Chapter 11
STEFFI
Today, Fate chose violence over happily ever after.
Steffi went into work, smiling and so excited to see Drake this evening.
His call last night had been everything.
Yes, she was emotional, moody, feeling very off-kilter, but that was because everything just felt like it was coming apart at the seams in her world, when in fact, it was moving to fall into place.
She didn’t want to like Drake – never imagined herself actually wanting to spend time with the man – but being around him felt good.
“I’m gonna be that old lady who goes to chase down her husband because he’s in the yard, picking up pinecones or chasing after moles for tearing up his grass,” she muttered under her breath, but the feeling, the frustration, the peevishness at her stodgy neighbor who was obsessed with his lawn was turning out to be the sweetest guy in the weirdest way.
“Steffi, HR wants to see you,” her manager said casually, walking past her and continuing up the aisle like it was nothing.
“Weird,” she began and turned to walk back toward the breakroom in the back, climbing the stairs to the store manager’s office – and the HR manager next door.
This wasn’t a normal thing, but then again, maybe it was just a form to fill out, or they wanted her to sign up for some policy she couldn’t afford.
“Hey, Claudia, you were looking for me?”
Claudia looked up from her desk, nodded, and then pressed a button on her phone without hesitation. “C’mon inside and take a seat.”
Moving, Steffi nodded and tried to get a gauge on what was going on, because none of this was normal. “Is something wrong?” she began, taking a seat, and a part of her soul died as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs nearby, followed by the store manager appearing a moment later.
“Steffi,” Mr. Benedict said plainly and stood along the wall, closing the door behind him. Steffi’s shocked eyes moved from him to Claudia and back again in horror.
“Did something happen?”
“Steffi,” Claudia began in a very even voice. “It’s come to our attention that you’ve been clocking in early every day and leaving late, resulting in overtime that was not approved.”
“Well, yeah, I need the money,” Steffi blurted out and saw them look at each other, as Mr. Benedict nodded slowly. “Am I in trouble?”
“Steffi, we are going to have to let you go for failing to comply with company…”
“Wait,” Steffi interrupted, stunned. “You’re firing me because I work too much? Because I’m getting overtime when Donna isn’t showing up for her shift? I’m the bad guy because I actually work and don’t call in? Are you freakin’ kidding me?”
“As I was saying,” Claudia began once more – that annoying voice, even and emotionless. “You are being terminated immediately for failure to comply with your schedule or notifying a manager that you were requesting overtime approval prior to your shift.”
“This is a joke, isn’t it?”
“This has been ongoing…”
“I cannot believe this…”
“For several months now, and never once was it brought to a manager’s attention for approval.”
“Because you both would say ‘No’,” Steffi snapped angrily, pointing at them.
“I asked to be moved from thirty-two hours a week to forty, and you said ‘no’. I asked for a raise since I’ve been working here for over a year, and you popped up with some crappy line saying it’s ‘based on merit not time’ – and that’s bull – and we both know it,” Steffi railed as her mind quickly calculated how fast she could get another job to cover her bills in her head.
“Since you’ve admitted to working hours you were not scheduled for…”
“Heck yeah, I’m admitting it – because we can’t ever find you two on the floor…”
“Then I will need your badge, your box knife, and any other equipment that belongs to the store,” Claudia finished smoothly, turning over a sheet of paper that had already been typed up, waiting for her.
Termination papers.
They knew they were going to fire her today – before Steffi even arrived for her shift. This meant that Jeannie downstairs, when she walked past her, had known. They all knew… and Steffi stared at the paper, her chest tight and aching with awareness.
“You couldn’t just write me up?” Steffi asked hoarsely, looking at Claudia and Mr. Benedict in their faces. “You’re firing me and not bothering with a write-up?”
“I think that’s best for everyone,” Claudia said simply. “Time clock theft is a…”
“It’s not theft,” Steffi interrupted, horrified. “I’m not stealing – I would never steal from the company that…” and she paused as her whole soul deflated. “It doesn’t matter what I say, does it?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Steffi rose to her feet, staring at them both, as she felt a surge of anger, pain, and frustration welling up – along with tears. Refusing to cry in front of two people who were basically her puppeteer, ignored the pen that Claudia tried to hand her.
“I’m not signing that,” Steffi said stiffly.
“Not a problem,” Claudia acknowledged. “I can mark it as ‘refusing to sign’.”
Moving toward the door, she glared at her boss. “Move outta my way,” she rasped angrily. “My locker is nearly empty except for that precious box knife and badge you’re looking for – so go get it.”
She barely remembered racing down the stairs, barely recalled driving home, and barely remembered having a complete and total breakdown the moment she saw the paper pinned to the front door.
It probably took her a full ten minutes for her hissy fit to pass. She threw her shoes, slammed doors, flopped down in the recliner, trying to calm down, breathe, anything to keep from losing her freakin’ cool – because this had to be the worst day in the world.
Fired from her job – and now she was being evicted?
And straightened up.
“Noooo,” she breathed, jumping to her feet – and glared at the wall, as if she could see through it, toward Drake’s house. “You Douche Weasel, if you got me freakin’ evicted, I will tear you from limb to limb…”
Marching over to his house, Steffi slammed her fist against his door several times, relishing the ache and the feeling of beating something.
Maybe she could get it out of her system before she actually committed an act of violence.
I mean, today was already in the toilet.
If she’d been accused of time clock theft, how much further down the ladder was battery or assault?
Drake had been so nice, so sweet, providing the shoes, teaching her to dance, the car…
“The car,” she gasped painfully in horror – was she about to get in trouble for ‘borrowing’ the car too?
Her mind wasn’t thinking clearly; in fact, nothing was clicking. She was in a rage – a full-blown, crazed, emotional rage that bordered on crazy-town, because the next thing she knew?
She was driving to the ballpark – to Drake’s practice.
Nothing was clear in her head. She was a mish-mash of angry chest pain, throbbing heartbeats, snot-riddled tears, and betrayal stabbed angrily at her soul.
How could he do this? Was her prudish, stuck-up neighbor so put out with the fact that one of the homes in the neighborhood was a rental, that he snitched on her? Sold her out?
“Ma’am!”
“Miss - you can’t go out there!”
“Lady…”
Steffi was running through the gates, blinded by tears and raging.
In her mind, she could practically see Drake calling in the complaint.
He was controlling, manipulative, pushy – forcing his way into everything and tossing a cute smile or playful attitude to get people to cave…
and she saw right through him. He did it by making it a gated community, paying for the guard shack, the security team, and flaunting the fact that he wanted to be ‘normal’, but he was making everyone deal with his fame, his popularity, because he wanted it that way… and she was sick of it.
She spotted him in the dugout, and everything moved in slow motion. Several players slapped him on the shoulders to get his attention. He slowly turned, and his eyes widened in shock.
Yeah, he was guilty all right… and she?
Judge, jury, and executioner…
“You!” Steffi screamed at him. “You are the biggest jerk I’ve ever met…”
“Steffi, babe, what’s…” Drake began looking panicked and shoving past the other players to exit the dugout – but she wasn’t waiting. Security was behind her, coming up fast, and she had to get out of here. She didn’t want to hear his excuses, his lies… and…
She snapped.
“I HATE YOU,” she wailed, her voice shaking with intensity as she launched the keys to his Camry at him, wadded up the eviction notice before throwing it too. “Keep it! Keep it all. Keep everything – I’m done!”
Hands clamped onto her as Drake scrambled to get over the fence. He was climbing quickly, like a spider monkey, and nearly fell off, before catching himself – yelling back at her.
“STEFFI! STEFFI, WAIT! HEY – HOLD HER! I’M COMING OVER THERE!”
“Miss, come with us…”
It was a chaotic mess of limbs as she fought them off. Hands were everywhere, latching onto her arms, dragging her away from the field, away from the players. She probably looked the part of a crazed fan, a jilted girlfriend, anything else – except she barely fit any of those categories.
“Stop!” Drake said, running in front of the security guards with his hands up. “Fellas – stop. I’ve got this… please,” he begged, looking concerned. “Don’t do this. Don’t call the cops. This is my fiancée…”
“No, I’m not!” she railed, trying to reach for the diamond ring on her finger – and Drake stopped her. Her eyes met his, and she saw something that finally broke through the intensity, the firestorm within her… and crumbled.
A sob erupted as she crumpled onto the ground indelicately in the tunnel that led to the front entrance of the building – away from the locker rooms. Drake’s warm hands, his arms, circled her as he knelt beside her, making worried, crooning noises in an attempt to comfort her, but she was inconsolable.
“Steffi, talk to me…”
“Go away…”
“Steffi, please, honey…”