Page 5 of Moonlit Kisses

She struts by me without a word. Shrugging, I make myself a coffee and get to work, replying to emails, booking viewings, and making appointments for rental inspections. It’s ironic that I work for a real estate agent, and yet I’m on the brink of losing my apartment. Day in, day out, I facilitate people finding their new home while I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my own.

A pile of papers land on my keyboard. “These need to be stapled again. The staples aren’t exactly straight with the top of the paper. Do it now because I need them by nine.” Mrs. Dunsley storms away without a please or thank you, which is usual for her. I pick up the papers that I stapled yesterday, studying the fasteners closely. She must have freaking measured them with a ruler, because they all look parallel to the top of the page to me. Because I know how particular she is, I always take care to make sure I work to her exacting standards. Rolling my eyes, I pull out the staple remover and get to work, removing the staples carefully, because heaven forbid, I tear or bend the pages. She’d have me print the pages again and take the money for the additional expense out of my paycheck. She’s done that before.

The bell rings above the door, and when I look up, a genuine smile spreads. “Good morning, Peter.” I quickly stand as he comes around to me, his arms open wide. He wasn’t in yesterday when I came back to work.

Embracing me tightly, he whispers, “How are you, Mols? We missed your smiling face around here. Are you okay?” He gives me a tight squeeze, then releases me and takes my hands in his. “I’m so sorry about everything you’ve been through. Is there anything you need?”

Tears flood my eyes, forming streams down my cheeks and dripping from my chin. My nose immediately turns into a snot factory, and it’s taking everything within me to stay on my feet. With a hiccupping sob, I work to catch my breath and stifle my tears. With a watery smile, I finally respond, “You– You’re the first person to hug me and ask me if I’m okay since I lost my family. I’m sor– … sorry I broke down like that.” I’m mortified that my emotions overflowed so readily in front of one of the agents. Peter’s always been like a second father to me. It shouldn’t surprise me he was the first person to show his care and concern. I didn’t realize how lonely and alone I’ve felt since that dreadful night until he hugged me.

He pulls me back into his large body, wrapping one hand around the back of my head and guiding it to his chest. “Oh, you poor girl. You’ve been through so much. Too much for someone as young as you.” He pats my back, holding me close while I work to get myself under control.

“What the hell is going on out here? Is any work getting done?” Mrs. Dunsley’s voice cracks like a bolt of lightning through the small front office. I immediately remove myself from Peter’s kind embrace, keeping my eyes on the floor.

Peter’s deep rumbling voice cuts through the quiet. “I was checking in on Molly. Making sure she’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t she be? We gave her time off to deal with her situation.” She turns her body toward mine, addressing me directly. “You were supposed to deal with all this in your own time.” She waves her hand around my face. “I expect you to be more professional when you’re at work.”

I feel Peter bristling beside me and place my hand gently on his arm to prevent him from speaking on my behalf. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dunsley. It won’t happen again.”

She looks between me and Peter and gives a sharp nod before strutting away. I mouth ‘thank you’ to Peter and make my way to the bathroom to wash my face. I can’t greet people at the front desk with snot running down my face and red, swollen eyes. It would be embarrassing, not to mention unprofessional.

I step into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. As I’m filling my glass, someone walks in behind me. I’m about to turn around to say hello when I hear a huff. My shoulders tense and I mentally prepare for her venom.

“My God, Molly. How many times have I told you the handle on the coffeepot needs to be on the left? I’m left-handed,” she huffs as her eyes narrow at me. “Do you do it deliberately? Leave the handle on the right, knowing I have to twist the pot around?” I blink several times, unable to answer. “Well?” she snaps.

Shit. I never thought about it, but I guess if I wanted to annoy her, I could have purposely done that. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dunsley. It won’t happen again.” I feel like it’s all I ever do around here; apologize for being unable to meet the exacting standards she sets.

“Oh, Iknowit won’t.” She smirks as she pours her coffee and heads out of the kitchen.What’s that supposed to mean?

I skip my lunch break with the hope I’ll catch up on some of the work I’ve missed over the past week. It’s difficult to focus with my thoughts scattered as I wait for Mr. Dunsley to arrive in the office so I can speak to him about an advance. If he doesn’t agree, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll be like the women I support on a weekly basis at the shelter. I’ll go back to living out of a car, like I did when I was a child.

He finally breezes in at four p.m. “Don’t disturb me. No phone calls,” he barks at me as he hurriedly strides past my desk to his office, slamming his door behind him.

My smile drops and my shoulders slump. How am I going to ask him about my advance?Shit!

I power through the rest of the afternoon, working past my usual finish time. At six-thirty, I gather enough courage to knock on my boss’s door.

“What?” Hmmm, he still sounds pissed. Maybe I should leave it for today and ask tomorrow? “You may as well come in now that you’ve disturbed me,” he snaps out through the paper-thin barrier between us.

My hand shakes as I turn the knob and perspiration forms beneath my armpits. I’m going to have sweat stains on my good shirt at this rate. I poke my head inside as the space between the door and the jamb widens. “Uhm, sorry to interrupt.”

He waves me in as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t be timid, girl. You’ve interrupted me now. Sit down.” He gestures to the chair opposite his large glass desk. “I need to speak with you, anyway.”

“Do I need my notebook?”

“No. I’ll be quick.” He folds his hands, one on top of the other, on the glass table, and I can’t help but notice his right leg twitching up and down. “The housing market has slowed considerably over the last two months and we’re going to have to let go of some staff.” I nod. I’ve noticed the drop in property numbers. I figured they would have to let a couple of agents go; I only hope it’s not Peter. He’s lovely and he has teenage boys that he’s putting through college. He presses forward, leaning heavily on the glass, which I fear is going to crack underneath his weight. “I’m going to have to ask you to clean out your desk today. We’re letting you go.” He awkwardly spreads his lips in what I guess is supposed to be a reassuring smile and my mind blanks.

Did he just fire me?

I came in here to ask for an advance. I didn’t even get the chance to open my mouth, and he’s firing me. On the freaking spot with no notice! Is this a joke?

I scan the office, looking for cameras and for someone to shout out that I’ve been ‘punked’. But there’s nothing hinting at a trick for a stupid television show.

How can this be happening? I’ve lost my family. Now I’ve lost my job and because of that, I’m going to lose my apartment!

Dropping my face into my hands, I shake my head, tears falling unbidden. Trying to suck in a full breath, I raise my head to the ceiling, attempting to stem my tears. “I can’t believe you’re firing me without notice.”

He shrugs carelessly. “Sorry. It’s nothing personal, you know. We can’t keep hemorrhaging money. It’s not like you bring in a commission. We’re in business to make money, not lose it.”

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