Page 81 of The Devil She Knows
Did heartsick count? Doubtful. It wasn’t like it was catching, which was probably what Coco cared about. “I’m having a bit of a personal emergency. It was, uh … unforeseen.”
“Did someone die?”
Would Coco even care if someone had? “No. No one died.”
“Then, no.”
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. Loath as she was totalk about it, Coco was going to find out eventually. Everyone would. God love Mel and Javier and the rest of the kitchen brigade, but they were awful gossips. News of her breakup would spread like a grease fire. “Hannah broke up with me.”
It was nothing but crickets from Coco.
“All I need is a few days to pack and find an apartment. Like I said, I know it’s short notice, and, trust me, I feel awful about it, but I’m confident Michel and Javier can hold down the fort while I’m gone.”
“You can’t use paid sick days if you aren’t sick. Sorry.”
Oh yeah, she soundedreallybent up about it. “Fine. I guess I’ll just cash in a few vacation days, then.”
Coco clucked her tongue. “You have to give two weeks’ notice before you can schedule PTO.” There was a muffled noise in the background. “It’s policy.”
Screw the policy. “Coco, I’ve never asked you for anything. I just need … three days, okay? Three. Please.”
“C’est très tragique, Samantha, but my hands are tied.”
Her jaw clicked. “Fine.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
“I do.” Sam understood perfectly. “I quit.”
“What?” Coco laughed stiltedly. “Be serious. You can’tquit.”
Funny, seeing as she just did. “You know, Coco, I’ve busted my ass at Glut for the last three years. I’ve let you condescend to me and treat me like a punching bag and take credit for my hard work. I smiled and took it all on the chin, didn’t make waves even though I’d have been well within my rights to have done so, because I hoped one day you’d growup and get over yourself and stop being petty and start acting like the professional you’re supposed to be.”
“How dare you—”
“No, how dareyou? I don’t know if your head is buried too far up your ass to see it, or if you won’t admit it because you feel, I don’t know, threatened by me, but I am a damn good chef. And if you had any sense at all, I would have been a shoo-in for head pastry chef. But it doesn’t matter now. I am done being your butt monkey. I’ll have Melissa clear out my locker.”
“Sam—”
She ended the call with a shaking hand.
She had work to do.
“Nacho, let go. That is bubble wrap, silly. You’re going to—” The bubble wrap popped, and Nacho jumped, tail puffing. Sam stifled a laugh. “I tried to warn you, but did you listen? Of course not.”
Back arched and the fur all over his body standing on end, Nacho hissed at the bubble wrap like it had mortally offended him before darting out of the room like his little keister was on fire.
Sam shook her head and looked at Pumpkin, who had his sharp teeth sunk into the corrugated cardboard flap of a box that still needed taping. “Your brother’s a scaredy-cat, isn’t he?”
Pumpkin didn’t answer, of course not, but he did stop chewing on the box. His ears twitched like he heard something, and Sam followed his gaze to the front door just in time to watch as it opened.
Hannah slipped inside and shut the door, footsteps faltering when she spotted Sam sitting on the floor. “Hi.”
Her hand shook as she set the tape gun down and stood. “I thought you said you were going out of town.”
“I was, but I … I don’t know. I wanted to check on you, I guess.” Her eyes darted from the bubble wrap strewn across the rug to the small stack of boxes Sam had already finished packing. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I quit, actually.”
