Page 10 of Stolen Christmas
“No, I’m just a woman who doesn’t want men hitting on her.”
“You can call it what you want, but we know it’s not your only infraction. You have a bad attitude, and you can’t come to work on time.” My mouth falls open.
“What are you trying to say?” I question.
“You’re fired.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe this. You have been looking for a reason to fire me since the day I started. Your excuses are weak. Six months later, you find out that I didn’t tell you the truth about my personal life, which is none of your business. A minute late isn’t a big deal when I stay late almost every single day, but have it your way. You’re a terrible boss and a pervert.”
“A pervert? You haven’t seen a pervert, little princess. I could have you on your knees right now. You have no idea what I could make you do, but I guess you’re too damn stuck up to want to keep this job. Or I could give you a second chance.”
“Not in your wildest dreams. If you have to resort to threatening your employees for sex, you’re probably terrible at it. I’ve already suffered enough losses.”
I’m out of the chair and on my feet, giving him a final glare before throwing the door open and grabbing the things from my desk. Luckily, I never made this place my home. Cochran, like the dick he is, never made me feel welcome, so Ireassured myself that it was best to be ready to have one foot out the door. Too bad I didn’t prepare for a new job. I’m a fool.
I barely slide on my coat before he gets to my desk. “Don’t try to steal anything.” I fight the dirty look, but he doesn’t stop speaking and adds, “Your things will be searched before you go.”
“You will not touch my private property. I’m leaving now, and I’m not taking a damn thing other than what I brought with me. There’s nothing I want, except my paycheck. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and look for a job where my boss isn’t a complete piece of shit.” I nudge past him, and he grips my arm. It’s painful as he squeezes.
“You’d better watch who you’re talking to.”
“Let me go before I report you.”
“No one is going to do anything about it, little girl.” He loosens up just enough to dare me to act.
“I hope I never have to see your smug, arrogant face again.” I yank my hand away and walk out of the place after the jerk forced me to make a small scene. Goodness, I hoped to leave with a hint of my dignity, but that is out of the picture. When I get down to the lobby, I realize my phone isn’t in my pocket or my purse. Shit. I had set it down on the desk while I put on my coat.
I walk back up to the front desk. “I need to get my phone. I left it on my old desk.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Scott. I was told not to let you up, but I can have it retrieved for you.” Damn it.
“Okay. Can you please hurry?” I ask, voice pleading.
“Yes, of course,” he says with a kindness in his tone that is the exact opposite of my boss. Within ten minutes, someone comes down from the office with my phone and frowns when they hand it over to me. “Sorry, but it was on the floor.”
“What the hell?” I gasp, looking at my completely smashed phone. “This is bullshit. He did this on purpose. I would like to speak with the actual owner of the company. I’m so tired of Cochran.”
“I’m sorry, Angel, but the owner rarely makes an appearance, and his former manager just left.”
“Former manager? I’ve never met him, have I?”
“Yes, it was that man George Colombo. He should be back tomorrow.” Oh, I remember him. He gave me lecherous looks. Maybe I shouldn’t meet with the owner. With the way they all act, he might not be any better.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll check in with Mr. Colombo then and file a report.” I tuck my broken phone in my bag and wrap my scarf around my face before walking out of the building.
I leave the office building angry and defeated. With no choice, I have to find the nearest AT&T store and get a replacement phone with the little money that I have. Luckily, there is one down the street, and I’m able to go in and wait for an available employee to assist me. It takes about half an hour after he finishes with his last customer to help me.
“Hello. My phone was stepped on,” I answer, my lips clamped together in complete fluster.
He looks at it with a questioning gaze. “How many times?”
“I’m not sure. I wasn’t in the room when it happened. I just need a replacement ASAP, please.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He runs my account and sees that I have a protection plan in place. “Okay, so we can replace the phone with a slightly newer model for a slight fee, and you’ll be right back to normal. Let’s remove your SIM card and SD card, if possible, to check if they’re viable.”
