“I don’t need it,” I step toward Vivica.
Sean stops me from engaging with the bite in his tone. “It wasn’t an offer, Cecelia, take five.”
“I’m sorry this is happening,” I tell Vivica, “You have my word. I’ll talk to him.”
“Sure, you’re sorry, wiping your ass with my shorted paychecks.”
“Off the line. In my office, now,” Sean barks, and she spins and stomps toward the front doors.
“Too late for me anyway. Fuck this place.”
I move to join Melinda, who’s working double-time to keep our station clear, no doubt bursting at the seams as the drama unfolds. It’s probably the most exciting thing to happen here in years. Melinda bumps my shoulder as I slide back in next to her and try to bury myself in our task, never more grateful for a tub of calculators in my life.
“Take five,” Sean’s at my side as I fight the emotions warring inside me.
“You’re just going to make it worse,” I snap. “Let me work.”
I can feel his stare on me for a solid ten seconds before he concedes and walks away. When I’m able to speak, I turn to Melinda. “Is that how you feel about me?”
“Honey, I know you,” she nods over her shoulder, “but they don’t. I wouldn’t spend any time trying to convince them otherwise, people only hear what they want to.” It’s a bitter truth I have to swallow down. No part of the next year will get easier for me here. I’m guilty by association, and these people don’t just dislike Roman Horner because he’s the boss, they’re aggrieved and have been for some time.
Embarrassed tears threaten as I collect the empty tubs and nod.
“Have your paychecks been short?” I ask, and I see the answer before she speaks it.
“They have been, several times.” She keeps her eyes down. “It was today too.”
“By how much?”
“Just a half-hour.”
My next question, I whisper just before the buzzer sounds and the line resumes. “Did you tell people Sean and I are together?”
“Come on now, that’s just obvious,” she replies, clear sympathy in her eyes. I know it’s true, and I don’t argue with her.
The whole plant now definitely knows I’m the owner’s daughter, and just in case they missed it, they also know I’m fucking my supervisor.
Perfect.
I never counted on my dad’s pull to get me any preferential treatment, but I sure as hell didn’t expect to be attacked this way because of it. It’s the sad truth that it was Vivica’s desperation that started that argument. I have no idea, but she probably needs this job, I’m sure she needed that overtime. Judging by her reaction, she must have been counting on it. Melinda needed that half-hour too, because she’s just put her mother into a nursing home, and she’s being forced to come up with some of that monthly expense. Her husband is a painter and often takes odd jobs to make up for the lack of steady pay. They all count on this plant, on Roman Horner.
It’s then I think of Selma and fight more tears. In a few hours, I can lose my shit. But time is what cripples me as seconds and minutes drag by, an invisible chain around my neck. Sean makes more than one appearance on the floor, no doubt to check on me, but he doesn’t engage, he just talks to some of the others and monitors the line as I avoid any exchange. Melinda picks up where she left off, ending with a story about tomorrow’s event, a church fundraiser.
By the time I clock out, I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically. It’s when I hit the parking lot that fear sets in.
Did Sean fire Vivica? If so, is she waiting for me to deliver her wrath? Surely, she knows I had nothing to do with her short paycheck. But that’s a rational line of thinking, and angry people don’t always think rationally. Lord knows, she was anything but rational when she left the floor.
What if she’s truly decided it’s my fault? I make a beeline for my car as Melinda calls out to me. I don’t want her putting herself at risk for me, and the truth is, she’s the kind of woman who might. She proves my thinking right as she tries to join me on my walk into the parking lot.
“Honey, wait up, I’ll walk with you.”
“I’m fine, see you tomorrow,” I yell over my shoulder as I lose her in the first five rows of cars. Vivica is no doubt the type to ‘cut a bitch,’ and it’s all I can do to pace myself to power walking. The minute I make it to the driver’s seat and lock my doors, I burst into tears. I hate that I feel so weak. I hate that I don’t know if I would have been able to defend myself if I was attacked. I hate the position being Roman’s daughter puts me in. Whether or not I declared I was his kid, someone would have found out, and hiding it might not have been the right call either. Did they really think I was sent to spy on them? That’s insanity.