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“Ah, Summer.” Dillon wetly cleared his throat and leaned into his large metal desk, causing his chair to complain loudly. “Take a seat.” With a portly hand, he indicated to the small plastic chair in front of his desk, and I forced my smile wider.
I had little love for the loud, rotund man that held power here, but while his sleaziness had never touched me directly, I knew that staying too long in his office—alone—could result in Dillon getting the wrong idea.
I presumed he was just lonely in the early days of working here, but the years had taught me that he was simply power-hungry. I lowered myself into the seat and draped my coat and items over my knee, trying to keep the excitement at bay. It was wrong to get my hopes up, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“I’m sorry, Summer, but we’re letting you go.”
It was as if the winter storm outside had crashed through the walls to deliver those words. The smile faltered on my lips, and my eyes widened as I struggled to understand.
“Wh… what?”
“We’re letting you go,” Dillon repeated shortly. “With immediate effect.”
“I… I don’t understand?” I clutched at my coat, my knuckles bleeding white from the strength of my grip, and I scooted forward to the edge of the chair. “Why? What? Why?! I haven’t done anything, have I? Is it a customer complaint?” I straightened up suddenly, my back as stiff as a board. “Was it Mr. Trunkle? Because he acted against regulations, I even checked—”
“No, Summer.” Dillon raised one thick hand to silence my tirade. “It wasn’t Mr. Trunkle. It wasn’t anyone but you. I’m sorry, but I can’t have someone with your reputation working here. This establishment houses the elite and the upper class, and someone such as yourself… well, I’m sure you can imagine that once our clientele finds out…” Dillon shook his head so violently that his thick chin wobbled. “I’m sorry, Summer, you’re an excellent worker, but I just can’t have your kind here.”
A terrible chill swept through me so quickly that the hairs on my arms and legs shot to attention. My gut clenched painfully, and nausea grew in my throat, teasing the burn of acid on the back of my tongue.
“My… my reputation?” I stammered softly. “What are you talking about? Mykind?”
Dillon’s large face suddenly flushed darkly, and he cleared his throat. “You’re not going to make me say it…”
“Oh, I am!” I snapped suddenly as the cold dread snapped to heated anger. “Dillon, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Your…outsidework,” Dillon clarified, pressing his fingertips together. “It’s not becoming of a young lady like yourself, and it’s not in line with Belancio’s business practices. I’m sorry.”
“Dillon,” I demanded sharply, “stop talking in riddles. What are you saying?”
Dillon sighed and turned to his computer, tapping furiously at the keyboard for a few seconds, then he turned the monitor around to face me.
“We received several complaints from guests whostumbledacross your work on other…sites,” Dillon explained, but his voice began to fade to the background as the furious thump of my heart began to fill my ears.
Displayed on the screen was row after row of saucy pictures. A scantily clad woman—me—was present in every photo, in various states of undress and in multiple risqué poses. I wanted to defend myself; after all, the pictures weren’t the best quality and could belong to any brunette. However, just as those words formed on the tip of my tongue, something Dillon said cut through the fog I was under.
“That’s your tattoo, right?” Dillon said, tapping a lower photo with his pen. “The daisy chain on your ankle?”
I stared at the picture until my eyes blurred, unable to comprehend how these pictures stillexisted,nevermind how they got put in an e-mail to my boss.
“Who…” I tried, but emotion clogged my throat, and I had to swallow a few times before trying again. “Who sent these?”
“I’m afraid I can’t reveal that,” Dillon said, “but we received them through various sources and… I’m sorry, Summer, there’s nothing I can do. You’re fired.”
Those words followed me like a ghost all the way back down to the lobby. Those pictures… I hadn’t seen them in years. They were old pictures taken by my abusive ex-boyfriend Felix during the thinly veiledhappytimes. Back then, I had been young and more reckless with my body and my life; I had posed like there was no tomorrow. After he was sent to prison, I had done everything I could to destroy those pictures, yet somehow they resurfaced online.
I walked past everyone until Roger touched my arm and pulled me from my daze. The lack of sparkle in his eyes earlier and Sophie’s extra tart attitude suddenly made sense. I had no doubt that Dillon could not keep those pictures a secret.
“Summer,” Roger said softly, “I’m so sorry.”
Still in a daze, I turned my glassy eyes to Roger as he began helping me back into my coat.
“What am I going to do?” I whispered. Roger helped me rewind my scarf around my neck, tucked my hat onto my head, and then settled a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“You need anything,” Roger said quietly, “then you call me. Agnes and I would hate for anything to happen to you.”
“Give her my best,” I smiled slightly, cuddling into my coat. Then I turned and trudged back outside into the city’s dying light and the storm’s rising winds. I doubted I would ever see Roger or his wife again, not if she found out about those pictures.
How… how had this happened?
