Page 41 of Fake for 7 days

So I would wait until my boss - my former boss - came out of his office.

At that moment, he yanked the door open from the inside. Even in the semi-darkness of the hallway, I could see that his face and his bald head were bright red. His piggy eyes, on the other hand, were barely visible.

"What do you think you're doing?" he yelled as loudly as before.

"Mr. Kershaw, I'm sorry," I said as quickly as I could to interrupt the impending fit of rage. "I had no intention of disturbing your phone call, certainly not."

"You came into my office without being asked!"

"I'm sorry," I assured him again. "I thought I heard a 'Yes' from you. But maybe that wasn't meant for me."

Emmett looked at me, boiling with rage. "Just get out of here! You don't work here anymore, haven't you realized that yet? You don't even have the right to be here. There's a big sign at the front of the hallway that saysPrivate - Authorized Personnel Only. You must know that."

I swallowed. This really wasn't going well. Terrible. At least, I consoled myself, Emmett Kershaw was talking to me at all, and as long as that was the case, not all was lost. So I bravely kept talking.

"I'm here because I wanted to... uh... want to ask you for something," I quickly corrected myself.

"You can forget about your job. No one needs workers like you, really no one. Your colleague Nina does the job much better."

Gina. Her name is Gina.

I held back this comment. If Emmett Kershaw couldn't or didn't want to remember Gina's name, that wasn't my problem.

"I need a letter of recommendation. I worked here for several months, even before you bought the hotel. It's my first practical experience in the hotel industry after the evening course. So a letter would be good. For my applications." While I had initially presented my request as confidently as possible, my sentences became shorter and more confused towards the end.

Damn it, Isabella. Don't justify yourself. You have every right to ask Emmett Kershaw for a letter of recommendation.

"You can't seriously believe that I'd waste even a minute of my time writing you such a ridiculous letter?" My boss's scornful reply instantly shattered all the hopes I'd had when entering the hotel. I felt so weak that I had to lean against the wall with its old-fashioned, slightly musty-smelling wallpaper.

"What should I mention in such a letter? That you're constantly misplacing things, arriving late, and eavesdropping on your boss's private phone calls?" The accusations Emmett Kershaw leveled against me felt like lashes from a whip.

"That's not who I am at all," I protested.

"Oh, really? That's how I've come to know you!"

"Maybe I've lost a thing or two occasionally. And I was late once. That's all."

Emmett took a step toward me, bringing his face uncomfortably close to mine. I would have loved to take a step back, but since I was leaning against the wall, that escape route was blocked.

"Listen here, you insolent piece of work. I'm not going to write you any letter. No matter what wonders you think you've performed here, or not. Whether you get a letter or not is entirely my decision. MINE. Because I'm the boss here. You can beg me on your knees - you still won't get it." The longer Emmett spoke, the closer he brought his face to mine. Again, I wiped a speck of spit from my cheek.

I shuddered with disgust.

Beg on my knees.

At this thought, I shuddered again. What a domineering sadist!

"And if you're wondering where your salary is at the end of the month, I can tell you exactly. Here! You'll get exactly nothing, because you haven't done your job!" Emmett Kershaw now looked as triumphant as only a true sadist could.

I felt sick.

No salary!

My situation was getting worse and worse.

Without money, I was ruined!

And in no time at all!

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