I stomped down the hall to Mom"s room and glared. She was pacing back and forth on the phone. “Mom, I have to go,” I said.
She shushed me with a dismissive wave and slammed her bedroom door. Her muffled voice still filled the apartment as she shouted at Buddy Quinn. “But Buddy, this was my livelihood and now they"ve fired me! Fired! I"ve got a kid, Buddy. And an apartment and credit cards. I wasn"t–No, I know what you"re saying…No. What"s arbitration? Contract? I never signed a contract…A noncompete? I signed all kinds of papers when they transferred me. They said it was standard operate–So what does that mean?” She was silent for several seconds, occasionally sighed. Finally, she giggled. “Okay. Yes, Buddy. Fine. I"ll make sure we"re there.”
She opened the door and smiled. “I think I"m
