“That’s where you are wrong, Melissa. You brought that disturbance into my office and caused a nice big scene that I now have to clean up. Pack your locker up. We will mail your last check.”
It takes me a few minutes to really understand that I just lost not only my job, but also the only source of income keeping my mother, my nephew, and my own head above the turbulent waters. I am fucked. I can’t even let myself dwell on all the ways of screwed I am right now, because that bitch is going down.
I make quick work of cleaning out my locker, grabbing my stuff, and telling Brenda, the manager, that I will call her to discuss Dr. Shannon’s behavior. She feels terrible, but we both know it would be pointless to continue to fight with him.
When I push through the lobby doors into the parking lot and see Mandy frantically stabbing my tires with a knife, I lose it. In hindsight, it might not have been the smartest move to charge a woman with a large knife, but fucking hell, I am done with this.
“You crazy little shit!” I yell, watching her eyes go all wonky. Throwing my box on the ground, I make quick work of the distance between us, bend at the waist, and knock her ass to the ground. My mind doesn’t register the sharp pain in my arm long enough for me to even give it a thought. Taking her hand with the knife, I slam it into the ground and watch her eyes widen and water with the pain. She lets her grip slacken, and I quickly throw the knife away with my other hand.
“You stupid, pathetic, little shit! Not sure what you think you had with Greg, but he is done. You want me to think you’re someone special to him, but sweetheart, you forget that he has already made it clear he is done with you.”
“He is mine,” she growls. “You will never have him!”
“Oh, that is where you’re wrong. I already have him.” I smile sweetly at her, but when her face contorts into what I can only describe as wacked to the highest power, I know she is past seeing reason.
“Really? Well he was in my bed last night, and every night before that! He might have fun with you, but he always comes home to me.”
“You’re insane.” I move to get off her, and then she pounces, grabbing a hold of my hair and slamming me down to the ground. My head knocks on the asphalt for a second, but not long enough to keep me from shaking it off and springing back.
Not even concerned with the hold she has on my hair, I rear back and slam my fist into her gut. Her grip loosens instantly. I follow that with one more to her temple and watch her eyes go hazy before she falls to the ground.
“Oh my God! Melissa! Melissa! Are you okay, sweetie?” I turn around and watch Brenda running out of the office door with the phone pressed to her ear, “I called the police, saw the whole thing, oh my God! Oh my GOD!”
“I’m okay Brenda, promise. Give me a minute, okay?” I walk over and place the one call that to me is more important than calling the police right now. Greg. Not only is this his mess but I can’t deny I would feel better with him here.
After the quick call to him that has my blood pressure jumping again, I hang up and can’t hold back the smile that takes over my face.
Yeah, I want him here, and not because of the mess, which arguably is his fault, but I want him here because he makes me happy. And for the first time, in a long time I am embracing that happiness without the fear that something will take it away from me.
The police came and took Brenda’s statements and mine. Since ‘Barbie’ is still passed out in front of my car, they call the ambulance to take her to the hospital. Luckily, the parking lot is monitored so they tell me they will collect the security footage and get back to me if they have any further questions. Brenda is shocked when I tell them I’m not pressing charges. That is my own deal and I’m not changing my mind. She wants to start more shit, let her; I’ll be waiting next time.
Unlucky for me, Greg shows up when the paramedic is cleaning the graze on my arm from my run in with the knife. Nothing bad, but there’s enough blood covering my arm and scrub top that he takes one look at me and goes solid. I’m talking you can feel his fury hit hard.
He make it to me in two large steps, takes in my face and his eyes roams every inch of my body making sure there isn’t anything he is missing.
“You didn’t tell me she hurt you. You didn’t tell me that she attacked you.” He didn’t seem mad at me but still, I decide it will be best to lead with caution here.
“I think that it might be a correct assessment of the situation if you were to say that I, technically, attacked her.” His eyes that have been looking at the white bandage against my skin shoot up to mine and I can’t miss the humor that flashes briefly before concern takes over again.