“Thanks for nothing, Miss Hanson. We’ll remember this if you ever pop up on our radar again.” Agent Troy stormed out the door with Agent Kemper in tow.
Officer Grawehr remained behind and spoke once they drove off. “Ma’am, you should speak to an accountant before you spend any of the money wired to your account. You might end up owing taxes if the government sees it as a gift.”
Carrie groaned. “I will,” she promised, ignoring the fact she couldn’t afford an accountant.
After a discussion with her bank, for fifteen dollars, they agreed to wire the money back to Trent.
She then wrote her former boss an email. She decided to keep it professional, because she wasn’t yet able to discuss his betrayal.
Dear Mr. Lancaster,
I appreciate your intention in wiring me money to cover my Taiwan expenses, and possibly my last paycheck. However, I have returned the funds to avoid breaking federal laws and being in trouble with the IRS. Please contact your lawyer to understand the problem.
Despite having fired me for reasons unknown, I am hopeful you will persevere in your attempt to reimburse my Taiwan expenses.
However, my check must come from your company account, upon receipt of my expense report, which I am including in this email. You will need to print it out and sign it at the bottom then give it to accounting to process.
I realize that given the current state of the office it may take longer than I wish, but we must do this correctly to comply with the law.
Carrie intended to sign off, but she couldn’t. This wasn’t just her boss, this was her best friend, whom she’d fallen in love with, and yesterday she’d been certain he’d felt the same. She had to know what she did or didn’t do to destroy their budding romance. She needed closure.
On a personal note,
If it’s not too much trouble, could you explain why you fired me? It will help me get on with my life and forget this horrible week and today—the worst day of my life.
This week has made me realize a great deal about myself, and most of it saddens me. I am not as strong as I thought. I have a finite limit to how many horrid days I can endure in a row. When I reach my limit, I don’t fight harder. I just give up.
When you fired me, four days ago, I ran off, but then I apologized and I thought we’d put it behind us. This time, I can’t apologize. This time I feel completely betrayed by the person I trusted most. Now, at least, I know how you felt on Tuesday. This should give you some satisfaction, since you often see yourself as misunderstood and alone in the world.
I wish you great success with your new employees.
Sincerely
Carrie.
She completed and attached the expense report then sent it before she changed her mind.
Tired and sick of this day, she went upstairs and fell into bed. With a pillow over her face to block out her bright and cheery room, she tried to sleep at 6:30 p.m, something she’d never done before in her entire life.
Chapter 32
Trent had to give credit to Coco in one matter. She knew her job. By early afternoon, they had interviewed several very impressive managers for both accounting and systems.
“Aren’t we supposed to get an HR manager too?” Trent asked. No way would he keep Coco long-term. She’d make poor Carrie’s life hell.
Missing his pint-sized miracle worker, he tried calling her home number again. Sam had assured him the police had sent her home. So why didn’t she pick up the phone? Surely, she wouldn’t hold him responsible for the actions of an idiotic lobby guard. A worrisome thought crossed his mine. What if she thought the guard had credible information when he shared Coco’s plan to hire a new EA? No, Carrie would never listen to such an unreliable source. Accepting the idiot's word would be the equivalent of believing the bag lady when she claimed the guy who dropped the ring in her cup intended to marry her.
He glared at his phone. Then why doesn't she call? If for no other reason than to tell him the nonsensical information the guard claimed and teasingly scold that he didn’t need another EA, since he had the best in the world already. Which he already knew.
He glanced at their problem. Coco had the personality of a pit-bull. Once she got hold of an idea, she wouldn’t let it go. She intended to find him a better EA, and that was that. While he knew the task impossible, if he refused to let her try, she’d probably quit. Losing the bitch would be fine with him, except he really wanted the people coming in for interviews. They possessed an excellent understanding of the word ‘work.’
At least he had the good sense to insist his new EA be male, so Carrie wouldn’t be jealous of her temporary replacement. The second Coco had everyone up and running, he’d fire the viper, bring back Carrie, and have the new EA work for her.
He dialed Carrie’s home number again. Still no answer. He couldn’t even leave a message because her machine had filled or she’d turned if off…
“Trent are you listening to me?” By the annoyance, he suspected this wasn’t Coco’s first attempt at communication.
He glanced at her. “Sorry, what?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I asked you what you thought of Mark Tyson?”
“The sissy boxer?” Why would she care a wit about a has-been pugilist?
After massaging her head, she snapped, “The young man we just interviewed.”
The guy had the same name as the boxer? What were his parents thinking? “I liked him a great deal.”
With another roll of her eyes, she shook her head. “Do you even know what position he interviewed for?” Every word dripped with contempt.
“No, I just liked his attitude about work.”
Gripping her head, she continued, “Oh, Trent. Now I understand how you came to have the worst employees in the world.”
He opened his mouth to protest he’d inherited most of his employees from his father and allowed his managers to hire the rest. He only hired Carrie, and he did so precisely because of her enthusiasm to work.
However, he quelled his comment. Unwashed, cranky, and improperly dressed, Carrie had made a terrible first impression on Coco, which she’d never relinquish. His grandmother always said a first impression can only be made once, but lasts a lifetime.
Fortunately, Carrie would get to avoid the torment of being in the same room with Coco. She would hang out in sunny California and return refreshed and happy once the wicked witch of the west went away.
When Coco first suggested he ‘promote’ Carrie to Change Specialist, he honestly thought his ex-fiancée had made the position up. However, a Google search proved it a real position. When Trent checked out the list of sites providing training, he found a two-week intensive saturation course in San Francisco. When he realized he knew the guy who ran it, he almost changed his mind, but this site seemed the most professional, and had a ton of rave reviews from former customers.
“I found a place to train Carrie on her new job.”
“Waste of money,” Coco muttered.
“It’s my money,” he snapped.
Since his new laptop now connected to his company server, he decided to check his emails. Carrie normally took care of such stuff, but she had escaped spending the day with Coco…lucky girl. Still, he wished she’d pick up her phone, so she could hear how he got his new computer attached to the company email. She’d be so proud of him.
Recalling his cleverness, he smiled. He’d asked the first systems person they interviewed to prove his competency by completing the task. Turned out, Trent needed the system password. Knowing the current manager would never release it, he called the hospital and had a nurse ask Jack for his secret word of power. Amazingly, it worked. The kid, thinking her an angel in his hallucinations, spilled his guts without a single turtle bartered.
So now, due to his brilliance, he had email, which he opened. Spotting the email from Carrie, he clicked on it and read the contents.
His happy mood disappeared.
Dear God! She’d actually believed
the stupid guard? He closed the laptop and stood. “I have to go. You’re doing a great job, carry on.”
Coco tried to order him back, but he ignored her and ran to the elevator, repeatedly punching the down button, only stopping to call Sam.
“Where are you?”
“Central Park killing geese.”
“Good. However, I need you to come back now. We have an emergency.”
Sam sighed heavily, as if weary from a hard day’s work of doing nothing. “I’m parked outside the building you went in. You failed to tell me how long you intended to stay.”
“Oh…sorry. Well, no I’m not, because it means you’re where I need you.” The elevator finally opened and he entered.
“What’s happened now?” Sam asked with a tone that turned his meaning to ‘what dumbass thing have you done?”
“Carrie believes she’s been fired.”
“You think? Given you’re looking to replace her and had her arrested when she tried to enter your penthouse? How'd she ever jump to that conclusion?”
“I’ve told the guard I’m going to get him fired for his screw up. Which reminds me, is Mars sane yet? He’ll know how to do that.”
“Do what?”
Why couldn’t anyone but Carrie follow his rational train of thought? “Fire the security guard!”
“Do you even know the man’s name?”
Trent frowned. “No.”
“His height? Color of hair?”
Trent never actually noticed his servants. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Someone has to know who did his job poorly at the time of Carrie’s arrest.”
“And do you know what time that was?”
“Oh, shut up. You’re not being the least bit helpful.” Finally, the elevator reached the bottom floor. The smiling lobby guard rushed to hold open the door for him.
He pointed his finger at the guy. “I really like you.”
He ran to the limo and got in.
Sam, who’d barely gotten a foot out his door, pulled it back in, closed the door, and started the engine. “Where to?” he asked as he pulled into the traffic.
“Carrie’s home.”
The car came to an abrupt halt, causing horns to blare behind them. “No.”
Trent couldn’t believe the mutinies bombarding him today. First, the guard fires Carrie, and now Sam refuses to do his job! “Don’t tell me ‘no.’ I’m the master and you’re the servant. You drive where I tell you to go! It’s your job!”
He had to get to Carrie as soon as possible. He couldn’t stand her being in such pain over a misunderstanding. Spotting a police car coming towards them, Trent added, “And if you get a ticket for this, I’m not paying it.”
Finally, the car moved forward. “According to Joey, she’s a total mess.”
Since when had Sam become an expert about Carrie? “I’m sure she’s taken a shower by now.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m not talking physically, I mean mentally. You’ve finally managed to break her spirit.”
Trent opened his mouth to contest Sam’s accusation but remembered the pathetic last part of her email. “All the more reason for me to get to her house and fix this. Now stop driving in circles and head to New Jersey!”
Sam turned left again, still going around the block. “Exactly what do you perceive her misunderstanding to be?”
“I didn’t fire here; I promoted her. Nor did I tell the idiot guard to arrest her. In fact, I’m going to have him fired.”
“She could probably use the news about a promotion right now.”
“Glad you agree. Let’s go to New Jersey then!”
When Sam headed toward the Holland Tunnel, Trent focused on a worrisome bit of information floating in his head. “Who is Joey, and why did he drive Carrie home?”
“Detective Joseph Pascal. Which reminds me…he found a couple of Latinos hiding in her basement and suspected they didn’t have green cards. According to Carrie, they belonged to you. He asked me if you had illegal immigrants at your Long Island estate.”
“Of course, I have illegals. They’re the only group of people I am certain want to work.”
“Well, I told him you didn’t and that Mars makes certain they all have papers. Then I explained the two probably left their papers in Long Island when you rushed them out to New Jersey and that’s why they looked scared.”
“Why would you tell him anything? It’s none of his business.”
“Because I’d hate to see Mars lose the stable half of his employees in one blow. The other half quits on a monthly basis.”
Trent glowered. “Which supports why I like illegals. You give them a job and they do it. They don’t leave in a fit the first time I yell. Besides, they aren’t technically illegal. They’re here on student visas, studying agriculture and sanitation.”
“You might want to check with Mars on the educational loophole. I believe they closed it several years ago.”
“I don’t care what they closed. Those workers are mine, and neither your friend Joey nor anyone else can have them. They belong to me!”
“Yes, em, Masta Trent,” he replied like a slave out of Gone with the Wind.
Trent pushed the button to raise the privacy window then opened his laptop and wrote a compelling explanation to Carrie as to why she had no reason to be a mess. Unfortunately, when he hit send, the email didn’t do its job. It just sat there. Finally, after a hundred clicks on send, he noticed the box in the bottom left hand corner telling him he had no internet connection.
“I don’t need the damn internet. I just want to send an email!”
In exasperation, he rolled down the privacy window.
“Any idea why my email isn’t working?”
He expected Sam to snap back that his job requirements didn’t include systems specialist. Instead, he reached across the dash and flipped a switch. “Try it now.”
Trent clicked the send button again and this time it went. “Finally! What does my car have to do with sending emails?”
Sam sighed, which made Trent suspect he should already know the answer.
“You insisted on an armored car capable of stopping bullets from ruining your day. However, all this metal comes with costs. One being it’s a gas guzzler and the second being your satellite internet service cannot penetrate the cage.”
“That’s unacceptable!”
“Which is precisely what you told the salesman. So he upgraded you to the top of the line model which has a special antennae allowing communication between your protected space and the satellite above.”
“Why did you have it off?”
“I only turn it on if Carrie’s in the car. I had no idea you could even type an email, much less want to send one.”
“Well, I can!” Trent snapped and leaned back.
Actually, he couldn’t type. His father had forbidden him to learn. Called it a ‘task of the little people.’
While Carrie was little, and she did normally handle all his typing, Trent still resented his father’s bad advice, because the hunt-and-peck technique on a jumbled mess of keys proved to be a tedious process. Would it have killed them to put the keys in alphabetical order?
* * *
Dreams of destitution woke Carrie up an hour into her sleep. She stumbled to her home office to begin a search for jobs on the internet. Within a half-hour, her spirit hit a deeper rock-bottom. Every job even close to what she did—had done, she corrected herself—required a master’s degree from a top-ranked business school.
She’d never realized how lucky she’d been the day she walked past Lancaster’s Chairs and interviewed for the job as his EA. Turned out, well-educated people coveted the position even more than a management job, which she lacked the qualifications for as well.
Tears welled in her eyes. She had no clue how she’d gotten the position, or how she’d lost it. Maybe Trent had just realized, with Coco’s help, that his EA wasn’t qualified. God knows, based on the job requirements listed on the intern
et, she wasn’t even close.
No longer having the energy or courage to look for lesser jobs she might be qualified to do, she opened her emails.
Among a great deal of complaints from the staff, she spotted a message from Trent.
Her heart filled with trepidation. Did she really want to know what it said? Would confirming she was grossly under-qualified for her position make her feel better?
Her mouse cursor hung over the delete command, but she couldn’t pull the trigger. She had to know. Otherwise, she’d never get beyond this.
She opened it and stared in bewilderment. At first glance, it looked like the messages her college roommate’s cat would type when it strolled across the keyboard.
Ididnotfiryu111111ipromotefy0uimsendingyoutoschoooltoleanyournewjobtrent
Clearly, Trent had not bothered with the shift or space key. Or punctuation. She studied the letters. She easily made sense of the first part, which said ‘I did not’. But the next part went a bit garbled. Her heart quickened as she failed to think of any words other than ‘fire you’ that would make sense here. The number ones were probably his attempt at exclamation points. Tears of relief came to her eyes.
He hadn’t fired her. The reason she didn’t know what she’d done was simple: she hadn’t done anything. She still had her job.
She squealed with happiness as she attempted to decipher the next portion. She got the ‘I promote’ but then it de-evolved into a garbled mess. She skipped over the clueless letters to the next part, which seemed to say ‘I’m sending you to school to learn your new job.’
Discovering the ‘f’ resided next to ‘d’, she now understood. He hadn’t fired her. He wanted to promote her, and instead of making her sink or swim as he’d done when he first hired her, this time she’d receive training.
She laughed with pure joy. Until she heard a car pull up outside. Her thoughts went immediately to the Russian mafia, and this time when she called 911, no one would come to investigate the crazy lady who dialed wolf.
Crawling to the window, she peeked out from the bottom of the bay window ledge and glimpsed an ominous black limo parked behind her car. Carrie dropped to the floor, certain the mafia would drive something like that.
Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) Page 32