3. Maisie
maisie
The time difference has completely fucked everything up. Once again, I haven’t woken up early enough to do anything with Birdie.
Birdie is out exploring, staying within the confines of the town, just to be safe. Her job hasn’t even so much as called her. Meanwhile, it seems like I can’t keep up with my email and I feel like I’m failing my mom’s last wish.
Everything is spiraling out of control. I want to be the best at my job; I want a promotion. But I also want to be with Birdie, discovering the place that will bring us some comfort with Mom’s passing.
My two wants are at a complete impasse, and I don’t know what to do.
I’m zoned out, staring at the trickle of fog looming over the mountains through the window as a meeting request pops up on my computer. My brows furrow as I read the invite. It’s from my boss and the meeting is in ten minutes.
I glance down at myself. There’s no way I can talk to Gavin wearing my freaking pajamas still. I rush over to the closet, pulling out a simple turtleneck, before running to the bathroom to make my face a little more presentable with some makeup.
My hair is a lost cause, so I use a claw clip to at least tame it in the slightest.
By the time I’m back at my computer, I’m clicking the meeting request and my camera turns on. But it’s not just my boss Gavin on the other side of the screen, it’s also Dennis from HR.
“Maisie, thank you for joining us,” Gavin says.
I swallow thickly, my heart racing in my chest as I give him a polite smile. “Of course. There was no agenda for the meeting. What can I help you with?”
“Maisie, we know how much effort you’ve put into your position and we appreciate your efforts. But at this time Dermdes Cosmetics is looking to take the Omega line in a different direction,” Gavin says. Dennis looks like he wants to speak up, but doesn’t.
“Okay, and what does that mean?”
“We need someone in charge of marketing who can be there for the team at any given moment,” Gavin says.
Dennis suddenly cuts in. “Dermdes Cosmetics is looking for someone with more experience in marketing to help improve our current revenues and at this time, you’re not a right fit for the company.
We’re offering you a severance package, but as of today, you’re no longer employed by Dermdes.
We will send you a shipping label for your computer and have a staff member clean out your cubicle.
When you’re back in the country, you will be permitted to come and pick up your belongings from security. ”
I blink rapidly. Dennis’ language is so different from Gavin’s.
A perfectly curated HR statement so he doesn’t say anything that would get him in trouble.
In so little words, they said they don’t want an employee who has to take quarterly heat leave, and the first vacation time I’ve ever taken—even though I’m working remotely—was the final straw.
“You’re firing me because I’m an Omega? Heat leave is required and protected by the government. You can’t fire me over that. I had explicit permission to work remotely for this trip. This is retaliation.”
Gavin goes to open his mouth, and his screen is immediately muted.
“This decision has nothing to do with your designation. Dermdes is going in another direction within this department. I will send you the details of your severance pay along with the shipping label. Thank you for your time with the company, Miss Taylor.”
The video conference ends, and I’m staring at myself through the screen, watching my eyes well up with tears. I know my work was good. It was damn fucking good.
I was a hard worker; I increased profits year after year for my division. I’ve worked endless hours to meet unprecedented timelines, and this is what I get?
An email hits my inbox, and I forward it to my personal email. I know how Dermdes works. I won’t have access to any company information by the end of the day.
Before I’m locked out, I send over a few more contacts and information to my personal email.
I won’t touch the severance pay, not if they’re illegally firing me. Fueled by spite, I find the lawyer who handled my mom’s will and have him look over the package along with the details of my firing.
Once that’s all done, I just sit there for a long moment, pissed off and full of rage. It’s only four in the afternoon here, and there's no way I can explain this to Birdie when she gets back.
How fucking embarrassing? Fired? I’ve never been fired in my life, and they do this to me now when I’m an ocean away and there’s nothing I can do about it?
I sniffle and shake my head. Oh hell no, I’m not crying over them or anything else. I’m getting the fuck out of this room and not letting myself wallow in pity.
I grab my jacket and go down the stairs.
Effie is there, setting some scones on the table in the lounge.
“Hello, dear. Are you headed out today?” she asks. Of course, the woman knows that I’ve been locked up in the room most days while my sister goes and enjoys the small Highland town.
“I am actually. Do you have a recommendation for a good bar?”
“Oh. Well, yes. Greer’s has a bar attached to its restaurant. It’s the best in town.”
“Thanks, Effie,” I say, stepping out of the B his freckled forearms are littered with veins and his muscles flex with the motion.
I take another sip of the liquor, willing myself not to puke.
“Aye, he’s one in the same, but he’s a better singer than a tour guide. If you’re looking for a more reputable company, I have a better recommendation.”
“Would that be Lain’s Highland Tours?” I ask, and he smiles. His teeth are white, not perfectly straight, but his smile is charming and real.
“Ah, you’re the roadside American damsel, Maisie,” he says and I groan, putting an elbow on the table and holding up my cheek.
“This town is smaller than I thought,” I say and the bartender shakes his head.
“Lain is pack is all. I’m Greer,” he says, holding out his hand, and I shake it. His calloused fingers engulf my small hand as we shake.
I swear to God he tries to bring his hand up to his nose to see if he can scent me, but there isn’t a chance of that. I use deodorizers like a lifeline. He can’t scent me and I can’t scent him. It’s the way I like it.
“Greer as in Greer’s?” I ask.
“Aye, this is my place.”
“Hmm, you Alphas sure do like putting your mark on things,” I say, and I take a hefty gulp of my whisky after. Why the fuck did I say that?
“You’re not wrong,” he agrees. “So, you’re traveling here with your sister?”
So Lain gave him a complete rundown of everything that happened. Interesting.
“Yeah. It was our mom’s last wish before she passed. She wanted us to experience the beauty of the place where she grew up. She wanted me and my sister to do it together,” I say, taking a heavy swig of the liquor.
“Where’s your sister then?”
“Great question. Probably having a great time without me, finding the beauty in everything she sees, making friends in the most unlikely of places.”
He leans against the other side of the bar, ignoring his two other guests as he looks at me intently.
“And you’re not with her, because?”
I throw back the rest of the whisky and slide the glass back.
“Going to need another round, actually,” I say, avoiding his question completely.
I’m not proud of how many drinks I’ve had, but I also feel light, not a care in the world as I hold my glass and sway in my seat to the song Rory is singing.
Don’t understand a single fucking word, and I don’t know if it’s because it’s in Gaelic, his accent, or I’m just a little too sauced to understand the words.
“Let’s get some food in you,” Greer, the handsome, red-headed Alpha, says.
I smile at him. He’s so good looking, and big, and he’s been so nice to me.
“Have you ever seen Outlander?” I ask him dreamily.
I think he curses, and holds a menu out in front of me.
“Do you have any allergies?”
“Fun, time off, lack of control, being a good sister,” I reply, giving him a conspicuous frowny face and he scrubs a hand over his beard. “Can I have another?” I ask.
“Absolutely not. I knew you were a wee thing, but I didn’t think you’d get this blattered after a few drams. Eat something. On the house. What can I get you?”
I stare down at the menu, taking my glasses off, putting them on again.
“How about a burger?” he asks, deciding for me, and come to think of it, that sounds amazing.
I don’t know why I do it, mostly because he looks warm and he’s been sweet, but I reach out and grab his forearm, giving it a little squeeze.
“A burger would be wonderful, thank you.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I jolt, taking it out and squinting at the phone.
It’s a text from Birdie wondering where I am.
I could tell her to come to Greer’s, but then she’d see what a pathetic mess I am.
If I don’t answer, she might think I was murdered, probably by Lain, the super hot tour guide.
I’d be pissed if I didn’t know where she was when it was getting dark out, so I go with a lie.
J us havn a drin. Will b home l8er.
Birdie
Oh, man. I don’t think I’ve gotten a drunk text from you since freshman year of college. Be safe. I’ll check in later, okay?
yes
I put my phone away as a man comes from behind the bar. He isn’t the smiling Greer, no he’s frowning as he heads over in my direction, a tasty burger in hand.
He’s not as tall as Greer, but still towers over me. He’s thicker. I wonder how much space is in between his two shoulders? I’m musing on his size as he approaches me, placing the burger in front of me.
His eyes are dark brown, along with his hair, and neatly trimmed beard.
“Thanks,” I say, and he just blinks at me, looking me over with a scoff before walking away.
I turn over to my right to an old man named Alan, who just shrugs his shoulders, like he has no excuse for the man’s behavior.
Instead of worrying about him, or his dislike of me, I take a huge bite of my burger. Probably too many bites, but it feels good to have something in my stomach.
I eat the whole damn thing and I feel like I’m about to burst; I need to have a nice long sleep.
But I know when I wake up in the morning, I won’t have a job.
“What am I going to do, Alan?” I gripe.
I didn’t tell Greer about my woes; I didn’t want him to know how much of a mess I am. But Alan has a trustworthy face. He has fourteen grandchildren. Fourteen! I know he must have some sage advice.
“You’re in the best years of your life. You’re a bonnie wee thing with a good head on your shoulders. You can do whatever you put your mind to,” he says, and I groan.
What a grandpa response.
I thunk my head against the bar top and Alan pats my back.
“Alright, damsel, it’s time to get you home,” a deep voice says, picking me up off of my stool, holding me bridal style like I weigh nothing.
“Have a goodnight, Maisie!” Alan shouts and I wave at him as I look up to see that Greer is the one that’s carrying me.
I’m not sure why I trust him, but I feel safe in the stranger’s arms.