Page 93 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

“You’re fired, Josephine,” I say. My voice is casual, my words lacking any vitriol, but inside I’m fuming.

It’s almost comical to watch the woman’s jaw drop, to watch her expression flutter into one of shock.

I don’t wait for her to respond. “I saw video footage of you visiting locker twelve in the weights room. I found the Viagra inside not twenty minutes ago.” I open my drawer and pull out the little baggie I retrieved from the locker, setting it on the desk in front of me before I continue. “I don’t know if you’re truly so cold that you don’t care about the damage you could do, or if you simply think you have a good reason, but either way, it’s unacceptable.Especiallyfor an employee. Do you have anything to say?”

“I—” she stutters. “I didn’t—”

“Yes?” I prompt when she falls silent.

“Bowie was an idiot to take anything he shouldn’t have been taking,” she finally says, and for the first time I see something more than sarcasm or disdain from Josephine. It’s in the way her chin trembles, in the way her eyes turn glassy, but also in the way the words burst out of her.

She feels bad about what happened, but more than that, she’srelievedto finally be talking about it.

“He knew he shouldn’t take it,” she goes on, shaking her head and swiping angrily at her eyes behind her glasses. “That man was always stupid.”

“Harsh words, considering the pills came from you,” I say, interested to watch this play out.

“I didn’t know he was the one asking for them!” she says. “I don’t do names. They just leave the money in the locker, and they pick up the pills the next day.” And then, to my amazement, Josephine crumples before me and begins to cry.

I mean, she doesn’tactuallycrumple, like falling to the ground. But she curls in on herself, a few tears trailing down her face, and suddenly she just seems like a very old woman.

“I’ve been so worried, ever since Bowie. If he was that stupid, I’m sure others are too. But I just needed the money,” she says. She pats her hip. “My last surgery racked up some bills I wasn’t ready for, and my daughter and her fool of a husband are both drinking their money away. And my nephew works in a pharmacy, so…”

Wow. Not going to touch that one, but I’m pretty sure it’s all kinds of illegal.

“You’ll receive severance pay,” I say, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I debate for a second with what I’m about to say, but something about this moment is reminding me forcefully of when Maya first stormed into my office, asking me to show mercy. “And you’ll be allowed to stay in the community,” I finally muster, if not a little grudgingly. “As long asyou put an end to the Viagra trade. Immediately. I can also”—I break off as I stand and open the top drawer of the filing cabinet, digging around until I find what I’m looking for—“give you this.” I hold the pamphlet out to her. “There are financial aid programs available in Florida for the elderly, Josephine. Look into those.”

For a second I think she’s going to leave me hanging, but after a second she reaches out with one shaking hand and accepts the pamphlet.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice already resuming its gruff, closed-off quality that I’m used to from her. I wonder briefly what happened to Josephine to make her so bitter, but I know I’ll never ask.

Instead I just nod, gesturing to the door. “Please drop by HR just down the hallway. That will be all, Josephine.”

For a second she looks like she wants to say something more, but then she shakes her head, stands up, and shuffles out of my office.

My sigh is weary, drawn out, and full of exhaustion as I lean back in my chair. As much as it’s going to be a pain finding a new receptionist, I also can’t deny the lightness I feel at having this problem taken care of.

This is shaping up to be a productive day—there’s just one more thing I want to do.

* * *

“Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Ellis,” I say when Maya picks up. “This is Dexter Anthony from the main office. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Maya laughs, and the sound sends pleasurable shivers down my spine. “Hello, Dexter Anthony from the main office. What would you like to discuss?”

“Miss Ellis,” I say, “were you aware that there’s an age requirement to live in Sunset Horizons?” It’s the exact same thing I said to her on the phone the day we met.

Silence.

My lips twitch, but I try to keep my voice serious as I go on.

“I take it from your lack of response that you weren’t aware. Well, there is. We require residents of this community to be fifty years of age or older.” I pause dramatically, then say, “However…”

And that seems to reinstate her ability to speak.

“However…what?” she says quickly.

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