Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
At the end of my shift, they want to talk to me. Alana, the shift manager, and Morris, the actual owner.
“You’ve been skipping shifts without warning, and your performance has dropped significantly. We’d like you to take a drug test.”
“What?” That’s not what I expected to hear. “Why?”
“It’s standard procedure when we suspect that one of our staff is using drugs,” the manager says. Morris has never questioned me once in the entire time I’ve worked here.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Then you will be fired.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll take the test then.”
“Good.” He hands me a little bottle that I am supposed to pee in.
This is humiliating, and unfair and weird. I hesitate for a second. If this had happened a month ago, I would have been freaking out and embarrassed as hell. Right now, I’m…
I hand the bottle back to him and take off my apron. “Thank you for the experience,” I say politely. “But I’ve never taken drugs, and I’m not going to start being tested for them now.”
“We will send your last paycheck,” he says.
“Okay, thanks.”
The feeling of walking out of my job having been fired is a weird mix of freedom and shame. I really never thought I would be the sort of person to get canned, but I guess I did miss a couple of shifts and I’ve probably been off lately because being the fuck toy of a psychopath is kind of a huge distraction that you can’t really explain to anyone.
I’ve still got money from selling the car, though. I can pay my rent for a bit. And I can get another job too. It’s not like they’re going to stop needing waiters any time soon. Besides, now, if I’m not working, I can catch up on some schoolwork and get that done.
So that’s what I do. I go home, I get into my pajamas, and I study until I fall asleep.
The next day I go to school, study, then at some point, fall asleep.
The day after that, same. And the day after. And the next one.
I don’t hear from Sam. I tell myself I shouldn’t be surprised. There was a big gap between seeing him and hearing from him in the first weeks and I guess men who stalk and fuck women while being international psychological superstars aren’t exactly the type to be consistent in contact.
It’s not like we’re dating. I followed him to Vegas, and he fucked me, but that wasn’t anything serious. That was two crazies being kind of crazy.
I tell myself I’ll see him when I next go to his class. It’s on Monday. I daydream about the dark sexual tension between us, the fact that nobody else in the class knows what goes on.
Monday comes and I am in class early, center front row, wearing a cute little skirt and a cardigan that’s tight enough to draw attention from pretty much every guy on campus. Sam won’t be the exception, I’m sure.
The door opens and a woman wearing a long floral skirt and neat black blazer walks in. She has black hair and black-rimmed glasses and she is very clearly not Sam.
“Morning, class,” she says. “I’m going to be taking over lectures for the foreseeable future, as Dr. Rollins has been called away unexpectedly.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. What the fuck is going on? Did he just leave completely? Fuck me, put me on a plane from Vegas, and walk out of my life forever?
The rest of class passes in what I can only describe as a panicked blur. I try to tell myself that it’s a good thing if he’s gone because he’s a vicious, dangerous predator, and I still don’t know what the fuck happened to Dave.
Then I tell myself he was the hottest person I ever met and I will literally never have sex that good again in my whole entire life. Then I tell myself that he’s probably not gone, he’s probably just off on a tour murdering people. And then I get a bit jealous that I’m not worth putting a European murder tour on hold for, and then I tell myself I’m being entirely insane and loop back around to this is for the best. If he’s lost interest, that means I’m safe.
At the end of the class, I approach our new lecturer. Her name is Mrs. Bloom, and she is very pretty and middle-aged and I bet she is good at her job. From what I managed to pay attention to while she was talking, she seemed to have a good handle on the subject.
“Professor Bloom? I was just wondering,” I say, trying not to sound suspiciously wound up or nervous. “Is Doctor Rollins not going to be coming back to the college at all?”
She looks at me with a gaze that I find uncomfortably knowing. “This class has been transferred to me,” she says. “I’m sure it’s disappointing to lose such a high-profile lecturer, but I can assure you…”