I touch a hand to my chin. “I don’t…think…that’s a thing. A math store?” Of course, we’re in Los Angeles. Everything could be a thing. “And the delightful game of bingo does not have so many numbers—” I start.
“That’s it!” Lewis exhales deeply. “I can’t do this anymore. You’re fired.”
“I’m quitting.”
“You can’t quit because you’re already fired.”
“I’m quitting because you’re firing me. It’s insulting.”
“Get out.” Lewis turns and starts to walk away but then stops. And with his back to me, he says, “You need to get your life together, Callie.”
Yeah, I think,no shit, genius.
He should have stopped when he did but adds, “I’m sure your father would be so proud.”
If I could have made a smooth, stoic exit, I would have.
But Lewis is a monster.
He knows that my father died when I was eleven.
