Page 13 of The Bonus

Great, now the tantrum is over, he’s going to give me the silent treatment. “Are you not talking to me?” I ask.

“I have nothing to say.” He keeps writing.

“Gabriel…”

He lets out an over exaggerated sigh as he glances up. “What is it?”

“I don’t want this to end badly.”

“It’s already ended. You can finish now. No need to come back and work this week, I’ve signed the last of your leave documents. You are free to go.”

I get a lump in my throat as I stare at him…that’s it?

He really doesn’t care.

He keeps his head down as he writes, seemingly totally unaffected.

I will not cry in front of this selfish bastard, it’s all about him…it’s always been about him.

I quietly close his office door and walk to my desk. I take my bag from the drawer and, with one long last look around the office, I feel my heart break.

Maybe he’s right, maybe I am doing the wrong thing. Who’s to say I’m going to like Greenville, anyway?

No.

This is what he wants. If I give up on my dream now, I’m only cheating myself.

No pain, no gain.

The thing about being a glutton for punishment is this…

Nothing.

Turns out that I’m a total ho for gluttony punishment and there is no excuse for my needy behavior. After tossing and turning all night, there’s only one thing I know.

I am not a quitter.

Just as I said I would, I will work until the end of the week and then I’m going to the Christmas party looking shit hot and then I’m walking out on my terms. He cannot finish me up on a whim.

Who the fuck does he think he is, anyway?

Right on 8:20 a.m., I knock on his door.

“Yes,” he barks.

I smirk, he’s annoyed that I came back. Well…prepare to be angered, fucker. I open the door in a rush and step back as my eyes widen in horror.

He’s making coffee in his briefs. Black, sexy Calvin Klein ones.

Lingerie for men.

He turns toward me, giving me a full frontal. “What are you doing here?”

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.

“Ahhh.” My eyes bulge from their sockets. “What are you doing…?” I put my hands up toward his body. I’m flabbergasted as my eyes drop to the bulge in his briefs. “Doing that,” I gasp.

“I’m making fucking coffee, what does it look like?”

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