Desperation climbs up my throat and chokes me. This is it. She’s going to fire my ass and there’s nothing that I can do about it. I’ll be living in a cardboard box with a broken heart for the rest of my life. I can’t process this. I can’t grasp the size of my mistake, my mistake of trusting Sean, of telling how I felt. I poured out my soul and he acted as if I puked on his shoes. My mouth goes dry. I lick my lips and form an answer in my mind.
When I speak, I sound like I’m begging, probably because I am. My voice comes out in a rush. “Because I’ll do anything. Because I won’t remind everyone of someone they loved. Because—”
Miss Black cuts me off, “Oh Avery, shut up.” Black pinches the bridge of her nose as though she has the world’s worst headache.
My heart pounds harder. Could this get more fucked up than it already is? I can’t get fired, I just can’t. I see my life ending and everything I worked so hard for fluttering away. I swallow hard.
Her dark eyes are narrowed. She wants to rip my head off. She stares at me like that for a few moments. Then she unfolds her arms that were plastered tightly to her chest. Taking my chin in her hands, Black tilts my face up so that our gazes connect. “I should fire you for this. I should let you go without a penny and not feel one bit of remorse.”
I look into her eyes wondering how she got to where she is now. I wonder about the guy that got away. I wonder if she’s alone because she wants to be or if it’s because this job fucked with her mind and not just her body. It’s a price that I didn’t consider. I never thought I’d fall in love. I never thought things could come to this.
I inhale slowly and resist the urge to ball my fingers into fists. My world is falling apart. I need this job, but I won’t beg again. We stare each other down. I don’t look away and neither does she. Neither of us speaks. It’s like a showdown and I know that at any second, Black will draw and I’ll be dead. There are no more chances. I blew it. I messed up and this is the price. Miss Black presses her eyes shut and sighs. When she looks at me again, her livid expression softens. She shakes her head and her arms fall to her sides. The fight spills from her body and I can finally breathe again.
Miss Black paces away from me and pours herself more coffee. Without looking up, she says, “It would be a pity to throw you away. There’s such potential. I see it in your eyes.” She turns, stirring the hot liquid and regards me. “But, you’re a hollow shell. The only thing keeping your neck above water is your defiance, your utter refusal to give up. If you gave that last piece of resistance to me, I could turn your life into a dream, but you’re insolent, Avery. I told you to keep your personal life out of this.” Black takes a sip of the coffee in her hands and then sets it down. She paces, thinking.
Every inch of my body is fighting me. I want to scream that it isn’t my fault. I want to say that Sean duped me, that he made me think he cared, but he doesn’t. All those words are toxic. If I say them, I’ll never work for Miss Black again, so I work my jaw and try not to react. I wonder if she knows the extent of my stupidity—I wonder if Sean told her what I said. Panic races through my veins, but I stay still. I keep the fear from clouding my eyes with tears. I lock it down and bite my tongue before I can do any more damage.
Miss Black’s frustrated gaze cuts to mine, and she stops in her tracks. Pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me, she says, “You will do exactly what I tell you. You will take the clients that I give you and thank me for it. You have no say in anything anymore. Do you understand?” I nod, even though I’m not sure what she intends to do with me. I know I’m lucky, though.
Something in Miss Black’s gaze changes and I know she’s decided to keep me around. She extends her hand to me. “Give back the money from tonight, and let’s move on.”
Damn. She can’t be serious. My face pinches in confusion. “Give it back?”
Black snaps her fingers and thrusts her hand at me. “Yes. You didn’t finish your job. You can’t honestly tell me that you think you should be paid as if you did?” She arches an eyebrow at me and wiggles her fingers impatiently, waiting for me to slap the cash in her hand.
I need this job, but I can’t fathom not getting paid. I mean to control my temper, but I can’t. I step toward her and look down at her palm, and then up into her face. “Yes, I think I should be paid and the reason is really simple—he fucked me. He used me more than once. I was with him for two nights, letting him have his way with me. To reiterate—he had sex with me and yes, I want to be paid for that.” My muscles tense. It’s everything I can do to maintain an ounce of composure and not scream in her face.