“Then he didn’t deserve you in the first place. What an asshat.”
But that was the thing—he wasn’t. Brogan was a lot of things, but that word was only saved for the Do Not Use pages of his employee manual. Deep down, I knew that I should be angrier, but I understood where he was coming from. This was his company, his life. He’d do anything to keep it afloat, even if it meant firing me. How could I ask him to choose between me and his life dream? I couldn’t.
…
The next day, I pulled the masking tape over the last of my boxes and kicked it toward the front door. A lot could be accumulated over the course of five months, and I barely had enough room in my Corolla to get everything down to Portland.
Zoey wrapped her arms around my neck and sniffled into my shoulder. “What am I going to do without you?”
“The same as you always do. Work. Binge on Gilmore Girls. Just do me one favor and don’t get your next roommate off Craigslist. I hear there are a ton of crazies on there.”
“I have a few months until I need to think about that. The room will stay open for you.”
I frowned. “You know that’s not necessary.”
She nodded, serious. “Yes. It is.”
I pressed my lips together and tried to keep my composure long enough to take this last box down to my car. She’d tried to convince me to stay in Seattle and find a new job, but what was the point when I could be with my mom as she went through her last round of chemo? This was for the best. I’d find a job in the city and spend some much-needed time at home. Really, Brogan’s dad had done me a favor. He taught me who was really going to be there for me during the hard times, and unfortunately my heart had been caught in the crossfire in this little experiment.
Zoey walked me down to the car, and I managed to not cry until I hit the interstate. Which was particularly dangerous because everyone should be able to see while going seventy miles per hour.
A little after noon, I unlocked the familiar red door and was met with Mom’s outspread arms. I collapsed into her and released all of the pent-up tears and frustration of the past couple of days.
“I’m so sorry, love bug. I’m here for you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I failed you.” This was the first time in my life that I hadn’t followed through with a promise, and it was every bit as painful as disappointing Brogan.
She pulled me away from her and looked me in the eye, her expression turning serious. “You did not fail me, or anyone else, for that matter. You are the strongest, most dependable person I know, and if this idiot can’t see that and believe your word, then he didn’t deserve to have you as an employee in the first place.”
I hadn’t told mom the whole story. I left out the part about Brogan’s father and the exorbitant amount of money, because it didn’t seem fair to dangle that in front of her to add insult to injury. Plus, she was already upset enough that I was putting any of my money toward her treatments.
She smoothed a hand down my arm and squeezed my hand. “Can I get you anything? I know it’s been a long drive.”
“No, I think I just want to lay down for a bit.” The weight of the past day settled deep in my bones and drained the energy from my body.
She nodded and rubbed her hand over my back in small, soothing circles. As much as I needed her right now, I immediately began to miss the life I had created in Seattle. This felt like I was taking a step backward.
I tried to close my eyes as soon as my head hit the pillow of my old bed, but the dread of job hunting scrambled all my thoughts. How was I supposed to get a job when I’d been fired? I’d be blacklisted from media and advertising for the rest of my career thanks to this. Even though it hadn’t been me.
I could see how the conversation would go:
“Can we use your previous employer as a reference?”
“Uh, no. You see we slept together, and then he believed I sabotaged his career. Probably best not to ask about that.”
Yeah, the interviews were going to go great.
If I didn’t list him as a reference, I then had zero experience to put on my resume. All because I’d said no to protect the person I loved. Was it love when that person didn’t feel the same way?
Yes…just unrequited.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #49
Jobs are never hiring when you need them most.
I spent the next day locked in my room, researching jobs online. I’d only left my bed to grab sustenance and the occasional bathroom break. A film covered my face and teeth, and in the span of forty-eight hours of unemployment, I’d turned into the kid who moves home and lives in Mom’s basement, minus the basement. Apparently no one was hiring in advertising in the Portland area at this time, probably waiting to open positions when school let out this summer. Until then, I’d hunker down and grit my teeth and work at a job I was overqualified for.
I figured if I could hold two jobs, we’d be okay. The salary wouldn’t be comparable to what I made at Starr Media, but it’d make a dent. We’d pay the minimum balance of the bills until I was able to land a job that paid a little more. Mom would have time to recuperate, and I’d be too busy to miss my old life at the firm.
Mom walked into my room, and she wrinkled her nose. “Have you showered?”
I folded my arms over my chest just in case I forgot to put deodorant on. “No.”
She took a shallow breath and moved a little farther away. “You smell like bean dip and bad decisions.”
“Better get used to it, I guess,” I muttered, still looking at my computer screen. There had to be one job out there that paid over minimum wage.
She grabbed my laptop and placed it on the bed beside me, and then sat down. “I want to talk to you about something.”
“Yeah?” I could barely lift my head off my pillow. Unemployment was exhausting. Or at least I was blaming my fatigue and general stabby feeling toward life on that. It was safer than contemplating the real reason.
“I’m going back to work,” she said, her tone final.
I shifted in bed and propped myself up on my elbows. “But you can’t. Your immune system is too weak.”
“I talked to my old admin today. I’m going to teach for an online school. It pays almost as well as my classroom position.” She put her hand on my calf and squeezed. “I want you to take your time finding a job.”
“There’s nobody hiring here. It’s no problem—I’ll take on a couple minimum wage ones and—”
She grabbed my hand, silencing me. I looked up at her, feeling the most helpless I’d felt in years. This woman who raised me, was my everything, I’d failed her by getting fired. She needed me and, dammit, I was going to do anything in my power to help her.
“Sweetie. You need to stop. You’ve done more than your fair share. More than I ever should have let you contribute.”
I wanted to scream but I could have had it all paid off by now if I’d just done the horrible thing I’d been accused of. But instead I shut my mouth and frowned.
“I want to help you.” My voice sounded so small, so foreign. I hated the way this situation made me second-guess everything I’d done in the past six months. Why did doing the right thing have to suck so damn much?
“I know. And I love that I’ve raised someone with such a kind heart, but you need to live your life.”
I shook my head at her, not understanding. “I can do that from home.”
She took a deep breath and a mixture of peppermint and chocolate wafted under my nose. “No, you can’t.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?” Was I being kicked out? Man, I wasn’t even cool enough to be a basement kid.
Her gaze raked over my face, a resolute expression in her eyes. “You’re meant to be in Seattle. Zoey is there. You’re building a life, on your own.” She nodded as if assuring herself.
“But what about…” I trailed off. By asking what about her I made her sound weak, which wasn’t the case. But if I moved back to Sea
ttle, she’d be here by herself.
She blinked hard. “Me?”
I picked at a snag on my comforter, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.
She cleared her throat and waited to speak until I met her gaze. “How do you think you learned to be so independent?”
Good point. Even if we were both independent, wasn’t it okay to lean on someone in a time of need? But it hit me. Maybe she didn’t need my support as much as I thought she did. Maybe I hadn’t given her enough credit. Hell, she was kicking cancer’s butt—of course she didn’t need me hovering over her.
I smirked. “I thought I learned my co-dependence skills from you.”
“Is it still socially acceptable to smack children?” She playfully swatted my thigh. “I need my space, too,” she continued. “What if I wanted to bring some guy home and you were here. That would be a total buzz kill.”
Even if she was my best friend, I really didn’t want to know about that side of my mom’s life. “You’re worried about me cock blocking your hookups? Are you even dating?”
“No, but when I feel better, I’d like to start.” She smiled.
I was still processing the fact that my mom said she was bringing home men to our house to hook up. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
She laughed and patted my leg. “I’m divorced, not a nun.”
Okay, I so wanted to be my mom when I grew up. “Noted.”
She grabbed my phone from the nightstand and switched it from hand to hand before placing it next to me. “Why don’t you consider moving back up with Zoey. You know she misses you,” she said, hesitantly.
I sighed and flopped back on my pillow. Right, because a more expensive city with zero income was clearly a good choice. “There’s no point. I don’t have a job. So even if I wanted to move back, I can’t. It’s just not fair, Mom.” Oh God, I had reached an ultimate low if I was whining like a three-year-old about fairness. But the feeling of complete helplessness, and the utter desperation for this to all be a horrible dream pummeled me into the ground.
She frowned and looked at me for a long time, with eyes that penetrated straight through my soul. After a moment, she said, “It’s not fair that you were fired, but it happened. Life happens, sweetie, and you just have to roll with the waves and eventually your feet will hit shore again.” She ruffled my hair. “In the meantime, there’s ice cream and a healthy dose of sulking.”
“What if I never get another marketing job?”
She scoffed, like I’d just said something so incredibly insane it wasn’t even worth acknowledging. “You’re a Taylor. You’ll make it happen. You’re one of the hardest working people I know.” She grabbed a picture of my senior year prom, with me and Zoey posing on the staircase. “But you’ll have a better shot if you go to a bigger city. Life’s a bitch sometimes, but you’ll get back up on that horse, sweetie.”
That immediately made me think of the employee manual at Starr Media. Was it possible to have homesickness for a company? I missed everything about it—well, maybe not Jackson or that traitor Zelda—but everything else.
And Bruce. I missed his cute pudgy nose.
Mom was completely right. I wouldn’t be happy living at home. I’d outgrown my old life, and I needed more. Unfortunately, more was two hundred miles away and thought I’d actually try to sabotage his company.
I nodded, resigned to the fact that I had to stay true to myself and give myself the best chance to get ahead in my career after such a disastrous setback. She was right. I was a Taylor, and I was going to land on both feet like a frickin’ Olympic gymnast and find another job. “Thanks, Mom.”
She kissed my forehead and shifted off my bed. “Any time.”
I needed to make a plan to get my life back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #99
Gossip shows can be very educational.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked. Anything to keep busy while Mom was strapped to the machine.
“Kid, if you keep loading me up on drinks, I’m going to have coffee coming out of my eyeballs.”
“Sorry.”
She skimmed her hand over my cheek, and a calm smile creased the corner of her lips. “Hey, I know this is all new to you, but I’ve been around the block a few times with this. I appreciate it, though.”
I nodded, frowning. She’d done this alone for months and every ounce of my coffee-flooded neurons felt like crap about it. “I wish I could have been with you for all of them. I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Honey, I didn’t raise you to be sorry for everything. The only time you have to apologize is if you’re the first one up in the morning and you don’t make any coffee.”
She pulled me into a hug, and I wrapped my arm around her, avoiding the IV hooked to her arm. Her very last treatment. This nightmare was finally going to be over, and she could finally start to heal. Even if I didn’t have my dream job anymore, I had what counted most—my family.
Which reminded me—since I didn’t have a high-paying job anymore, I needed to reduce the payments to the hospital. It’d be much easier to do in person than over the phone.
“I’ll be right back.” I untangled myself from my mom’s embrace and stood.
Mom lifted up the arm hooked to her chemo meds. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I walked down the corridor until I found the accounts office. A woman wearing a black pashmina sat behind the desk, taking a sip from a mug that said, “My book boyfriend’s better than yours.” Unless that book boyfriend was Mr. Darcy, she was probably wrong, but now wasn’t really the time to tell her this.
“Can I help you?” She put the mug down and typed something into her computer.
“I’d like to change the payment options for my mother’s account.”
She looked up, bored. “Name.”
I gave her my mother’s name, and she typed a few more things on her keyboard. Her brows furrowed as she scrolled her finger over the toggle button on her computer mouse. “The account looks like it was paid in full.”
I froze. Could a miracle have happened? A mistake? A computer glitch? “Excuse me?”
“The account is closed,” she repeated, fidgeting with her scarf.
I leaned my elbows on the counter and held my head between my hands, staring down at her. How could this be? “As of when?”
She squinted at the screen and hummed under her breath as she scrolled through the account. As soon as she found the information, she stopped the tune and looked up at me. “Yesterday.”
“That’s impossible. We owed…” A shit ton of money. “A lot.”
“It was paid in one large sum yesterday.”
“Can you tell me who paid it?” Who the hell would pay Mom’s medical bills? The only explanation I could think of, with a glimmer of hope, was that my father had grown a conscience and stepped up to cover the costs. But that was about as likely as the damn bill being paid in the first place.
“It doesn’t say on the account, sorry.”
I looked around her desk, leaning over to check for camera crews or a television host that said this was all a big joke. “You’re sure I’m not being punked?”
She shot me a look, and I could tell this conversation was getting a little old on her end, but I just couldn’t let it go. Who could have paid off that sum of money? And why?
It was over. No more Tastytarts. No more ban from online shopping—well, maybe until I got a job. No more…bills. The suffocating weight of debt lifted for the first time in a year, and tears streamed down my face. We were free to live our lives how we wanted, not having to worry about enormous payments. My life could go back to normal. I could get a shit job up in Seattle and worry about which purse I should waste my paycheck on. We were going to make it through this.
I walked back into the room where Mom was watching CGC—a show that discussed all the latest celebrity scandals. Her eyes fluttered shut as the chemo treatment was being administere
d. I leaned against the doorframe and watched her, hope bubbling up over the rest of my jumbled feelings.
“We don’t have to worry about hospital bills anymore.” My voice was thick. Whoever did this, I wish I knew who it was so I could thank them. This wasn’t a simple act of charity like dropping lightly used clothes off at the Goodwill. This was something I’d never be able to repay, not in this decade, at least.
Her eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”
I cleared my throat and fidgeted. “Someone’s paid the medical bills?” Even I didn’t quite believe it yet.
She shook her head and her expression matched what I felt—shock. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, but right now I don’t care. As soon as you’re feeling hungry again, we’re having a junk food movie marathon.”
“Deal.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back and smiled. Even during these horrid treatments, she was a warrior. If I turned out with even a tenth of my mom’s strength, I’d hit the jackpot.
Something on the TV broke through our moment. A lady in a peplum power suit said the one single word that could ever hold my complete attention—Starr.
I focused on the show. “Allegations against Starr Media have been addressed personally by Brogan Starr, CEO of Starr Media. He spoke in a press conference earlier today,” said the woman.
It panned to a clip of Brogan speaking into about twelve microphones at a podium. Cameras flashed as he gripped the sides of the stand, his knuckles turning white as the skin strained against his bones. Worry lines creased his forehead, but a smile remained plastered on his face. I knew him well enough that this wasn’t a genuine grin. No dimples, no little lines in the corners of his eyes. But even so, he still took my breath away. The man was gorgeous, and my heart ached for him and his company.
“Starr Media is cooperating with authorities in the investigation of the leak of unapproved photos on five different accounts. We have found the perpetrators, and they have been taken into custody. Causality and motives are still under investigation.” He paused and looked into the camera, his gaze heavy with hurt. “I want to personally apologize to all of the clients affected by this tragedy. I also want to say that I deeply regret that an employee of Starr Media was wrongfully accused and punished because of this.”
The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1) Page 23