1
WHAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN
CHLOE
I can’t believe I’m being fired for a balloon explosion.
I’m making my case one last time to my boss at the event planning agency. “I don’t even like balloons.” But the look Phineas Fitzburger deals me from across his desk is not confidence inspiring. Fitzburger Events has been a bit of a laughingstock since the town square balloon bursting at the annual spring festival went viral.
Turns out there was a big problem—the see-through balloons got a little too excited in the heat, spewing a glittery stream all over the town square. Like burst…condoms.
But even though Phineas wants heads to roll for the embarrassment (and the associated memes about the balloons’, ahem,release), that doesn’t mean I’m to blame for the sparkling of the town square. I certainly didn’t order the monstrosities. I sure as hell know who did though, and I hope, I truly hope, dear daddy can put two and two together soon and realize it equals…his son. My ex.
It’s not that I like this job working for my ex’s father; it’s that my bank account requires my paycheck. I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying,August wanted them.This fiasco was your son’s fault.
Phineas blows out a long sigh. “Here we are with a very unhappy client and a town square full of hot-pink glitter to clean up. This is a mess.”
He shakes his head, and I know what’s coming. Prickles of fear race up my spine. My side hustle as a dog trainer is nowhere near profitable enough for me to live on, even with the celebrity client who hired me recently. One high-profile client does not a business make. I need this event planning job desperately to make ends meet.
Story of my freaking life.
I glance at the glass wall behind me and the silhouette of my ex happily plinking away at his keyboard in a cubicle beyond.
I hate being a tattletale. But desperate times and all.
I hold up my chin high as I go full narc. “August did it. He ordered the see-through balloons from a paintball friend, and they wanted the event to go viral. That was the plan. Fill the balloons and watch them fly high in the air. But the material was super cheap, and it was an unusually hot spring day, so they exploded in the heat,” I blurt out.
Phineas simply shakes his head some more, takes a minute or two, then sighs deeply. “Chloe, I was sure we could set the past behind us with the way you broke my sweet August’s heart once upon a time, but to suggest he’d usemycompany to pull off a viral stunt? I think it’s best we let you go.”
I grab the edge of his desk to hold on. My world tips upsidedown. “I didn’t do it, sir. I can show you the version history from the presentation,” I say, going for a Hail Mary to prove my innocence by showing him the receipts, but I hate the tremble in my voice, the way it reveals that a tear is coming. My throat tightens annoyingly and my eyes sting.
Don’t let your enemies see you cry, my mother always says.Unless you’re onstage—then let it all out.
“The version history? Really? I think it’s best we move on. I’ll let HR know you’ll be cleaning out your cube today,” he adds, then offers a sympathetic grin. “But do say hi to Captain. We enjoyed having that handsome boy here from time to time.”
Are you kidding me? “I will not tell my dog you said hi,” I say, then grab my backpack, fling it on my shoulder dramatically, and storm out.
Because really, you should also make a grand exit when you’ve been canned.Leave your mark, my mother says.
I beeline for my cube, snag my dying succulent—because of course I can’t even keep a succulent alive—along with my We Ride at Dawn mug that my BFF Bridget made for me last year, then go. As I pass August, I clench my jaw.
Don’t give him the satisfaction. Really, Chloe, just don’t. Resist the urge to open your mouth.
With a grin worthy of a supervillain, my devil of an ex-husband smiles and waves goodbye. “Bummer it didn’t work out, Chlo-Chlo,” he says.
He has the audacity to use that affectionate nickname on me? The name he gave me during our failed marriage that lasted all ofsix months. So much for keeping my mouth shut. “Yeah, bet it was a real surprise too,” I snap, then narrow my eyes and whisper, “I know what you did.”
But he leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and smiles. “You still haven’t gotten over me,” he says.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can’t believe I took this job against my better judgment a few months ago. I can’t believe I’d thought enough time had passed and that he’d moved on.
Like an adult.
His high school–level sabotage is a perfect reminder that you should never ever work with someone you’ve been involved with. It always ends badly—the romance, or the job. Or even both.
But there is one silver lining. While I’m the one who just got canned, he’s the one who has to clean up the town square mess. “Good luck removing glitter until the end of time,” I say, wishing it were punishment enough. And just in case it’s not, I lob in one more zinger. “Also, my dog’s smarter than you.”
I march out, head held high, walking straight to Roxie, my car with the broken handle on the driver’s side door.
