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I didn’t stick around to hear anything else.
By the time I got to the elevator, my sadness had morphed into an unbridled rage, which fueled me as I stopped the elevator on the second floor and stormed through the cubicles. I followed the scent of leather and sandalwood until I came to an office at the very back of the floor.
The door was unlocked when I shoved it open, startling Sariel and interrupting his phone call. I didn’t bother closing the door.
“I’ll call you back in a sec, Johnny,” he said, eyeing me carefully as he hung up the phone.
“I hope you’re happy, Sariel,” I spat out.
He had the gumption to sit back in his chair and cross his arms in front of his chest. I dutifully ignored the way the muscles in his upper arm flexed with the movement. “About what?”
“About costing an innocent woman her fucking job,” I snapped. “I hope your life is as miserable as I imagine it is, or worse. I hope that every day for the rest of your life, you wake up in your own personal fucking hell, and I hope you know that wherever I end up after this, I’ll be happy and thriving while you wither away in your corporate hellhole.”
Behind me, gasps echoed across the room.
“Fuck you, Sariel Ambrose,” I said with finality. “From the deepest part of my heart.”
I fled before I could think too much at the glimpse of emotion I saw in his face as I yelled at him.
A note was waiting for me on my desk when I got there:Please return your uniform to Allan before the end of next week.
I didn’t cry until I was standing inside my apartment, my little box of trinkets from my short time there held in my arms.
4
AN OFFER
Aria
Rebecca was surprised to see me when I walked into her apartment at ten the next day, bearing my knitting needles and a basket of colorful yarn. She took one look at me, though, and immediately knew what had gone on.
Today, she was dressed in a long, sunset color tie-dyed t-shirt that read “unicorn mom” on the front, as well as a pair of bell bottom jeans and brown wedge-heeled sandals. Her hair was secured with a claw clip, leaving some curls to frame her face haphazardly. She wore no makeup, but she jingled and clinked when she moved as her multitude of bracelets shifted around.
“I’ll get the wine,” she sighed out.
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning, Rebecca,” I reminded her.
“And five o’clock somewhere,” she replied in a sing-song voice. “White or red? Sweet or dry?”
“Red, sweet,” I replied as I sank into her overstuffed couch, placing my basket on the floor next to me.
“What’re you making?” she asked from the kitchen as she twisted the top off a bottle.
“A noose,” I mumbled.
“To hang your ginger archnemesis with?”
“Yes, exactly,” I said seriously. “If I ever have the misfortune of seeing Sariel again, that is.”
Rebecca returned with a plastic cup filled almost to the top for me, but an actual wine glass for herself. I frowned at the cup.
She offered it up. “Trust me, you’ll need this. Because I want to knoweverything.”
I took a tentative sip of my cup, humming as the fruity taste exploded on my taste buds. I followed it up with a massive gulp before I handed it back to her. “Put that down for me.”
She did as I asked and joined me on the couch, swirling her wine gently before taking a sip.
“Well?” She gestured to me expectantly. “Tell me.”
