Page 55 of Brave
Pen looming over the blank area where a second reference ought to go, if only she could think of one, she tried not to think about it.
“Have you been able to hold a job at all since it happened?” Spencer pressed.
She shook her head.
“Why not?”
Shoulders slumping, she glared at him. “What do you mean, why not?”
Even her voice was shaking, cracking with the effort it took not to break down. Crying in this office, though, would be like crying in front of the enemy. He’d never liked her, and never had that dislike felt quite so painful blatant as it did now. She didn’t even know why, since it wasn’t as if she’d ever really liked him either.
His already thin patience broke first.
“I mean why the fuck not?” he snapped. “Your car broke down and you can’t replace it. You’re lazy. You can’t wait for the beast master to get out of prison so life can return to normal. Give me a goddamn reason.”
“This!” She snapped her hands up, showing him the clipboard and pen she still clasped tight. Both were shaking every bit as badly as the rest of her. “This is my reason! I can’t function!”
Flinging both on his desk, she jumped up to leave, but he stopped her.
“Sit your ass down.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The command still hit her hard as thunder and her body obeyed against her will. She wanted to run, but she dropped back into her chair, squeezed behind a door that would surely hit her if someone came in. Helpless, hopeless, without any other outlet for the unbearableness of her mounting frustration, she ripped off that stupid Frozen Band-Aid and threw it back at him. Folding herself into her chair to make herself the smallest target possible, she told herself she didn’t care how he’d retaliate.
Spencer wasn’t impressed.
Mouth flattening, he swiveled his chair around, dug back into his desk and pulled out another Band-Aid. “Hand,” he ordered.
She kept her arms folded, but tucked her hands protectively underneath and did her best not to sound completely mutinous. “So you can slap me again?”
“If you’re trying to get me to slap you, you’re going about it the right way. Better yet,” Spencer said pointedly, “let’s call your Dom in here. Show him what you’ve done to yourself and see what he has to say.”
She had a funny feeling she knew exactly what Carlson would say. She already had a set of lines regarding the matter waiting to be worked on. He wasn’t likely to give her more for the same offense. She squirmed, still feeling all those places where the tenderness from last night’s caning had been the worst.
“Hand,” Spencer repeated.
Fully expecting him to slap the back with another hard reprimand, she reluctantly held it out. Although no longer bleeding, he bandaged her thumb, then gave her back both the clipboard and pen. Standing, he fished his wallet out of his back pocket.
“Second reference,” he said, tossing his own business card on her application. “Note the spelling and make sure you get the number right.”
Blinking, Puppy picked it up, re-reading several times before turning her puzzled stare back on him. “But… you don’t like me.”
“I don’t like anyone, so don’t go thinking you’re special,” he assured. “Your third reference.”
He lay another card on her clipboard.
“Klara?” she asked, confusion deepening.
“Put me down as the manager, and her as your supervisor.”
She hesitated. “You… want me to lie?”
“No,” he replied, shoving his wallet back into his pants before sitting down again. “What I want is for you to stop shaking like a scared little girl without a bed to hide under. Until that happens, you’ll work for me. Washing dishes, doing laundry, disinfecting equipment. Wherever you can help, whenever anyone asks. Got it?”
Mouth gaping, she stared from the business cards, to her waiting application, and back to him again. She waited, barely breathing for him to call ‘April Fools,’ ‘got you,’ or even a smirking ‘just kidding.’
He didn’t.
Tapping the form, he said, “This isn’t going to fill itself out.”
She hurried to fill in the waiting blanks. Her hand was still shaking, although for a different reason now. No longer angry, but every bit as rattled, she could barely keep her thoughts straight.
