Against the Odds

Chapter 5

I've spent the better part of today figuring out how to tell Donna I'm quitting. Going into the office is not an option. The last time a girl quit without giving two full weeks of notice, we heard various objects being thrown against her office walls. I don't think she actually threw anything directly at Jasmine, but I'd rather avoid in-person confrontation altogether. I considered giving her a phone call and politely stating my departure, but then she would definitely yell at me. So, I'm left with email. I think this is a reasonable option.

Dear Donna Grant,

I regret to inform you that as of next Monday I am resigning from my position at Hot Shot Events. Please know that I greatly appreciate the opportunity to work for such a wonderful company. I wish you all the best in the future.

Sincerely,

Delilah Sterling

My phone rings five minutes after I hit send. It's Donna. I let it go to voicemail. After several minutes of pacing around the living room, I listen to the message.

"DELILAH STERLING! YOU REGRET TO INFORM ME? Well, I regret to inform you, that you're FIRED, as of TODAY! Good luck, you'll NEED IT!"

I expected as much. Although, not working this weekend will set me a little behind on my bills. Whatever! What's done is done.

Now I can focus on what to wear tonight. I don't want to dress up too fancy since we're going to a sports bar, but I also don't want to look too casual. I need just the right amount of oomph to make Hunter think "wow, she looks great" but not so much that he knows I dressed up just for him.

I rummage through my closet looking for something, anything to wear. After thirty minutes, the pile of clothes on my bed is about a yard high. How is it possible to have so many clothes but nothing to wear? I pull out a black ripped jean skirt that I haven't seen since my college days. It fits! One item down, two more to go.

***

The bar is busy for a Wednesday night. The pungent smell of cigarettes, beer and sweat make me feel a little nauseous. Taking off my jacket, I scan the room for Kimmy. She texted me saying they were in a semi-circle booth at the back of the bar, in front of the projector screen.

Pushing and shoving my way through the hordes of UFC fans, I reach the tattered red leather booth. There are beer bottles, shot glasses, and a bowl of shelled peanuts scattered across the table. I guess they've already been here for a while. Hunter peers up from his phone as I approach. God, he's even more attractive than I remember. Dang it.

"Lilah! You made it!" Kimmy gleams as she claps her hands and wiggles her legs, which are comfortably swung over Jack's lap.

"Hi Lilah," Jack says lifting his beer in the air.

"Hey guys." I sit down next to Hunter who slides closer to Jack. "Thanks"

Hunter's leg grazes mine as I sit down. It's not like his touch has magical powers, but just to be on the safe side, I cross my legs to create a little distance.

"Why are you so late? You missed the first eight fights!" Kimmy whines.

"Um... it took longer to walk here than I thought," I lie. I'm not about to tell them that I couldn't find something to wear and almost decided to cancel.

"You walked here?" Jack asks, shocked. "Kimmy said you live by Columbia, that's a far walk."

"I like walking," I reply nervously. "Good for the heart." And the wallet.