Page 10 of Downpour

“I have a job to do.”

“I fired you,” I clipped.

Cassandra looked like she was about to claw the woman’s eyes out. “If you don’t leave, you have two choices. Either I can find someone to shoot you and bury you in the south pasture, or I can beat you to death with that kitchen towel in your hand. Take your pick.”

“This family is just as crazy as everyone said,” she yammered as she grabbed her oversized quilted purse and stormed out.

I lifted my wrist and managed a half-decent middle finger. She should have listened the first time.

Why didn’t people listen to me? They always thought I was joking or that I wasn’t the final say on who got to set foot in my house.

Cassandra waited until the woman stomped to her car before closing the door behind her. “I brought your mail down. Marty sent some documents for you to sign.”

“Get Christian to do it,” I grumbled. “He’s my power of attorney.”

“You really have to stop firing people,” she said without the slightest bit of emotion. “We’re getting a reputation.”

“Isn’t it your job to fix people’s reputations? This should be child’s play for you.”

Cassandra dropped the mail on the table and pushed the chairs in. She picked up the tea towel the loud-mouthed grandma had dropped so it wouldn’t get caught under my chair, and hung it over the dishwasher handle.

“I offered to bring you on as a client. You said no, remember? I don’t offer twice. If you want my help, you know where to find me.”

I rolled into the living room and parked myself in front of the sliding door. “I don’t need a publicist.”

“Marty says otherwise, and I agree with him.”

The thought of Marty and his new rider made my blood boil. They could both go to hell as far as I was concerned.

Cassandra tapped a manicured nail on the envelopes. “Sign them and let me know when they’re done. I’ll put them with the outgoing mail.”

“Chris can do it.”

“Fine,” she said, all too agreeably for my comfort. Cassandra was anything but agreeable.

Maybe that’s why we got along so well.

“But that means he’s going to come down here and lecture you. Do you really want him asking why you firedanotherCNA?”

I glared at her. “Leave a pen on the table.”

She smirked, knowing she had won. “Call if you need something.”

“I won’t.”

She shrugged like it was no big deal. “Suit yourself.”

The door closed behind her and I waited until the click of her high heels faded into the distance before I breathed again.

Finally alone.

I eased up to the kitchen table and made a reach for the first envelope. My physical therapist had chewed my ass out this morning for not working on my left hand, but I didn’t feel like failing today.

I knew what was stuffed in the envelopes. Contract terminations from two more sponsors.

Rule number one of almost dying: make sure someone knows your passwords. It’s hard to cancel your phone plan if you’re dead.

Rule number two of almost dying: make sure your house is clean before you walk up the steps to the pearly gates. It makes selling off your life easier.

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