Page 22 of By A Thread

I tapped out a staccato rhythm with my thumb against my leg. “You’re fired.”

She smiled evilly at me, and I was taken aback by how attractive I found that. “That’s something you’re going to have to discuss with your mother. I don’t believe you have the authority to fire me.” She tapped a finger to her chin.

“That’s something I will be remedying, Maleficent,” I promised her.

“See how well we’re getting along already?” she said. “We already have cute nicknames for each other. We’re practically mani-pedi buds. Now, if you can point me in the direction of human resources, I’ll get out of your hair, and if we’re both very, very lucky, we’ll never see each other again.”

I would have liked to point her in the direction of an open window.

At least, that’s what I thought that urge was. I was confused by the fact that my dick seemed to be waking up.

“You stick to your ring of hell, and I’ll stick to mine,” I agreed.

“Perfect solution.” She yanked the conference room door open.

“HR?” she said, in a much friendlier tone to my mother’s assistants who just happened to be lurking outside.

“I can show you,” Gina volunteered. She ushered Ally away but not before the woman shot me a look of pure contempt over her shoulder.

8

Ally

“You need an emergency contact.” The same woman who had glared her way through an introduction with my bus stop buddy was tapping an impatient fingernail on my screen as I scrolled through onboarding paperwork.

Label’s HR department was made up of five very stylish women sitting behind neatly decorated desks arranged in what I assumed was an approved feng shui flow. None of the other reps looked nearly as pissed off as the short straw I’d drawn.

“Uh,” I hesitated.

“No family in the city?” She sounded like it might actually kill her to care.

“None, that I can count on in an emergency,” I said flatly.

“Then pick a friend,” she said in exasperation. “Youdohave one of those, don’t you?”

I guessed she was projecting.

I entered my best friend Faith’s contact information and hoped to the gods of workplace emergencies that if HR ever needed to call her at work, this lovely flower would have the honor of hearing “Club Ladies and Gentlemen, we’ve got tits and dicks.” Faith was part-owner of one of the most over-the-top strip clubs on the island.

I completed the paperwork to the background music of Lady HR’s annoyed sighs and fingernail tapping on her watch. The salary listed with the job description had me doing a little shimmy in my chair. It wasn’t “I can afford a one-bedroom in Manhattan money,” but it was “I only need three part-time gigs on the side to almost make ends meet.”

“Almost make ends meet” was way better than where I’d been when I woke up this morning.

I’d keep the dance class, the highest paying bar shifts, and take one or two catering jobs a week, I decided, running through the calculations in my head. I still wouldn’t have much time for doing the actual renovations, but this was a medium-sized step in the right direction.

If I could just hang in there until the renovations were done and the house was on the market…

“Look here.”

I looked up in time to wince at the flash of a camera.

The picture loaded onto the computer screen next to her. It looked like I was mid-sneeze. I suddenly had a good idea of who had shot Gola’s company ID.

“You’re seriously going to put that on my ID?” I asked, actually impressed with the woman’s “I don’t give a fuck” attitude.

“I don’t have all day to orchestrate a photo shoot to please new admins,” she snapped.

“Well, all right then. Let’s go with the mid-sneeze. It’ll be a nice ice breaker.” It was rather freeing to know that this was all temporary and I didn’t have to worry about fitting in or making a good impression or staying on track for a promotion.