Page 25 of One More Night
The fact he hasn’t felt comfortable enough to sit yet, disturbs me.
“Reviewed the what?”
“Files.”
“Customer files?” Does he think I was involved?
“No.” His hand finds the back of his neck, the stress of this on him obvious in the way he constantly clears his throat between sentences. “Security files. The tapes, if you like.”
No. This is a mere coincidence that he brings this up today. Total fluke. Absolutely nothing to do with the pine cleaner I subtly push further from view.
“And?” I clasp my hands together, the strap of my purse in a death grip between them. “Cut to the chase, Ted.”
“The break room.” He turns side on to me, hand rested on the files again as his thumb fidgets with the edge of one. “I would have been satisfied with a warning, happy to give you a bit of an olive branch, Corinne, but I wasn’t the one who was alerted first.”
Oh, God.Kill me now. “Alerted?” Upper management saw?
I need to be sick.
“Between staff, it would have been possibly some unpaid leave, or a shift of job roles to keep a professional distance.” He lifts his gaze, finally. “But it was a consultant, Corinne.” I wish he hadn’t.
The level of my epic fuck up is outlined in the way he can’t decide between disgust and pity when he looks at me.
“What’s the damage, then?” A compulsory course. A written warning? No. He said it was worse than that.
“Termination.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Corinne, but you really dug this hole yourself.” He drags a hand over his face before asking. “Why?”
“I … I don’t know.” My chin hits my chest, my shame clear in the blush of my skin.
“Do you know Jordan?”
“In a manner of speaking.” My palms sweat.
“He never mentioned he knew you.”
“He’s not the kind of man who would, is he?”
Ted takes a deep breath, finger tapping the desk before him.
I’ve lost my goddamn job over a fleeting moment of madness. Was the fantasy worth it? Was Jordan worth my career? It’s hard to find a reason to say yes.
A lifetime of wondering ‘what if’ would have been better than this high-level panic, that’s for sure. How will I meet my rent? My credit card? Let alone feed myself.
My job, as commonplace as it is in this day and age, isn’t exactly sought after. It could take months to find a new position. Especially without references. I’m hardly about to list Ted as a phone referee, am I?
Guess there’s always life as a personal trainer again. Some income is better than none, right?
“I really don’t know what else to say,” Ted offers. “You’re a smart woman; you knew the implications of this. Which is why I keep coming back to why?”
I rise from the seat, purse clutched before me. “When I figure it out for myself, I’ll let you know.” I swallow back the lump in my throat, unable to look Ted in the eye. “May I have the rest of the day off?”
“You can either clear your things today, or come in and do it tomorrow. I’ll give you that. But you’ll be paid to the end of the week with no expectation that you’ll be here in between.”
A gentle way of saying fuck off and don’t come back. Nice.
“I’m sorry, Ted.”
“As am I, Corinne.”