Page 11 of Fraud
He took a deep breath. “Your last article, Killian, it went too far. I can’t cover your ass anymore.”
My mouth fell open. “Come on, it was a harmless opinion piece.”
His eyes widened. “You basically called the female gender stupid and petty.”
Yeah, I kind of had done that.
“Oh come on. I don’t really feel that way.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Killian. What matters is what the people who read our paper think, and right now, they hate you. Especially the women. They’re calling for your head.”
“So, I’ll issue an apology.”
But I could see the answer in his eyes.
“You know that won’t fix it. What will that mean for your column?” he asked. “If the man who is known for defending his beliefs and opinions, no matter what, goes on record and claims it was all a harmless joke? That he didn’t really mean it? None of it was true? No one will ever take you seriously again. You’re done, Turner.”
My stomach felt like it was going to heave.
“So, this is it?”
“I’m afraid so, son.”
“Don’t call me son,” I sneered.
My heart had stopped functioning sometime around the middle of his speech. My eyes began to blur.
“We’ll give you some severance; it’s more than most would do. Take some time, and figure out your next step.”
“My next step, Aaron? You and I both know there’s nothing after this. No one will touch me with a ten-foot pole!”
“Then, maybe it’s time to do something else,” he said softly. “Go find a nice girl. Settle down. Adopt a dog. Hell, go on a vacation. I’ve heard that’s what normal people do.”
On the walk back to my desk, I could barely remember exiting his office.
The rest of the day was a blur of exit interviews and paperwork. A small file box was thrust in my face, and soon, I was headed down the elevator with the last few years of my life shoved into a tiny, stupid box.
What the hell just happened?
“Tough break,” someone said to me as the doors parted on the first floor.
I looked up to see a man I didn’t recognize.
“Fired?” he asked, giving me sad eyes.
I simply nodded.
Because it was then when it finally sank in.
I’d been fired.
As of that moment, I was nothing.
Not a journalist or a writer.
Nothing.
What the fuck would I do now?
