Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
But I tell myself I’m feeling better. I give myself a pep talk and craft a few affirmations while I get dressed for the meeting with my bosses.
I can make responsible decisions.
I can see Zane, Owen, Jordan, and Colin without feeling heartache.
I can go on tour with them without wanting to jump into their arms.
I don’t know if the affirmations are working, but I’m in a good frame of mind and well prepared for my meeting when I arrive at Club Red in the early evening. Rose, my front desk replacement, is already at her post in the lobby when I arrive, a smile stretching across her face as usual.
“How have things been going?” I ask.
“Great! How was the tour?”
Agony and ecstasy, and then more agony, I think, but all I say is, “It went well. How’s the schedule working out for you here?”
When I was training her, Rose mentioned that she works at her family’s coffee shop during the day, and that she plans to continue working both jobs. I can’t imagine how she’ll have time to date and have fun, which is what she should be doing at her age.
“The schedule’s fine,” she says, brightly. “Who needs sleep?” There’s no hint of sarcasm in her tone, and her smile hasn’t faded. For the first couple of days that I worked with her, I thought Rose was forcing a positive outlook to make a good impression, but her sunny disposition hasn’t wavered once in the time that I’ve known her.
Maybe it’s just youthful enthusiasm. I hope she never has to learn the hard way that life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but the wakeup call is probably inevitable.
To my surprise, her mouth flattens and her expression turns serious. “I should warn you … Chase was out here a couple of minutes ago, asking if you’d arrived yet. It didn’t seem like he was in a good mood.”
A wave of dread washes over me. I’m not late for our meeting; in fact, I’m early.
I say a hasty goodbye to Rose and head down the hall to the open door of Chase’s office.
Is it possible he had a bad meeting with someone else just before mine, and that’s what has him in a grumpy mood? The plummeting sensation in my belly tells me that’s not the case.
Yesterday, Chase was all smiles, but now it’s as if he’s wearing a mask. His stern frown makes me want to turn and leave before he sees me, but it’s too late.
“Brittany.” He nods at the chair across from his desk, directing me to sit. “How are you?” It’s a formality, a rhetorical question that, from his tone, does not invite a response. “This meeting isn’t going to go the way I expected,” he says.
“No?”
“I received a call last night, a complaint, which led me to make some followup calls, which led to some disturbing news.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The disappointment in Chase’s tone is killing me. I can’t even think about the look on his face.
“We have some things to discuss,” he says.
I go cold. I feel sick. I want to run out of his office and hope he forgets he ever knew me, but it’s as if my feet have become rooted to the floor.
“The club manager at your last venue was the one to call, and I was shocked to hear the complaints he had.”
I expect that Chase is about to tell me he heard about the men’s poor performance. Maybe the manager did notice their errors, and he just didn’t say anything that night because he was planning to proposition me.
“I was told that you gave the impression that you didn’t care about your job. That you were uncommunicative, barely around, and overall had a bad attitude.”
My jaw thuds open.
“I was surprised,” Chase continues, “because that doesn’t sound like you at all. At least not from what I’ve seen of you here.”
“That isn’t true,” I say. “All of the shows and the rehearsals were on schedule, everything ran smoothly, and I was always present and doing my job.” As I say this, I remember that I missed the end bit of the last show because I went out to the bus, but I know the men would have done what they were expected to do.
“That may be true, but the manager’s complaint led me to make some calls to the other venues.”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I feel even sicker than I did a minute ago.
“Most of the feedback was actually good,” Chase says, “but one report was very surprising.”
My head drops forward, my eyes going to the floor. “You don’t need to say it.”
“An encounter in a dressing room,” Chase says, and I nod, appreciating that he doesn’t go into further detail. “Tell me he was mistaken, Brittany?”
He’s angry, but he’s cautious. He doesn’t fully believe what he was told, and I never knew what a physical feeling guilt could hold until now. I can’t lie to him, even though he’d probably rather hear a denial.