AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ava
I almost expected Mr. Brockton to stop me from leaving that night. Throughout our conversation, he had that look about him, like he was going to assert his dominance. He was the leader of the company and my boss. I knew that if he wanted to put his foot down, he could. And then I would be left with an ugly decision. Would I stay on and accept his help, or would I quit and leave the only lifeline I had available to me?
If only I wasn’t so hungry. Then I never would have devoured the breakfast treats, and he wouldn’t be any the wiser. He would just go on believing that I was a regular employee with no problems to speak of.
It was actually kind of sweet, how protective he became. It would have been just as easy for me to accept his help, easier in fact than walking away. I thought about his offer of an apartment. Of course, he had several that were sitting empty, just waiting for tenants. I could put my paycheck toward rent, and in the meantime, I could live without worry. But that just wasn’t who I was.
I couldn’t accept a handout, no matter how forcefully it was thrust upon me. I needed to do this on my own. I didn’t want him to think that I couldn’t handle my own life. Just because I had taken a few wrong turns and ended up on the streets didn’t mean I couldn’t rescue myself. I just needed a little time.
In two months, I would be all set. Not much longer and I would move into a new place, and I would be able to afford food. I didn’t need charity, but I did need the job. I hoped that he wouldn’t force my hand. I felt like I was caught between a rock and a hard place. Yes, I needed the money, but I wanted to come by it honestly. To my relief, I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. He didn’t ask me to come back into his office and talk. And he didn’t try to set me up with a place to spend the night.
I went back to the shelter and discovered they had a bed for me. At least I wouldn’t be out there all alone. I ate dinner with the rest of the residents and went to my assigned cot to sleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed, but it beat the backseat hands down.
Trying to get comfortable, I remembered sleeping with Marcus in his queen-sized bed, on a mattress he’d spent two thousand dollars on. It was firm and soft all at the same time. I’d never had a problem sleeping there, and while the shelter was better than the car, I couldn’t relax completely surrounded by other homeless women. You never knew when someone would take an interest in you or your stuff. That meant I had to sleep with one eye open. It was a grim way to live, and I thought longingly of Mr. Brockton’s suggestion.
Would it be so bad if I let him help me? If he gave me one of his apartments, then I could pay him back. I could work overtime. I could pay him back in installments. Anything would be better than this mean existence.
But I was too proud. I wouldn’t let myself accept a handout. It just wasn’t right. I went to sleep and dreamed of clean sheets. In the morning, I checked my belongings to make sure they were all still there. Luckily, no one had messed with them overnight.
I hit the showers again, getting in and out as quickly as possible. I avoided most of the other women if I could, although some of them were hard to miss. There was one little girl there with her mother, who refused to leave me alone. She followed me around the locker room, asking about my clothes and my toiletries.
“Do you have a job?” she asked.
I nodded, not wanting to get drawn into a conversation. I guessed she was about six, and I felt bad for her. It was hard enough being an adult in a place like that; I couldn’t imagine what it was like for a child. She deserved a new apartment and a safe space to play more than I did. I wondered what the school thought about her living situation and realized that they probably didn’t know. I wasn’t alone in being proud. A lot of the women living in the shelter didn’t advertise the fact.
Quietly, I slipped out of the bathroom when I was done with my hair. Wearing the same outfit I’d worn to the interview, I knew Mr. Brockton was going to judge. However, I didn’t have that many professional ensembles. I didn’t even have enough to wear something different each day.
That was going to have to be addressed. I couldn’t let the rest of the staff know I was in dire straits. They would catch on pretty quickly if I rotated through the same three outfits every week. But I couldn’t afford fancy threads. I had to save everything for the new apartment.
I took the car back to the same parking spot. I found that if I got to work early, there was almost always a place for me. This time all the slots were taken, and I had to drive a little farther away to find an open street. Parking, I glanced at the gas meter. It was trending dangerously toward empty, something that I would have to deal with before my first paycheck. It seemed like there was no end to the expenses I was incurring.
I climbed out and locked the car door. It was possible that I could borrow some money from the shelter for gas. They had a few programs designed to help working people. If they couldn’t help me with gas, I was pretty sure that they had bus passes. Either way, appealing to the organization that was feeding me seemed like my best bet.
I arrived just on time, scanned my badge, and rode the elevator up. Before my morning meeting with Mr. Brockton, I sat down at my desk to get a few things done. Turning the computer on, I checked email to get a sense of what was in store that day. There were no emergencies and nothing pressing that had to get done. That meant I could work on the newsletter and the internal memos that Mr. Brockton wanted me to help facilitate. There was an entire graphics department and a publishing arm that handled communications, but the CEO was in charge of providing content. He asked me to gather some statistics from the quarterly reports and the names and stories of any new staff members, myself included. All of that was going to go into a friendly company email that would hit inboxes the following week.
I waited until it was nine-thirty, then grabbed my pen and paper and knocked on Mr. Brockton’s door.
“Come in!” he called.
I pushed my way through, prepared for another morning prep session. Instead, I found he was already in a meeting. A beautiful woman with a shock of pink hair sat opposite the CEO, her legs crossed beneath a fashionably understated gown. I hesitated, not sure if I should interrupt.
Mr. Brockton waved me forward, and they both stood up. “Ava, this is my mom, Mariah Harris. Mom, this is Ava.”
Mariah reached out a hand, and I shuffled my notebook around so I could reach for it. I was instantly drawn to her. Whether it was the comfortable aura or the warm smile, I couldn’t be sure, but something about Mariah Brockton put me at ease.
“Ava,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I shot a death stare at my boss, forgetting for a moment that hewasmy boss. He clearly had filled his mother in on my living situation. What else could she be talking about? I felt my spine stiffen. I didn’t know where this conversation was going, but it couldn’t be anywhere good. A mother was bound to have ideas about taking care of her son’s employees. That must be why she was there, and what I thought was a meeting at first was looking a lot more like an ambush.
I shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say. I didn’t need to worry, though; Mariah went on as if there was no problem.
“We’re so glad to have you on board,” the woman gushed. “Nate has been telling me how punctual and organized you are.”
I slid another scathing look at the CEO. Punctual and organized was the best he could come up with? I would show him. I was going to be the best damned secretary he had ever seen. That was if I could make it out of this room alive.
“Why don’t you have one of the doughnuts?” Mariah asked.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
