chapter twenty-nine #3
My life insurance policy is enough for you to set up your own small press.
It’s what you’ve always wanted, so take the leap, darling.
You’re ready. Stop working for that soul-sucking witch, and leave this city.
Find a nice place by the beach or in the country, and go out on your own and live your dream.
And while you’re doing it, fall in love.
Get married, have children. Be your own boss, and be happy.
You deserve nothing less.
Love always and forever,
Momma
“Oh, Mom,” I sob, tears drenching my cheeks. “You selfless, stubborn, beautiful angel.” I blink up at the ceiling and shake my head. “You’ve always known what’s best for me, whether I admitted it or not.”
Wiping my face, I open the letter from the solicitor… and nearly fall off the sofa.
Peanut freaking butter! That’s a lot of money.
After staring at Mom’s insurance policy and reading her letter again, I’d curiously researched available office spaces in Buxtonville before eventually falling asleep, kitchen knife by my side.
Arming myself in my own home isn’t something I want to become accustomed to, but until I feel safe again, I don’t have a choice. And that’s if I’ll ever feel safe here, and I’m not sure I will.
“Excuse me,” I say, edging past other people to exit the elevator, Georgia’s golden turmeric shit—and my coffee—in hand.
“Do you have a death wish now?” Tessa asks as she falls into step beside me, files hugged to her chest.
“No. Why?”
“Because you’re late.”
“I know.” I wince. “It’s only fifteen minutes though.”
“Only fifteen minutes? In Georgia time, that’s fifteen hours, Riley.”
She’s not wrong.
“Shit.” My stomach feels like it could churn butter. “I was mugged last night. He took my OMNY card, credit cards, everything. I had to search around the apartment to scrounge up enough change to get to work.”
“Oh my God, Riley!” She touches my arm. “Are you okay?”
“To be honest, I’m still a little shaken up. He had a gun.”
Her footsteps falter. “How terrifying!”
“Yeah, it was, but I’m guessing not as terrifying as what I’m about to walk into.”
Tessa cocks her head to the side, her expression sympathetic. “No.”
I sigh. “Wish me luck.”
“You and I both know it’s not luck you need.” She cups her chest. “It’s breasts of steel.”
I can’t help but laugh, even though laughing is the last thing I should be doing. “Damn it. Here goes nothing.”
She straightens her shoulders and pokes out her chest, gesturing I do the same, which I do to humor her until I’m a few feet from Georgia’s desk, my steel breasts now as fierce as deflating balloons.
“Good morning,” I say to the back of her chair as she takes in the view of Manhattan beyond her twenty-second-floor window. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was mugg—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Riley.” She swivels her seat to face me, her makeup precise—bar the feathering of lipstick across her pursed lips. “You’ve worked for me long enough to know they don’t matter.”
I hand over her cup. “Yes. Of course.”
Narrowing her eyes, she scans her desk, and I realize she’s looking for the cookies.
Crap!
Her jaw twitches. “You look disastrous.”
I touch my hair.
“Your eyes, Riley. Are you high? Because we have a zero tolerance—”
“No!” I shriek, offended. “I’m not high. I’ve never been high. I was mugged at gunpoint last night, if you must know.”
She jerks back a little at my tone, then leans into the leather of her seat and smirks, imperiously tapping the end of her pen on the desktop. “I like you, Riley. But be careful. You’re replaceable.”
Clenching my fist by my side, I nod.
“Redo that report you emailed me yesterday. It lacked conviction.”
What? That’s a crock of shit!
Turning on my heels, I storm toward the door but stop dead in my tracks when she adds, “And where are my cookies?”
A rush of heat surges the length of my spine, my eyes closing momentarily, Mom’s letter blaring like a beacon at the forefront of my mind.
“Stop working for that soul-sucking witch. Go out on your own and live your dream.”
God, I desperately want to, but can I really just leave my old life behind and start a new one… with Riley? Am I brave enough? Strong enough? Do I have what it takes to stand on my own two feet in this industry?
“My little warrior. Take a leap, darling.”
Slowly turning back around, I stab my finger at her. “They’re not your cookies, Georgia. They’re mine.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Mine. I bake them, every week.” Closing the distance to her desk, I set my palms on the edge and lean forward. “And I’m done. I’m done being your slave. Done putting up with your shit. Done kissing your overbearing, authoritarian ass. Find someone else to kiss it for you.”
“Riley—”
“No! You don’t get to speak right now. I am.
I’ve given you everything, and I’m not giving you any more.
You’re not worthy of me, and you never have been.
I’ve wasted so much of my life on you, and it’s taken the death of my mother, and a man who’s known me for a fraction of the time you have, for me to realize that.
” I push off from the desk and poke out my breasts of steel.
“I quit. I quit you, your tyranny, and your goddammed golden turmeric piss in a cup.”
She blinks, her jaw dropping, before she leisurely closes it, and… smiles. The first genuine smile I’ve ever seen on her icy face. “Finally. Goodbye, Riley. And good luck.”
What the peanut butter?
She reaches into her Birkin, and I flinch, thinking she too might pull a gun on me. Instead, she retrieves three hundred-dollar bills, and holds them out to me. “For the train,” she states, “and until you get your ID and bankcards back.”
I recoil, shocked, but then take them from her because the sharp look in her eyes is scary.
Staring at the cash, I nod… and nod again. Speechless. And then I turn on my heel, pick up my speed, and exit her office for the final time, my colleagues avoiding eye contact and bustling about as if they haven’t just eavesdropped on our entire exchange.
“She’s all yours, Tessa,” I announce as I open the drawer, grab the Memorize This if You Want to Live Bible, and toss it to her. “I really do hope you love your cage. But if you don’t, and you can find the key, call me. I have a small press to get up and running.”
Winking, I press my fingertips to my lips, kiss them, and then hold them above my head, waving as I march to freedom.