TANISHA
Two weeks since I’d been fired in what I could only describe as an erotic HR violation, and my last paycheck, the one legally owed to me, was still floating somewhere in the abyss. I refreshed my bank app by the hour, still, nothing from Gustavo Technology.
“Okay,” I muttered to my phone, “I see how it is. We’re doing psychological warfare now.”
I paced my apartment, phone in hand, debating whether to call HR. Then I remembered HR worked for Christof, feared Christof, and likely worshipped Christof in some underground shrine. They’d probably forward my call to him with a bow.
“Sir, the girl has resurfaced.”
I stopped pacing and leaned against the counter, thudding my forehead lightly against the cabinet.
Was Christof really that cruel?
Actually…don’t answer that.
My saving
