door open and had one foot out the door when I said “It was just dancing, Lily. Don’t make it into something it wasn’t.”
She paused for only a moment before getting out of the car and slamming the door. I powered the window down and called to her just as she reached the stairs for the train.
“Try to wear a more work appropriate skirt tomorrow,” I said.
Her face grew cold and stony before she turned away and disappeared down the stairs.
Lily was already at work when I arrived early the next morning. She put my breakfast and coffee on my desk without a word and without even looking at me before walking out again. She stayed in her office for most of the morning until she had to bring me a stack of files.
“All of these need to be looked over and signed,” she said quietly as she placed the stack on an empty chair. “The priority files are marked with an orange dot.”
Again she didn’t look at me before walking out of my office. I picked up my phone, poised to call her back in, to make her look at me with those gray eyes, but I put the phone back down. She was my employee and I was her employer and nothing more.
I went back to work and tried to forget about the nagging little voice in my head that was calling me an asshole.
Chapter Seven
* ~ Lily~*
Donna Summer was the friend in my head, because she got it, she really did. I did work hard for my money, and he never did treat me right. The he in question isn't a person for me, though. The he in question is the universe and its infinite d esire to consistently screw me over. First tragedy struck in the early summer. Then the bar burned down, quickly followed by my sudden homelessness. My employment under Kyle Sterling was hot and cold, because Kyle was hot and cold. One moment he was cold and telling me how much I suck as a human and the next he was grinding on my ass on the dance floor. The most recent proof of the universe’s hatred towards me was the loss of a part time, under the table bar job.
The bar was in a scuzzy neighborhood and the owner was a pig. I warned him several times not to touch me. Giving me a lousy paycheck at the end of the week didn't mean he could grab my breasts. My knuckles were still bleeding from missing his jaw on my second punch and the palms of my hands were scraped from landing on my hands and knees after he literally threw me out. My foot, however, did not hurt after I kicked him in the balls.
Desperate to save money, I hiked through the city instead of taking any form of public transportation u ntil I hit a PATCO station. The night wasn’t too cold; it was comfortable enough for a walk, even a million block walk. I was almost to the train station when some douche rag bum rushed me, shoving me into a brick wall and demanding my messenger bag. He had a nice utility knife that I'm sure he could also use to open bottles, cans of beans, and maybe clip his toe nails, but he chose to wave it in my face. I wasn't sure which was worse, the damn knife or his foul breath.
"You're not taking my bag, asshole!" I yelled in his concealed face.
"G ive me the bag or I'll cut your ass up," he said in a low voice.
I struggled against him, kicking him in the shin and punching at his back and arms. He shoved me hard against the wall and tried to rip the bag from me.
"Give me the fucking bag!"
"Go get your own bag, dirt bag!" I shoved at him and he stumbled backward.
"Hey!" A masculine voice shouted not too far away. "Hey, what are you doing to her?"
The rest happened very quickly. The douche rag, determined to get his prize, jabbed his knife at me, slicing my palm as I tried to defend myself. While I gripped at my bleeding hand, he yanked on the strap of my bag, knocking me to the ground in the process. He jerked the bag off of me and took off. I got to my feet just as the stranger who had called out to us reached me.
Angry, furious, adrenaline rushing, I tried to go after the robber, but strong arms encircled my waist.
"What
She paused for only a moment before getting out of the car and slamming the door. I powered the window down and called to her just as she reached the stairs for the train.
“Try to wear a more work appropriate skirt tomorrow,” I said.
Her face grew cold and stony before she turned away and disappeared down the stairs.
Lily was already at work when I arrived early the next morning. She put my breakfast and coffee on my desk without a word and without even looking at me before walking out again. She stayed in her office for most of the morning until she had to bring me a stack of files.
“All of these need to be looked over and signed,” she said quietly as she placed the stack on an empty chair. “The priority files are marked with an orange dot.”
Again she didn’t look at me before walking out of my office. I picked up my phone, poised to call her back in, to make her look at me with those gray eyes, but I put the phone back down. She was my employee and I was her employer and nothing more.
I went back to work and tried to forget about the nagging little voice in my head that was calling me an asshole.
Chapter Seven
* ~ Lily~*
Donna Summer was the friend in my head, because she got it, she really did. I did work hard for my money, and he never did treat me right. The he in question isn't a person for me, though. The he in question is the universe and its infinite d esire to consistently screw me over. First tragedy struck in the early summer. Then the bar burned down, quickly followed by my sudden homelessness. My employment under Kyle Sterling was hot and cold, because Kyle was hot and cold. One moment he was cold and telling me how much I suck as a human and the next he was grinding on my ass on the dance floor. The most recent proof of the universe’s hatred towards me was the loss of a part time, under the table bar job.
The bar was in a scuzzy neighborhood and the owner was a pig. I warned him several times not to touch me. Giving me a lousy paycheck at the end of the week didn't mean he could grab my breasts. My knuckles were still bleeding from missing his jaw on my second punch and the palms of my hands were scraped from landing on my hands and knees after he literally threw me out. My foot, however, did not hurt after I kicked him in the balls.
Desperate to save money, I hiked through the city instead of taking any form of public transportation u ntil I hit a PATCO station. The night wasn’t too cold; it was comfortable enough for a walk, even a million block walk. I was almost to the train station when some douche rag bum rushed me, shoving me into a brick wall and demanding my messenger bag. He had a nice utility knife that I'm sure he could also use to open bottles, cans of beans, and maybe clip his toe nails, but he chose to wave it in my face. I wasn't sure which was worse, the damn knife or his foul breath.
"You're not taking my bag, asshole!" I yelled in his concealed face.
"G ive me the bag or I'll cut your ass up," he said in a low voice.
I struggled against him, kicking him in the shin and punching at his back and arms. He shoved me hard against the wall and tried to rip the bag from me.
"Give me the fucking bag!"
"Go get your own bag, dirt bag!" I shoved at him and he stumbled backward.
"Hey!" A masculine voice shouted not too far away. "Hey, what are you doing to her?"
The rest happened very quickly. The douche rag, determined to get his prize, jabbed his knife at me, slicing my palm as I tried to defend myself. While I gripped at my bleeding hand, he yanked on the strap of my bag, knocking me to the ground in the process. He jerked the bag off of me and took off. I got to my feet just as the stranger who had called out to us reached me.
Angry, furious, adrenaline rushing, I tried to go after the robber, but strong arms encircled my waist.
"What
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