Sure Thing(11)

“You mean wondering where you are,” I reply drily.

“Whatever. They’ll be sad, Violet. Sad they came all the way to America and no one greeted them.”

“Why are you singling out the Canadians anyway? Wouldn’t everyone be sad?”

“I thought I’d pull on your heartstrings a little and everyone knows how nice the Canadians are,” she says, unabashed. “I bet one of them offers you a maple candy before the week is up.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter, but I’m smiling.

“Love you, Vi. You’re my peanut butter.”

“And you’re my jelly.”

We end the call and I pin the Sutton Travel name badge with “Daisy” stamped on it to my top with renewed confidence. Daisy’s right. I can do this. And I really do need the cash.

This is what happens when the company you work for is sold two weeks before you’re due to close on a condo and your job is eliminated. It turns out that banks frown on giving thirty-year mortgages to people without jobs. I’d already given notice on my apartment, most of my possessions packed into boxes ready for my move, when my world imploded. The boxes moved into storage and I moved onto Daisy’s couch.

I lost my boyfriend at the same time.

When I say I lost him I mean it literally. He’s alive—I just don’t have him anymore. Because we worked together. In different departments—nothing scandalous. He was the owner’s son—everyone knew about us, it wasn’t a secret and it didn’t get me any special favors, of course not. I’d never have wanted special favors.

Except…

When it happened I was the last to know. The very last. I was running an errand on my lunch break when the email was sent notifying employees that we’d been sold to a larger company. A larger company that only needed half of the current staff. A larger company that was relocating Mark to another city in a high-level executive position—part of the deal when his father sold the company, of course. When I got back to the office a human resources representative from the new company was there to offer me a severance package.

Do you know what severance packages look like when you’re twenty-six? A week’s pay for every year of service. I’d been there for three and a half years. Three weeks of pay. They didn’t even round up for that half-year.

Within two weeks Mark moved to California for a new job and I lost my earnest money on the condo.

He barely bothered to break up with me before he left. As in he barely said the words. Do you know how much it sucks when someone insinuates a break-up but doesn’t actually do it? It’s complete shit, is what it is. I basically had to break up with myself. Thanks, asshole. He said he was moving to San Francisco and I—stupidly, as it turned out—asked what that meant for us. He frowned at me and said something about it being a bit far, like I was dense for not getting it. “This is a really important time for me, Violet,” he said.

Some girl named Lindy has him now.

So I really do need this.

As I approach the bus the doors slide open and the driver bounds down the steps with a huge grin. “Daisy!” he calls out, eyeing my tits.

Fuck. He knows me. I mean her. He knows my sister.





CHAPTER SIX


Violet

 “Hey.” I smile and glance at his name badge. George. Fuck, fuckity fuck it. Tom was supposed to be the driver this week. Tom Masey, who Daisy assured me she’d never met. Not George whoever this is, who she’s obviously met. “George,” I repeat and put a little enthusiasm into it. “Hey!” I wonder how many trips they’ve done together. How well does he know her mannerisms? This is going to be so much harder if he expects me to act like her.

He stops too close to me and flashes a smile, dimple flashing in his cheek. He’s attractive and as he slides an arm around my waist in greeting it hits me loud and clear how well he knows Daisy.

I’m going to kill her.

“George,” I say as I wiggle out of his embrace and try not to panic. “I thought Tom was my driver this week?”

“He was. When I saw you had this trip I switched with him.” He winks. “He took my Boston to Maine tour.”

“You can do that?” I question, then catch myself. “I mean, great.” I nod and tighten my grip on my phone, still in my hand. I need to call Daisy. Then I need to grab my suitcase and run. No way can I do this. No way in hell. “You know, I just need to make a quick call,” I say, pointing at the phone in my hand as I take a step backwards. But I don’t even make it a second step before George has slung his arm around me again and rotated me to the bus door.