After I graduated high school, I had convinced him to quit, and I’d happily taken care of him ever since. I didn’t regret it; truly I didn’t, but my life had fallen into such a rut that sometimes I did wish for something extraordinary to happen to me. Something amazing, perhaps a little wild. What, I didn’t know.

I frowned. No more wishing for things I couldn’t have. From this point on, I would be a better employee. I would work harder, be less confrontational. Screw restlessness! Ron was giving me another chance, and I wouldn’t let him down.

“I swear, Belle, you keep my ulcer in fighting form,” he said darkly. He reached into his desk drawer, withdrew a packet of Tums and popped several in his mouth. “Why can’t I be more like the Donald and just say it? You’re fired. Boom. You’re fired. So easy in theory.” He sighed yet again, this one a dejected exhalation that made his shoulders sag. “This is your last chance. If you screw this up-”

“I won’t. Swear to God.” I didn’t mention that I needed to leave a wee bit early today if I hoped to make my interview with Ambassador Suites, a nearby hotel. I’d bring up that little gem later. I’d double up my coffee-making or something to earn the early departure. “I’ll be so good you’ll nominate me for Employee of the Week. Maybe Employee of the Month.”

“Yeah. Right.” He popped a few more Tums and eyed the girls again. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Go. Open a register before I change my mind.”

Grinning, I blew him a kiss, bounded out of my chair and raced to the door. Thank God for perverts.

I SPENT THE NEXT SEVERAL hours being a good little robot, smiling a sunshine-and-roses smile and waving customers to my register like a Miss America contestant. All under Ron’s hawklike eyes. Once, I came close to bitch-slapping a woman who had the nerve to ask me if I moved that slow for everyone or if she was just special.