George turned to me. The smile on his face disappeared as if it hadn't been there just a second ago.
“What is it you want here, Madison?" he asked, sounding both insulting and disinterested at the same time.
I'd expected as much since I was late and had just ruined his cheap fun for the morning, but I felt something stir inside me, telling me I deserved better.
This was the part where I had to start begging him to keep me on as a barista. Maybe even allow him to touch my breasts, which I knew his filthy, pudgy hands had been pining for since the first day I'd walked into this café asking for a job.
Instead of doing any of that, though, I said, “I quit."
Whether it was because of his disrespectful tone, his beady eyes lewdly looking me up and down, or that I'd simply had enough, it
