Chapter 9: Fired

Noah’s pov

"That little dipwad!"

Vanessa curses as she paces the sitting room. She had been pacing and cursing for hours now, it’s a surprise she still hasn’t run out of curse words.

"If I ever see her, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind. You know what? scratch that. I’m going to scratch that perfect face of hers and break that fake nose—well, I'm going to ask for her surgeon's number first, but then I’m definitely going to break it!"

Under any other circumstance, I probably would have laughed. Instead, I sat curled into the corner of my couch with a blanket draped over my shoulders, staring blankly at the cup of coffee she'd forced into my hands nearly an hour ago. It had long gone cold.

"I told you I didn't like her," she continued, pointing accusingly at me as if somehow this was also my fault. "I said it the very first day. Nobody is that pretty without being a little evil."

I rubbed my aching forehead. "You don't like anybody."

"That is completely different." She folded her arms across her chest. "I dislike people based on experience. I hated her based on instinct. Big difference."

Despite everything weighing on my chest, the corner of my mouth twitched.

Vanessa noticed immediately. "There. I got half a smile. Progress."

"It wasn't a smile."

"It absolutely was."

I groan, leaning back to drop my head on the backrest.

"You know what?" she says, grabbing her keys from the floor. "Forget talking. Give me her address."

I bring my head up. "What?"

"You heard me. I'm going over there."

"No."

"Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill her….yet. I'm going to knock on her door and when she answers, I'm going to explain exactly what kind of trash human being she is. Don’t worry about the address. I will just find her online."

She headed to the door and I stood, crossing the room and caught her wrist before she could open the door. “Let go, Noah.”

"Don’t. Please. That won’t solve anything."

She turns to me, her eyes moving over my face. She sighs, letting go of the handle. "You’re really going to let her get away with this?"

"What choice do I have?"

"What choice?" Her voice rises. "She framed you, Noah. She used you. She..." she stopped, almost choking on the words herself. "Who gives a guy oral sex just to get him fired? Who does that? That's psychotic. And how can your boss even believe that? You can’t even talk to a girl without blushing for chrissake!"

I looked away. I have been asking myself why she did it. It makes no sense. She wasn’t even next in line for my position or the promotion.

"I don't understand too, Van," I admitted quietly. "If they wanted me fired, why go through all of this? What have I ever done to her or anybody?”

Vanessa's anger melted and she reached for me, gently cupping the side of my face. "Oh, honey. There will be other girls. This is just your first heartbreak.”

That did it. The tears started again.

"I really liked her," I whispered. "I know it sounds stupid, but... I still do."

"I know."

"I kept thinking maybe..." I laughed through the tears. "Maybe someone finally liked me back."

"Oh, sweetheart."

She wrapped both arms around me and I buried my face against her shoulder, embarrassed by how easily I broke apart. She rubbed slow circles across my back without saying anything for several moments.

When I finally managed to stop the tears, she pulled away just enough to look at me. "You know what they're losing? A freaking genius."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious." She poked my forehead. "You, my dear friend, graduated college early and finished at the top of your class. Got your first job in a good company, became a temporary team lead in five months because of how good you are.” Another poke. "You practically carried your entire accounting department on your back."

"You sound like my mom."

"Your mom knows her facts. You can do a million times better than that toxic job anyway."

"Toxic or not, I have to pay my parents' mortgage, Van," I say. "My mom’s medical bills are rising, the bank comes for the house at the end of the month if the wire doesn't go through, and now I have zero income and a black mark on my record. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Hey, look at me," she demands, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up. "You’re going to find a better job. How about this as a temporary fix while you're applying? Come work at the VIP club with me for a couple of weeks. If you work the floor right and smile at the rich divorcees, you can easily make what you used to make in a whole month just in cash tips."

I blink through my tears, staring at her in utter disbelief as a wet laugh leaves my throat. "Van, no offense at all, but I have a degree in finance and predictive economics."

She squints her eyes at me, raising one dark eyebrow. "And you think I don't?" she shoves my shoulder playfully. “Okay yeah I don’t. But still.”

"I'm just saying that I didn't finish college as the youngest graduate in my entire class just to end up serving top-shelf tequila in a dark nightclub!" I protest, wiping my wet cheeks with the back of my hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Mr. First class," she snorts. "Honestly, if you weren't going through a life crisis right now, I would deck you so hard for that snob comment. Really, I'd knock you straight into next week."

I let out a laugh. "I'm sorry," I whisper as I lean my forehead against her shoulder. "I'm really sorry, I know you're just trying to help me."

"Don’t worry about it," her hand strokes through my messy hair. "You're going to be completely alright, I promise you. Look, I really have to get ready for my shift now, but if you need anything—and I mean absolutely anything at all—you call me immediately, okay?"

After Vanessa leaves, I shower, change into a Jean trouser and a hoodie, and head over to my parents' place. The moment I push open the front door, the warm, rich scent of roasted chicken and seasoned potatoes wraps around me, pulling me into a temporary sanctuary from the nightmare I just experienced. My mother hustles out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon in her hand, her face lighting up with joy as she throws her arms around my neck, kissing my cheeks repeatedly while my father smiles warmly from his reclining chair in the living room.

"Ohhh, Noah, look at you!" an older woman exclaims loudly, bustling out of the dining room alongside her husband to gather me into a tight, smothering embrace.

It turns out my parents have invited over our longtime neighbors, an elderly couple, Mr and Mrs Campbell, who have known me since I was wearing braces.

"You get bigger and handsomer every single time I see you, darling! We were just listening to your mother brag all about you!"

My mom beams with pride, setting the hot serving dishes onto the dining table while I take my seat between our guests.

"Well, how can I not brag?" my mother says, gesturing toward me with her serving tongs. "He graduated college early at the top of his class, and now he's the youngest temporary team leader in his company! His boss told him he's practically on a fast-track straight to permanent team lead by the end of the month!"

I force a bright, rigid smile onto my face, but the dry piece of roasted chicken I just chewed suddenly feels like a lump of lead stuck in my throat and I swallow with difficulty.

My father had been forced into early retirement from the military after a severe spinal injury left him completely unable to perform physical labor, and my mother had retired shortly from her teaching job after to become his primary caregiver. But now, my mother herself is growing frail, fighting a neurological illness that causes her health to steadily deteriorate, leaving her confused and prone to slipping away from reality on her worst days. I owe my entire life to them—they have been the most selfless, loving parents anyone could ever ask for and taking care of them is the singular purpose that keeps me breathing.

After we finish dessert, I subtly follow my father into his small home office and hand him my check for the week, watching the relief wash over his weathered face as he tucks it safely into his desk drawer.

My mother wanders into the room a moment later. "You're staying the night, aren't you, sweetie? Will you stay and let me make you a big breakfast before you head out tomorrow?" she asks, her thumb gently brushing over my cheek.

"Oh, Mum, I really wish I could, but I gotta work tomorrow," I lie, the deceit tasting like bitter poison on my tongue.

"Leave the boy alone, Sandra," my father says, stepping forward to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her back against his chest. "He has an important job to manage, and he needs his rest."

"Oh, hush, I just miss my baby," my mother complains, though she lets my father slowly lead her down the hallway toward their bedroom, kissing her forehead as she softly rambles about her garden.

I stand alone, watching their retreating shadows with a suffocating knot around my throat.

How am I ever going to tell them that the son they are so proud of was fired in utter disgrace today?

I ordered an uber and headed out. I have to find a new job, and I have to find it fast.