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“I can’t say.”
“Come on. Stealing cash?”
“Gem, I really can’t say.”
“Ugh. I knew you’d be difficult about this whole thing but I didn’t know you’d bethisdifficult. Moving on. Your boss caught you there, and you and he argued? Is that right?”
“He yelled. Said I was a crappy employee. He nearly had a hernia, I think.” I grin, remembering how Glenn’s face turned tomato-red that night he fired me. “I think he was bluffing, when he yelled that I was fired. I’m the reason he started that place in the beginning, and most clients come in to work with me. He figured I’d bow down and apologize. No way. I’ve been dealing with that guy for too long as it is. So, when he said I was fired, I said “thanks” and walked out of there. Didn’t look back.”
I add slivers of raw red pepper to the wok and stir them in. “Thankfully, he survived and I survived, and now we’re both coexisting. Peacefully, actually, now that he no longer employs me. At least, it’s peaceful on my end because I haven’t seen him since. I don’t know how it’ll be when I actually run into him.” I shrug. “ I guess I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“All I can say is you’re lucky he didn’t call the cops,” Gemma says. “That’d really mess up your eligibility, in the eyes of a potential mate. Okay, how am I supposed to word this whole thing succinctly?”
“It’s your paperwork. You’re going to have to figure that out.”
There’s a long pause and then I hear her read the answer aloud as she types.“ ‘My employment was terminated due to a conflict with my supervisor.’There. It’s true, but we’re not going to dwell on the part where you broke an actual law. So, what’s your job now?”
“I work at the Tipsy Tavern.”
“Okay…” She narrates her typing again. “ ‘I am currently employed at a local eatery, where I work as a server.’Is that right? Server?”
“Among other things.”
“Like?”
“Bouncer. Bar back. Stage hand. Janitor. Whatever needs to be done.”
“Great.” She types some more. “And… that section’s complete. Done. Finally. I actually think I can submit this whole form now. Thank you for at least being sort of truthful with me.”
She actually sounds grateful.
Which means I have some leverage.
“Hey… since I gave you some answers, think you could do the same for me? Or are you gonna dance around my question with the fancy footwork you’re so good at?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and Mortimer. Everything good with you guys? ‘Cause this morning you said it was fantastic, but I have a feeling that’s not the full story.”
She hesitates for so long that I have to stop stirring sizzling-hot veggies around the wok and check on her.
She didn’t pass out or anything. She’s just staring down at the counter top like maybe she’s contemplating another face-plant.
“Look, if it’s a sore subject, I won’t pry. It’s probably none of my business. But if you want to talk… I can listen. And youareasking me all sorts of stuff about my life.”
“No, no. I get it. Fair’s fair. Okay, just let me turn in this form so the software can start coding the answers.” I hear her start tapping keys again.
She’s stalling.
Which means I hit on a big, sensitive nerve.
I better tread carefully.
The last thing I want to do is cause Gemma any pain.
As she types, I check on the jasmine rice on the back burner. It’s done, so I lift it off and set it on a waiting ceramic hot pad that I staged nearby. Then I give the veggies one last flip, and turn that heat off, too. I grab two bowls from the cupboard and fill both with scoops of rice and steaming stir fry.
Behind me, Gemma clears her throat.
