Page 88 of Bayside Heat
“Supergirl, wait—” he said hastily. “Please don’t screw this up because of me. Take a breath. What if she fires you?”
“Then she does, but at least I’m not a doormat.” She ended the call and rode the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, preparing to give Suzanne a piece of her mind.
She stalked toward Suzanne’s office, replaying Drake’s words in her mind, picking them apart until their meaning became clear. What if she fires you? She’d been replaced. She had no job waiting in the wings. Justine didn’t have the workload to hire her. If she was fired, she’d be left scrambling to find another job.
Fuck.
She slowed her pace as Suzanne’s office came into view.
Thoughts of her mother barreled into her. Her mother had spent her life chasing men to take care of her instead of taking care of herself, backsliding at breakneck speed. As much as Serena loved working at the resort, and working for Justine at Shift, she didn’t want to go backward and be an employee for either company again. She’d built her life around moving forward, striving to achieve her next goal. Sure, she’d put it on hold to help Drake and the guys, but she was also growing while working with them, honing her skills, learning about business. It had been a definite move forward.
Was she going to put her job on the line over being unable to see Drake? Was that why she was so upset?
No. This confrontation wasn’t about going home to see her boyfriend, or even about missing his biggest moment yet. She was standing up for herself, demanding mutual respect for human beings, their time, and their happiness.
She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and knocked on Suzanne’s door. Suzanne waved her in. It was after six on a Friday afternoon, and Suzanne had contracts, site plans, and proposals—hours of work—spread out in front of her. Did the woman do anything other than work?
Suzanne lifted her gaze. Her hair was pinned up in the severe bun Serena had gotten used to. She had a pencil tucked above her ear and wore a strand of pearls around her neck, adding even more class to her black-and-white dress. “Yes, Serena?” she said with an air of dignity, clearly unconcerned about whatever Serena had come to say.
Why wouldn’t she be? The last two senior designers had walked out without notice. It was nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. Serena was a number on an employee log. A cog in the wheel. She could walk out tonight and Suzanne would have her position filled in a matter of days.
But Serena wasn’t the type of person to walk out without notice, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to give Suzanne a reason to fire her—or the impression that she’d stand for being treated like her plans didn’t matter.
“I’m going to attend the event for KHB tomorrow,” she said confidently. “But I want you to know that I don’t agree with the way you handled this situation. We have worked hard to achieve the opening of this music store, regardless of where I currently work. Years of learning from one store to the next have built to this, and opening a store in the area in which Drake lives is a huge achievement, as you can imagine, since you have several locations. If this were my company, and I were the boss, I would never expect an employee to give up something so meaningful for an event that takes place on a monthly basis.” She held her breath, trying to read Suzanne’s expression.
Suzanne pressed her lips together in a firm line. Then they tipped up at the edges, but her eyes turned cold. “Your thoughts are duly noted, but you aren’t the boss.” She turned her attention back to the documents on her desk. “Was there something else?” she asked without looking up at Serena.
“No.” It took everything she had to hold it together and walk out the door instead of laying into her. The trouble was, Suzanne was right.
Serena wasn’t the boss.
Chapter Seventeen
DRAKE CAME OUT of the stockroom of Bayside Music and Arts Saturday morning reveling in the familiar adrenaline rush that had accompanied each of the last four grand openings. Carey and Cree were busy setting up displays featuring the instruments they expected would draw the most attention. They were holding down the fort tomorrow, too. Drake knew he’d be a mess worrying about how sales went the first week, and because he tended to stress over those types of things, he planned to stop by late afternoon for a quick check-in, rather than spending the entire day watching the clock and counting customers.
