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“Will you at least write me a reference letter?” she pleaded, hating herself for having to beg Vernon for anything.
But what else could she do?
If he wrote her a reference, he couldn't later claim that she was a horrible employee and wasn't entitled to unemployment benefits.
“Of course.” Vernon Hoffesommer III looked relieved. “In fact, you can write whatever you want, and I'll sign it.”
That was better than Frankie had expected, but knowing Vernon, she'd better write it and get his signature before she left, or he would later claim he'd never promised to do it. Right now, he obviously wanted to get rid of her as fast as possible, and she needed to take advantage of that.
“Thank you.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “I'll type it up right now, so I don't need to return for it.”
Vernon's expression soured, confirming her suspicion that he was desperate to get rid of her, but he nodded. “Make it short.”
Was his 'niece' in the waiting room? Ready to jump into Frankie's seat or onto Vernon's lap?
Probably.
“I'll be right back.” She rose to her high-heeled feet and walked out of his office holding her chin up, even though she was faking it big time.
After typing up a glowing reference letter, she actually checked it for spelling mistakes before printing it out and striding back into Vernon's office.
He read through the letter with a grimace, twisting his fleshy lips, and when he shook his head, Frankie held her breath, but then he reached for his pen and signed it.
“Good luck, Francesca.”
Unbelievable.
Frankie hadn't thought he would actually sign the thing. She'd made herself sound like the best assistant an executive could ever hope for.
To sign that, Vernon must have felt guilty for kicking her out to make room for his 'niece.'
Relief washing over her, she took the printed page from his hairy fingers and offered him her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Hoffesommer.”
In exchange for his signature on the letter, she was willing to suffer his gross touch one last time.
Vernon had never done anything more than put his sweaty paw on her shoulder or her upper arm while passing by her desk, so it wasn't enough to sue his ass for sexual harassment, but to say that it had been unwelcome was to put it mildly.
Dreading his slimy touch, she'd stopped wearing outfits that exposed her shoulders or arms to the office.
Back at her desk, Frankie collected the one picture of her family and the tiny cactus she'd brought to decorate her space. Lifting her eyes, she scanned the rest of the staff working in the office's main room. She searched for one face that she would miss, but none of them even bothered to look up.
Hell, she'd made some friends during the eighteen months she'd worked there. They could at least wish her luck.
Turning around, she saw why no one dared to lift their heads.
Vernon stood at the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and resting on his large belly.
Was he worried that she would steal a pen? Or maybe a book of stamps?
Plastering on a smile, she waved at her former coworkers. “Goodbye, everyone.” She turned to Vernon with that smile still affixed to her face. “Goodbye, Mr. Hoffesommer. I hope your 'niece' will like it here better than I did.”
Dagor
“What do you think?” Negal pointed with his chin at the two women walking through the door of the coffee shop that had become their refuge over the weekend.
The females were pretty, for young humans that is, but neither had the poise, elegance, and self-assurance that Dagor appreciated in his companions.
Sneakers and jeans just did not do it for him, and neither did all the skin decorations that were so fashionable among the young humans in this city.
