“Because you both would say ‘No’,” Steffi snapped angrily, pointing at them. “I asked to be moved from thirty-two hours a week to forty, and you said ‘no’. I asked for a raise since I’ve been working here for over a year, and you popped up with some crappy line saying it’s ‘based on merit not time’ – and that’s bull – and we both know it,” Steffi railed as her mind quickly calculated how fast she could get another job to cover her bills in her head.
“Since you’ve admitted to working hours you were not scheduled for…”
“Heck yeah, I’m admitting it – because we can’t ever find you two on the floor…”
“Then I will need your badge, your box knife, and any other equipment that belongs to the store,” Claudia finished smoothly, turning over a sheet of paper that had already been typed up, waiting for her.
Termination papers.
They knew they were going to fire her today – before Steffi even arrived for her shift. This meant that Jeannie downstairs, when she walked past her, had known. They all knew… and Steffi stared at the paper, her chest tight and aching with awareness.
“You couldn’t just write me up?” Steffi asked hoarsely, looking at Claudia and Mr. Benedict in their faces. “You’re firing me and not bothering with a write-up?”
“I think that’s best for everyone,” Claudia said simply. “Time clock theft is a…”
“It’s not theft,” Steffi interrupted, horrified. “I’m not stealing – I would never steal from the company that…” and she paused as her whole soul deflated. “It doesn’t matter what I say, does it?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Steffi rose to her feet, staring at them both, as she felt a surge of anger, pain, and frustration welling up – along with tears. Refusing to cry in front of two people who were basically her puppeteer, ignored the pen that Claudia tried to hand her.
“I’m not signing that,” Steffi said stiffly.
“Not a problem,” Claudia acknowledged. “I can mark it as ‘refusing to sign’.”
Moving toward the door, she glared at her boss. “Move outta my way,” she rasped angrily. “My locker is nearly empty except for that precious box knife and badge you’re looking for – so go get it.”
She barely remembered racing down the stairs, barely recalled driving home, and barely remembered having a complete and total breakdown the moment she saw the paper pinned to the front door.
It probably took her a full ten minutes for her hissy fit to pass. She threw her shoes, slammed doors, flopped down in the recliner, trying to calm down, breathe, anything to keep from losing her freakin’ cool – because this had to be the worst day in the world.
Fired from her job – and now she was being evicted?
And straightened up.
“Noooo,” she breathed, jumping to her feet – and glared at the wall, as if she could see through it, toward Drake’s house. “You Douche Weasel, if you got me freakin’ evicted, I will tear you from limb to limb…”
Marching over to his house, Steffi slammed her fist against his door several times, relishing the ache and the feeling of beating something. Maybe she could get it out of her system before she actually committed an act of violence. I mean, today was already in the toilet. If she’d been accused of time clock theft, how much further down the ladder was battery or assault?Drake had been so nice, so sweet, providing the shoes, teaching her to dance, the car…
“The car,” she gasped painfully in horror – was she about to get in trouble for ‘borrowing’ the car too?
Her mind wasn’t thinking clearly; in fact, nothing was clicking. She was in a rage – a full-blown, crazed, emotional rage that bordered on crazy-town, because the next thing she knew?
She was driving to the ballpark – to Drake’s practice.
Nothing was clear in her head. She was a mish-mash of angry chest pain, throbbing heartbeats, snot-riddled tears, and betrayal stabbed angrily at her soul. How could he do this? Was her prudish, stuck-up neighbor so put out with the fact that one of the homes in the neighborhood was a rental, that he snitched on her? Sold her out?
“Ma’am!”
“Miss - you can’t go out there!”
“Lady…”
Steffi was running through the gates, blinded by tears and raging. In her mind, she could practically see Drake calling in the complaint. He was controlling, manipulative, pushy – forcing his way into everything and tossing a cute smile or playful attitude to get people to cave… and she saw right through him. He did it by making it a gated community, paying for the guard shack, the security team, and flaunting the fact that he wanted to be ‘normal’, but he was making everyone deal with his fame, his popularity, because he wanted it that way… and she was sick of it.
She spotted him in the dugout, and everything moved in slow motion. Several players slapped him on the shoulders to get his attention. He slowly turned, and his eyes widened in shock.
Yeah, he was guilty all right… and she?