Page 22 of Don't Remind Me
“We can, but it’s not much for them to go on. Even with the rest of the hate mail coming to the office, I wouldn’t expect the cops to be able to do anything.”
Talia nodded firmly. She was as steady as the brick building we stood in, eyes narrowed in concentration, perfectly in control. I was pretty sure her calmness was the only reason I hadn’t passed out.
“Then we prioritize Dani’s safety until things cool off.” She trained her gaze on me, where I continued to pace in the corner of the room. “How would you feel about working from home until after the symposium? You’ll come into the office for certain meetings, and we’ll have Geffery escort you to and from your car, but you don’t need to be here the rest of the time.”
My eyes jumped from her to Geffery and back. “You think it’s safe there? My apartment?” I didn’t even try to hide the tremor in my voice.
“The fact that you haven’t gotten any hate mail there makes me think whoever did this is only focused on the office,” Geffery said. “They probably were here this morning planning to do something like graffiti the side of the building and saw you get out of your car. I’m guessing they made a last-minute call to leave the note, then ran. That said, you should stay on alert for a week or two. Let me know if you see anything strange around your place. I’ll file a report with the police to be on the safe side, and we can update them if you notice anything suspicious.”
I nodded, more from reflex than from comprehension, as my body went numb. Something landed on my upper arms, and I jumped.
“Dani.Dani.” Talia was in front of me, gripping my biceps to hold me steady. I hadn’t even noticed her move. “You don’t have to do this. We can cancel the symposium. It’s not worth your safety.”
That shook me a little from my panicked haze. I furrowed my brow. “We can’t cancel. We need the money from the symposium to open the clinic.” And the invitations had already gone out.
“We’ll get it next year. Let things calm down fully and try again.”
She was serious. Her gaze was as steady as the rest of her, expression resolved.
A fuse of rage lit its way down my spine. “No,” I said forcefully. “You can’t cancel because of this. I won’t let us be bullied into giving up on the good this clinic can do just because people like Bill Sewick would rather spout ignorance.”
Talia released my arms and straightened, studying me. “Are you sure? Because the board would understand.”
I shook my head, my body settling somewhat back into itself. “Don’t go to the board. I’m sure. I’ll work from home. I was just freaked out, but if Geffery thinks it’s okay, then I’ll do it.” I pushed every ounce of confidence I could muster into my voice, my determination enough to suppress my fear, at least for the time being.
It must have worked because Talia’s shoulders lowered. “All right. We’ll move forward with it. But only as long as you’re sure.”
I almost laughed. There wasn’t a single thing about my life I was sure of. Not my career choices or the number of times I’d moved because of them. Not my decision to break up with Alec and not reach out to him again in the months after. Not my college major, or quitting drama club in high school, or picking clarinet over the flute in the fourth grade. Hell, not even my nail polish selection.
I didn’t know if I was sure about this. It was possible I didn’t knowhowto be sure about anything.
But that same reckless confidence that had unraveled in me during the interview was mounting within me again, silencing all the voices in my head that were throwing out doubts. Maybe it was my gut, or maybe it was just bad judgment, but if it was what I needed to grab hold of in order to see this event through, then that was what I’d do.
This symposium was happening.
No matter what.
Chapter Ten
Jase
Mondays were officiallymy day off. At least according to the schedule hanging on the wall beside where I sat at Jillian’s desk.
Then again, I made the schedule, which meant I could have off any day I wanted. I chose Mondays because our hours were shorter and it tended to be the slowest night of the week. But slow for us was usually still pretty steady, so I liked to stop in during the afternoon to ensure the staff were set. If nothing else, I spent an hour or two in the office handling food orders and brainstorming new menu ideas for the coming week.
My mom would call me a workaholic—or she would if she believed I worked as much as I said I did. I was pretty sure she thought I was lying half the time to avoid talking to her and was actually out getting wasted every night.
I could admit I was guilty of using work to avoid talking to her, but I never lied. If I said I was working, I was working.
And yeah, there was a time when I’d partied more, but nothing she would have heard about. It wasn’t like I’d ever ended up in jail. She had no reason to doubt me other than the fact that I wasn’t the golden one of her two sons. I was the one who chose to quit baseball in the third grade while Alec went on to be varsity captain. Obviously, I was a monster who couldn’t be trusted.
I tried to brush off the stinging in my chest and return my attention to the earnings report in my hand.
We’d had another good month. A new high. I was tempted to take a picture and send it to my parents.See? I’m not a fuckup.
It probably wouldn’t make a difference. Not to mention, I was supposed to be learning to validate my own worth regardless of my parents’ opinions. Not exactly easy after thirty-three years, but fuck if I wasn’t trying.
I finished with the report, emailed next week’s schedule to the staff, then tidied up Jillian’s desk and headed downstairs. When I reached the dining room, my body stilled, the space swelling with electricity that tingled along my skin.
