Chapter 2 Ella
ELLA
ONE HOUR AGO
The minute I log on to work from home my email pings with an urgent message from my boss.
Ella,
I am so sorry to do this, but effective immediately, you have been reassigned to a new project.
I have been fine with your remote work situation, but due to some unforeseen circumstances, that agreement is no longer an option.
The PR and marketing departments had a massive and unexpected overhaul this morning.
A quarter of our staff was let go, and everyone else has been shuffled and reassigned within the departments.
We’ve also been ordered to create a specialized PR team by the top executives of the company.
I know you work primarily with the marketing and content creation side of our operations, but I think your skills will be a necessary and great addition for the sensitive nature of the project of this new team.
I need you to report to work by nine a.m. for an urgent meeting.
See you soon,
Emily
My mouth drops open as my stomach falls to the floor.
I read the last line three more times to be sure I read it correctly.
Nope, I read it right. Panicking, I reply to Emily that I’ll be there as soon as I can.
But it’s already eight twenty-five, and I have to make it across town. There’s no way I’ll make it on time.
Shit!
What the hell is going on at work?
“Zahra?” I say, knocking on her door, cringing. Zahra works nights at a swanky restaurant as the floor manager, so she doesn’t get home until usually two in the morning. I feel like an ass waking her, but this is an emergency.
When I left Kyle’s apartment a month ago, I was only able to bring one suitcase, and I hadn’t stopped to look at which one I grabbed. By the time I finally ended up at Zahra’s apartment, I realized I had grabbed the suitcase with all of my casual clothes and pajamas. No work attire.
But worse than that, the next day Kyle sent me a string of texts ranging from apologetic to hostile.
I’m so sorry, Ella! It will never happen again, please forgive me!
I miss you. I need you. I love you so much.
Ella, I told you I love you. Does that mean nothing to you???
Are you kidding me Ella? You won’t even respond!
Ur a cold bitch. I can’t believe I ever loved you.
Then he sent me a video of him on the rooftop of his building throwing my clothes onto a big metal basin, then he doused them in lighter fluid and struck a match, and I watched all of my work clothes and nice clothes burn.
Kyle what are you doing?! How dare you burn my clothes!
Oh, so now you’ll text me back?
I want to come get the rest of my things.
Can’t. I’ve left to travel to our new investment property and will be gone for two months.
I changed the locks, and since your name isn’t on the lease, you aren’t allowed in.
I made double sure with the super that you aren’t to be let into the apartment.
I guess we’ll see in two months if you’re sorry enough for leaving me.
That was four weeks ago. But it gets even worse than that.
I went to buy new clothes the day after he sent the video, and my debit card and all of my credit cards declined.
I rushed to the bank to figure out what the hell was going on and found out that Kyle had somehow gotten access to my social security and bank account numbers, drained my savings, and maxed out all my credit cards.
We lived together, so it seems that he found my ledger in my desk at his apartment and was apparently serious about making me a partner in his investment.
Before he left on his two-week trip, he had copied down all my information, and then the night he came home he invested all of my money into his business as some sort of gesture of his excitement of our new journey together.
The bank has been less than helpful in getting my money back.
It’s been four weeks and I’m still fighting and disputing all the charges on my credit cards.
I call the bank almost daily, and they keep assuring me they’re working on it, but I still have no money, no credit, and I’m extremely lucky that my best friend is also the best human in the world.
I’ve been sleeping on Zahra’s couch, eating her food, and using her utilities like a complete mooch.
But what else can I do? It’s this or live on the streets.
I paid her a bit with my last paycheck, but she would only accept a small amount.
I haven’t gone to buy work clothes because my last paycheck wasn’t huge.
I had to take a week off of work to deal with the fallout of the breakup, and I had already used up all of my vacation days prior to that.
In January, I’d taken a two-week bucket list trip to Spain, Portugal, and Italy with Zahra, and I didn’t want to use all my sick days this early in the year, so I lost out on my hours for that paycheck.
It’s like the universe is against me. For the few bright spots I’ve had this year, the trip with Zaara and getting away from Kyle, the year has given me a whole host of other shit to rain on my parade.
So, I’m well and truly broke until the bank finalizes all of the account fraud.
I’ve filed charges against Kyle for theft with the NYPD, but who knows how long that will take or if anything will ever even come of it.
At this point, I’m just glad I’m away from Kyle, although I still need to go get the rest of my things from his apartment as soon as he’s back in town.
Zahra’s boyfriend, Alec, and some of his friends have volunteered to help me when the time comes.
But I have no idea if there’s even anything left.
My boss, Emily, has been a gem. She’s been so understanding and supportive of the shit show that is my life these past few weeks.
When I sent her the video of my clothes burning, she told me I could work remotely until I can pull my life back together and get some new work clothes, which I plan to do this weekend since I get paid Friday.
But it’s not Friday, it’s Monday, and I have no work clothes and now I need to go into the office for an urgent meeting!
“What’s up?” Zahra says, groggily, answering the door.
“I just got an email from my boss. Something is going down at work, and I’ve been called in for a meeting. I have to be there by nine, and I have no clothes!”
“Oh, shit.” She opens the door wider for me to come in. “We’ll find something that works, don’t worry.”
She hurries to her closet and starts pulling out all the options she can find.
Trouble is, even though we wear about the same size, Zahra is six inches shorter than I am and has her clothes tailored to her narrow, short frame.
I rifle through the clothes lying on the bed, trying out possible combinations.
I finally settle on some black dress pants that I think will fit me like a capri pant.
That should work okay. The shirts are all short, but I find a silk one that’s long on her that should at least skim the waistband of the pants.
Okay—I just can’t raise my arms. Now for shoes .
. . this will be a problem. I wear two sizes bigger.
“Here,” Zahra says, holding up a silver pair of heels.
“This is probably our only option.” I look down at them, horrified.
“I know,” she says, wincing and laughing at the same time.
The heels are silver and covered in a tacky design of rhinestones like someone bedazzled them at home.
“I know they’re hideous, but they’re the only thing I have that will remotely fit you.
I wore these in a wedding as a bridesmaid, and the bride didn’t pay attention to my size, so these were way too big on me. ”
I pull on the outfit and take a look in her full-length mirror.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Because oh my hell, it’s bad.
The too tight pants look weird as capris since the leg wasn’t cut for that style, and, as a bonus, they’re giving me glorious camel toe.
The lavender silk shirt barely covers my stomach, and the sleeves stop three inches above my wrists.
I undo the buttons on the cuffs and roll them up a couple times to make them three-quarter sleeves, which looks marginally better.
But the shoes. The shoes! They are tacky, gauche, hideous things that should never, ever have been created.
I feel like a six-year-old wearing sparkly princess shoes, but this isn’t dress up time, and I’m the asshole who has to wear them to work.
But my literal only other options are my ratty old sneakers or flip flops.
The outfit is a monstrosity. Like something out of a horror film. It in no way qualifies as work attire. But it’s all I have.
Someone kill me now!
Zahra, bless her, tries so hard to keep a straight face.
But she finally breaks, snorting and cackling as she falls onto her bed.
I laugh too because what the hell else is there to do?
I look like a . . . I don’t even know how to describe it.
Zahra has great taste in clothes, but these clothes don’t belong together, and they certainly don’t belong on my taller, wider frame.
And I can’t imagine why she didn’t throw the shoes away the minute the wedding was over, but I guess I should be grateful.
They are a size eight, so only one size too small, but at least I can fit my large, ugly stepsister feet into them, even if they are scrunched and crowded.
I race to the bathroom and throw my hair up into a bun since it’s in desperate need of a wash and run some mascara over my lashes.
That’s all I have time for. I grab my hoodie because it’s the only warm item I have and take the silver disasters off my feet, replacing them with socks and old sneakers to hurry to work in.
I grab a granola bar, my water bottle, and my purse and rush out the door, thanking Zahra over my shoulder.