn’t get wealthy by letting people take advantage of my family.”
What. The. Fuck?
“But––but––it was an accident and it was with a product you provided in your home.”
He shrugs. “You’re welcome to hire an attorney but I don’t think that would be the best use of your already limited funds. Why don’t you take a seat and we can negotiate how you’re going to pay for your mistake?”
I can’t move. I can’t think. All I can do is stand here.
“You’re an adult now, Ms. Davis. No more relying on other people to take care of you.”
