Page 98 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
He gets to his feet, all power and strength, and then lifts me up with him, wrapping our hands together with a determined glint in his eyes. “We don’t need them.”
He’s right. He’s so right. “But what are we supposed—” I stop when Lila’s door opens, bracing myself for another onslaught, but she heads straight for the bathrooms, almost waddling.
I would laugh if Ava wasn’t doing the exact same thing from the other direction with a hand pressed over her mouth. A sickening sound from deeper within the office makes my stomach clench as nausea washes over me.
“I’m a sympathetic puker,” I whisper, which leads to Fischer picking up my garbage can and holding it out to me just in case.
Over the next five minutes, we watch each and every one of the Ember employees either book it to the bathroom or head for their cars looking green and mumbling something about going home early. When Lila returns to her office, she leans against the wall just outside with sweat soaking her face and a dead look in her eyes.
“Food poisoning,” she croaks. “We have to…”
Wrinkling his nose, Fischer silently holds the garbage can out to her, which she takes just in time to hurl into it.
My stomach lurches, but I thankfully keep my response down.
“We have to cancel everything,” Lila finishes. “All of it. There’s no way we…” Cradling my garbage, she wanders back into her office and closes the door.
When his phone lights up with Grant’s number, Fischer swears. Before he can answer, I grab his phone and deny the call, and then I head straight for my desk and wake up my computer.
“What are you doing?”
Opening up my email, I type up a quick message to all of our vendors, giving them the briefest explanation about our team falling sick.
Fischer watches me as I type, growing increasingly more agitated as he reads my words. “We’re doomed,” he says, starting to pace behind me. “We can’t postpone this. We need bookings so we can start getting income. There are a dozen people counting on jobs starting this weekend. Withpaychecks. Which we can’t pay if there are no people paying for rooms. This is going to kill Bradley Properties.”
“I hate to remind you,” I mutter, “but you no longer work for Bradley Properties.”
He growls. “Thank you for that. Wait, what are you…” He leans in, wrapping an arm around my waist as he reads the rest of my email.
The reopening event at the Greenwood Lodge will carry on as normal, and we look forward to working with all of you to make the night a success!
“Micah,” Fischer says, his voice strained. “You don’t have a team. With how quickly this came on, I don’t think you can expect anyone to be able to make the drive tomorrow morning.”
I send the email anyway and then grab my purse. “Come on,” I say, taking his hand and heading for the elevator. “We have work to do.”
“What work? I don’t have a job. You’re lucky you still do.”
“Oh. Right.” I hit the elevator button and then hurry back to Lila’s office, poking my head inside the dark room. I can only see her feet poking out from behind her desk where she’s lying on the floor. “Hey, Lila?”
She moans.
“I quit.”
“What?” She scrambles to get up. “Micah, you can’t—” She heaves, and the sound of vomit hitting the plastic liner in the garbage triggers my own gag reflex.
Instead of holding it back, I lean forward and unceremoniously throw up onto her floor.Gross. “Good luck,” I say and then hurry out of there before I make myself sick again by thinking about what I just did.
I reach Fischer, who stares at me with utter bewilderment, right as the elevator opens, and I pull him inside before he can argue. Not that he’s trying to argue. He can’t seem to catch on to what I’m doing, which for now makes this easier. Grabbing my water bottle, I swish three different mouthfuls around my mouth before popping in a piece of gum, though I would still like to brush my teeth in the very near future.
It isn’t until we’re in his car and pulling out of the parking garage that Fischer finally speaks. “What are we doing, Micah?”
“We’re going to my apartment.”
He makes the appropriate turn, his hands tight around the steering wheel. “Why are we going to your apartment?”
“Because neither of us have jobs, silly.”
He growls. “Micah.”
