We've got things covered here today. Feel free to take the day off. See you Monday.
I read Fern's text four times, but this impromptu Friday off still doesn't feel like a good thing. Does this have anything to do with Fern's sudden need to bond? Is Phyllis trying to set me up? But with what?
She's already flogged the receipt book fiasco into the ground.
Is it something to do with Blake? We've only exchanged a couple of emails, and the ones we sent were pretty innocent, so even if Phyllis knew about them, there's no way Fern would care. Is there? Has she found out through her etheric minions that Blake and I spent four hours talking online last night and it was totally amazing and I have a major crush on him now? I call Inner Space.
"Inner Space, Fern speaking."
"Hey, Fern. It's Sarah."
A pause. "Oh, hello." She sounds neither friendly nor hostile.
"Um, so I feel weird about having today off. Is something up?"
"Why would there be? We just felt you could use a bonus day off. You've been working hard lately. You're entitled."
She's saying the right things, but Fern and Ziggy are brutally cheap. They aren't into giving something for nothing. For crying out loud, they buy one-ply toilet paper, which practically evaporates before making contact, and they're going to give me a day off out of the blue? But what can I say without seeming confrontational or, worse, defensive?
"Okay, well, thanks. If you're sure?"
"Yes, we're sure. Take care, have a good weekend. Balance and recharge, and we'll see you on Monday."
"Okay." I hang up feeling no better than I did before I called, but she didn't sound mad or like they're interviewing someone to replace me. Not that I'd be able to tell from a phone call.
I hate this.
On the plus side, I now have a three-day hippie-free weekend, which is music to my shoulders. I never knew stripping beds, remaking them, and doing laundry could be so tough. Since it's only nine, I crawl back into bed and sleep until eleven, feeling even better when I wake up.
Starbucks should deliver. They're seriously missing out on opportunities to wow me by enabling my laziness. Deciding not to leave the apartment all day, I brew a cup of Irish cream in my single-cup coffee machine—a late housewarming gift from Pete, which I still need to thank him for—and head to my computer.
Creamy goodness warms my tongue, and I dial Pete's number.
"Shouldn't you be at work?"
"Hello to you too." I take another sip. "We don't make with the niceties of small talk anymore?"
"Hello, my darling. I do so hope you're well. Shouldn't you be at work?"
"I've got the day off today." My feet bounce happily.
"Are you throwing a sickie?"
"No, they just gave me a day off," I say smugly.
"Paid?" I can hear his eyebrow rise in doubt.
Bugger. I never thought to ask if this was a paid day off. I'll just wait until I get my check—no point bringing it up to Fern and Ziggy unless they actually short me. Wouldn't want to be accused of not being a team player. "So what are your plans for the weekend?" I ask in lieu of an answer and open my browser.
"We're going to that new club, Gated Way, Sunday night. You're coming, right?"
"Who all's going?" I try to keep my tone casual, wondering if Jack will be there.
YOU ARE READING
Missed Connections
RomanceMissed Connection: I saw you standing there, and I was struck by your eyes. Gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as your smile. What should have been a sizzling NYC summer has been hijacked by demanding bosses. To cope, I spend my nights cruising Missed Co...
