Page 70 of Latte Girl
The secretary gets up from his chair the second he sees me walk through the elevatordoors.
“You can’t go in there. You need to book an appointmentfirst.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “What are you going to do? Throw yourself in front ofthedoor?”
“I’ll callsecurity.”
“Go ahead,” I say, crossing the room and reaching for the doorhandle.
Being a badass is really liberating,I think, feeling a new energy crackle through myveins.
I swing the door open and I step inside the giant room. My father is typing something on his laptop. He doesn’t raise his eyes as he addresses myentrance.
“Being my son does not give you special privileges about entering my office, Jordan. If you’d like to speak to me, make an appointment likeeveryoneelse.”
“Iquit.”
He doesn’t even stop moving his hands over the keyboard. “No you don’t, Jordan. Now please stop wastingmytime.”
I stride towards his desk and pull another letter out of my briefcase, this one without a stamp. Tossing the envelope down in front of him, I step back and watch him open up my notice of resignation. He scans through the few short sentences and thensighs.
“Need I remindyouthat—”
“Remind me that I have to do what you say or my mother will get sick?” I ask, cutting him off. “Remind me that I’m personally responsible for the fact that she had a stroke? No, youneedn’tremind me of anyofthat.”
My father folds his hands in front of him and gives me a tired stare, like he’s indulging a child throwing atantrum.
“You don’t have to remind me because Idon’t—”
The end of the sentence lodges in my throat, my belief in the words not strong enough to push them out. I swear I see the ghost of a smirk flicker across my father’s face. He turns back to his laptop, and the thought of walking out of here with my tail between my legs sends an engine revving upinsideme.
“I don’t believe that’s true anymore,” I assert, my voice bouncing off the walls. “Sure, maybe me going to design school stressed her out, and maybe I should have broken the news to her better, but I didn’t singlehandedly cause her to have a stroke. I don’t think that all of this”—I wave my arms around, indicating the whole of Knox Security— “would be what she wanted for me if she knew how miserable I was. Do you realize how much you’ve taken away from me? This life I’m leading is not what she’d want. It’s whatyouwant.”
The sentence hangs in the air between us, a challenge waiting to be accepted. My father picks up my resignation letter and holds it up for metosee.
“If you do this, you’ll never see her again. I’ll make sureofthat.”
I want to shout that he’s wrong, but I can’t take the risk of him realizing I’ve found out wheresheis.
“Maybe that’s true,” I tell him, “but I’ll trust she’d be happier not seeing me than seeing melikethis.”
Turning away, I cross the office and have my handle on the door when I hear him speak in a low voice fromhisdesk.
“Leaveyourkeys.”
I turn around and blinkathim.
“You no longer have the right to use the car or the apartment. Both are in my name. I will have someone accompany you to collect your things later today. No funds, credit cards, or any other assets I’ve given you access to will be available to you anymore. All you will have is what is completely your own,” he intones, stopping to give me a pointed look, “which I know isn’t much. You have twenty minutes to clear your office and leave thebuilding.”
I reach my hand into my pocket, lock eyes with him, and drop my keys onto thefloor.
Ladies and gentleman, Jordan Knox has gone rogue, I think as I let myself outthedoor.
I feel like I could take on a WWE champion right now. I feel like I could take onthreeWWEchampions.
And a lion. I could definitely beatalion.
Relief whooshes through me, leaving a lightheaded giddiness in its wake. I’m practically snickering as I make my way to theelevator.
