Page 3 of The Re-Proposal

I look like an idiot.

But who cares about pride? The charity is in the red. More and more companies have pulled their support.

We need this.

I keep pressing. “Mr. Winifred, consider our history. The Do More Project has done amazing things for the community and for you.”

Winifred straightens.

“You assured me that you would continue to support the charity. Especially after our work on your public relations tour.”

That’s putting it nicely. Winifred paraded us and our clients in a media campaign to get a promotion. He swore to us that he’d have our backs when he took his corner office and pay raise. I should have known not to believe him.

Lips tightening, he grinds out, “Protesting won’t get you anywhere. It is what it is.” Winifred gestures to the door, subtly kicking us out.

I refuse to back down. “Mr. Winifred, can we at least have a private discussion?”

“No, that’s not possible.”

“But—”

“Miss Maura, unlike you, we have actual work to do. I don’t have time for this.”

My jaw slackens.

Laura bursts in front of me, red-faced. “At least we’re doing something to help people. Unlike you, you selfish prick!”

“Laura…” I tug at her sleeve.

“No, this isn’t fair! This guy’s a poser. I heard all about how he begged Ms. Phoebe to take pictures of him working at the charity. He had no problems using you guys. Now he thinks he’s so much better than us because we want a favor back?”

“Laura, that’s enough,” I say sharply. Turning to Mr. Winifred, I apologize. “She’s interning with us to earn extra credit. It hasn’t been long. She doesn’t know how things work yet.”

Behind me, Laura grumbles. “I know enough to say he’s a prick.”

I slant her a warning look.

“Kids these days.” Winifred tilts his chin up. “Our education system should be teaching you the skills you need to get a job. Instead they have you going around begging for money.”

My heart pinches.Begging for money?

“Say that again, you old fart. I dare you!” Laura launches forward, but I grab her this time and keep her in place.

Winifred juts his chin at the door with barely hidden annoyance. “Goodbye, Miss Maura. I trust you can find your way out.”

My voice cracks, but I force myself to remain professional. “Thank you for your time.”

Everyone watches our disgraced exit like we’re the last two survivors ofThe Titanic.

“Are we just going to leave?” Laura hisses.

“Yes,” I mumble, taking rushed steps to the door.

I’m halfway there when I hear a sickeningcrackand my right leg bucks like a new-born foul just learning to stand.

The room tilts.

My arms flail.

---