The Three Month Rule

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

You’re fired.

Those are the words I expect to hear from my manager Todd’s mouth. But they never come. From my chair in the corner of his office, I’ve been patiently watching Todd and the guest I assaulted argue about what my punishment should be. I can’t believe I’m in this situation. I can’t believe I’m seconds away from losing my dream job.

Working at The Cerulean has been one of the few good things in my life, and if they do fire me, then it will have been worth it. I’m not a naturally violent person, but I couldn’t stand by while Mr. Douche , as I had coined him, continued to harass my best friend for most of her shift. It reached the point of unwanted physical contact, and I witnessed it.

Nobody else was going to step in, so I did what I thought I had to.

I didn’t think the limited knowledge I had from the self-defence class I took three years ago would come back to help me, but it all happened so fast. One minute I was standing there, listening to Mr. Douche worm his way out of the situation, and the next, I was seeing Laryssa, near tears and hugging herself, and I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind his back.

I didn’t even hear the pop until he screamed. And that’s why I’m here now.

My head is down, tuning out Mr. Douche as he continues to ramble on about etiquette and tact in a place like this. The Cerulean is an award-winning five-star resort nestled on the beaches of Palm Beach. We are class, luxury, and tradition all rolled into one. And in his opinion, it’s people like me who will lead to its downfall.

I fight back a yawn, my eyes rolling as his long speech drones on. It’s rich, him lecturing me when he’s acting like what he did is as normal as asking for a glass of water.

“And you’re lucky I’m not pressing charges,” Mr. Douche spits, finally addressing me.

He finishes his rant, his dramatics flaring as he waves his arms around, crossing them once he finishes. He focuses his attention on Todd, scrutinizing him with his eyes as if sizing him up.

Mr. Douche is practised and collected in the way he speaks. His whole demeanour is too calm for the situation. One with witnesses. My skin crawls as I try to regain my composure, to refocus and remember the skills I was taught when I first started in the hospitality business.

Rude customers, I can handle. Demanding and entitled socialites, I can handle. But witnessing how predatory and nonchalant Mr. Douche is is something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. He is undoubtedly used to using his wealth to his advantage and throwing money at the problem to make it disappear. Toss in an NDA or two, and he’s golden. No more witnesses and no more issues.

I feel sick when I think about it, a feeling I’m not used to having when I’m at work. I like my job. I take pleasure in providing the guests who stay here with whatever they need. But right now, I am heavily regretting my career choice.

There’s not a doubt in my mind that the uber-rich and famous who flock to The Cerulean year after year aren’t any different from the man whose wrist I broke. They’re only more sly about it. He won’t be the last guest to pull something like this and think that just because he has status and power, it means that he can get away with it. It’s a sad reality in our world.

But not on my fucking watch. Even if it means losing my job. I won’t let creeps like him get away with it, because sometimes, you need to stand up for what you think is right, and this is exactly that moment for me. Anger seeps into my pores, triggering a fleet of emotions I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk away from.

“My family and I have been coming here for the past two years, and I would expect at least an apology from the staff member who assaulted me. I think I’m owed that much,” Mr. Douche says, his tone full of contempt. “This is getting ridiculous now. How much of a donation will it take to make this go away, hmm? Tell me a number.”

I scoff, turning to face the man. My stomach lurches when his eyes flick from my chest back to my face. Scum . Even when his leering glances got him into this situation in the first place, he still can’t help himself.

My hands clench so tightly that my knuckles turn white. You will not lunge across this desk and smack the shit out of this entitled asshole, Monroe. I repeat it to myself until it sticks. Attacking him again would definitely get me charged with assault. And it would make me no better than him. So I just sit with my anger and make friends with it for now.

I inhale deeply, looking up to see two sets of eyes staring at me expectantly.

“Monroe?” Todd urges.

I swallow thickly, my pride not easily movable. With wobbly legs, I bite my tongue and gear up for the most unapologetic apology I will ever give someone.

Mumbling my apology, I avoid Mr. Douche’s eyes. “I’m sorry…”

His eyes bore into me. I can feel it. “I didn’t quite catch that. Could you speak up?”

I grind my teeth to the point of pain, meeting his soulless eyes. There’s a taunting smirk stretched on his face, and I snap. Whatever apology I was willing to give before evaporates into thin air.

“You want an apology?” My voice simmers with unfiltered rage, my gut boiling over like a pot filled to the brim.

I move closer but keep my distance. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to hit something or someone. But I ignore the urge.

“Yes. I don’t think that’s too hard of an ask for someone like you.”

My eyes flit over to Todd, who gives me a wary look. He must see it on my face because I’m ready to explode.

“I’m sorry…” I let the words hang in the air before I hear him utter something crude under his breath. I can’t stop my next words from leaving my mouth, the speed bump from my brain to my mouth vanishing completely. “I’m sorry that you’re a pig. I’m sorry that your wife has had to sit by while you hit on anything with breasts. After today, I hope she sees you for the repulsive, spineless perv you are.”

Mr. Douche’s face turns red. From anger, embarrassment, or shock, I don’t know. And I don’t care; I’m not done with him. My pulse hammers as I take another steadying breath.

“You’re disgusting, using your money to sweep these kinds of things under the rug.” I continue, “And I’m especially sorry that all I did was break your wrist.”

The man’s mouth hangs open like he’s trying to catch flies, astonished by my nerve to speak to him like that. He stomps from where he’s standing and rounds Todd’s desk, getting in my face, trying to intimidate me.

It’s cute, really, him thinking that he can scare me when he looks like re-materialized dust, his age glaringly obvious from where I’m standing. His grey eyes darken but hold no real threat. He glowers at me for a second more, then turns to Todd.

“Are you going to let her speak to me like that?” he demands, his voice cracking on the last word.

This is the moment I was preparing for. Todd will probably fire me after talking to a guest in that manner. But it’s better than sitting idly while this type of behaviour is excused. It’s better than saying nothing at all.

Todd clears his throat. “Yes, actually, I am. We have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to any kind of harassment of our staff.” He pauses, looking at me. “You’d do well to read all the terms and conditions before booking your stay with us, Mr. Townes. As you more than clearly put it, this is a respected establishment, and we will not let people like you sully our reputation.”

So, Mr. Douche has a name, one until now I didn’t bother to remember. The familiarity of his name rings through my mind, only it isn’t a good familiarity. I wasn’t intimidated by him before, and I’m not now. But the thought that he can sue me for all that I’m worth lingers in the back of my mind.

Mr. Townes’ face flushes as he sputters, unable to find the words to get him out of this bind. I’m equally floored, not expecting Todd to stand behind me at all.

Normally, management doesn’t dare to side with their employees, but I should have more faith in Todd because he isn’t just any manager. Brought in five years ago to rescue a struggling business, he was an enigma; instead of mass layoffs and tyrannical management, he surprised everyone. He’s compassionate and nothing like the original managers were. He’s more of a big brother than a manager sometimes.

So, whatever temporary luck I have, I’m not about to question it.

Todd doesn’t move from his seat, his face the picture of calm neutrality. “I suggest you find yourself a new resort to vacation at, as we can no longer serve you.”

My face breaks into a victorious smile. But it’s short-lived.

“Are you seriously going to ban me? Because of some run-of-the-mill tease?” Mr. Townes shouts, his voice booming in the otherwise quiet office.

I flinch, and my smile falls. Laryssa would never make a move on a guest, especially one who is as grotesque as Mr. Townes. I heard him repeatedly proposition her, and when she refused, he used force to get what he wanted.

Mr. Townes’ outburst doesn’t faze Todd in the slightest. “I won’t have you treat my staff like that, Wagner. And I think it would be best if you packed up your things and left immediately. Before you embarrass yourself any further or I get the authorities involved.”

Todd’s voice is lethal and sends a chill down my spine. I don’t ever want to be on the receiving end of that tone.

Mr. Townes doesn’t refute the accusations or try to reason with Todd. He knows he’s been caught red-handed. He all but pushes me aside, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. I let out a shaky breath, my heart still pounding from the adrenaline.

“Thanks…” I start, sitting back down in one of the brown leather chairs. Todd looks up, a baffled expression on his face. “For having my back. I know it probably isn’t easy to tell a paying guest to go screw himself… so—uh, thanks.”

Todd runs a hand over his chin, chuckling softly. “Don’t thank me, Monroe. It was the least that I could do, really.”

We stay silent for a while. He withdraws, a faraway look in his eyes as if lost in thought. To get his attention, I clear my throat.

Todd’s eyes find mine. “Besides, I wasn’t lying before. It is in our policy.”

I nod. “Noted.” I keep my gratitude short, knowing that Todd doesn’t want my thanks. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. He likes to tell me he’s just doing his job, even when he just took a massive hit for me. “I should go fill Laryssa in.”

I tap my fingers against my leg, shifting my weight as the silence feels oppressively long. As I turn toward the door, Todd speaks.

“One more thing before you go, Monroe.”

I freeze, and my hand drops from the door. Is this the part where he fires me? Were his platitudes empty? Question after question rattle in my head, demanding an answer. I decide not to jump to any conclusions because Todd is a nice guy. He wouldn’t fake standing up for me and then fire me in the same breath. I walk the few steps back to my seat, but I don’t sit. Standing feels right.

Todd clears his throat anxiously. “Let’s refrain from breaking any more guests’ wrists. At least for a little while.”

Patting his arm, I snort. “I’ll behave. Promise.”

Immediately after leaving his office, I head to The Cortes, the extravagant bar where I’m a cocktail waitress. Floor-to-ceiling wine racks cover the walls of the room, showcasing more than a thousand different varieties, each bottle as distinct as the next. They pay homage to every country the founder and owner, Mateo Cortes, has visited.

The atmosphere bleeds glitz and glamour, with rows of backlit shelves displaying top-shelf alcohol behind the bar. Rich, nutty wooden standing tables dance in the dark, with the golden bar top acting as the focal point of the room. I make my way through the loud, lively crowd of drinking and chatting guests.

Restlessness makes my stomach cramp, but I put a pin in the feeling, my only goal being to find Laryssa. She’s easy to spot, leaning against the bar and talking to Kevin. We met at The Cortes five years ago, becoming close friends while working here. Laryssa smiles brightly, and she throws her head back in laughter at something Kevin says.

Our running joke is that she’s the sunshine to my storm cloud, and she reminds me of that fact whenever she gets the chance. I’ve been through enough in my life to justify my pessimistic views, but Laryssa just tells me I have a personality problem. And maybe I do.

She has her brown hair with pink highlights pulled back into a sleek bun, with two long tendrils framing her face. Laryssa’s eyes crinkle when she laughs, solidifying her warm and bubbly image. Approaching her from the side, I subtly bump her shoulder to announce my presence.

Her disposition changes almost instantly, that smile gone and replaced with a nervous look.

“Was it awful?” she asks, her eyes widening with intrigue.

“It wasn’t a picnic by any means, but I think it went well.”

Kevin gawks at me. “Well? Mon, you broke his wrist, and you’re still here to tell the tale. I think it went more than just well.” He pauses, looking in Laryssa’s direction. Her head is still down, avoiding our looks of sympathy. “Tell us what happened.”

Laryssa perks up as I speak.

“He was a jackass, as predicted. But Todd had my back—had your back—and banned him from the resort.” I shake my head, still not fully believing it myself.

Kevin and Laryssa’s faces mirror each other.

“Really?” Laryssa asks. “He actually took my side?”

I nod, cupping her face, and say, “Yeah, he’s gone for good.”

Tears bubble along her waterline, and she quickly dips her head out of my hold, a watery laugh breaking through.

“That’s… something,” she says. I frown. Laryssa’s focus is on the golden bar top, her fingers skimming the glossy surface rhythmically. She looks up after a few seconds. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m still in shock.”

“Who knew Todd would come through? ‘Cause I didn’t,” Kevin adds.

I glare at him. Not helpful, Kev.

Where Laryssa is tall, Kevin is shorter. Standing at only five-five, it makes both of us taller than him. But he’s unbothered by his size, his vibrant personality more than making up for it. Lost in thought, Kevin twists a lock of his shoulder-length blond hair, his face a mask of concentration. He has piercings and tattoos covering every inch of his body, which makes him seem more intimidating than he really is. But never judge a book by its cover because Kevin is about the sweetest soul I have ever met.

To lift everyone’s spirits, I clap my hands together. “Hey, this is a good thing.” I rub Laryssa’s arm, trying to coax her back to the land of the living.

She nods, inhaling deeply, and stands taller. “You’re right, it is. I shouldn’t let that asshole ruin my otherwise good mood.”

“I still can’t believe you broke the guy’s hand,” Kevin snorts.

I elbow him playfully. “Don’t be dramatic. I just simply fractured his wrist. It’ll be good as new in about six to twelve weeks. Serves him right.”

Kevin’s eyebrows pinch. “The things you say scare me sometimes.”

I bow. “Happy to be of service.”

“You should have let me handle it…” Kevin puffs out his chest. “I would’ve kicked his ass.”

Whatever remaining heaviness lingers between us disappears with Kevin’s comedic timing. Laryssa and I look at each other before we burst into laughter, nearing tears. He tries to make it seem like he is offended, but he can’t keep up the ruse for long before finally breaking, joining us as we get strange looks from the surrounding patrons.

Laryssa catches her breath. “Kevin, you’re the sweetest. But you’ve never actually been in a fight before, right? Let alone even hit someone. I appreciate the sentiment, though.” She pats his hand lovingly. He squeezes hers in return.

I snort out another laugh, wiping away the nonexistent tears from under my eyes. “Besides, I handled it. Put it out of your mind now.”

My arm wraps around Laryssa, and I pull her close. She gives me a bright smile. Her eyes twinkle, and I know she’s back. Her sparkle can’t be snuffed out that easily.

Kevin continues, “Well, good. Now I don’t have to open a can of whoop-ass on him. Despite you two having zero faith in me.”

I can always count on these two to brighten my mood. Our dynamic is one I won’t ever wish away; the constant ribbing, the unconventional way that we tell each other exactly how we are feeling—no holds barred. It’s something different, and it isn’t tied up with a neat bow. Sometimes, that leads to a fight, but our bond is strong, and it doesn’t break easily. No matter what happens, we always make up and have each other’s back. They’re my family, and they’re everything to me.

But you don’t deserve them, do you?

The little patronizing voice in my head reminds me. But I push back, determined not to let my darkest parts outshine the lighter ones. I’d rather keep my problems to myself than burden my friends with them. If they knew everything I think about at any given moment, their heads would explode. So, I force a smile on my face. And inch it higher and higher until the feeling becomes genuine and replaces whatever melancholy I had been feeling before.

“You sure you’re okay?” Kevin asks, pulling me out of my daze.

Laryssa shrugs. “I will be. I’ve got you guys. I think I’ll be fine.” She sniffles while trying to act like she’s unaffected. “No, no, I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to cry.” She shakes her head. “I’m just going to go check on my tables instead. Thanks again, Mon.”

Laryssa squeezes my arm one last time as she leaves us. As I watch her go, I know exactly the thoughts that are running through her mind. She thinks she led him on; she thinks she did something to make him act the way he did, and that makes me angry. She sees the best in people, even when they don’t deserve it, especially when they give her every reason to the contrary.

A sinking feeling unfurls in my gut. I know she’s not fine. I know she’s keeping it all down because she’s at work, but I still feel useless knowing I can’t help her right now. Laryssa has been through enough. She needs a break from all the crap. Noticing that I’m in my head, Kevin folds his arms over his chest, leaning toward me. I imitate him, moving closer until we’re inches from each other.

“Now that we have a minute, should we discuss what we’re doing for L’s birthday?” He wastes no time at all getting to the crux of what he wants to ask me.

He glances in Laryssa’s direction.

My eyes widen, and I smack myself in the face, letting out a soft groan. If today is the fourth, then that means that Laryssa’s birthday is two weeks from today. Shit . How could I have forgotten one of my best friends’ birthday?

I’ve been so preoccupied; it must have slipped my mind. Kevin scans my face, seeing my not-so-subtle display of guilt.

He lets out a resigned sigh. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

I barely open my pinched fingers. “Just a little. It’s been busy, and I know that’s a terrible excuse, but I swear it will be the best birthday she’s ever had.”

“Big shoes to fill. Don’t you remember her telling us about her sixth birthday party?”

“Vaguely.”

“She had a freaking Beyoncé impersonator, dude. And the party only ended because they found her doing coke in the bathroom.”

I shake my head. “I still can’t believe that’s a real story sometimes.”

“Yeah, that shit is crazy. But kind of what you’d expect from growing up in Cali.”

That isn’t even one of the crazier stories from Laryssa’s childhood. It’s a miracle that she turned out how she did. I sneak another quick peek at her, careful not to stare and give away that we’re discussing her birthday plans.

“Okay, time to brainstorm before she gets back…” I say.

We both grow silent, trying to come up with the best possible way to celebrate our friend. I snap my fingers when an idea forms.

“How about dinner? Just the three of us. We could go to one of those fancy places she has on her list. I’m sure she’d love that.”

Kevin nods slowly, but I can tell that he’s not convinced. “I like the idea. I just don’t love it. It seems a little… blah. For a normal night, it would be fine, but this is her twenty-fifth birthday, so it needs to not be blah.”

I rack my brain. Not blah. Got it. How could it possibly be this hard to pick something?

“Oooooh! I know!” Kevin chirps. “There’s this new club opening soon. I think the night of her actual birthday, and it would be perfect.” His enthusiasm comes to life.

I scrunch my nose, turned off by the idea of going out to a club, but I know Laryssa would love it. I plaster on a convincing smile. Clubbing is the one activity I hate more than cleaning my apartment or grocery shopping. But it’s for Laryssa, so I just have to grin and bear it.

Kevin whips out a cocktail napkin and a pen, and I sigh. He jots down ideas. It’s one night. One night, I tell myself. It won’t kill me—I hope. I hide my clear disdain for the idea with a smile.

“It’s perfect, Kev. She’ll just die.”

“I know. OHEMGEE! We need to start planning right now…”

I tune out the rest of what Kevin says, barely registering every squeak and shriek. I’m too involved with my own existential dread to actually listen. I’m sure he’s going on about our outfits or how he wants to splurge on bottle service. It must be obvious that I’m not listening because he snaps his fingers in front of my face, and I know he’s annoyed with me.

“Monroe, come on. This is important stuff,” he huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening.” I stand straighter, trying my best to pay attention as he rambles on.

It isn’t long before another bartender taps Kevin on the shoulder, telling him they need his help. I clear my throat, reminding myself to get back to work.