Page 21 of Pretend for Me

I hesitated. Today had already been so draining to begin with, I really didn’t have the energy to deal with another one of Bridget’s tirades, but I knew Audrey wouldn’t rest until I called.

“Fine.” I pressed the number for Bridget’s cell phone, hoping I wasn’t calling too late, but then again Bridget was always at the restaurant.

“Hello?” Bridget snapped into the speaker. Even over the phone, she was a scary woman.

Audrey stood in front of me, doing all these theatrics, insisting that I place the call on speaker. I waved her off, walking away, and tried to close the door to my bedroom. But Little Miss Crazy wouldn’t let that happen.

“Audrey said you wanted to speak to me?” I prompted, sitting on the edge of my bed, watching Audrey do kung fu moves, accidentally kicking Oreo as a result.

Meow.The fluffy striped overweight cat protested at being hit before settling back down and falling asleep.

“Yes, I was thinking that maybe I was too rash the other day. Firing you might have not been the best avenue, especially with our busy season coming up. I’d like for you to come back. I’m confident we can work things out. Maybe we could consider it a provisional period.”

I was dumbfounded. Who was this, and what had they done with the real Bridget?

“Bridget, I appreciate the job offer. I really do, but I think you made the right choice. I need to move on.”

Audrey shook her head, urging me to not be too quick to decline getting the job back. She silently told me to ask for more money. “A raise. Ask for a raise,” she mouthed repeatedly, but I waved Audrey off for the umpteenth time.

“NO!” Bridget shouted suddenly, alarmed. “I mean, no Cassie, that will not work. You’ve been with the restaurant a while and we value you.” It sounded like Bridget was in pain, saying all this.

“Bridget, that's a kind offer, but I don’t think it's a good fit.”

“Cassie, please, name anything you want and it’s yours,” Bridget pleaded.

Anything? If I did in fact have the upper hand, I was sure going to use it.

“Well, I guess if you put it like that…” I began again.

The possibilities were endless on what to ask from Bridget. The ice queen was melting, but the question was why? I would have to think about what motivated Bridget's sudden change of heart later, but for the time being, I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I paused, making sure I had my demands straightened in my mind. Who could properly concentrate with Audrey doing all these odd dance moves in the background and mouthing the words to a song only she knows.

“Any day now, Cassandra,” Bridget snapped. “I’m sorry, but I have a restaurant to close. It’s been a long day withthe Timesand everything …”

I pursed my lips and spoke firmly. “For starters, stop speaking to me like I’m beneath you. Just because I don’t have a large bank account doesn’t mean you can treat me like shit.”

Audrey stopped mid dance move. “Holy shit!” She gasped aloud. Her jaw was slack, and if it could have hit the ground, it would have. I never spoke with such dominance and conviction.

But I wasn’t going to be deterred—Bridget opened up this can of worms, and she’d have to deal with the repercussions.

“Is that all—” Bridget interrupted.

“No, and please let me finish. I will under no circumstances serve Matthew, or any of the Adams for that matter. In fact, add yourself to that category as well. And I want a raise.” I looked over at Audrey who was cheering me on. “For Audrey. She’s been working for you long enough. Don’t you think it’s time?”

I honestly couldn’t give a shit about the money. Money in general made me uncomfortable. As long as I had enough to make ends meet, I was content.

“Okay, I?—”

I was a woman on a mission so I barreled on. “And no more hair pins. Those things are painful and unnecessary.”Much like this conversation,I added mentally. “A ponytail will still adhere to the dress code and your desired professionalism level.”

I looked over at my drawings on the wall and got inspiration for the final “request.”

“One more thing … you know how last month you let those rich bitc— women showcase their handmade jewelry on a table out front by the hostess station?” I walked over and took one of my sketches in my hand.

“Yes, I remember. Why?” Bridget almost whined.

“Well, I draw and paint and have been looking for the proper place to get my foot in the door. Seems like your establishment is the perfect stepping stone,” I announced, feeling pretty smug.

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