Fired and Homeless

"Wait."

Xavier's voice stopped me mid-step. I didn't turn around.

"I have no interest in hurting you again, Kira. I know you don't believe that, but it's true." He paused, and I could hear him take a breath. "But today isn't about me. It's about your mother."

I turned slowly, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"I've been living here for two weeks while my father finalizes some business deals. I watched Sheila prepare for your arrival—she's been planning this dinner since yesterday morning. She cleaned the entire house twice. Burned three different attempts at making your favorite dessert before getting it right." His voice softened. "She's terrified you won't come back."

"That's not my problem," I said, but the words felt hollow.

"I know." Xavier shoved his hands in his pockets. "And I'm not asking you to forgive her. Or me. I'm just saying... she's trying. Really trying. And if my presence here is going to ruin that for her, then I'll leave."

I stared at him, searching for the trap. "You'd leave?"

"If it means you'll stay and give her a chance? Yes." He met my eyes steadily. "I'll go to a hotel. Tell her I had an emergency. Whatever you need."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because despite what you think of me, I'm not completely heartless."he smiled. "And because Sheila doesn't deserve to lose you again because of my mistakes."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him to go to hell and walk away from this entire mess. But the truth was, some small part of me had seen the hope in my mother's eyes. The genuine effort she was making.

"Fine," I said finally. "I'll stay. But you keep your distance from me."

"Deal."

We walked back to the house in tense silence. The moment I stepped through the door, Mom rushed over and pulled me into a tight hug, sobbing against my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry." Her voice broke on every word. "I was a terrible mother. The worst. I chose drugs over you, and I can never take that back. But I'm better now. I swear I'm better. And I want to make it up to you."

My arms hung awkwardly at my sides before I finally, slowly, returned the hug. "It might be too late for that, Mom."

"I know." She pulled back, tears streaming down her face. "But I want to try anyway. Please let me try. I want to be the mother I should have been all along."

I nodded because I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat. "Okay."

***

Lunch was awkward.

Painfully, excruciatingly awkward.

Mom had prepared an elaborate spread—roasted chicken, garlic potatoes, fresh salad, homemade bread. It was clear she'd put hours of work into it.

But Xavier had made himself scarce as promised, and it was just the two of us at a table meant for six.

We ate in near silence, the clink of silverware against plates almost deafening.

"This is really good," I offered finally, because the quiet was becoming unbearable.

Mom's face lit up. "Really? I wasn't sure if you still liked chicken. I know it was your favorite when you were younger, but tastes change and—"

"It's great, Mom."

More silence. I pushed potatoes around my plate.

"So," Mom tried again, "tell me about your job. Brielle mentioned you were doing really well at that finance firm."

"It's fine. Just an internship." I took another bite, chewing slowly to avoid having to elaborate.

"But you like it?"

"It's a job."

The conversation died again. I checked my phone under the table—an email from work about tomorrow's schedule. Thank God.

"I actually need to head into the office," I said, setting down my fork. "Early meeting tomorrow. Need to prep."

Disappointment crossed Mom's face, but she nodded quickly. "Of course. I understand. But Kira, before you go... would you consider spending the weekend here? With us? I know it's a lot to ask, but I'd really love the chance to spend more time together."

Every instinct screamed at me to say no. To make an excuse and run. But looking at her hopeful expression, so different from the hollow-eyed addict I'd left behind...

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Please?" Mom's voice cracked. "Just one weekend. If it's terrible, you never have to come back."

"I'll think about it," I hedged, standing up. "I really do need to go though."

Mom walked me to the door, hugging me one more time. "I love you, sweetheart. I know I didn't show it before, but I do. I always have."

I didn't say it back.

***

The office was nearly empty when I arrived, just a few workaholics burning the midnight oil. I headed to my desk, ready to lose myself in spreadsheets and forget this entire disaster of a day.

"Bennett! My office. Now."

I froze. Gerald Morrison stood in his doorway, his considerable bulk filling the frame. My supervisor.

A fat man in his fifties who'd been making increasingly uncomfortable advances for months.

Shit.

I followed him into his office, dread pooling in my stomach. He closed the door behind me with a soft click, and I heard the lock engage.

"Mr. Morrison, I don't think—"

"Sit down, Kira." He moved around his desk, his eyes roaming over me in a way that made my skin crawl.

I remained standing. "I'd prefer to stand, sir."

"I said sit." His voice hardened.

Slowly, I sank into the chair across from his desk. He leaned against the front of it, too close, invading my space.

"You know, Kira, I've been very patient with you." His voice took on a syrupy quality that turned my stomach. "Very understanding. Giving you opportunities, mentoring you, helping you advance."

"I appreciate that, sir, but—"

"I think it's time you showed some appreciation." He reached out and touched my hair. I jerked back. "I could do a lot for your career. Double your salary. Get you a permanent position after your internship ends. All you have to do is be... friendly."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "I don't know what you're implying—"

"Don't play stupid, sweetheart. It's not attractive." He moved closer, his hand sliding to my shoulder. "Come on. One night. That's all I'm asking. I'll make it worth your while."

I stood up so fast the chair nearly toppled backward. "How dare you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you really think I'm some sort of whore you can buy?" My voice shook with rage and disgust. "That I'd sleep with you for a promotion?"

His face darkened. "Watch your tone—"

"No, you watch yours!" The words poured out before I could stop them. "I've worked my ass off for this position. I earned it. And you standing there trying to leverage my career for sex is not just disgusting—it's illegal."

Morrison's expression turned ugly. He straightened to his full height, using his size to intimidate. "You stupid little bitch. Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"A pathetic man who has to blackmail women because no one would touch him willingly?"

The slap came out of nowhere. My head snapped to the side, cheek exploding in pain. I stumbled, catching myself on the chair.

"You're fired," Morrison snarled. "Effective immediately. And since your apartment is company-provided housing, you have twenty-four hours to vacate the premises. Get out of my sight."

I touched my burning cheek, tasting blood where I'd bitten my tongue. "You can't—"

"I can and I will. Now get the fuck out before I call security."

I walked out on shaking legs, past the few coworkers who'd heard the shouting and quickly looked away. No one would help.

They never did.

By the time I reached the elevator, I was shaking so hard I could barely press the button.

Fired. Homeless. I laughed, and it came out slightly hysterical.

The universe really, really hated me.