Going to her PT appointment was the highlight of my day. If I didn’t think I’d need four more years of schooling, I’d see if they’d hire me to do that full time. I watched them work with other animals too, one who lost a limb due to a car accident, one that’s blind, and another one that was so abused, all it did was shake. Whoever did that to the poor animal is a fucking asshole. I hope they had to pay. There’s no excuse for that. None. Hopefully therapy can help that sweet guy.
Alas, changing careers at this point is just not possible. I may have to think of something, though, because I haven’t heard a word from MFH. Sure, it’s only been a day, but you’d think someone would tell me what’s going on. I haven’t seen Alison around the neighborhood either, and believe me, I’ve looked. I swore I saw her at the coffee shop this morning, but it was someone else. Once they turned around, I saw they couldn’t hold a candle to Alison Kirby.
I’m going a little crazy not knowing what’s going on there. I’ve even contemplated taking up a hobby. I know knitting is out because when it comes to crafts, I’m all thumbs. Just ask my mom. Now she’s creative. When I was younger, I tried to help her out from time to time with her projects, but I’m useless. Which reminds me, I need to call her. Later.
With a sigh, I look around my tiny place. If I owned my apartment, I’d consider repainting, but since I don’t and I’m not allowed to make changes, that’s also out. So, I’ve decided to start running—in earnest. Sure, I ran that one morning after Sky’s accident, but nothing after. That is until this leave business.
I woke up early this morning, took Sky out first, and then I was off. I was pretty proud of myself because I ran two miles without stopping. I guess I wasn’t in as terrible shape as I thought. I’ve still got a long way to go, of course. Maybe I’ll work up to doing a half marathon or something. That’s a good goal, right?
Sitting on the sofa, I reach down and pick up Sky. Placing her next to me, I lay my head back and sigh. “I wish I knew what was going on, girl.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alison
“You fired him?” I’m sitting in Graham’s office again. It seems to be a common occurrence and one I hope changes soon.
Graham shakes his head. “He resigned after I offered to send him to rehab, company paid, but he refused. Adamantly. I gave him the choice.”
“Wow.” That was dumb. “I can’t believe he’d resign over getting help.” Who does that?
“He kept blaming you.” Graham hesitates. “And Ben.”
I can see why he thinks I’m to blame but… “Ben?” I say, surprised. “What did Ben do?”
With a shrug, he stands up from behind his desk. “No idea.”
I think he’s trying to tell me this meeting is over, except I’ve got a few more questions. “What now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I assume you’ll post Sam’s job.”
“We will. Eventually.” Stepping around his desk, he stops a foot away from me. “I was hoping you’d hang around for a bit longer.”
What about Ben and me?
“I’ve never managed an entire department before.” Even though he announced to all of them that I had the experience.
“You’ll be fine.”
Fine? Does he really think so, or does he just want Marketing off his plate for a while? “I’ll do this for a little while, but you need to bring Ben back.”
“I’m giving him a week to stew. It’ll be good for him.”
I guess I’ll have to take that. “I see you moved Lindsay into Clive’s old office.” The big one.
“Got her a fridge of her own too.” He smirks. “I never want to hear about stolen lunches again.”
“Good idea.” I chuckle. “And you moved Ben to her old office?”
“Her office is larger. I figured he’d be better off in the bigger space. And I’m thinking the two shouldn’t be neighbors right now.”
I nod. “I agree.” Plus her office has a window. “Are you going to get him another assistant?”
“I assumed HR had already taken care of that.”
“No. Sam told him it wasn’t approved.”
“Bullshit,” Graham spits. “What the hell was Sam’s problem?”
I shake my head. “No idea.” Actually, I do have some idea since Ben shared his ridiculous theory with me that Sam thought Ben used his looks to get ahead, but I decide to keep that to myself for now.
Standing, I shake Graham’s hand and leave his office. I’ve got a lot to do before I can sit down with the managers. Going through Sam’s papers and computer files is the first thing on my list. I hope Meghan will be able to stay late for a few nights. I’ll need as much help as I can get.
My head hurts. The last three days have been nothing but sorting through papers and the crap Sam had strewn across his office. They let him box up his personal belongings the day of the chair incident. The one we shall not mention. I was sure to leave the room while he did what he needed to do. Lucky was the one charged with supervising his exit. Now everything that remains is things that relate to the company.
Honestly, I don’t get it. Why did he keep this stuff? Most of it makes no sense. His notations, in general, are illegible. On top of that, many of the papers are stained. Meghan and I decided early on if we couldn’t read it, it went into a box to be dealt with later—or never. We’ve got two full boxes and a third in the works.
The items we can read aren’t much better. He’s added so much personal opinion stuff about the staff and managers on the edges of some of his agendas and other papers that I’m embarrassed for him. The things he wrote about people like Silvia and Ben make me cringe. Example: a note about Silvia mentions her clothing at a staff meeting from two months ago. He wrote, “What is she wearing? That shirt looks terrible on her. What color is that? Sunflower? And her pants are way too tight. She needs to stop eating donuts. She’s on her third one today.”
Talk about inappropriate.
As for Ben, the kinds of things he jotted down related to his personality and his work ethic. He called him “lazy and entitled” on one paper. On another he drew an arrow from Ben’s name to the words “stupid and inadequate.” Who does that? Especially about someone like Ben. He’s none of those things.
No wonder Sam didn’t want me in his office. I wouldn’t want anybody to see this shit either.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ben
When I opened my mailbox on Saturday morning and saw the MFH logo on the return address, my stomach dropped. “This is it,” I say to Sky, who’s standing next to me. She’s walking some now, not a lot but enough that I feel okay about leaving her home alone now and then.
“I’m just going to get this over with. Either they’re letting me back in or I’m fired.” Sucking in a lungful of air, I tear open the letter and read. With a sigh, I smile down at Sky. “Good news, girl. It says they’ve concluded the investigation and I’m to report to work on Monday.”