Fired

Ariana's POV

My lungs tightened up inside of me as I clutched the phone, almost imprinting it into my palm.

It wasn’t the first time she’d done her engagement without my knowledge. Wouldn't be the last.

But I was getting sick of having to move in with another stepdad. The fifth one only in one year, for that matter.

Mom always got into relationships. That? I'm used to.

But she never got married to anyone. She hated commitments, so what changed?

What was special about this new guy anyway?

“You’re getting married?”

Sauntering towards the kitchen, she didn't utter a word.

Her red kimono brushed the tiles as she gracefully moved around the kitchen island.

With a half glass of wine in between her fingers, she opened the fridge.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, honey.”

Taking out a bowl of cut-out fruits, she placed it on the island.

“It's best you quit that internship and those pathetic side jobs of yours before it’s time to move.”

As usual, her tone was indifferent.

My lashes fluttered, and I could feel the hot sting of tears gather in them, but I’d be damned if I cried in front of Mom.

She never liked it. She’d also told me it made people see me as weak. Vulnerable. Easy to manipulate.

The last time I saw Mom cry was when I was ten.

When I asked her about it, she vented at me, accusing me of being the reason Dad abandoned us.

I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over it.

In that particular moment I thought it’d be great if I didn't exist.

Maybe Mom and Dad would still be together.

Or maybe if Dad had returned, Mom would smile at me again or even look at me longer.

Well, obviously that never happened. Instead, she grew colder and colder toward me as years went by.

Biting my lip, I released my grip, looking at the text again.

Trying to read it, I could only get as far as ‘engaged’ the rest blurred in my vision as my eyes watered.

“Well, um… congratulations.”

Mom dropped her wine glass on the counter, slightly turning to hear me.

Not look at me.

Even if I was used to it, it still made my stomach churn to be reminded every second of my life that she’d never love me.

That she’d never consider herself a part of my life and constantly keep me at arm’s length like I was contaminated.

Finally letting out a choked breath, I stepped closer.

“But I don’t plan on quitting any of my jobs.”

I could see muscles from the corner of Mom’s face crease.

Pouring the content of her leftover wine in the sink, she massaged her temple with two fingers while the other hand rested on her waist.

“I’m not asking for your opinion. It’s already my decision that you quit your jobs and move in with us.”

“But I worked hard to secure my internship, and it was…..

“It doesn’t matter.” She cut me off.

This time she turned to me but refused to look at me as she walked past.

“Your new stepdad is loaded, okay? He’ll handle our bills, and you wouldn’t be needing those embarrassing side jobs to get by.”

Handling my bills? God knows I’ve never asked anything of Mom since I was grown enough to fend for myself.

I admit she was an expert at securing rich suitors, so I never had to worry about both high school and college fees.

Just that, I've had it up to here living under her shadow and that of her suitors, especially since there was no love between us.

In the past, I tried to win Mom over plenty of times, but nothing worked out.

Then I decided, fine, if she didn't want me, I'll move on with my life.

Get a job, save up enough money to get a place, and maybe…..find happiness.

The thought of not gaining my independence far away from all of this made me want to run a knife through my skull to end it.

Silently sniffing back tears, I turned away.

“Like I said, congratulations, but I’m….. I hesitated before throwing the final bomb.

“I’m still keeping my job.”

Hurrying back to my room, her words followed me in.

“You’ll not go against me, Ariana York.”

“After all the sacrifices I made for you, you've lost the right to refuse me.”

Her voice was cold, determined, and bitter.

Shutting the door, I pressed my palms against my ears to block out her voice, but it only stopped when she went silent.

I slid my back down my door, hugging my knees, and I pep-talked myself.

“You’re used to her. Don’t cry. Don’t break down. You’ve been through worse than this.

Lecturing myself didn’t help much because I sobbed into my palms as I made a pathetic attempt to hush my sounds.

Then the throbbing started, in that familiar place it has always ached.

The moment I reached for my thighs to touch that spot, the buzz of my cellphone in my pocket made me jump.

Goodness! It was just my cell phone.

Taking it out, Zoey's caller ID appeared on the screen.

I watched it ring for a second before pressing the ‘end’ button.

I wasn't in the mood to explain myself right now.

Knowing Zoey well, she'll definitely figure me out.

My phone rang again, and it was still Zoey.

Maybe I should pick it up. It could be important.

Wiping my tears with the back of my hand, I cleared my throat to regain the normal pitch of my voice before I answered.

“What’s up, bitch?” Zoey asked at the other end, and I could hear deafening music and chattering in the background.

She must have been out clubbing as usual.

I think one of the reasons Zoey and I bonded was our different personalities.

She was fire, and I was ice.

Like summer and winter.

Exactly opposite but need each other from time to time.

“Hey.” I responded, my voice cracking a bit.

“Hey, you good?” She asked.

It’s like she had some sort of superpower to always read me even when I wasn’t saying anything.

“Yeah… I mean….

“You know what, I was going to ask why you bailed out on poor Malone today. He’s so good-looking.” She moaned.

Of course I forgot Zoey in her matchmaking glory set me up with someone again.

Without my permission.

Not that I planned on going, but I thought I owed the poor guy a proper decline over the phone.

“But I think I’ll just ask you to crash at my place after work. There’s alcohol and all the good stuff. You in?” Zoey asked.

I rolled my eyes, knowing the "good stuff" she was talking about wasn't good, good.

“You know I don’t do drugs, Zee. It’s ba….”

“Bad for your health. Will ruin your cells, have cancerous qualities, blah blah.” She cut in.

And I smiled a bit. That’s exactly what I'd have said.

“You know, sometimes I’m thankful I have a shrink for a bestie.”

“Someone to counsel me after I’ve had foursome twice in one month.” Her tone was way too casual.

My eyes wide and terrified, I digested her last sentence.

“Zoey! That’s crazy.” I cried.

My friend had a wild personality, which stretched to her sexual life too. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.

“Come over and I’ll show you more crazy.” She jested, and a smile stretched my lips.

She always found something funny to take people's attention off her effervescent ways.

After we ended the call, I got ready for my night shift at the department store.

Just as I was set to leave, an email notification popped up on my screen.

Checking it, my brow raised as my eyes stayed glued to the screen.

My salary just came in, and it was twice my pay.

But I didn't ask for advance payment.

Reaching out to HR over the phone was useless , so I decided to go over to the hospital myself.

There must be some sort of explanation for this early payment, especially since it's not even close to payday.

“Hi, Gracie.” I greeted a nurse at the reception, and she grinned before it faded into an intent scrutiny of my outfit.

“Damn, girl, where did you get that top from? You look hot.” She complimented.

Oh, it was just some pin down dress with jean pants Zoey forced me to buy at the mall a few months ago.

Waving it off with a small smile,

“It’s not all that but thanks.”

Looking around where the attendance register usually stayed, it was empty, and my brow wrinkled as our eyes met.

“Umm, I can't find….

“The sign-in book, huh?” Gracie cut in.

I only nodded.

Her lips stretched in an awkward smile as she pretended to look for it.

Wait… now that I think of it, Gracie was overly complimentary today.

We chit-chat sometimes, but she never noticed my clothes.

Rubbing her neck, she forced a smile.

“Umm, actually, the director said you should report to the HR for the letter.”

"What letter?"

Gracie only gave a stiff smile in return.

Now I'm sure something was up.

Not wanting to put her in a fix, I pressed my lips together, nodding as I turned to leave.

“Okay, have a nice day, Gracie.”

I barely took more than two steps before she called.

“Wait!” She called.

I turned around, walking back to the counter in calculated steps.

“Tell me what's going on.” I urged her.

Biting her lips, she looked around carefully.

“Come on. Please?” I begged.

Leaning closer, she spoke under her breath.

“I’m not supposed to hand over the letter before the director breaks the news.”

Sneaking out a letter, she placed it in my palm, patting my hand.

“It's that hot client of yours that caused a commotion the other day.”

“My client?” I muttered.

Perusing the file, the bold inscription ‘TERMINATION LETTER’ at the top of the paper made my heart drop to my stomach.

I didn't need to ponder hard about which client she was referring to.

Who else if not him?

Knitting her brows, she said.

“The rich and powerful always have their way. So unfair.”

Crumpling up the paper into a ball in my fist, my knuckles turned white.

Bile rose in my throat as I marched through the adjoining door to the director’s office.

On what grounds did I get fired? Because security intervened when a patient touched me inappropriately?

Just before I got there, I saw the back view of a raven-haired man in a black suit.

I could see the strong contour of his side view clench through the blinds, and hot, thick saliva gathered in my throat.

Then it happened. He moved slightly, adjusting himself in the seat.

I didn’t know what was going on with me, but at that moment I only wanted to watch, not be seen.

So I threw myself to the corner of the door.

Flattening my palm against my chest, I felt my heartbeat palpitating.

Probably grateful I wasn’t caught staring.

Tilting my head, I finally caught him when he turned.

Mr. Ferrari.

My eyes widened as I looked at him again.

This time he wasn't in a hospital gown but a suit.

A fitted one that seem to outline his muscles.

Evidence that he was bulkier than he looked the other day

“Miss York?” A familiar voice called, and I froze.