Chapter 26
“COME SEE ME.”
They were arguably the most ominous three words a boss could send their employee, and they were the three words Simone saw in her Slack DMs from Frankie when she sat down at her desk the next morning.
She could have been petrified, but instead, she walked to his office with her shoulders back and her head held high. She knocked on the glass door, and he waved her in. There was no EDM blasting from the speakers. There was no music at all.
“Grab a seat,” he said.
She did.
He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, the picture of someone pretending to be cool, calm, and collected.
“I saw your Instagram post last night. The one about this… charity event you’re throwing.
I know you’ve been promoting it for a while now, but I didn’t know until last night that you were personally in charge. ”
She lifted her chin. “Is there a problem with me supporting a charity?”
“With you supporting a charity? No. But I’ll tell you what is a problem: that your performance has been pretty damn disappointing lately, and I suspect it’s because you’re prioritizing your own event over the one that I’m paying you to plan.”
On the wall behind his chair, there was a neon sign that said HUSTLE in cursive letters.
She stared at the sign as she considered how to respond.
If this had been at her old job—hell, if this had been a few months ago—she’d have been spewing out a string of apologies by now.
But when she thought about why Frankie was mad at her, she realized she didn’t feel bad at all.
In fact, she was happy she’d made the choice to prioritize the fundraiser, and if she had to go back in time, she would make the same choice again.
And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.
She looked Frankie dead in the eyes. “You’re absolutely right.
I do care more about the Loving Minds fundraiser than the Queer Makeover Extravaganza. ”
Frankie arched a brow. “And…?”
It was her last chance to say she was sorry, to beg for her boss’s forgiveness.
She knew the words would come easily if she let them, like muscle memory.
Then she remembered something Frankie himself had said a long time ago: “We don’t make decisions because they’re easy.
” She thought of the options she could take from here, and landed on the one that scared her the most. If there was one thing she’d learned on her coming-out journey, it was that the scariest option was usually right.
“And I think it would be best for both of us if we parted ways,” Simone said.
Frankie jerked his head back. “You what?”
She sat up straighter in her chair, feeling lighter than before. “I quit.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.” She stood up. “And by the way, if this is our exit interview? Let me give you a bit of feedback. Remember to disconnect your laptop from the conference room monitor before you spew a bunch of biphobia on Slack. Better yet, try actually supporting the community for once, instead of making us more insecure than we already were to begin with.”
He blinked at her, speechless.
With that, she said, “Happy Pride,” and marched out of his office for the last time.
When she got back to her desk, Seth was there. “So, what’s the plan for later?” he asked without looking up from his laptop, oblivious to the fact that she was packing up her things. “I figure we’ll sneak out around four and—”
“That’s what you and Lucy will do. I’m leaving now. I just quit.”
He abandoned whatever he was typing and spun around in his chair. “Simone Whitaker, what did you just say?!”
“I said I quit.” She stuffed the bisexual hydrangeas into her tote bag. “So you guys can meet me at the brewery whenever you’re able to get there.”
“Um, I have like seventy billion questions.”
“Questions about what?” asked Lucy, who’d just wandered over to their desks. She saw what Simone was doing and cocked her head to the side. “Wait, what’s going on?”
“This bitch just quit,” Seth said with admiration in his voice.
“Oh my God!” Lucy clapped a hand over her open mouth. “Tell us everything.”
“I will tonight,” Simone promised, and stuffed the last of her desk decor into her bag. “Right now, I just want to get the hell out of here before I take any of it back.”
SIMONE WAS TRYING NOT TO TOTALLY freak out that she’d just quit her job without having another one lined up.
She’d managed to find a new job last year, and she’d be able to do it again—or so she was telling herself, so she could make her way home without imploding from panic.
Quitting a toxic job felt a lot like coming out, she realized: liberating and downright terrifying at the same time.
At least she had the fundraiser to distract her—not to mention the fact that she was throwing an event with the help of her ex-boyfriend’s best friend.
“Loonie won’t mind if I put these on the bar?” It was five thirty that evening, and Simone was at the Common Loon, arranging placards with instructions on how to donate to Loving Minds. On the other side of the bar, Dom was polishing beer glasses, his tattooed arms moving with a practiced ease.
“I think you’re good,” he said in that same awkward tone he’d been using with her since yesterday.
In Dom’s defense, it was awkward that the two of them were spending any kind of time together, given that she and his best friend had just been through an acrimonious breakup.
Neither of them had brought up the topic of Ryan, and Simone wanted to keep it that way—for now, at least. She was still reeling from quitting her job that morning, and with doors opening in thirty minutes, she had neither the time nor the emotional capacity to delve into the absolute mess that was her relationship with Ryan.
She had a big idea to finish bringing to life.
Simone, Glen, and their colleagues were scrambling to prepare the taproom for the fundraiser.
Simone had spent the day with Glen, running around, gathering supplies, and rehashing her dramatic showdown with Frankie.
At five o’clock, they’d met up with Seth and Lucy at the brewery, rehashed the dramatic showdown again, and then started setting up the taproom for the seven o’clock event.
So far, the setup was going smoothly. Smoothly in a “controlled chaos” sort of way, which was the best you could possibly expect for an event that didn’t have a venue less than twenty-four hours before.
Against the long wall opposite the bar, there was a table full of desserts she and Glen had picked up from Barista Joe, and beside it, another table of prizes they’d be raffling off later.
But the real pièce de résistance was over by the shorter wall, where there now hung a projector screen—on which Simone could make out the lyrics to “Mamma Mia.” Seth crouched on the hardwood floor, fiddling with the dials on the karaoke machine they’d ordered last night, which had thankfully come with a next-day delivery option.
With ten minutes until showtime, Lucy found Simone straightening chairs around the tables. The chairs didn’t need to be straightened, but everything else was done—the room was ready—and Simone’s body was still crackling with energy.
“How’re you feeling?” Lucy asked.
“Fine,” Simone lied. She was nervous about her speech, but talking about it would make her even more nervous.
As Simone positioned a chair just so, Lucy squinted her eyes and studied her. “You’re nervous about your speech,” she declared.
Why did Lucy always have to be so incredibly perceptive? Because she cares about you, Simone reminded herself. She couldn’t believe she’d ever doubted it. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.
“What the heck do you have to be nervous about? You called out Frankie Marlow straight to his face today. You can do anything. I know it.”
Simone let go of the chair, darted around the table, and threw her arms around Lucy, who stumbled backward, laughed as she regained her balance, and hugged Simone back. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Simone said, her face full of Lucy’s shiny blond hair.
“You know you don’t have to thank me.” Lucy gave her a squeeze, then stepped back to look her in the eye. “That’s just what we do. We take care of each other.”
“Yeah, but I feel like the care has been a bit… one-directional.” Simone gestured from Lucy to herself. “If you know what I mean.”
“And you don’t think I was a needy bitch when I first came out? Please.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “I was the babyest gay who ever baby-gayed.”
“Well, I promise I won’t be a baby bi forever.”
Lucy looked around the taproom at Simone’s big idea brought to life. “You know, between this and you quitting the Rainbow Museum, I think you’ve officially graduated to badass bi.”
Simone beamed at her. “I love you, Luce.”
“I love you, too.” She pointed over Simone’s shoulder. “Also, um, holy shit?”
“What?” Simone asked, suddenly panicking that the step-and-repeat banner had collapsed, or that Loonie had jumped up on the dessert table and started licking the cupcakes. But then Lucy spun her around by the shoulders so she could see what the fuss was.
“We already have a crowd,” Lucy announced.
She was right. Simone grinned when she saw the guests already queueing outside on the porch, relieved they’d seen the texts, emails, and social media posts about the last-minute location change.
“Everyone okay if I let ’em in?” Dom asked.
Across the taproom, the ragtag team of organizers clapped, cheered, and gave thumbs-ups. Simone issued a rallying cry: “Let’s have a great night, everyone!” Glen caught her eye and winked as he cupped his mouth and whooped.