Borden (Borden #1) (14 page)

Emma

The second I showed up for work Monday morning, I noticed it.

The unpleasant silence.

The feeling that something was very wrong.

I saw it in Blythe’s eyes as she gave me a sad smile. I shot her a face, asking her what was wrong. She pointed to Denny the Dick’s door and mouthed, “You’re in trouble.”

I didn’t understand. I hadn’t done anything.

“He’s been going off about you,” Tessa whispered in my ear as I made my way to the back room to hang up my jacket and purse. “Says he wants you to see him when you get here.”

I simply nodded in return, too tongue-tied to reply. I was confused as ever. I didn’t know what the dick could possibly be pissed off with me about. I’d done nothing wrong. I walked to his office door and knocked, glancing over my shoulder to look at Blythe one last time. She looked worried for me.

“Come in,” Denny barked from inside.

I turned away and opened the door. Immediately the smell of dirty socks and old food hit me. He was sitting behind his desk, his stomach practically spilling over it as he rocked back and forth on his computer chair with his fingers entwined over his chest. His beady eyes lapped me up and down, before he leaned forward and clicked his mouse rapidly. Probably shutting off another porno video. Seedy bastard.

“Take a seat,” he told me, trying his best to step into his boss mode, except he was seriously the most unintimidating man that ever walked this earth. “And as you sit, I want you to look at me, please, Emma, because we are going to be having a very serious conversation.”

One of the things Denny the Dick loved to do was order us around. It thrilled him to no end. Suppressing my shudders, I stiffly sat down on the grimy chair and looked at him across the desk.

“So what’s going on?” I asked him. “Everyone’s saying that you’re pissed at me. I don’t understand why.”

“We’ve received complaints about you,” he answered, his eyes lingering on my boobs before looking back at my face.

“What sort of complaints? Everyone loves me here.”

“Well, clearly not
everybody
, Emma, or else we wouldn’t have received complaints, now, would we?”

I fought from rolling my eyes. God, he was such a
DICK
.

“Okay,” I replied, carefully. “So what are the complaints about?”

“Well, your false authority over the kitchen for one.”

I froze. “What?”

“You’ve been overworking our staff, making them provide sustenance for you on your breaks in the morning.”

“Pat puts aside a muffin for me every morning because he wants to, not because he’s being forced to by me.”

Denny just shook his head. “Based on the numerous complaints in regards to your nagging for your unpaid muffins, I can’t deny their validity.”

I felt tingles of anger run down my arms and legs. With everything inside of me, I mustered out a calm, “Okay, fine then. I won’t eat a muffin on my morning breaks since it’s suddenly a crime.”

“It’s actually theft, Emma.”

Another grit of my teeth. “Fine, you can dock some of my pay for this week to compensate for your profit loss. Have we settled this now?”

“No. There are more complaints.”

I raised my arms out. “Hit me with some other ones, Denny.”

“The biggest complaint I have received in regards to you is your lack of modesty around here.”

I blinked in surprise. “My lack of
modesty
?”

He nodded grimly. “Your desperate hit up lines have made customers uncomfortable.”

I froze again. Was this guy high? “My… hit up lines?”

“I don’t appreciate you trying to pick up the men that are putting money in my pocket, Emma –”

“I haven’t been trying to pick up
anybody
here!”

WHAT THE FUCK?

Denny just shook his head, like I was rattling nonsense. “I’ve seen it myself. The way you talk to people. John in particular has had enough of your sexual innuendos, telling him vile things like wanting your buns buttered and such–”

“Are you freaking serious right now?” I cut in, the feelings of anger and shock swirling like a fucking tornado inside of me. “That guy is all over me! And all over Blythe too! Go and ask her.”

“Jesus Christ, Emma, stop blaming a senile old man for your crimes. And Blythe would never engage promiscuously with an older gentleman. That man couldn’t even get it up if he was in the middle of the biggest model orgy in the world!” Now he appeared outraged by me, as if I was seriously disgusting for suggesting that John had a seedy mind.

“Now, I can’t afford to drive away any more business than you already have, Emma. We’re walking on eggshells here as it is, and one more explicit sexual advance from you to another one of my poor victimised customers can damage me permanently. I’m afraid I have to let you go, effective immediately.”

I just blinked at him, stunned into speechlessness. “I… I don’t understand.”

“You’re fired,” he stated simply. “What’s there not to understand?”

“I’ve worked here for over two years.”

“And is it a coincidence that in those two years my profit has declined tremendously?”

“But you’ve been open for only that time.”

“Exactly.”

I shot him another look. “Do you hear yourself?”

Pretending to appear busy, he began to fiddle with some loose papers on his desk, as if already dismissing me. “I’m sorry for the short notice –”

“That’s not even short notice! That’s like
immediate
out of nowhere notice –”

“I understand your anger, Emma, but what’s done is done. Now if you’ll excuse yourself, I have some very important matters to attend to.”

“Like what? You do fuck all around here.”

He tensed and glanced up at me. “Excuse me? I own this business.”

“Yeah, and you sit behind your desk and jack off all day long while we’ve been busting our asses off out there!” I stood up, my body shaking with adrenaline, and I knew at once what was really going on. “You’re the worst boss I ever worked for, Denny, and you’re a fucking liar too, because I’ve done nothing to deserve this. You’re spineless, so it’s no surprise you’re following Borden’s orders to get rid of me.”

“I’m not taking anybody’s orders –”

“Are you seriously going to play the denial card?”

“It’s not denial if it isn’t true. Borden has no strings on me.”

Too angry to respond, I flipped him off and stormed out of there, seething on my way to the back room, past the girls and the kitchen. Blythe followed after me, not asking what had happened. They probably all heard our conversation. I felt so humiliated, like maybe they believed in his rubbish. I probably looked like a senile-hungry hussy that thieved muffins out of the kitchen.

“Are you alright, Emma?” Pat asked me from behind the kitchen counter as he began setting up his station. “I could hear yelling coming from the office.”

I looked at him. “Did you tell the dick that I’ve been ordering you to give me muffins on my break?”

He shot me a perplexed look. “Hell no, I didn’t.”

“Well, that’s what he’s saying.” I turned to Blythe. “And apparently I’m trying to pick up the customers, particularly John, whom I’m pretty much sexually harassing.”

Blythe’s mouth dropped. “What the fuck?”

“Exactly!”

They watched me as I gathered my things again, fighting hard to keep intact my pride by not crumbling and crying on the floor about being jobless all over again.

“What are you doing?” Blythe asked me.

“I’m fired,” I answered, my voice breaking. “Which is fine, whatever. I’ll get another job.” In a city where jobs are difficult as fuck to find.

Pat cursed and Blythe gasped. They told me how unfair that was, how little it made sense. I bit my tongue, refusing to let them know it made perfect sense to me. I opened my wallet to pull out my bus money, shaking in my rage. If Denny was a man, he’d have at least acknowledged the truth, that it was all Borden. He’d never have fired me over these things, anyway. He’d have waited until the damn restaurant burned down before thinking of firing someone. We’d all been together for the two years he’d began operating the business, taking our shit every single day.

Leaving the diner was like doing the walk of shame. Everyone stopped to stare at me, even the first customers that had just come through the door, like they knew already. I kept my eyes drawn to the ground, blinking back the ache behind my eyes.

Must not cry. Must not cry.

I stepped out into the cold air and took in a deep breath.

For the first time in ever, I didn’t know what to do, where to go, how to salvage my life. So much of me was in this place. It had been my safety net. I barely made it by, sure, but it was better than this: completely jobless, completely broke, with no more than fifteen dollars in my wallet – no, no, it was eleven dollars actually.

“Fuck!” I cussed.

I was going to have a complete panic attack, and it didn’t help that in this particular moment the skies decided, “hey, time to shit on your parade some more, Emma” and empty its guts out on me. Great, so now I was jobless, sitting on the curb of the road outside of the diner, getting drenched in rain while I fought back the tears brimming behind my eyes.

Desperation is a very cruel thing, I realized, as I got all philosophical just then. It made you dangerously aware of the precipice you were hanging off of. Dangling over the edge, staring down into a black hole, while everything inside of you was struggling against the inevitable.

That’s how it felt like for me.

Nah, to be more specific, I felt exactly like a failure. Here, I was supposed to be a big girl. I left my grandmother’s house, ready to chase a good job, feeling like an independent little thing, strong-willed against the world, like I was going to take it on with a stormy passion that was unrivalled.

Ha.

Hahaha.

Yeah, right.

People don’t realize that they’re not always the ones holding themselves back from achieving their dreams, it’s everybody else standing in the way.

I sighed.

Time to stop whining about my shortfalls. I had to get up, get moving, and find another job. A job that wasn’t under Borden’s command. That would be disastrous, especially with how out of control I felt around him. That man would enjoy chewing me up and spitting me out.

I’d be a janitor, if I had to. Hell, I’d strip if I could. Anything to get me out of having to crawl back to my grandmother and beg for money. Not that I’d have to beg, mind you, she’d give me the shirt off her back. But that was the problem. I didn’t want her to.

And Borden knew it too.

Shaking off my sadness, I gathered my bag and stood up. I dragged my ass to the nearest bus stop and went home. It was as I neared my apartment building that I noticed a man standing out front. My steps slowed when he looked up at me and acknowledged me with a smile. The man was middle-aged, thick and short, and had the bushiest grey-black moustache I’d ever seen.

When I made eye contact with him, he raised his hand and gestured me over. I froze, part of me cautious, the other part completely aware he was sent by Borden. Swallowing hard, I hesitantly made my way over.

“What do you want?” I immediately asked.

Moustache Man smiled, cheerfully. “I’m here to discuss your job role and what Mr Borden expects of you on Wednesday morning.”

“Wednesday?”

“Yes, you have the day off tomorrow to get yourself ready. I’m assigned to be your driver, so you no longer have to worry about public transportation. If you let me into your apartment, I can take out the file here in my bag and underline your responsibilities –”

“He’ll do this again if I find another job, won’t he?” I interrupted, forlornly.

He paused and then nodded solemnly. “Yes, Emma, he will.”

“Shit.”

“I know this seems out of the ordinary for you, and frankly, he’s never done this before, so I’m also at a loss. But it’s a good position with very good pay,” he consoled me. “Mr Borden has been very generous.”

“Generous? He’s
forcing
me to work for him.”

Moustache Man nodded. “Yes, but…at least you’re not on his shit list, Emma, and believe me, that shit list is a dangerous place to be on.” He cringed for a moment before clearing his throat. “Now, how about we go in, or we can walk to a café, anywhere with a bit of privacy so I can be thorough about this.”

“There’s a diner around the corner,” I replied, warily eyeing the bag he was carrying.

How thorough did one have to be over a simple bookkeeping position?

*

Well, shit.

Thorough
was the understatement of the century. Borden was a fucking Nazi with all his rules. I went through the papers in awe. There were explicit instructions on what I could or couldn’t wear, a list of things I wasn’t allowed to bring into the office, specifically my purse which baffled me.