This was her job. This was why I paid her, so I wouldn’t have to think about every single tiny detail.
Has it always been like this with her? Yes.
How did you put up with it for so long? Maybe I thought mean equaled smart?
I felt like I’d been sucked into an alternate dimension, where I was now viewing myself from the outside—or the old version of me—and I found her exhausting and boring.
“I really think you should do the red.” Sasha picked up the pink swatch, tossed it into the pile with the rejects, and put the red down next to the sketch of my dress.
No. Wait. Scratch that. I find Sasha exhausting and boring.
“Hey, hey, hey! I brought lunch,” Charlotte’s cheerful voice called from the front door. I leaned back from where I sat at the kitchen table and relief washed over me at the sight of my friend. Who I liked. And who was nice to me.
Jumping up, I left my PA and her pushy opinions behind, walking over to take the bags from Charlotte. “It’s so good to see you.”
I lifted up, she bent down, and we kissed cheeks. “Good to see you too. I guess this is more like an early dinner. I just got off work and the kids are saying hi to Ben, Andy, and the baby. Jethro asked if they could stay for a bit and play, so I’m dropping off dinner. Or lunch. Depending on what you want to call it.”
“Thank you. It can be breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I haven’t eaten all day.”
Sasha and I had been meeting nonstop since Sunday. She’d proclaimed each issue an emergency, and I’d lost count of how many times she’d said my absence had brought everything to a standstill. No one could do anything without me. I was never allowed to take a vacation again without my staff.
But once we’d worked our way through the first five items—colors for redecorating her en suite bathroom, whether to follow our standard August calendar for social media or create a new one, whether or not I should have lunch with Ana Ortega next week at the studio and what I would wear, things like that—it was clear that these were tasks and decisions she could’ve handled on her own and didn’t merit my involvement.
Pasting on a smile, I turned to carry the bags of food into the house and called to Sasha. “Charlotte brought us food.”
“What is it?” Sasha met me with folded arms and an expression that could only be described as petulant.
“It’s sandwiches from Daisy’s,” Charlotte said, meandering into the house after me but addressing Sasha. “I brought tuna for Rae and veggie for you, because I remembered you’re a vegetarian.”
“A sandwich? So I guess the bread is wheat? They don’t have any salads in this town?” Sasha huffed, scratching her scalp with a pencil and turning her back on Charlotte. “We should fly Marques back out.”
Marques was my chef. I liked him. Probably because he didn’t speak English, so we rarely talked. Not that there was anything wrong with Marques. But I was coming to the realization that most of my employees were insufferable, pushy crybabies, and I’d been bamboozled by celebrity inertia into thinking I needed them.
But the last two weeks told me differently.
“No need to fly out Marques. I’m staying. You’re leaving. You’ll see him tomorrow. Or maybe even tonight if we can wrap all this up.” I fought the urge to tell Sasha to say thank you to Charlotte and stop acting like an entitled brat. But she was my employee, not my child.
That said, this incident was soooo going on her performance review.
Exhausted. And Bored.
Unloading the containers, I popped each one open to figure out which was one veggie, which one was tuna, and which one—
“The BLT is mine.” Charlotte pointed toward the pile of takeout.
Meanwhile, Sasha dug through her purse and pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill. I watched in horror as she marched over to Charlotte and held it out. “Do you have change for this?”
“Why? You planning on going to the Pink Pony?”
“It’s for the food.” She waved it under Charlotte’s nose. “And do you need a tip?”
Charlotte lifted an eyebrow at my PA. “I don’t think you have any tips I need.”
“No, Sasha. Charlotte is a friend of mine. Remember?” I sent Charlotte an apologetic smile. This was the third time I’d had to remind my PA who Charlotte was.
Sasha looked between us. “What? Are you two fucking or something?”
Charlotte’s mouth fell open, her eyes ping-ponging to mine.
“What?!” I almost dropped the takeout. “That was—Sasha. That was way over the line.”
She lowered the hundred and huffed, turning to face me completely. “Sorry, okay? It’s just been really stressful since you left us with a big fucking mess, Raquel! I’m so stressed.” She swung her arm toward the front door. “I’ve been the one having to clean it up. And now I have to be out here, in hillb—”
I stopped her before she could make a hillbilly reference. “No. You don’t. I told Domino only to have you pack some clothes for me and fly out with Miguel and Dave. I talked to him, and he confirmed that he’d told you exactly that.”
“Domino doesn’t know what it takes to keep everything running smoothly. Only I know. And I can’t believe you sent back my PA candidates. You expect me to do everything! I need more help.”
I jerked back, my temper rising to lava levels. “Uh, no. You haven’t been dealing with anything. You saved it all for me to deal with. What have you been doing for two weeks?”
“I’ve been completely overwhelmed!”
“Well now you’re completely fired.” I said the words three seconds before they formed in my brain. Even as they solidified, I felt no remorse.
Perhaps I’d allowed Sasha to speak to me this way before, but not anymore.
She reared back. “What?”
“You’re fired. I don’t like how you speak to me.”
It’s amazing what being surrounded by kind people will do. Sienna, her family, Charlotte, and especially Jackson. They’d taught me how I wanted—how I deserved—to be treated, and not by pushing or bullying me.
Or perhaps being around Sienna and Jethro—and Jackson, his good manners and steady character—had made me realize that I wanted wholesome and real more than I wanted glamourous and exciting.
Or perhaps spending a few weeks on my own, making my own meals, doing my own laundry, setting my own schedule, and making my own decisions had been just what I’d needed. There’s nothing like being capable to remind a person just how capable they are.
Or perhaps I’ve just finally grown up.
But you know who hadn’t grown up? Sasha.
“Are you kidding?” she screamed. “You disappear for two weeks and now you don’t like how I speak to you? And now you think you can fire me? What happened to you? Why are you suddenly being like this?”
Nuh-uh. I wasn’t doing this. I was so done. “I’ll call Domino. He will meet you at the house so you can pick up your things. I’ll put you up in a hotel for one month—no expense account—so you can find a new place to live. Or you can pocket the cash and be done. But you’re fired.”
Sasha made a sound that resembled a chicken squawk, searching the ceiling as though passive, doormat Raquel lived up there. When she found nothing but high ceilings and crown molding, she turned, grabbed her purse, and—sending me a fiery glare—stormed past Charlotte.