“So, there’s no chance I can do this work here at the house?”
“You want the entire team to come over and brief you in your family room?”
Now I feel silly. “The entire team? Why is the entire team involved?”
“The entire team is involved in everything we do. It’s not a dictatorship, it’s a democracy. Everybody gives their input, and then Ozzie makes the final decision, taking all the input into consideration. He’s a really fair boss.”
Hearing those words—“fair boss”—makes me start crying again.
“What’s wrong now?”
I shake my head. “Never mind. I’m just having a chick moment.”
May’s voice softens. “You’re entitled. You got laid off today. And stop saying you were fired, by the way. You were laid off. People get fired for being assholes. People get fired for not doing their jobs. And I know that neither one of those situations applies to you. You worked, like, sixty hours a week at that place, you took work home with you that you couldn’t finish there, and you might have missed some days because of your kids, but you always made up for it. I know you, Jenny. You’re no slacker.”
I smile through my tears. “You always were my biggest fan and cheerleader. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You know that’s why I worry.”
“I do love you, yes, but I speak the truth. And you need to listen to me for once in your life. I know you worry about me, but I’m okay. I have Ozzie and all the others at my back. Bad guys have to get through them to get to me.”
Now’s not the time for me to remind her that one bad guy got to her pretty easily just a couple months ago when he finally figured out where the eyewitness to him shooting people in a bar lived; besides . . . her team did show up in time to help her out, so she’d have reason to argue with me. And I’m done arguing with my sister.
“Hey, I listen to you.”
“Sometimes you do, sometimes you don’t. So, what time can you get here?”
I look up at the clock. It’s almost nine in the morning. “It’s gonna take me about forty-five minutes to get myself and Sammy ready, and then if I leave here right away, it’ll take me probably thirty minutes to get there. Should we say ten-thirty?”
“Okay, eleven it is.”
“I said ten-thirty.”
“Yeah, but I know how long it’s going to take Sammy to get off the couch and out of those cookies, so I’m giving you an extra half hour.”
Part of me wants to get pissy with my sister and part of me wants to hug her. It’s scary how well she knows my family. “Okay, see you at eleven. Is there anything I should bring?”
“Whatever you think you might need to get into someone’s computer, and your smile. That’s it.”
“Is Felix there with you? Because I’m going to need something to distract Sammy.”
“Of course Felix is here. He’s my right-hand chihuahua. But don’t worry, I’ll help with Sammy.” She turns on the cheerleader mode again. “You’re not alone, Jenny. I’m with you, the team is with you . . . It’s like a family here. You’ll see.”
If she wanted to turn me into a puddle of goo, that was probably the best way to do it. I need to hang up before I turn into a blubbering idiot. “See you at eleven.”
“See you then. I love you, Jenny. Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. I promise.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It’s embarrassing how right my sister is about my ability to be anywhere on time when the kids are involved. It’s 11:05 as I’m pulling up in front of the warehouse. The dent in the door that I remember from before is gone, and in its place is fresh paint. Geez, these guys don’t mess around. I guess appearances are pretty important to them.
“Where are we?” Sammy asks from the backseat.
“This is where Auntie May works. And Felix is here, and he wants to see you.” My son loves May’s dog. I turn off the car and turn around to look at him. He has cookie shrapnel all around his mouth. “Now, you promised that you would be a good boy for Mama, right?”
He nods. “I promith.”
“Good. And Auntie May is going to play with you, and Felix is going to play with you, and you’re going to be a good boy so that Mommy can do some work. And then when we’re all done, we’ll go to McDonald’s.” Mom of the Year strikes again.
A big grin lights up his face, and he starts banging his hands and legs on his car seat. “McDonald’th, McDonald’th, McDonald’th.”
“But you have to be good. This is somebody’s house, Sammy. This is somebody’s work, too.”