Page 66 of Unbelonging
I paused, meeting his gaze. "For what?"
"What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing," I said. And with that, I climbed inside.
He leaned down, studying me through the broken window. "Stop by later," he said.
He hadn't phrased it as a question.
"Your place?" I said. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Because."
"That's no kind of answer," I said.
He met my gaze. "It wasn't meant to be." And with that, he straightened and stepped away from the car.
Talk about arrogant. No way was I stopping by. I wasn't into the whole command performance thing. I started the car and shifted into reverse. I gave him a tiny wave and pulled onto the street. Did he wave back? I have no idea. I kept my eyes on the road, looking forward, the only direction that mattered.
As I drove, the frigid air poured through the broken window and whipped around inside my car, making it hard to hear anything beyond my own thoughts, which alternated between the urge to beat Brittney's ass and fantasies of winning the lottery.
If I won the lottery, I decided, I'd buy a restaurant and make Brittney work at it. Then I'd come in and dance on the tables and make her feel cheap and stupid for working for a living.
Or, I'd just move to Bermuda.
The lottery distractions did little to help. By the halfway point, my hands and feet were numb from the cold, and I couldn't stop shivering.
With my first paycheck, I decided, I'd go shopping for a new car. Sure, it wouldn’t be a brand new car, and I'd still have to finance it, but it was time to let the Fiesta go. I was a professional person now, I told myself. I couldn't be tooling around in an old beater with questionable heat and a long list of other problems.
But what would I do until then? My first paycheck was still a few weeks off. I couldn't exactly pay for the repairs and still have money for a down payment on something newer. Was I really willing to drive around for the next couple of weeks with no heat and a broken window?
I felt myself smile. No. Not anymore. Because I didn't have to. Screw it. Right after I signed those employment papers, I'd head to the nearest car dealership and see about trading in the Fiesta for something better.
And if that dealership wasn't willing to cut me a fair deal, I'd just hit another one. If everything went as planned, this would be my last day with unreliable transportation.
Pulling into the parking lot of my new employer, I was so caught up in my dreams of a new car that it took me a minute to realize that something was different – and very wrong.
The company was located in an industrial section, crammed with old factories and warehouses. The business itself consisted of a small one-story aluminum-sided office building next to their much larger warehouse facility.
There was only one problem. The spot where the warehouse used to be now contained a sprawling pile of charred rubble. Off to the side, I saw piles of twisted car parts, stacked here and there, as if someone had been working to salvage and sort anything that might still be of value.
Sitting in my frozen car, I looked out over the destruction, wondering what had happened, and if anyone had gotten hurt. Had anyone been inside at the time? My stomach clenched. If anyone had, and they'd been unable to make it out, they wouldn’t have survived to tell about it.
Vaguely, I realized that from somewhere inside my purse, my cell phone was ringing. Distracted, I dug through, pulled it out, and answered without looking. "Hello?"
"Jeez, who peed inyouroatmeal?" Loretta said.
Goes to show what she knew. I didn't even like oatmeal. "No one peed in anything," I told her, trying to control my spinning thoughts. "Why'd you call?"
"You know," she said, "you really should work on your phone manners."
"Myphone manners?"
"Yes, your phone manners," she said. "Try smiling when you answer the phone. It'll make you sound like less of a sourpuss."
"Hey," I said, "I wasn't the one who mentioned oatmeal and pee in the same sentence."
I eyed the destruction in front of me. The hiring manager had described the warehouse as the heart of the company. They would rebuild it, wouldn’t they? They had insurance, right?
