“Go to hell,Bob!” I hollered before ending the call. I turned and threw the phone at the couch, watching it wedge itself between the bottom and back cushions.
Jun calmly stood, took my upper arm, and led me several steps away from the couch.
“He’s trying to get me fired!” I said, and I was sort of horrified that my throat had gotten tight and my eyes were watering. I complained about the job, sure, like any person would, but I loved working at the Smith Home. The blood, sweat, and tears I had invested into making it one of Old Town’s top attractions could never be returned to me.
Jun stared down at me, rubbing my shoulders and not saying a word.
“That stupid son of a bitch is going to tell Price to fire me because of wallpaper! Fuckingwallpaper!”
“Aubrey.”
“No! This vacation has been a train wreck! There was a skeleton in a closet, I forgot you at the airport, someone was murdered, and now I’m going to lose the job I love because I didn’t bold, highlight, underline, and asterisk that I may or may not need to remove historically inaccurate wallpaper in a supply closet that no one but me and the cleaning lady will ever see!” And then a dam broke and I started sobbing.
This was not the weird shit in life that I took with a shrug and some lighthearted humor.
This was just mean and unfair.
Jun wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against his chest. He petted the back of my head gently. “Shh…. Tension runs high when these sorts of tragic events occur, especially if you’re not someone who handles it for a living.”
“What do I do if I lose my job?”
“Find another one.”
“But—”
“You’re smart and kind, and I’m sure plenty of people around here can appreciate the work you’ve done on the Smith Home.” Jun tilted my chin up and wiped my face. “Please don’t cry.”
“I hate Bob so much.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
I sniffed and hiccupped. “I should try to get through to the president of the board and explain my side of the story.”
“Let’s wait until you’ve calmed down a little.”
“She’s a reasonable person,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like I was babbling insanely.
“Then I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you instead of blindly accepting the opinion of a dumbass.”
I laughed and cried a bit at the same time. “I’m so sorry. I’m getting snot all over your cool shirt. I swear I’m not usually a crier.”
“It’s okay.” Jun kissed my forehead.
My phone started ringing from somewhere inside the couch.
Jun shook his head when I moved to go get it. “Ignore it.”
I FELTbetter after a hot shower.
Jun was right. Calling Ms. Price while I was upset and in hysterics wasn’t going to win me any brownie points. I needed to calm down, collect myself, and handle the situation like an adult. So I relaxed under the scalding water and listened to music as I got dressed. And this time I took a few extra minutes to actually wear something cute that wasn’t stained with coffee orspilled Sapporo. Purple skinny jeans—and I mean business in purple pants—an adorable T-shirt that had a narwhal on it proclaiming: I’m gay!, and I took out my plugs and replaced them with rainbow tentacle-shaped earrings, becauseobviously.
“Okay,” I said, coming down the spiral stairs. “Fuck it. Let’s go enjoy our vacation.”
Jun had been watching television but smiled and turned it off as I got to the landing. He stood. “You look cute.”
Mission accomplished.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling my chest puff out a bit. Jun-compliments did funny things to my heart and stomach. If it were anyone else, I’d consider seeing a doctor for some rare, dual gut and arrhythmia condition, but Jun?
