I glanced toward the nearby clock. It was barely ten-thirty in the morning. My shift didn't end for six whole hours. "So…you're letting me go early?"
"No. I’m letting you go, period."
On the phone, I heard my sister gasp. Or maybe that was me. I didn't get it. Even if the phone thing was a problem, surely I'd get a warning before I'd be fired.
By now, my heart was racing. Even though this wasn't my dream job, I was too mortified to speak. I'd never been fired before. Even the thing with the bank, that was part of a mass layoff. It wasn't personal or related to my performance.
But from the look on Abigail's face, this was personal and then some.
Somehow, I managed to say, "Can I ask why?"
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You know why."
I reached up and practically yanked the earbuds from my ears. As I stuffed them into my apron pocket, I said, "Is it the phone thing? Because—"
"No," she snapped. "It's not the 'phone thing' – whatever you mean by that."
I shook my head. "So what is it?"
She crossed her arms. "Did you, or did you not, make a run for Chase Blastoviak?"
I blinked. "Make a run?"
"Yes," she said. "As in chase him down the sidewalk."
"What?" My head was spinning now. "I wasn't 'chasing' him." As far as I could recall, I'd never even left the coffee shop doorway.
"Oh," she said with a bitter laugh. "So you weren't trying to lure him inside, huh?"
I hesitated. "You mean…into the coffee shop? Well, yeah, but—"
"You know what? I've heard enough." As she spoke, she strode around the counter and stalked toward me. I stood frozen in horror as she lunged forward and practically ripped the damp cloth from my hand. "On second thought," she said. "I'll wipe down the tables. Now get your stuff and go."
I sputtered, "You can't be serious."
"Oh yeah? Why not?"
"Well…because for one thing, all I did was try to talk to him."
"Not the way I hear it."
"From who?" I demanded.
"That's not important."
"It is to me."
"Want to know what's important to me?" she said.
"What?"
"That I have employees who listen." Her mouth tightened. "On your first day, you remember what I told you?"
I tried to think. This wasn't my first barista job, so she hadn't had to tell me much. Stupidly, I shook my head. "No. What?"
In a low voice, she gritted out, "No hitting on the customers."
"What?"
"I'm not gonna say it again." She pointed to the front door. "Now are you gonna leave peacefully? Or do I have to call the police?"
By now, I didn't know whether to scream or cry. The whole thing was so stupidly unfair. It wasn't even accurate.
I hadn't hit on anyone, especially Chase Blastoviak, who was quickly becoming my least favorite person in the known universe.
Yesterday, he'd been a total prick. And today, he'd gotten me fired.
This was his doing.
It had to be. After all, no one else had been around while I'd been trying to talk to him. So of course, it was easy to guess where Abigail had heard such an insane story.
From Chase himself.
I felt my fingers tighten into fists. Boy, he'd fucked me alright, just not the way he'd meant.
But if he thought I'd simply go away, he was dead wrong. One way or another, I vowed, I'd make him pay for this.
Chapter 6
Chase
I was sitting at my desk when Erin, my new assistant, appeared in my open doorway to say, "You've got another one."
I frowned. "Another what?"
Erin hesitated. "Actually, I'm not sure what to call them."
Erin was a fresh-faced brunette in her mid-twenties. She'd been my assistant for less than two weeks, and she was still settling in. My last assistant – a real pistol named Ruby – had recently moved to Vegas with her fourth husband.
At times like these, I missed Ruby's bluntness. Unlike Erin, Ruby wouldn't be standing there looking uneasy as she tried to come up with the right word to describe whatever I supposedly had.
But Erin was a nice person – a hell of a lot nicer than I was – and was turning out to be an exceptional assistant in every other way, so I steepled my fingers and waited patiently for her to just spit it out.
Finally, after a long moment, she said, "Um…a blonde?"
I gave Erin a look. "So I've got another blonde. That's what you're telling me?" I made a show of glancing around. "So, where is she?"
"In the downstairs lobby. According to Gretchen, she's been camped out there for days."
The more Erin talked, the less I understood. "So, she's sleeping in the lobby?"
My office was located on the top floor of our largest factory. We made tools and plenty of them. And even though our lobby was nice enough, it was no five-star hotel.
Erin replied, "No. But she's been there every day this week."
Today was Thursday. "So four days then."
Erin nodded. "She told Gretchen that you agreed to meet with her, but she's not on your schedule."
Again, I frowned. "You get a name?"
Erin glanced down at her notepad. "Mina Lipinski."
Mina, Mina… I searched my memories and came up empty.
In the doorway, Erin added, "Gretchen said to tell you that if you want, she'll call security and have them handle it."
"Security, huh?"
Erin nodded. "Apparently, she's been getting pushier every day." Obviously, she meant the blonde, not Gretchen.
I'd seen my share of pushy blondes – brunettes and redheads, too. There was a time – and it wasn't too long ago – that this might've been the highlight of my afternoon.
Not anymore.
And yet, I wasn't so big of a pussy that I'd call security over a single wayward blonde. If it came down to it, I'd tell her to shove off personally.
Erin cleared her throat. "And apparently, she might be crazy."
By now, I was an expert in crazy. Like ice cream, it came in plenty of flavors. "Crazy how?"
With obvious reluctance, Erin replied, "Like stalker crazy."
So the blonde was a fan. This was nothing new. At least twice a month – and sometimes more often than that – I had some new superfan show up and refuse to leave.
I'd met some of my best girlfriends that way – if you ignored the fact that my relationships tended to be on the short side.
But I was done with all that. It wasn't just because the game had gotten old. It was because both of my brothers had pussied out and decided to settle down.
During the last year, both of them had gotten engaged – Brody maybe ten months ago and Mason just last week. But they'd gone exclusive long before that.
This alone wouldn't have been enough to change my habits. But it had gotten me thinking – not upstairs, but down below.
Yeah, I meant in my pants.
Oh sure, I could still get it up. No problems there. But it was like both of us – me and my cock – were bored and restless. In the spirit of figuring out what the hell was going on, I'd decided to take a short hiatus.