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If she told Joe her financial situation, he might feel some pity and help her out, but either way it would be all over the office by noon.
“Never mind.”
“I’m going to have to let you go, Ronnie.” Now it was the more personal form of address, the name to soften the blow and make him sound like a good guy who was simply left with no other alternatives.
If it had been Sandy, she would have collapsed into tears and begged. She would have sandwiched some flirting in there somewhere, and she would have walked out with a better office. But Veronica couldn’t bring herself to play the helpless girl card. It offended everything inside her. She turned and headed for her office.
Her boss’s voice stopped her. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
“What should I say, Joe? I already said I was sorry. I’m not delving into my personal life with you. I’m not going to grovel or cry or scream at you like some petulant child. You’ve made your decision. I’m going to pack my desk if you don’t mind.”
“Give me anything, Ronnie. Any indication that things will get better, here. You’re brilliant when you want to be, but you isolate yourself. I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”
“I didn’t ask for help. Are you firing me or not?”
“You’ve left me no choice.”
“What about unemployment? Are you going to put it down that I was laid off or fired?”
“You know Human Resources won’t let me say you were laid off. They watch that stuff more closely now.”
“Fine.”
Thirty minutes later, she was sitting on the marble slab that encircled the fountain in front of Brampton and Simmons. With her back to the building and her box of things in her hands—a fake plant, a book, and a handful of nice fountain pens—it was finally safe to cry. Since the sky had betrayed her again, opening to allow rain to pour down, she could do it with a small amount of privacy even in public.
She was so lost in her own misery that she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until the dark brown cowboy boots were only a few inches away from her.
She scooted away. “What do you want?”
“Lose your job?”
“Well, look at the box and the pathetic girl crying in the rain. Figure it out, genius.”
“You’re rude.”
“Another brilliant observation,” she said. “You’ll make it great in the big city.”
The rain came down harder. The cowboy stood tall and steady in the downpour as if he were part of the elements and silly things like weather couldn’t touch him.
“Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
Had he been lurking and waiting for her? “Why? Do you get off on being yelled at?” Just what she needed. One ofthosefreaks.
In answer, he offered a hand to help her stand. It was a public place. And anyway, if he killed her, that might be a step up from the current situation. She had no idea what she was going to do. She’d considered bankruptcy—assuming she could afford the fees to file. But that was out now. It would make it that much harder to find another job, if anybody in the industry even wanted her now. She’d hopped from job to job over the past few years burning bridges with abandon. There might not be any left for her to walk across.
Veronica threw her box of things in the trash on the way to the diner. None of it had sentimental value, and it was all ruined anyway. She tried not to wince or scream at him as he led her inside, his hand resting at the small of her back like he was calling dibs on her and wanted to warn away all other males.
There were no other males in the diner—just the cook, whose name she didn’t know.
A familiar waitress came out and led them to a booth. “Oh sweetie, you look like a drowned sewer rat.”
“Thanks,” Veronica said.
“Let me get you a towel to dry off.”
Marlboro man looked somewhat drenched himself, but she didn’t offer him a towel, nor did he seem to care for one. It was possible Veronica was a lot more pathetic-looking than she thought.
“I’m Luke,” he said, after he’d ordered them some coffee and Veronica was seated in the booth with a towel wrapped around her.
