Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“You’re a dead man.” He mouths the words to me. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that threat, but I can’t say that I’m not concerned about it this time. I’m a strong son of a bitch, without a doubt, but I’m also in here without any backup and alone. I can only do so much.
I know where I’m going, and up there, I’ll have plenty of time to think up a plan.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sophie
I wake up feeling as sick as a dog and have no idea why. I mean, I haven’t done anything in weeks. I haven’t gone out since my girl’s night out with Josie. I haven’t had sex since Tank, but I feel as if I’ve picked up a bug somewhere, and it’s knocking me on my ass.
I get up and rush to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach as if I’d spent the previous night drowning in booze when the truth was that I ate tacos and fell asleep watching reality TV on my streaming service.
Still, I can’t deny that I feel like absolute shit, enough so that I know going into the clinic today is not an option. Calling in sick isn’t something I do regularly. Hell, I rarely stay home from work unless it can’t be helped. There’s too much to do at the clinic.
But after an hour of nursing my nausea and all the tools I have at my disposal to lessen its effects have proven worthless, I call the clinic and do the unthinkable.
Nova picks up on the third ring, and the words rush out of me in one long breath. “I feel terrible, Nova. I can’t keep anything down, not even water, and I’m pretty sure I’d be useless to you today.” I hold my breath, waiting for the anger he never displays or maybe the disappointment that I’m letting him down, but none of that is what I get.
Nova sighs heavily, and I brace myself for the lecture that’s sure to come. But it doesn’t. His next words shock me to my core.
“It’s all right, Sophie. The truth is that I’ve been meaning to call you about changes to the clinic.”
“Changes?” I can handle changes. When Nova’s buddies come in and need stitching up, I manage without so much as a blink of an eye, so I can handle change, but his tone gives me pause.
Is he firing me?
Nova sighs heavily, and I can almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to get the words out.
“Things have changed, Sophie. A lot. Keeping the clinic operational safely is no longer feasible, so…we’re shutting it down.”
“Shutting down the clinic?” My voice turns shrill and full of panic, and we both know it, but his words couldn’t have shocked me more if he said he was moving to Jupiter.
“Yes. I just found out myself. It’s on the market as of this morning because the best thing for the community is to sell it as soon as possible. That’s what’s happening now, so it’s probably best if you stay home.”
“What? How is that possible?” As sick as I feel physically, this news makes me uneasy and, I can’t lie, angry.
“The cleaning crew is here to prepare the place for potential buyers, Sophie. We need to move fast.”
We need to move fast.
Those words echo in my brain, and I fight the instinct to be angry that he hadn’t called me before now to tell me the news. I open my mouth to tell him just how fucked up it is, but I can’t because my stomach lurches. I run to the bathroom and bend over the toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach into the bowl.
Again.
It’s the second time this morning that I’ve been sick, which is worrisome, but not more than the fact that I’m out of a job.
“Sophie, are you all right?” Nova’s voice sounds far away, and I look at the phone at the side of the toilet. “Sophie?”
I snatch up the phone, feeling uneasy, and ask the one question on my mind. “Sorry. So, I’m unemployed?”
”As of right now, yes. But the Reckless Souls will take care of you. Financially. For a while. Sophie, I know this is a shock. It was to me, too, but we’ll get through this.”
“R-i-i-ight.” There’s nothing more I can say. “Thanks for letting me know.” I end the call feeling all out of sorts, frustrated, and worried about my future.
I never pictured myself as the employee packing up a banker’s box of belongings, looking around her former employer with a wistful gaze, but that’s exactly who I am. And on the heels of that thought comes another. My letter.
Since Tank got locked up, I haven’t gotten any information on him or his alleged crimes, but the letter he wrote to me is in my desk. At the clinic. After a tall glass of ice-cold ginger ale and a sleeve of salty crackers, I’m ready to head into the office to clean my desk and sever that last tie with the clinic. There’s no point in prolonging it, not when I’m already sick, so I dress quickly in casual jeans and a flowy blouse and make my way to the clinic to clear out my personal effects.