Squeak

Fired

Jezebel

I closed my eyes and tried to reel in my anger. It was cresting, and I was at my breaking point, but I didn't know whether I wanted to cry, yell, or fight. I wanted to blame the Kings for why my child was taken from me, but this was all on me. I went against my better judgment and put my faith in the wrong people. I gave Helen too much credit and put all my eggs in one basket with Erik.

"You're looking at me as if you want to tear my eyes out," Erik said amusedly with a crooked smirk that would make my panties wet on any other occasion, but not now. Not when I was uncertain if I would ever see my child again. Helen said they'd return a month from now, but there was no telling what mental state she was in. She could change her mind and live peacefully in some English countryside with my daughter for all I know.

"Jezebel—"

"Don't talk to me, Erik."

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"Yeah...me too," I muttered, responding to my boss's text message.

Mr. Brooks: I'll consider this your resignation.

My eyes widened in shock, and I immediately called to get some clarification.

Because I know this man isn't firing me!

"Good evening, Ms. Holmes."

My evening is far from good, and his will become miserable in a few seconds if he tells me something I don't want to hear.

"Mr. Brooks, I—"

"I want your office cleared out as soon as possible," he said, cutting me off.

"You can't be serious. My daughter—"

"Your daughter is not my concern. You already took leave for her surgery, and now you're taking additional last-minute leave that I can't afford to grant you. You begged me for a case and a chance to prove yourself, and now you can't deliver. Your employment with Brooks and Associates is terminated."

I chuckled humorlessly. "After all these years of dedication, you'll let me go like this?" I hissed.

"You're taking this personally, Ms. Holmes. I'm running a business, not a charity. Good luck with your future endeavors. Contact my secretary Ms. Howard for a letter of recommendation."

I held my cell phone to my ear long after he hung up on me. I was processing—trying to figure out if the last six hours happened. I was losing everything—my child, my sanity, and my job.

What's next?

I sucked my cheeks in as my Jezebel spirit started to take hold. She was telling me to send Frankie to his house and blow it up, but I couldn't do that because Mr. Brooks' wife was a lovely woman.

Just let it go, Jezebel. There's nothing else you can do right now.

I relaxed against the seat and pressed the call button for the stewardess.

"Yes, Ms. Holmes?"

"Dirty martini, please; extra olives."

"Yes, ma'am. Anything for you, Mr. King?" she asked, turning to Erik.

"Espresso," he replied, keeping his eyes on me. We stared at each other in silence until she returned with our beverages.

"I'd like another," I said, plucking the toothpick with impaled olives out of the drink. I downed the cocktail in a few gulps and returned the glass to her. I nibbled at the olives idly while I contemplated my future. Brooks and Associates wasn't the end game, but it was where I had my start—the place I was familiar with and called home. Those significant cases assigned to the lawyers with their 100%-win record were due to my countless hours of grunt work. I found discrepancies they'd overlooked and located witnesses that didn't want to be found.