Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Turning around to face him and his shiny laptop, I folded my hands on the counter and told him the truth. “I’m supposed to start working tomorrow, and I’m debating whether I should quit my job immediately or if I should put in my two weeks’ notice. I can’t decide.” I’d asked Connie for her opinion, and that hadn’t been any help.
Trevor muttered, “Hmph,” so I wasn’t totally sure he was paying attention.
But he was more of a neutral party than anyone else I knew, so since he’d asked and he was here…. “Can you tell me what you think? My worry with trying to put in a two weeks’ notice is that my boss is going to be an extra asshole and make me even more miserable than usual, but I feel guilty quitting all of a sudden so….”
That had his eyes flicking over to me from the top of his computer for a moment before he went back to typing. “You’re putting your notice in, Bianca. He doesn’t need to be nice to you.” His fingers stilled over his keyboard for a moment, gaze flicking back before he added, “Wait. How are you quitting? Did you get your channel back or did you suddenly get a book deal?”
How the hell had he known about me wanting to release a book in the first place? I’d wonder about it later.
“I got my channel back. They called the day before yesterday and told me. I’m so happy.” Because I was.
The most ridiculous, unexpected thing happened then.
Trevor smiled at me. Maybe I couldn’t see all of it at once, but I saw most of it from over the top of his computer. And it was a smile. A real, live smile.
And he wasn’t even being sarcastic when he said, “That’s great.”
“Thank you. I’d jump up and click my heels together, but I’ll probably land wrong and sprain an ankle, so you can imagine it.”
Even though my chest burned, I had texted Zac about it that afternoon after I’d found out, and he’d sent a reply with a bunch of smiley faces.
I’d replied with a single smiley face that made me feel bad all over again for not being as nice to him as he deserved.
And just like that, the smile fell off Trevor’s face like it hadn’t existed in the first place. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe I’d imagined it.
I nodded. “What do you think? Two weeks’ notice or nah? I’m thinking a notice. It won’t hurt to be professional.” My sister had said that I shouldn’t bother saying anything period. In the background, Richard, her husband, had shaken his head at me, telling me not to listen to her either, like my gut said. What if I lost my channel again and didn’t get it back? It had taken way too long. Or what if my viewers didn’t come back? What if I had to apply for another job in the future and they called for references? I wasn’t sure it would be smart to leave on bad terms.
And I’d already made enough dumb decisions.
“I think so too,” he admitted, thoughtfully. “The sooner the better.”
Oh, he had a point there. “Tomorrow?”
“Or today.”
I’d admit that kind of made my stomach hurt. “And go back to work when I’m not on my shift?”
He rolled his eyes again before focusing back on his computer. “Do it today. Let your boss sleep on it since you’re so worried about him being mean or whatever that means, and he’ll be over it tomorrow.”
I was pretty sure that wasn’t how Gunner worked, but I wished. I also got Trev’s point though. But….
I was still thinking it over a few minutes later when he said on nearly a huff, “I’ll go with you if you’d like. Zac’s told me about your boss, and I’m curious.”
There was only one answer to that. “Yeah, sure. Maybe he’ll be less of an ass with an audience. He tried to get me to have Zac come by and post a picture of himself online, and I said no. I’m sure he’s still going to be upset about it. I’ll be quick. I’ve had my letter written for a while now.”
He nodded and waited until I was in the living room to ask over his shoulder, “What’s the name of this boss again?”
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, with a fifty-five-year-old man at my side who probably looked like more of a sugar daddy than a real dad—because why he would be keeping me company while I did this would make no sense to anyone, but luckily I didn’t care what other people might presume—I walked straight in, clutching my two weeks’ notice in my hand.
And lo-and-behold, my arch nemesis was standing at the counter where I worked, an arm propped where it always was… as he bitched at a new hire I’d only seen a time or two. I didn’t need to hear the words to tell what was going on. I’d made the same face that the new guy had just about every day since Gunner had started working at the gym. It was a “fuck my life” face.