Page 20 of First Chance

“What?”

“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. I need the truth from you if this is going to work.”

“You mean I’m not fired?”

“I didn’t fire you. You fled out of here like a bat out of hell.” His analogy makes me laugh softly. “I’ll have ruts from how you peeled out of here.” That makes me laugh harder, my head falls back, resting against the top of the rocking chair. It’s shorter than his, made for a woman.

“I looked in the shoe box,” I finally admit after holding it in for days, staring at the ceiling of the covered porch.

“I know.”

“How?”

“The lid was tipped.”

He knew, but he never said anything. He didn’t get mad at me. “Sorry for looking.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel uneasy around me.”

“It’s not– I wasn’t–”

“No, you were. You didn’t feel like you could tell me the truth because you were afraid I’d get angry. I don’t want you to feel like that.”

“I’m not afraid of you, remember?”

“Right. Just intimidated.” He sighs. “I’m used to working around men. I don’t give a shit if they’re scared of me, I prefer it. But that doesn’t go for you. I want you to listen to me because I’m your boss, not because you’re afraid of how I’ll react.”

“A healthy level of respect for authority.”

“Yes, exactly,” he exclaims, and it makes me laugh again.

“I need to get a second job. I might have to change my schedule around.”

“Why?”

“My parents found out about school. They’re pissed.”

“So?”

“It’s too late to change my major, or I’d have to start over, not that I’d want to, and they said I have to quit if I want to continue living under their roof. Which is such a manipulation tactic because they think I have nowhere else to go. Exactly as they’ve planned it,” I mumble.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents want me at their beck and call. They didn’t ever want me to attend grad school, and they’ve never wantedme to work. Or, allowed it.

“They’ve spent the last 24 years of my life grooming me to be the perfect political pawn. I want a life, and they don’t want to let me go, so I’m going behind their backs.”

“Jesus Christ, Jo. What the hell kind of family drama are you getting me mixed up in? Your father doesn’t even know you work here?”

“No.”

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles.

“When he finds out he’s not going to be happy.”

“I hired you because I thought I was doing good by your family, because your father helped me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut, curling deeper into his jacket in case it’s the last bit of warmth I have before he kicks me to the curb.

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