Page 378 of Hate Mates

He ended his phone call and looked at me.

“What?” he questioned.

I shook my head.

“Go on, say it,”

“You could be a bit nicer you know.”

“Nicer? They gave my ex-wife her own key to my house!”

“And I’m having that fixed for you right now. But you do realize you will have to give your daughter one, and your ex-wife could still end up with a key. Plus, I’m sure it was just a mistake on their part. Something they haven’t ever questioned before. Your divorce was new to them months ago.”

“You have a lot of insight for someone who is just an assistant.”

I stood up from the chair and sucked in a deep breath, “I’m notjustan assistant. I’m a person too and if you can’t see that then maybe you don’t deserve to have me here anymore. I know it’s only been a couple of months, but I’ve been putting up with your shit-tastic attitudes daily. I’ve been letting you verbally abuse me and those around you because what? You are salty about your divorce? News flash! Many people are salty about divorces. They happen, and sometimes it’s for the better. Take a look at that side of it. Oliver is working on your locks, so I’ll stay until he’s done, but then after that, I’m heading home for the rest of the day.”

Home. A place that wasn’t really home, but it was where my stuff was, so I considered home.

“You should know something though,” he said.

“What’s that?” I questioned, not even bothering to look up from the laptop screen.

“I plan to retire from acting as soon as this series wraps up. So, your services won’t be needed after that and we haven’t been renewed yet,” he said standing up from his chair and walking out of the room.

I sat there feeling like someone had punched the air from my stomach. This was my first solo assignment here and I already failed within just a couple of months.

I sat there trying to process what Jason just dropped while I completed the important items that needed to be worked on.

I collected my stuff and shuffled toward the kitchen where Oliver was working changing the back door lock.

“Everything okay?” He questioned.

I nodded, “how much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Not much. The front and side are done, and this one is just about finished, I’m done for the day if you want to grab a bite to eat?”

“I, I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to get home and get some stuff done,” I lied.

“No problem. Working for this guy I’m sure you are always swamped.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. I waited by the back door for Oliver to finish. He handed me three keys. I left two on the kitchen island with a note attached to them and took the third one for myself.

Getting through the press out front was rough, but manageable. The drive home felt longer than usual. I pulled into the familiar parking lot and parked in the same spot I’ve been parking for months.

“Hello Miss Camden,” the man at the counter said to me as I walked by.

“Good afternoon,” I replied as I made my way to the old and barely functional elevators.

A place like this having elevators that work was surprising to say the least. I walked to room four and opened the door. The darkness and quiet greeted me.

I tossed my keys down onto the table and flipped on a light to the very small studio hotel room that I was calling home.

My phone buzzed just as I sat down on the small loveseat against the wall.

“There are a ton of press outside your boss’s house!” My best friend Eden exclaimed into the phone.

I sighed, “yeah, I know.”

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