Page 25 of How to Get Revenge on a Cheating Ex
Damn. That felt good.
“Not bad,” Bailey murmurs beside me.
I grin and shove my hands in my pockets.
Bailey and I might not have asked to be Grayson’s victims here—but we can sure as hell decide if he’s made to pay.
EIGHT
SHOW UP OR SHOWDOWN
Bailey
The fluorescent lightsin the manager’s trailer are killing my eyes.
My eyelids feel like sandpaper after no sleep and endless fits of crying. But that doesn’t keep me from staring intently as Derek, the harried college sophomore back for a summer at Windy Falls, holds up Grayson’s application and peers at it. “Grayson Abler. Second year.”
Seniority is everything at Windy Falls, and it’s the only real consideration since we have hundreds of positions to fill.
I think of Zack who’s been an employee here just as long as I have, and still working a crappy maintenance job. Okay, maybe seniority isn’teverything. It’s key to advancement, but you still won’t move up unless you show some interest. You have to ask to be promoted. You have to show them that you’re serious about advancing in the ranks.
I tap my pen against the edge of the table.
Or, you have to have an in.
Which was exactly what Grayson had last year since I’d put in a good word for him, which was why he was the only first year to get a sweet gig taking tickets at the amusement park’s indoor theater.
Derek looks around the table, waiting to see if someone will speak up on Grayson’s behalf. When no one does, his application gets tossed in the stack with the other first and second years. The stack that leads to the worst jobs.
And just like that, I watch Grayson’s summer get tossed into the toilet.
It’s that easy. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut. It’s almosttooeasy.
The thought has me clamping my lips shut to smother a laugh.
Not a good laugh. A crazy laugh. The kind of laugh that’s only heard from a condemned lunatic in bad horror movies.
Actually...I’m a little afraid it’s anevillaugh.
“What do you think, Bailey?” Shelley, one of the few managers who’s permanently on staff, faces me across the large foldout table that passes for a conference room in this amusement park’s largest trailer.
Her blonde hair is high. So high I can’t help but wonder how much hairspray she uses on a daily basis. How many bottles she must go through in a month.
The sound of someone sipping coffee and Derek impatiently shuffling papers farther down the table has me blinking in confusion.
What do I think?
What do I think about what?
I glance down the row of faces, some more familiar than others. No newbies here. Of course not, it took seniority to be a manager—assistant, part-time or otherwise.
My former BFF Toni is at the far end on the opposite side and her red curls dangle in her face as she leans forward to stare at me too.
Ever since Jane brought her up last night, I’ve been wishing Toni and I hadn’t drifted so far apart. It would’ve been nice to have a real friend to talk to last night.
My gaze connects with hers. I want to smile. I want to wave. But I can’t do much of anything today but sit here and stare.
I think I may have officially lost it.
