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“I appreciate that,” says Beck. He excuses himself to tend to some more customers and once again I’m left alone with my thoughts.
Which is not where I need to be, because as soon as Beck walks away I’m picturing myself sandwiched between Drew and Bailey, and if I get kicked out of Rusty’s for public indecency he’ll never let me live it down. I lay down some bills to cover my tab and the tip and nod at Beck as I head for the back stairwell. I’ve got to get this shit locked down, and now. Out of my system, out of my head, and just be done with it already.
It’s hours later, in the dark, slanting light sliding through the blinds of my bedroom window that I give in to the urge, rocking my hips into the mattress, imagining her lips, his hands, and everything in between until I come, gasping into my pillow, groaning quietly until I’m spent.
This is going to be a disaster.
16
Bailey
My short return to normalcy Monday morning does not begin smoothly.
“What do you mean, you’re leaving tonight?” says Mr. Heckman, my boss. “You just got back!”
“I made it into the final round,” I explain for the second time in ten minutes. “I fly out tonight to film for the rest of the week. But I’ll be back on—”
“I don’t think so,” says Mr. Heckman. “What does this look like, McDonald’s? How am I supposed to cover you for another six days? With no notice!”
“I’ve already talked to Althea and—”
“No,” he says, dropping back down into his desk chair. “No. It simply can’t be done. I can’t believe after all these years, you really care about your position at this bank so little as to treat us this way.”
“Mr. Heckman,” I try again, but he’s not hearing me. Gary Heckman has been general manager of this bank since I was in diapers. Needless to say, change is not something he finds comfortable. I tamp down my frustration and wait him out, knowing from experience he’ll only bluster a few more minutes. It’ll be easier to talk him down after that.
“Ms. Ross, do you realize your name was submitted for a promotion a couple of weeks ago?”
That catches me off guard. This isn’t exactly a large company—I knew there were some openings for assistant managers since the bank opened a new branch a couple of towns over.
“Imagine how embarrassed I was to have to tell the bank president that you couldn’t be relied on in a position of authority like that,” says Mr. Heckman with an audible sigh.
Are you fucking kidding me?
“Are you joking?”
“Not in the slightest,” he says, frowning and leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. It’s his “Now Listen Here” pose. “You taking off almost a week for some silly baking show was bad enough, but this has just confirmed I made the right call.”
Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.
“I’ve hardly taken a day off since I started this job,” I say, so frustrated I’m near tears. But I’ll be goddamned if I cry in front of this pompous blowhard.
“And that’s the kind of commitment we need from our employees,” says Mr. Heckman, his eyes on the massive monitor on his desk now. He’s all but dismissed me from the room already. “Not this back-and-forth, time-off-with-no-notice nonsense. You’re free to return to your desk.”
I slip out of the glassed-in office and walk back to my desk.
The first time I got passed over for this promotion was easier to explain—they’d just hired the bank president’s niece right out of college, and she was ever so slightly more qualified than me anyway. It was harder to take that personally, since I’d only been working here a year at the point.
This is something else.
I spend most of my day trying to avoid the well-meaning murmurs and pitying glances from my coworkers, keeping my head down and getting as much work done as I can so next week isn’t a complete backlog.
By the time I get home, I’ve got about thirty minutes to pack before I have to leave for the airport if I’m going to make the flight Sizzle booked for me. I overheard some of the other contestants say they all got earlier flights—I’m the only one who still had to go to work today.
I’m still blown away that I made it this far in the competition, though I know it was purely by chance. Three other contestants scored higher than me and would have made the number five slot, but they got disqualified after the judging for various reasons. It’s a fluke, but goddamn it I made it.
Any residual anger at my boss has faded by the time I get to the ticket counter. He’s only doing what he thinks is right, same as anybody else. He’s just another person in my world who doesn’t respect me. And isn’t that just a slap in the face.
You’re the one who sat there and took it. You’re the one who let them. Don’t put this all on other people.
