Haze, Andrea Wolfe [english novels for beginners txt] 📗

"What's that, Jacobs?" He really seemed to be enjoying this.

"Sam, please. There are all of these people around." I was starting to feel legitimately humiliated, beyond the usual Sam's just having a bad day flare-ups. My cheeks flushed red, so red that no one could have misinterpreted my discomfort.

"Who do you work for?" His fingers frenetically tapped on a nearby desk.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, feeling like I was stepping face-first into a trap.

A wry smile formed across his lips. "Do you work for an escort service or something? Jack must pay you real well, huh? Better than I do, right?"

At the very least, this was sexual harassment. However, with the way he was going, I didn't know if I'd be able to maintain professionalism much longer. My blood was starting to boil as adrenaline overloaded my system. "Sam, this is—"

"You've been hiding this from me, haven't you? You've been fucking our star client, you fucking whore. A little part-time job?"

I wanted to spiral out of control, to run freely with any emotion I felt and deal with the consequences later. Yet via some minor miracle, I took my time responding, allowing myself those crucial calming seconds before my lips moved.

"Sam, stop. Relax. This is not cool." Was I dealing with Sam or Timothy? I couldn't not be reminded of the incident at the coffee shop. Was he about to knock me on the floor too? "You need to calm down." I figured he wouldn't listen, but I would try anyhow.

What was it with men accusing me of being a whore for merely being in the wrong monogamous relationship? Maybe I had become a magnet for sexist, misogynistic pigs without realizing it.

"What the fuck are the chances that Dan Miller ran into none other than Jack Teller in Beverly Hills this weekend, the accessory on his arm an Effie that matches your description to a tee? Was that you or was it someone else?"

I wanted to scream and cry and disappear all at once, if that was somehow possible. So much for the don't worry about him mentality Jack was pushing in reference to Dan.

Everyone was staring at us, and I didn't know how to react. I was trying to control a situation that didn't make a lick of sense to me. Who should I be mad at? Sam was being a total dick, but then again, Jack had invited me on the trip when I had wanted to take a break until this all cleared. Without that trip, I might have gotten out of the situation without a scratch.

I guess I needed to blame Stacy Levons on top of everyone else as well for inadvertently blurting out my title to the wrong person.

Instead, I was facing what looked like doom.

Should I lie? Just confess the truth? What I wanted was whatever would get him to leave me alone in front of everyone, to stop flagellating me in public like this was some medieval punishment ritual. Did he have a Catherine wheel in his office, too?

Sadistic bastard.

Dammit, I just couldn't lie. I was in a corner and this was too much to cope with. Sam's words had riddled my body with holes of vulnerability—and now I was bleeding honesty.

I was choking back tears when I said it. "It had nothing to do with it," I said. "Nothing. He wasn't going to go with us. No way. You knew that, too." There was suddenly a powerful shadow of doubt over the past few weeks. Sam had been hounding me as if he knew something, but I wasn't sure how he could know anything. I guess he just got excessively suspicious when there was a lot at stake.

He inconspicuously pulled a flask out of his pocket and lowered his head to take a sip. After all of this lead up, it actually didn't surprise me one bit. He stuffed it away before continuing. "You don't fucking know that! And you don't get to do my fucking job. That's why it's my job and not yours. I knew you were fucking him and I knew I should have ended this sooner. Would have made this bullshit a hell of a lot simpler for both of us."

Had he slipped up? What was going on here? "What the fuck are you saying, Sam? You knew about Jack and me? How could you know for sure?" His strange admission had thrown me a loop, distracting me from the emotional blows he had already dealt. I was more concerned with solving this logical dilemma than my own future.

His arms crossed defensively in front of his body. "Effie, just get the fuck out of here and stop wasting my time. You're fired. MCI doesn't want you anymore."

All of the eyes in the room caught my response as he delivered the final, fatal blow—and then instantly looked away. I was like the trapeze artist that had botched it all and tumbled into the net, ruining the show for the sacred paying customers.

I had nothing left to stand on, no tricks or escape routines, no cloud of smoke to obscure my compromised position. At the very least, I had told the truth—but I still felt like shit.

Everyone acted as if they were ignoring the spectacle, yet it was obvious that they couldn't look away. I hoped at the very least they had witnessed him drinking on the clock and that they'd take him down too.

I felt defeated, pathetic, confused, subjugated. Why had Jack just told me to trust him? Thinking back on the incident, I was done the moment that Stacy introduced me to Dan. That was it. How could I have let Jack delude me into thinking everything would just be all right? I took a real risk going on that trip with him, and through that magical coincidence, got myself fired from the first real job I'd ever had in my life.

What were my parents going to think?