Don't Turn Back (Coming Home Book 1) (42 page)

I sit in my parking spot for a few moments, then decide I better leave. I’m starting to get really sleepy, and here is not the place I need to be found. Looks like I’m back to my old ways again—finding a secure place to park while I sleep in my car.

The next morning, I’m awakened by the sound of my phone ringing. I quickly pull it from the charger, hoping to see Jennifer’s name light up on the screen. Disappointed, I see a number I don’t recognize. At first I don’t answer, figuring it must be a wrong number. Then, before the ringing stops, I take the chance and answer it, deciding it could be Jennifer using someone else’s phone.

“Hello?”

“Yes, may I please speak with Brian Collins?” The person on the other end asks.

Fear suddenly overtakes me. “Speaking.”

“This is Charles Sullivan with asset protection. You are scheduled to be at work this morning at nine, but I was wondering if you could possibly be here at eight. There are a few things I need to cover with you.”

A cold sweat breaks out over my body.
Shit
. I know I’m going to have to deal with questions concerning my former manager, Melissa.

“Sure, Mr. Sullivan. Give me a few minutes to finish getting ready, and I’ll be right on over.” I reply to him. I start to wonder what consequences I’m going to face there.

I pull across the street to the gas station and check my trunk for a change of clothes.
So much for showering and cleaning up this morning
. I run my hand over my facial stubble and decide to leave it be, whether they like it or not. Maybe one day I’ll just grow a beard and not have to worry about shaving every morning.

I roll a change of clothes up and tuck them under my arm as I walk inside to the restroom. No one pays any attention to me. I use the handicap stall, once again thankful it has a sink. I brush my teeth and comb my hair before leaving. I roll everything back up inside my dirty clothes and return to my car. My stomach rumbles with hunger, but it’s going to have to wait until I can get this mess taken care of at work.

I notice my phone and see I have just enough time to get to the mall.

I lock my car and take the mall entrance through the back way, since the main doors don’t open until nine o’clock. I notice how quiet everything is, but tell myself not to worry, everything is going to be okay. They are only going to ask me some questions regarding the deposits, or maybe even give me a verbal or written warning. I try to stay relaxed, but it’s not working very well.

I arrive at the shoe store and notice there’s someone at the counter I don’t recognize. I know I should have called Rodney back to get the scoop on everything, but I was so wrapped up in my own mess. I figure the guy at the counter is probably the person they’ve already hired to replace Melissa. I’m slightly annoyed that I was not offered her position; surely I should have been considered for it.

I attempt to put my key in the lock so I can roll up the doors, but for some reason, my key isn’t working. The man at the desk looks up and sees me getting frustrated with the lock and begins walking over to the gate.

“Your key’s not going to work. The locks were changed a few days ago.” He tells me.

I should have realized this. Most all places change locks when there is a change in management. “Oh yeah, right. I should have known that.” I tell him but he’s not showing any change in his facial expression.

“Please, go on back to the office.”

I do as I’m instructed, not feeling too good all of a sudden. The door to the back office is open, so I’m not sure if I should just walk right on in or knock and stick my head around the door frame. My foot stumbles on the side of a box in the stockroom, and a gentleman extends his head from the office door, hearing the noise.

“Brian?” He asks me, and I’m relieved I don’t have to make the decision to enter or knock first. I’m nervous enough already.

“Yes, I got here as soon as I could.” I stick my hand out to greet him, but he motions for me to go inside instead.

“Take a seat please.”

I’m not sure what’s going on, but my nerves are working overtime. The man sitting behind the desk looks up, and I know by the look on his face, this is not going to be good.

“Brian, I’m Mr. Sullivan. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

I sit up a little straighter in the chair. “Yes, sir.”

He clears his throat before he speaks. “Without going into any details, I know you’ve been made aware of the situation involving your former manager.”

“I found out from a text message from another employee. Can you tell me a little more about what happened?” I try to sound professional.

“Actually, Brian, I need to remind you that you are still under a probationary period with our company. Rather than drag the situation out further than it needs to be, we’ve decided to replace the entire management staff with new employees in order to deter the possibility of this happing again.”

“Do what, sir?” I feel flushed suddenly. I’m sure my face is drained of all color.

“Brian, we’ve already put the new managers in place. We will no longer be needing you here.”

“There must be some mistake. I didn’t take the money. Melissa did this on her own.” I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle.

“Brian, I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. Your final check will be mailed to you. If you’ve had a change of address recently, we need to know that information. Otherwise, there is nothing more to say concerning the matter.”

I stand from the chair, not sure how to react.

“Mr. Collins, I’ll see you to the door.” The other gentleman says.

He walks out first, and I follow. I stop just outside the office door and glance around. I really liked having my assistant manager position. I thought I was finally doing well for myself. A burst of anger fills me, and I kick a box sitting on the floor; actually, the very same one I stumbled on earlier.

“God damn box.” I mumble under my breath.

I don’t stop there. I feel like all of my built up tension is about to burst. I suddenly start kicking other boxes, bending over to pick up smaller boxes of freight and tossing them across the stock room. I’m losing control of myself, and my actions.

“Mr. Collins.” I hear my name called but I don’t stop to see who is saying it.

I continue throwing my temper tantrum, even flipping one of tables up on its side. I’m hurt; I’m angry. I’ve been made a loser once again. I run to the front gate and see a security guard standing on the other side. Someone lifts the gate, and I’m immediately ushered to the mall’s exit.

I lean against my car, trying to calm down and regain my composure. I’ve once again lost another job. I have hardly any money left, and right now, no place to call home, either.

Lucky for me, I still have a full tank of gas since I filled up when I got back in to town last night. I ride around town having nothing better to do, looking at nothing in particular. It’s nearing lunchtime, so I stop into the sports bar to see if there are any happy hour specials this early in the day. I figure I’ll grab a pitcher of beer and take in a basketball game or two on the big television playing in the back, just above the bar. For the most part, the restaurant is quiet, awaiting the lunch crowd to come in. I take a seat on one of the stools at the bar and order my beer and a plate of wings. I get so lost in my own sorrow, I don’t realize how long I’m sitting here. The bartender brings over my ticket and asks if I can settle my tab, since the shift is getting ready to change. I know he really wants his tip before I’m too far gone to know what I’m doing.

I stand and pull my wallet from my pocket. I’m definitely drunk as hell. I hang onto the bar stool, trying to steady myself. I just hope I’m able to walk to the car without drawing attention to myself.

“Thanks, man. You going to be okay to leave?” The bartender asks as he hands me back my change. “I can always call a cab for you.”

I toss a couple of bills on the counter. “. I’m just now feeling good.” I slur my words, barely able to finish the sentence. I stumble to the door and make my way to the car. I sit for a moment noticing other people walk by. I certainly don’t want to risk getting pulled over, so I close my eyes, hoping the spinning that’s going on in my head subsides. I pass out within seconds.

When I come to, its dark out. I have a terrible taste in my mouth, and my tongue feels like it’s wrapped in cotton. I desperately need something to drink to rid my mouth of this feeling. Suddenly, now that I am able to focus more clearly, a terrible smell meets my nose. I almost lose my lunch when I realize where the smell is coming from. I pull the seat back up and notice the wet spot on the front of my jeans.

“Fuck!!” I scream, thankful no one is nearby to hear me. I can’t believe I’ve pissed my pants while I was passed out. This is almost as bad as getting sick on myself, which I’m thankful didn’t happen.

I crank the car and see the clock on the dash illuminates after ten o’clock at night. I literally slept the whole damn evening away. I shift in the seat, suddenly feeling disgusted now that I’m aware of my accident. I’ve never, in all my drunken days, had this happen before.

I decide to pull through the hotel parking lot and see if Jennifer is at work. Rather than risk being seen, I turn around quickly when I notice her car parked in her usual spot. While I’m relieved she’s at work and I know she’s okay, I now have a plan. I go to the apartment to shower and clean up. I have a few hours to decide if I’m going to be here when she gets off from work or if I’m going to leave again.

I feel so much better after a hot shower. I toss my soiled clothes in the washer and glance through the cabinet for something to eat. I decide to make myself a few sandwiches and grab a bag of chips as I head to the living room to watch Sports Center on ESPN.

Several hours go by, and I start to wonder about Jennifer and how I’m going to explain things to her in the morning when she walks in, finding me here. Are we ready to have a civil conversation with each other or is she going to panic once she sees me?  At some point, I know we have to talk.

I watch the clock on the wall as it nears seven, and I make the hasty decision to get out of here; I’m just not ready to play twenty questions with her yet. I don’t have time to clean up behind me. I grab my keys and run.

I don’t glance at my phone again until it is time to leave. I pull it from my purse and notice I have no missed messages. I frown, not sure why this bothers me, but I really hoped I would at least have some reply from Todd.
Oh well
, I still think it was a nice gesture on his part, regardless of if I ever hear from him again or not.

Overnight, I also sent an email to my advisor, explaining to her my situation with my pregnancy as well as some personal issues I’m dealing with at the moment. I hope by this afternoon I’ll have a reply from her with some words of encouragement as to what plan of action I should take.

I grab breakfast from the hotel and head home. As soon as I turn the corner, I’m craning my neck to see the parking spots outside my apartment. I’m filled with relief to see both spots are empty. I’m not sure what I would have done had Brian’s car been parked there, but thank goodness I don’t have to worry about it right now.

As I walk inside and set my food down on the table, I look around the room, suddenly sensing that someone has been here. I go into the bathroom, and sure enough, the lid is up on the toilet, and the towel hanging on the rack is still slightly damp.

Son of a bitch
. Brian has been here. He knew I would be working, and he took advantage of it. While I’m thankful he’s no longer here, I know I’ve got to deal with this eventually. I check the trash in the kitchen and find an empty bag of chips. He could have at least done a better job of covering up if he didn’t want me knowing he was here.
Or was that his whole point? Did he do this just to frighten me?
Maybe I should get the locks changed.

I’ve now lost my hunger for breakfast completely, but I know I need to eat, not only for myself, but for the baby as well. I think about how much this baby is going to change my life forever. I rub my small swell, and I’m saddened knowing that if I can’t make this relationship work with Brian, I will have to endure this pregnancy alone. I have not yet spoken to my parents, something I still can’t quite gain the courage to do. This Friday I have my regular doctor’s appointment, and I’m scheduled to find out if it’s going to be a boy or girl. I really don’t want to be alone when I get this news, and I instantly start to think what being there might mean to Brian.