Page 5 of The Last Key
“So, you’ve noted my performance is fine, correct?”
“Yes. Well, generally speaking, your reviews from your editor have been—fine.”
“Great. And you said the length of time I’ve worked here doesn’t play a role?”
“Well, it’s a factor, but not the determining one.”
“Okay.” I look up at him. “And what would you say was the biggest issue with my professionalism?”
He pulls at his shirt collar. “Well, it’s not…” He huffs loudly. “Your outward appearance doesn’t meet the standards set by this department.”
I make a point of repeating every word back as I write it down. Then I look at him with sincerity. Well, fake sincerity, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Thank you for the chance to work here. I learned a lot.”
“Of course. No hard feelings. The economy is just,” he flits his hand back and forth in the air.
“Sure.”
I turn to leave and he calls after me. “Don’t forget to leave your badge with HR.”
Oh, I’ll leave plenty with HR.
When I walk back to my desk to collect my things, I’m feeling confident, until I feel the heat of my colleagues’ gazes burning into me.
Okay, no matter how ridiculous this all is, it’s still embarrassing to be forced to pack up the five whole things I have at my desk while everyone stares. Three pictures. One with my parents, one with Hallie and Frannie, and one with Devon. A pack of my favorite pens and a package of notepads.
After throwing them all into my large purse, I make my waytoward the elevator with my head held high. I’m almost home free when my boss waves me into his office.
“I’m so sorry about this, Kennedy. For whatever it’s worth, I fought for you. You have talent plenty of people on staff would kill for. If you need any references or anything related to this job, please let me know. I’m happy to sing your praises.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” I say softly, my skin burning with embarrassment and anger. I just want to get out of here.And chat with HR.
“Oh, here,” he says, grabbing a gift card off his desk and shoving it in my hand. “I know it’s not much, but…” He runs a hand through his hair like he realizes how stupid it is.
“Thanks. Take care,” I say before scurrying out of the office and down the hall.
Once I’m safely in the elevator, I look down at the card he gave me. Ten bucks for the coffee place down the street.
Phenomenal.
The doors open to the first floor, and I stride out, focused on reclaiming my confidence. I pull out my notepad and remember the look on Mr. Hunt’s face as I took those notes. He knows what he did. What he doesn’t realize is I’m scrappy and don’t go down without a fight.
Walking into HR, I wait until one of the reps is available to talk, then I hand over my badge, the notes I took, and file a complaint against Mr. Hunt. Maybe it’ll look bad to them, but I’ve got to give it a shot. At the very least, it might lay the groundwork if someone else files a complaint in the future.
Once I’ve finished, I walk out of HR, out of the building, and go straight to the nearby coffee shop to spend my pathetic gift card.
“Damn, girl. You’re badass,”Ryan Hardison—who we all call Hardy—says, waggling his thick black eyebrows at me and raising a glass in my honor.
“I’ll second that,” my cousin and roommate Hallie says, the liquid in her glass sloshing a bit.
“Seriously. You want a job with the Bandits?” Hardy asks. “I’ve got connections.” Hardy is a wide receiver for the New York Bandits—currently the top team in New York and ranked third in the NFL.
Yes, I’m friends with a professional football player. Several, actually. Only because my cousin Frannie had the hilariously good fortune to sit next to their quarterback, Mark Abbott, on a plane a few months back. She was panicking, he calmed her down, she had no idea who he was, they ended up at the same resort, and well, now we’re all sitting together in his swanky condo.
Though Frannie lives upstate in the small, idyllic town of Ida now, she and Mark are down here for the weekend.
“Woo, working the Bandits press room and cleaning up all your messes. Sounds fun,” I say, chomping on some General Tso’s.
“Hey, we’re not all troublemakers,” Brian Ackley, a massive lineman who looks menacing but is actually a big cuddly marshmallow, says.
