Chapter 2
Cameron was acting like it was a battlefield from the moment he walked in, pulling everyone together for a tense half-hour morning meeting.
The agenda was simple.
Cameron said, "Energy. Service. Professionalism.
"If anyone drops the ball today, don't blame me for going off on you."
He walked right up to me, leaned in, and spoke in a low voice only I could hear. "Alyssa, make sure Emma doesn't show up today.
"When the president's here, I don't want to see anyone who doesn't belong. Got it?"
I nodded.
But inside, my heart sank.
2 PM. The glass doors at the mall entrance swung open, and Emma showed up right on the dot.
She looked even more exhausted than usual today.
Her forehead was covered in sweat, her lips were cracked and dry, and she walked with shaky steps.
She headed straight for her usual spot, sat down, and started gasping for air.
I poured her a cup of water, just like I always did.
She finished it in one breath.
Watching her like that, I just felt really bad inside.
At 3:30, Cameron called the service desk. "Alyssa. The president's car is downstairs. He'll be up in five minutes.
"Is the old hag gone yet?"
I glanced at Emma sitting quietly in the corner with her eyes closed, trying to rest.
"Mr. Martin, she... she might be suffering from heatstroke. She's really not feeling well," I said.
"I don't care whether she's feeling well or not," Cameron was practically yelling into the phone. "Get her out of here right now. Now."
Cameron hung up on me.
I just stood there, holding the phone, not moving for a long time.
Kaylee just stood there, giving me a cold stare.
"Alyssa, you'd better hurry up. If you wait for Mr. Martin to come over himself, you're toast," she said.
I took a deep breath, and despite everything, I walked over to Emma.
How was I supposed to say this?
Should I really say, "Ma'am, you can't stay here"? Or, "It's 104 degrees outside, but I still have to ask you to leave"?
I walked so slowly; every step felt like I was walking on knives.
At last, I stood in front of her.
She opened her eyes and looked at me.
Gone was the usual calm in her gaze; now, there was something else, an unmistakable sense of desolation.
I tried to say something, but the words just wouldn't come out.
Just then, Cameron came down the escalator, flanked by a group of sharply dressed executives, all escorting a commanding middle-aged man.
It was the regional president.
Cameron instantly spotted me and Emma.
His face switched from a fawning smile to stone-cold in a heartbeat.
He practically charged over.
But instead of blowing up at me, Cameron forced a smile that looked worse than crying and tried to smooth things over with the president.
Cameron said, "Mr. Mitchell, this... this is a special lounge area we provide for certain guests at our mall..."
Mason looked at Emma, then at me.
He didn't say a word. His brow just furrowed a bit.
That tiny gesture sealed my fate.
After walking the president and his group out, Cameron returned to the counter.
He didn't say a word.
He just pulled out a printed sheet from the drawer and slapped it in front of me.
It was my pink slip.
"Alyssa, HR's already been notified," he said. "Your pay's been settled. You need to leave today."
His voice was so calm.
I stared at the printed words on the page, my mind totally blank.
My coworkers gathered around. Nobody said a word.
I was the one they made an example of, punished right in front of everyone.
I picked up that flimsy piece of paper, but it felt like it weighed a ton.
I quietly packed up my things and changed out of my uniform.
From start to finish, nobody even bothered to say a word to me.
Clutching my cardboard box, I walked out from behind the counter.
As I walked by the corner, I couldn't help but glance over.
Emma was still there, sitting quietly in her usual spot.
She looked at me, then at the box in my arms. For the first time, her eyes, usually so clouded, finally revealed a real emotion.
It was guilt.
She stood up, as if she wanted to say something.
"Kid..." Her voice was so raspy, barely audible. "It's me... I'm sorry."
I shook my head, and couldn't hold back my tears any longer.
I didn't blame her.
I just blamed myself for not being good enough.
I couldn't even keep a job.
I felt like I didn't even deserve to live in this city anymore.
The place I rented was just a single room, barely a hundred and sixty square feet.
It cost 600 dollars a month.
I had to put down one month's deposit and pay three months' rent up front.
The day after I got fired, my landlord called.
He said the place was being sold, and I had to move out in a week.
I held my phone, staring out at the gray, gloomy sky.
It felt like every corner of this city was screaming at me to leave.
I didn't have the energy to look for another job, and I just couldn't even think about finding a new place to live.