Page 82 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
"Nelly,” my former boss used my name in a way that made me feel like a small child afraid of the dark, who doesn’t believe the monster in the closet isn’t real. “You can’t leave on your own.”
“You’ve fired me. I’m pretty sure leaving is what you want me to do, Vince.”
He looked down at his fingers, still forming church steeples. He frowned, then lowered his hands out of sight to rest against his lap. He said nothing. I waited.
“I’m leaving Vince.”
This time it was the man with the tablet who spoke, just as I was ready to escape again.
“Contracts. People just don’t read them thoroughly before signing.” It was almost like the asshole was lecturing me.
I glared at him. “I signed a contract with Club Midnight to dance. Now, I’m fired. End of story.”
“I’ve highlighted parts of your contract for clarity, Ms. Shaw.” He pulled a stapled bundle out of the folder, closing the gap between us and shoving it towards me. I didn’t want to touch it. It might as well be flame ready to scorch. He waved it a little, prodding me to take it. When I did, I was surprised to find the paper cool.
“Section A, part three, paragraph four,” he directed me.
I flipped over the first several pages before my eyes found glaring yellow. The man must have memorized the legal jargon, because he began precisely reciting it out loud as I read it myself.
“Employment with Club Midnight requires mandatory, quarterly health screenings outsourced to the Eros Institute. In the event the Eros Institute is unavailable, a subcontracting medical company with gather samples and deliver them to Eros. By agreeing to this contract, the employee understands their responsibility to present themselves clearly, and without guise, as their physical, biological, and federally registered gender classifications. In terms of primary gender, Club Midnight will recognize employee’s chosen identity if it is legally registered. In terms of secondary gender, Club Midnight will only recognize the classification at birth which was legally registered. Willful deception of gender classification will not be tolerated by employer. In the event deception leads to federal fines towards Club Midnight, employee will be financially responsible. Please note, working an unsanctioned job for your secondary gender can also result in additional personal penalties and jail timefor the perpetrator.” The man, who’d been speaking in a never-ending stream of words, pausing only for quick shallow breaths, finally stopped.
Yet before I could say anything, he directed me to another section of the contract. “Section D, part two, paragraph two.”
Mechanically, I changed pages. Why had I not gone over this carefully?I’d just wanted to dance so badly…
The same scene restarted, but this time the page blurred and I couldn’t read. My brain only picked up the highlights of what the man was saying. Is this what it feels like to go into shock?
"...in the event that employee is an unregistered Omega..."
"...immediate termination of employment..."
“…monies due forfeited…”
"…reserves the right to notify relevant authorities..."
"...subject to all laws regarding unsanctioned Omega activities..."
"...agrees to cooperate with designated Omega Services providers, including but not limited to Eros Institute..."
“…medical testing consent provides for full scent profiling…”
I couldn’t come breathe.
It just felt like punch after punch.
The next thing the man recited forced the air from my lungs completely.
"...in accordance with the No Omega Left Behind Protection Act of 2018, undersigned agrees to mate with compatible Alpha(s) as determined by aforementioned scent match analysis...”
I blinked slowly.
Staring down at the pages.
I flipped through them all again.
The words blurred more. They were just smudges of gray against white.
I shook my head a little, trying to drive away the cloudiness.
