well for inadvertently blurting out my title to the wrong person.
Instead, I was facing what looked like doom.
Should I lie? Just confess the truth? What I wanted was whatever would get him to leave me alone in front of everyone, to stop flagellating me in public like this was some medieval punishment ritual. Did he have a Catherine wheel in his office, too?
Sadistic bastard.
Dammit, I just couldn't lie. I was in a corner and this was too much to cope with. Sam's words had riddled my body with holes of vulnerability—and now I was bleeding honesty.
I was choking back tears when I said it. "It had nothing to do with it," I said. "Nothing. He wasn't going to go with us. No way. You knew that, too." There was suddenly a powerful shadow of doubt over the past few weeks. Sam had been hounding me as if he knew something, but I wasn't sure how he could know anything. I guess he just got excessively suspicious when there was a lot at stake.
He inconspicuously pulled a flask out of his pocket and lowered his head to take a sip. After all of this lead up, it actually didn't surprise me one bit. He stuffed it away before continuing. "You don't fucking know that! And you don't get to do my fucking job. That's why it's my job and not yours. I knew you were fucking him and I knew I should have ended this sooner. Would have made this bullshit a hell of a lot simpler for both of us."
Had he slipped up? What was going on here? "What the fuck are you saying, Sam? You knew about Jack and me? How could you know for sure?" His strange admission had thrown me a loop, distracting me from the emotional blows he had already dealt. I was more concerned with solving this logical dilemma than my own future.
His arms crossed defensively in front of his body. "Effie, just get the fuck out of here and stop wasting my time. You're fired. MCI doesn't want you anymore."
All of the eyes in the room caught my response as he delivered the final, fatal blow—and then instantly looked away. I was like the trapeze artist that had botched it all and tumbled into the net, ruining the show for the sacred paying customers.
I had nothing left to stand on, no tricks or escape routines, no cloud of smoke to obscure my compromised position. At the very least, I had told the truth—but I still felt like shit.
Everyone acted as if they were ignoring the spectacle, yet it was obvious that they couldn't look away. I hoped at the very least they had witnessed him drinking on the clock and that they'd take him down too.
I felt defeated, pathetic, confused, subjugated. Why had Jack just told me to trust him? Thinking back on the incident, I was done the moment that Stacy introduced me to Dan. That was it. How could I have let Jack delude me into thinking everything would just be all right? I took a real risk going on that trip with him, and through that magical coincidence, got myself fired from the first real job I'd ever had in my life.
What were my parents going to think? Jesse? What about Jack? Would I be able to tell any of them?
"Jacobs, are you fucking deaf? Get the fuck out!"
Sam was right in my face, screaming at me. "Jesus Christ, okay, fine. You're nuts! You're losing it, Sam."
My eyes scanned the surface of my desk as my mind struggled to recall if I had brought anything with me from home. I opened the drawers haphazardly, digging to see if I had left anything inside. They were empty. If I had brought anything, it was probably gone now. I was usually on top of things, but given the humiliating nature of this situation, I guess it wasn't surprising that I was having such a difficult time.
I was losing my breath, my heart pounding as blood rushed through my body. I couldn't stay here any longer, even if I was accidentally leaving some sacred family heirloom behind. This was toxic, like poison gas as I breathed it in. Sam was unfazed, his eyes almost demonic, his lips curling into a menacing smile I'd never forget as I struggled to recollect myself enough that I could actually leave. It was far too obvious that he was enjoying every moment of this.