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He sent the new girl in to fire me. Phoebe Waverly vamped in on those stilts she calls stilettos with a cardboard box in hand.
“Mr. Graham asked me to inform you that you are terminated, immediately.” Her attempt at a professional voice only made her sound more southern, one word leaning on another like dominoes toppling toward a period. “This box is for your things, Miss Brown. I’ll take that office key if you please.”
The heat rose on my face and I knew it was red. I decided not to acknowledge her, picked up my purse and headed for Darryl’s office. Miss blonde, fancy shmancy, high-heeled, manicured former Miss Texas tried to steal my job, looks like she succeeded.
My hand shook as I reached for the knob, stopped, squared my shoulders, straightened my navy business suit, took a deep breath and pushed open Darryl Graham’s office door.
Coward, he wasn’t there.