She glanced around the room, half expecting the CEO of the company to be lurking behind the life-sized cutout of Elvis in the corner.
“What happened to Mr. Taite?” Maisie spoke in a whisper, not certain she wanted to know the answer.
“You’re what happened.” Donna laughed again, a victorious sound that made it clear she was relishing whatever she was about to say. This did not improve Maisie’s outlook. Nobody took this much pleasure when another person did something normal and mundane. “From what I heard, you ripped him a new one. And I can’t think of a man who deserved it more. How dare they pass you over for his nephew’s latest bimbo? You stood up for all of us, not just Taite and Greene’s employees but all of womankind. Yeehaw!” There was a sound that Maisie assumed was supposed to be the cracking of a whip.
“Uh… thanks?” Maisie’s head was spinning so fast she had to close her eyes. This couldn’t be real. Donna had to be misinformed.
“Back to the matter at hand. We’re leaving for the airport in twenty minutes, so if you want a ride, you better get over here pronto.”
“Right.” She could manage that, at least. Surely, no matter what else had transpired, she was still in Las Vegas and not more than twenty minutes away from her hotel.
“You’re my hero, you know that? I’ve put up with their bullshit for so long and never had the guts to tell them to take their job and shove it.” There was more laughter. “It’ll be amazing to walk in there on Monday, knowing there are people like you looking out for the rest of us. Okay, see ya soon!”
Take this job and shove it…
Maisie stared at her phone, bile rising in her throat. Was Donna implying Maisie had quit her job?
Fuck.
First things first. Had she called Mr. Taite?
There was no record in her call log of anything but the call she’d made to the drag queen Caddy driver. But Maisie wasn’t big on phone calls, so that didn’t settle her nerves as much as it might have.
Her finger hovered over her phone’s texting icon. She didn’t want to know what it contained, but she also couldn’t very well remain ignorant when apparently the whole company had already heard about this. Her entire body shook as she pressed the button, and her text history scrolled onto the screen.
Mr. Taite’s number was at the top, meaning he had been the last one she’d texted. The time stamp was the middle of the night, well beyond the memories she could recall.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”
Did she dare open the thread?
No.
She had to, though. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as Donna made it out to be. Whatever she’d said, she could walk it back. Maisie was good at stuff like that. She opened the conversation and began to scroll through the messages she’d sent.
It was bad.
She couldn’t read it quickly thanks to the typos and occasional gibberish, but certain words practically jumped off the screen.
Dickhead.
Tramp.
Loser of a nephew.
Asshole.
Prick.
And finally:I quit.
Actually, this couldn’t be defined as bad. It was a full-scale calamity.
Maisie blackened the screen. If there had been any remnants of intoxication, sobriety had hit her full force with that final text.
In the light of day, reality hit. And it was terrible.
What had Maisie been thinking, complicating her life like this? Sleeping with a woman had been amazing, but a drunken night on the town and waking up with no memory of anything she’d done? That wasn’t who Maisie was. Was it?