Page 7 of Love Marks
Wait, backup. They’re firing me? For leaking this story to the press?
Say something! Defend yourself!
I look up at Ian’s smug expression.
“I did not do this,” I say, my voice shaky but steady. I move my eyes from Ian to Pierre. He always liked me, right? He’ll understand that this is a misunderstanding. “I gave the folder to—”
“Clause seven of your contract gives authorization for termination for any reason.” Ian’s steely voice interrupts and when I look into his eyes, they are mean. Meaner than I realized.
“You’re lying!” I stand, pointing my finger at Ian.
“Quinn, please don’t make a scene,” Pierre says, his eyes pleading. I take a deep breath and meet Pierre’s gaze again.
“I did not do this,” I repeat, my voice firm.
Pierre shakes his head and has the decency to look upset as he leans forward and meets my gaze unflinchingly.
“We’ll mail you your last paycheck. I’m sorry, Quinn. Your employment at The Phoenix is officially terminated.”
* * *
My goodbyes with the kitchen staff are the hardest. Ian stands towering over me the whole time, rushing me out the door as fast as he can. He’s like the Grim Reaper, minus the scythe. Pierre tries to hug me as he kicks me off the premises, but I refuse his open arms, sending a pang of guilt into my stomach. Why should I feel bad? He’s the one who fired me.
Meanwhile, I’ve never seen Manny as fired up as he is when he finds out I’ve been sacked.
“Nah. No way. This is outrageous! Where’s Pierre? Let me talk to him. He can find another head chef if he wants to fire one of our most hardworking employees for no good reason!”
He’s standing in the kitchen, waving his spatula around and pacing back-and-forth like a madman. My heart grows a little from its shrunken hole seeing him go to bat for me, but I shake my head. He can’t. I push him out of the kitchen and into the back alley.
“Manny, no. Don’t — please don’t try and defend me. They might fire you too,” I plead with him. It’s one thing for me to leave, but The Phoenix wouldn’t be what it is without Manny.
“I’d like to see him try. Him and that evil twink.” Manny smirks and I giggle a little. “Boy tried hitting on me once before, as if he’s my type.”
“Of course not. Richard Burton only, right?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Or a lookalike. I’d settle for a James Dean, but not a James Charles.”
I laugh again, already feeling lighter in Manny’s presence. He pulls out a cigarette from his apron and offers me one.
I don’t smoke but I take one anyway. Why not? I just got fired after all. I stare down at the grimy pavement as we smoke in silence.
“So, what are you gonna do now?” Manny asks, glancing over at me.
“I’m thinking maybe petty theft, a little drug dealing on the side,” I say, shrugging.
“Ha ha. No way. We’ll find you a job. Plenty of other nice ass restaurants in this city. You’ll be alright.” He inhales and crushes the cigarette butt beneath his food. He brings me in for a tight hug, bumping my back with his fist, and for the first time today, I feel like crying. I feel like fucking weeping in Manny’s tattooed arms.
I step back and take a steadying breath. I can’t believe this is happening. What am I going to tell my mom? How am I going to pay my rent? My impending crisis looms over me.
“Thanks for everything,” I say, feeling the weight of this goodbye in my chest. Manny shakes his head, smiling a little.
“This isn’t the end, sweetheart. It’s just the beginning.”
Chapter 3
Wesley
Staring down at the New York Post headline in front of me, I feel numb. I’m not even angry. Some other feeling has lodged itself in my chest and burrowed deep like it lives there now. Something close to apathy but hurts a lot worse.