Chapter 5
Blanca looks up, startled, when she hears the door open.
Her expression is pinched with concern as I march past her.
The office smells like freshly printed paper and coffee.
The ever-present hum of many voices whispering at once, pitched high and low, suddenly disappears as I zigzag my way between cubicles toward Eugenia’s office.
It is painfully obvious they were talking about me.
It is even more painful to know they will keep talking about me as soon as I’m out of earshot.
They’ll probably talk about this for a while.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” Blanca’s voice is soft behind me. I wasn’t aware of her following me. “You look a little…”
I stop and turn to her. She assesses me, her brows furrowed.
I know my choice of no makeup, hair pulled into a messy bun, and sneakers instead of some type of heel makes me look like I came straight from the gym, but I didn’t have the time or energy to stage a whole production like I do every morning.
“Yes?” I demand.
She swallows. “Unhinged.”
Perfect. Just what I was going for. “I’m fine,” I lie. “I need to talk to Eugenia and then I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”
Blanca winces. “Babe…”
“It’ll just be a second.” Hopefully.
I turn back toward Eugenia’s office. This time Blanca doesn’t follow.
I find my boss sitting behind her desk, not one single strand of hair out of place, typing furiously into her phone.
A fresh wave of nausea hits me. I break out into a cold sweat.
I don’t know what I was thinking. She’s going to tell me this meeting could have been an email, even though it absolutely couldn’t have.
I shouldn’t have just come, I should have called first. I should have apologized profusely and asked if she’d be willing to meet with me.
I’m thinking about bolting, but before I have a chance to make a run for it, she looks up. The only part of her body that moves are her penetrating black eyes.
The fear that settles in my chest is like nothing I’ve felt before. Her black-on-black-on-black attire, her hair pulled back, and her bloodred lips make her seem positively murderous. Yeah, this could have been an email.
In a movement that is almost feline, Eugenia puts her phone down as she reclines on her chair, crossing one leg over the other while lifting her left hand to support her chin.
I make myself walk in. There’s no reason to be afraid.
I made a mistake. No one gets fired over one solitary mistake.
And I’m not an intern, fresh out of college.
I’ve been working here for five years. That’s not nothing.
She’s not going to fire me. And showing my face here today instead of hiding at home shows professionalism.
“Maria Antonieta.” Her voice is sharp, cutting, as she utters my name. “I didn’t think you’d be showing up to work today. Or ever.”
I swallow hard. Okay, maybe there is a little reason to be afraid. “Eugenia, I understand you must be furious. I would be too. But if you let me explain—”
“No.” She stops me. “No explaining. Sit.”
I obey. The cold metal of the chair presses into my arm as I lean forward in anticipation.
“You’re fired,” she says. My eyes go wide, my body shooting forward. It’s a simple statement, like telling someone today is Tuesday. “Effective immediately.”
My mouth is instantly dry, like cotton, as she falls silent with a smile.
A lump grows in my throat as the reality of my situation dawns on me.
Five years, wasted. Getting coffee, getting yelled at, being promoted to columnist, Eugenia taking me under her wing and making me a less menacing version of herself.
I did it all in the hopes that she’d see the potential in me and allow me to cover events, meet artists, write reviews, give a voice to the talented voiceless.
Like she does. And now I have to start over.
“Eugenia,” I try. Be reasonable, I want to say, but I have a feeling she won’t take that well. “I know I messed up. I will issue a public apology. I’ll do whatever you want. If you give me another chance, I swear nothing like this will ever happen again.”
She huffs. “Do you really expect me to let you give love advice to my readers after this?” I wince.
“In case you forgot, you violated the sanctity of our Ella. We sell people dreams, a promise of a happily ever after, and now you’ve ruined that.
You broadcast your breakup to our entire readership and left it up for twelve hours.
” Eugenia picks up a pen from her desk and starts clicking it.
“You write a relationship column, Maria. Last night you lost all credibility. No one is going to take advice from a woman who got dumped for being too controlling. Your breakup, unfortunately, is now a liability to the company.”
“But we didn’t break up.” I don’t know what force of hell propels me to say this. “We’re on a break. Didn’t you hear what he said?”
Eugenia tilts her head to the side. “Querida, everyone heard what he said.”
“Then you know.” I run both hands down my jeans to wipe off the sweat.
“We’ll be back together before you know it.
This is just a temporary setback.” But she’s already shaking her head.
I grip the edge of her desk. “Please don’t fire me.
I really need this job. I love this job!
” I hate how desperate I sound, how my voice is coming out all shaky. “All publicity is good publicity.”
Eugenia leans forward, pins me with a look I can’t quite define.
She’s studying me, searching for I don’t know what.
Silence falls over us like a wet blanket.
My hands are sweating again. Sitting on this uncomfortable metal chair under her scrutiny makes me feel like a child in the principal’s office.
I can’t take it anymore. “Please, I’ll do anything.”
Her eyes get lost somewhere behind me. Her thinking face. Or her I’m about to screw you over face. They’re interchangeable.
“Muy bien,” she finally says. I perk up. “Since you’re so sure your ex is coming back, I want you to document it. What you said, what he said, who begged who. What works and what doesn’t work. I want insight into the process of mending your broken relationship.”
I deflate. Oh no. Alejandro tolerates my “influencer” lifestyle. He doesn’t condone it, and he definitely does not encourage it. The only reason he’s not actively against it is because my identity is kept deliberately vague. As a result, so is his.
“I’m not sure I can do that.” I picture Alejandro’s face when he hears I want to document our way back to happiness. It’s not very happy. “It’s not just my privacy, it’s Alejandro’s too.”
“Then talk to Alejandro.” As if it were that easy.
“Unless it’s a definitive breakup and you’re trying to con me into giving you your job back.
In which case, you can forget about finding work anywhere remotely reputable.
You need a good reference from me, which, at the moment, I’m not too keen to give. ”
“No!” I jump to my feet. “No, we’re definitely getting back together. This is temporary.”
I remember his text, which I still haven’t answered because I’m dealing with this dumpster fire first. He sent it last night and he didn’t sound angry, so chances are he sent it before the video went viral. And he asked if I got home okay. That means he still cares.
“It’s settled then.” Eugenia’s narrowed eyes are almost predatory. “I can see it. It’ll be just like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Except it’s ‘How to Win a Guy Back.’ ” My eyes widen. “We can’t use ‘How to,’ though. Too cliché. We need another format.”
I blink, hoping she’ll stop talking long enough for me to make sense of what she’s saying.
But she simply waves the title problem off with a nonchalant, “I’ll come up with something.
” She smiles that wolfish smile of hers, sending chills down my spine.
“If you pull this off, I’ll give you your job back. ”
“I’m still fired?” I ask, my voice pathetically soft.
“Of course you’re still fired.” Eugenia laughs. “You broadcast your breakup on the company’s social media.”
I wince at the reminder. It’s what I deserve.
It’s what anyone else in Eugenia’s position would have done.
But I’m still shocked that after five years of working for her, four of those years under her personal tutelage, Eugenia would let go of me so easily.
I’m about to walk out of her office—which I helped decorate—without a job.
A strange force possesses me. Perhaps it’s the freedom of knowing that I have nothing left to lose, or a brief psychotic lapse, but even I’m surprised to hear the words that tumble out of my mouth next:
“What if I don’t want my old job back?”
Eugenia’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised for the first time since I sat here. Probably for the first time since I started working here.
I continue. “What if I want to write the kind of articles you write?”
“You want to be in Arte y Cultura?” she asks.
I nod once, half nervous, half nauseated.
Eugenia smirks, resting her back against her chair with a chirring sound as she twirls a pen between her fingers.
“All right,” she finally says. “Write the article, prove to me you’ve outgrown writing love advice, prove to me you’re ready for bigger pieces, and I’ll consider promoting you to the Arts and Culture team. It’ll be your swan song before you move forward.”
A part of me says, No, you’re better than this.
But am I? I need a job. And I don’t want to spend three years climbing a new ladder.
This is just a bump in the road. Nothing but a nightmare I’ll soon wake up from.
Before I know it, everything will be back to normal.
There’s no good reason why Ale should refuse.
He let me share little insights into our relationship before, albeit begrudgingly.
Why would this be any different? Why shouldn’t I accept?
I’ll be back here next week. I won’t even have to break into my savings.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
Eugenia grins. “Perfect. You have two months.”
She rises to her feet as she offers me her hand. I take it. “It won’t be that long.”
Eugenia releases my hand. “I should hope not.”
Sitting back down, she taps her iPad and it blinks to life.
A clear dismissal. As I leave, I don’t give myself time to become nostalgic.
Soon, I’ll be back in this office telling her my plan for the week.
No, I’ll be back here telling her about a new band, a new restaurant, a new event. It won’t take two months.
Outside, I fish my phone out of my purse to check the time and my heart soars when I see I have a new message from Alejandro.
Ale: you posted our breakup on Instagram?!