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I started for the door, but Patrice was on my heel. “Forgive me, Mr. Donato, I had no idea how strongly you felt about Lauren. Give me another opportunity to rectify the situation.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” I asked, mildly curious. “You’ve already claimed that you couldn’t possibly put Luxe in a dangerous legal position, which I can understand, but I don’t see what else can be done to repair our business relationship.”
But Patrice had painted herself in a corner. There was little she could do to salvage my business. “We could feature you again,” she suggested lamely, twisting her hands in desperation. Was I a bastard for putting the squeeze on the woman? Perhaps, but I’d already pictured the evening Lauren and I were going to have, and now it was ruined, which didn’t put me in a forgiving frame of mind.
I exhaled with boredom. “I think once is plenty.”
“Lauren is a very talented writer...maybe she could...write your memoirs!”
“I didn’t realize Luxe was in the ghostwriting business,” I said with derision.
“We’re not,” Patrice hastened to add, “but as a freelancer in a noncompeting venture...I’m sure Luxe would have no objections.”
I opened my mouth to shoot holes into Patrice’s offer but stopped short. Doing an autobiography would require hours of time spent together as she learned all about my life. I had zero interest in publishing a book, but if it meant having Lauren around on the pretense of doing the job, I was willing to play the part. But I knew Lauren would likely turn down the offer on principle alone, no matter how much I offered to pay for her services. “Your idea has merit,” I admitted, though I would need to make some tweaks. The only way Lauren would take the job was if she were desperate. As if her very livelihood depended on it.
Which meant I’d have to play a little dirty.
Dirtier than usual.
“I want you to fire Lauren.”
Patrice gasped, her eyes widening. “Excuse me?”
“Fire her.”
“I can’t do that!”
“Sure you can. Aren’t you the executive editor? Or is there someone else I should speak with?”
“She’s done nothing wrong, and she has a child, for Christ’s sake.”
I smiled. “That’s not your problem, is it?”
Patrice’s lip trembled as she pleaded, “Mr. Donato...please, let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I want her fired.”
“I can’t fire her without cause.”
“Of course you can. New York is an at-will state. You can fire her for wearing purple or chewing her food strangely. Honestly, you don’t need a reason as long as the action isn’t discriminatory. Blame it on budget cuts,” I suggested, gesturing with a flippant motion. “But I want her done with Luxe by this afternoon. Are we clear?” I rose, straightening my cuffs with a bright smile to add, “Oh, and if you mention this conversation to anyone, I’ll ruin you. Is that understood?”
Patrice blinked back tears but nodded. “Why are you doing this?”
I laughed. “Because I think I like her,” I answered, already moving on to plan B. “Oh, and please let Daphne down gently. I won’t be needing her services.”
I left Patrice’s office, pleased with the sudden reversal of fortune. Sometimes you had to find the silver lining.
Patrice would fire Lauren and I would hire her, turning into her knight in shining armor when she needed one the most.
Take that, Mr. Engineer. I win.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lauren
“I’M F-FIRED?” I stammered, tears burning my eyeballs. “What do you mean? I don’t understand...was there a problem with the article? I can make changes. Seriously, Patrice...what’s going on?”
Patrice was distant as she answered, choosing to avoid eye contact. “It’s not my call. Budget cuts. The directive came from above. I’m sorry. We can offer a small severance package and I would be happy to provide you with references, but I need you out of your desk by this afternoon.”
Was I in a nightmare? My lips were dry and my throat parched. I might even need to puke. “Patrice...please. I need this job. I’ve been good to Luxe. I don’t understand.”
“It comes down to dollars and cents. Basic economics. You know that the world of publishing is going through hard times, and we’ve been asked to make cuts. Daphne makes less than you. Therefore, losing you is the better economic decision. I’m sorry.”
Patrice looked as if she also wanted to vomit, but I was too devastated to feel sympathy. I gulped down the lump in my throat and focused on the financial side of the sordid business of getting canned for the greater good. “What is my severance?” I asked.
Patrice scribbled a number on a piece of paper and slid it over to me. I gasped, definitely about to throw up. “I can’t even pay one month’s rent with that, Patrice. This is New York, not Kansas. Come on, you know this is bullshit.”
At that Patrice cut me a short look. “I advise that you move quickly. Security will be here soon to escort you from the building, and we don’t want to make a scene.”
This was really happening. Patrice wasn’t backing down. A terrible thought came to me, and I had nothing to lose at this point so I voiced it. “Did Nico have anything to do with this?”
“Get over yourself, Lauren,” she snapped. “Not everything is some kind of conspiracy theory. It’s about the budget. I’m sorry.”
Ashamed, I nodded and wiped at the tears leaking down my cheek. “I’ll get my things.”
Patrice nodded stiffly and returned to her computer, seemingly absorbed with important Luxe business while my world just fell apart.
I caught Daphne’s stunned expression and I knew bad news traveled fast in a small office. I lifted my chin and ignored everyone as I quietly and efficiently packed my things in a small file box, my vision blurred through a sheen of tears.
What was I going to do?
The severance was a joke. What about health care? I needed to carry benefits for Grady. I couldn’t take the chance that he might relapse and need to be in the hospital. The bills would bankrupt me without health insurance.
I left Luxe without looking back. I took the subway instead of hailing a cab because it was cheaper and I would need every dime just to make it to the end of the month.
If push came to shove, I could probably move back in with my mom, but I was loath to do that. The woman would drive me insane within a week.
But if I couldn’t pay rent...
Okay, stop freaking out. You’re talented, you will find another job. I just needed to brush up my résumé and start sending out the feelers. I used to freelance. Maybe I could email a few of my old clients and see if they needed any piecework.
Or maybe I could just crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and stay there for the rest of my life.
But what about Grady? My little sunshine. My pride stung, but maybe it was time to hit Houston up for child support. Even a little bit would help. But what if he wanted joint custody in exchange for support? I know I’d sound like a bitch if I just said, “No, I don’t want you to have anything to do with my son, but if you could cut a check once a month and stay the hell away, that would be great.” But damn, I wish I had that option.
I really didn’t want Houston around Grady, for any reason. I didn’t want Grady to turn out anything like his father, and I felt sick thinking of Houston’s influence on my son. Maybe people could change, but Houston obviously hadn’t changed enough to reach out in all these years.
Nico popped into mind, but I rejected anything associated with Donato as quickly as it formed.
I would save myself. I didn’t need anyone else to come along and play the hero.
It was easy enough to say the words, hard as hell to stop the fear from curdling my guts.
The clock was ticking against me. I didn’t have the luxury of picking and choosing; I needed a replacement job now.
New York landlords weren’t known for their sympathy. If I couldn’t pay, I’d get tossed out. Kid or not.
I was still stunned by the events of the day. This morning I had a job; by afternoon, I didn’t.
And Patrice had never once mentioned that budget cuts may be imminent. I mean, I know the executive editor wasn’t going to discuss company financials, but no matter how hard the execs tried to keep a lid on those things, inevitably, information leaked.
But nothing, not a peep had trickled down. It was as if Patrice had just woken up that morning and decided to ruin my life because I chose not to go with Nico to that stupid dinner.
Right about now I wished I’d just girded my loins and suffered through the damn event. Maybe Patrice was right and it wouldn’t have mattered, but my gut couldn’t quite quit the suspicion that somehow, Nico was involved.
Maybe I was being suspicious and overly harsh, especially given that Nico had been a perfect gentleman, but there were too many pieces that simply didn’t fit the puzzle.
