LaReesa handed me her smart phone. The headline: “Eve Finds Her Adam.” The story: Eve sported a sparkling diamond from Wynn Goodman. They planned a June wedding on the Island of Skorpios. They met at an industry trade show, and, yes, they were truly, madly in love.
Which left me hurt, embarrassed, and out in the cold.
My knees buckled as I eased my way back into my chair.
“Can you believe it?” LaReesa gave a loud and unladylike snort of derision. “What a turkey. And will you look at all the clients in the waiting area! Can you believe it? They’re all hip to the news. They’re hoping to see if Wynn still works here!”
Our attention turned to the waiting area, where customers jockeyed for space on gray leather chairs.
LaReesa did a quick scan of our surroundings before ducking her head and cupping a hand over her mouth to speak quietly. “The HQ management team is in the back room. Working on damage control. Wynn had access to our entire client list. He was in on all of corporate’s plans for expansion. Knows which markets they’re considering. All their upcoming promotions and ad schedules. You can bet he’ll take all that with him when he marries Eve. Snippets will make out like a bunch of bandits!”
“I-If he leaves, who will be our supervisor?” I wondered.
“They already decided to bring that mealy mouthed Jenny Farquar in from Jacksonville, Florida. I’ve heard her specialty is tattling on people,” LaReesa said. “At least that’s what my cousin Shereena told me. She works in the same district. Wonder who’ll be the first to get in trouble? I sure hope it ain’t me!”
And she walked back to her station.
LaReesa’s cousin had been right on the money. Jenny “By the Book” Farquar was a major pain. She had no creativity at all, no common sense, and a strictly by-the-book attitude. She also lacked a sense of humor and tact. In short, she was absolutely wrong for this business, or any business that relied on creative people. I’d learned at my mom’s knee that creative people needed a light hand on the reins. If you pulled too hard on the bit, they spent more time bucking you off than moving forward at a trot.
Under Jenny’s “supervision,” I learned not to take anychances. The slightest problem morphed into a big deal, whether it was a change in schedule or a customer with an expired coupon. It doesn’t matter, I told myself. Never again would I let myself care. I was through with being vulnerable. I’d learned my lesson, and I had the battle scars to prove it.
I grew more and more withdrawn. As the weeks passed, I missed St. Elizabeth with an emotional pang that gnawed at me like hunger. Jenny proved a miserable excuse for a boss. One day, after she chewed me out in front of a customer, LaReesa walked over and asked, “Why do you put up with this? Didn’t you say your mama runs a salon? Shoot, if I had somewhere else to go, I wouldn’t let the door hit me on the backside as I left. I’d be out of here in a flash.”
With a jolt, I realized she was right. My marriage was over, and running into Hank caused all sorts of headaches. My new lover had dumped me very publicly for a woman with money and clout. My apartment was small and I had a forty-five minute commute to work. The hours at Sassoon were horrible, and my new boss…well, let’s say we didn’t cotton to each other and leave it at that.
What was keeping me here? Pride? Ego?
Inertia.
Then I caught the flu. Day after day, I stayed in bed, sweating and shivering. I quit answering the phone. Vonda and Mom panicked when they hadn’t heard from me in days. Von hopped in the car, drove the five hours to Atlanta, and pounded on my door until I answered.
“Good Lord. What on earth?” she pushed past me, surveyed the place (which she hadn’t seen previously), took stock of me, and in three hours, all my belongings were packed. Vonda bundled me into the passenger seat and drove me home. Home to Violetta’s.
A
Which left me hurt, embarrassed, and out in the cold.
My knees buckled as I eased my way back into my chair.
“Can you believe it?” LaReesa gave a loud and unladylike snort of derision. “What a turkey. And will you look at all the clients in the waiting area! Can you believe it? They’re all hip to the news. They’re hoping to see if Wynn still works here!”
Our attention turned to the waiting area, where customers jockeyed for space on gray leather chairs.
LaReesa did a quick scan of our surroundings before ducking her head and cupping a hand over her mouth to speak quietly. “The HQ management team is in the back room. Working on damage control. Wynn had access to our entire client list. He was in on all of corporate’s plans for expansion. Knows which markets they’re considering. All their upcoming promotions and ad schedules. You can bet he’ll take all that with him when he marries Eve. Snippets will make out like a bunch of bandits!”
“I-If he leaves, who will be our supervisor?” I wondered.
“They already decided to bring that mealy mouthed Jenny Farquar in from Jacksonville, Florida. I’ve heard her specialty is tattling on people,” LaReesa said. “At least that’s what my cousin Shereena told me. She works in the same district. Wonder who’ll be the first to get in trouble? I sure hope it ain’t me!”
And she walked back to her station.
LaReesa’s cousin had been right on the money. Jenny “By the Book” Farquar was a major pain. She had no creativity at all, no common sense, and a strictly by-the-book attitude. She also lacked a sense of humor and tact. In short, she was absolutely wrong for this business, or any business that relied on creative people. I’d learned at my mom’s knee that creative people needed a light hand on the reins. If you pulled too hard on the bit, they spent more time bucking you off than moving forward at a trot.
Under Jenny’s “supervision,” I learned not to take anychances. The slightest problem morphed into a big deal, whether it was a change in schedule or a customer with an expired coupon. It doesn’t matter, I told myself. Never again would I let myself care. I was through with being vulnerable. I’d learned my lesson, and I had the battle scars to prove it.
I grew more and more withdrawn. As the weeks passed, I missed St. Elizabeth with an emotional pang that gnawed at me like hunger. Jenny proved a miserable excuse for a boss. One day, after she chewed me out in front of a customer, LaReesa walked over and asked, “Why do you put up with this? Didn’t you say your mama runs a salon? Shoot, if I had somewhere else to go, I wouldn’t let the door hit me on the backside as I left. I’d be out of here in a flash.”
With a jolt, I realized she was right. My marriage was over, and running into Hank caused all sorts of headaches. My new lover had dumped me very publicly for a woman with money and clout. My apartment was small and I had a forty-five minute commute to work. The hours at Sassoon were horrible, and my new boss…well, let’s say we didn’t cotton to each other and leave it at that.
What was keeping me here? Pride? Ego?
Inertia.
Then I caught the flu. Day after day, I stayed in bed, sweating and shivering. I quit answering the phone. Vonda and Mom panicked when they hadn’t heard from me in days. Von hopped in the car, drove the five hours to Atlanta, and pounded on my door until I answered.
“Good Lord. What on earth?” she pushed past me, surveyed the place (which she hadn’t seen previously), took stock of me, and in three hours, all my belongings were packed. Vonda bundled me into the passenger seat and drove me home. Home to Violetta’s.
A
Similar Books
