“Can I have a word with you?” he asked. I nodded and we stepped off to the side. “Your name, miss?”
“Sara Carr,” I said. I ran my hand over my hair, suddenly overly aware of how sweaty and gross I must've been. I wasn't normally a self-conscious person, but this definitely wasn't a normal situation.
“Can you tell me what happened, Miss Carr?” the officer asked as he flipped open a notebook.
I nodded and told him everything, step by step. Then answered his questions as he asked them, even though I'd already explained everything. I didn't know why he bothered since it was pretty clear the guy had suffered a heart attack, but I wasn't about to tell the cops how to do their job. For all I knew, this was part of some on-going investigation.
By the time he was finally finished, however, I was starting to wish that I'd tried to hurry him along. I was going to be late for work, and that was even if I didn't go home and shower first. I was halfway to the bus stop when I realized I'd left my phone back in the park.
“Dammit,” I muttered as I turned on my heel and started running. It was probably a long-shot that it was still there, but I had to take it. I didn't have the money to buy a new one.
Surprisingly, I found it right where I'd left it. Unfortunately, the battery was dead after my lengthy call to 911, which meant I couldn't call work to tell them I’d be even later than I'd originally anticipated.
I swore again as I climbed onto the bus. I ignored the looks I was getting from the other passengers and focused instead on my immediate plans. Going straight to work was my best bet. I could shower at the health club where I worked as a trainer, and I always kept a spare change of clothes. I could explain things, then, face-to-face.
Except it didn't work out that way.
The prestigious health club where I worked in Manhattan was known, not only for its discretion but also for the quality and appearance of its employees. And based on the looks thrown my way when I walked in, I knew I was in serious trouble.
“Sara, can I see you for a moment?” The manager, Chad, looked grim as he hurried me out of the room and into his office.
“I'm so sorry,” I said. “I was on my run this morning and–”
“You're nearly ninety minutes late, Sara,” Chad interrupted. When I opened my mouth to explain further, he didn't give me the chance. “And then you show up here looking like...that.”
I fought back a scowl. He was seriously going to go there? Not exactly surprising, but disappointing nonetheless.
“A man had a heart attack in the park,” I said. “I ended up doing CPR, then had to stay and give my account to the police.”
Chad crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow. “That's your excuse? I think it's safe to say that you have a problem with your priorities.”
Priorities? My hands curled into fists. Was he fucking kidding me? I saved a man's life, and my manager was going to lecture me about my priorities?
“I think we've known for a while that things weren't going to work out here,” Chad continued.
“You mean since I told you to keep your hands off my ass?” I snapped back as my temper got the best of me.
Chad's face hardened. “That's enough. You're fired. Get your things from your locker and get out. I don't want to see you in here again.”
I was too pissed off to argue, or even to threaten to go higher up with sexual harassment accusations. My day had been insane, and I hadn’t even had breakfast yet. I'd had enough. I stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me. Chad was still hiding when I emerged from the employee locker room, not that I expected to see him. He was a coward and everyone knew it.
I stepped outside and headed toward the subway. The bus wouldn't be back for another twenty minutes, but there was a subway station three blocks away. I didn't mind the extra walk. It'd burn off some of my excess energy before I got home, and maybe then I'd be calm enough to talk to Gordon about what to do next.
My fiancé, Gordon Cleaver, was also a trainer at the same health club, and he knew about Chad's previous flirtations. I hadn't wanted him to get in trouble for sticking up for me before, so I'd asked him not to say anything. If anyone was going to put their neck on the line, it'd be me. I refused to be one of those women who had men fighting her battles. I knew there were occasions when everyone needed help from someone else, but this wasn't it.
What I did need, however, was someone to talk things over with, figure out what my options were, and help me decide what the best choice would be. I needed a job, so I wasn't sure if taking action against the club for wrongful termination was smart. It would probably result in a few awkward conversations with potential future employers, and, ultimately, it was my word against his. The way I saw it, the only benefit to threatening a lawsuit was to get my job back. But I wasn't sure that was the best idea either. Chad was the sort of guy who held grudges, which meant working under him again would be a nightmare.