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Nodding, I leave the diner while my mind does calculation after calculation.
Shit, I need the extra money, or it’s going to be one hell of a cold and long winter with no heat.
Taking the subway to Midtown, I keep worrying about finances, which is nothing new. I’ll just have to find a third job somewhere.
When I get off the subway, I don’t pay attention to my surroundings as I walk to work.
Suddenly, someone grabs my bag, and before I even register the sting across my shoulder, a man sets off with it.
“Hey!” I yell as I run after the asshole. “Give back my bag!”
When I realize he’s faster than me, I stop, yank off my sneaker and throw it at him. The shoe whacks the man against his back, but it doesn’t stop him from disappearing around a corner.
“Fucking asshole!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “I hope you die, you shit-eating pig.”
I’m so angry my body is a trembling mess as I walk to where my sneaker is lying on the sidewalk.
After I pick it up and slip it back onto my foot, I realize people are staring at me, and it has me snapping, “What the hell are you all looking at? The show’s over.”
Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I look up the number for my bank and call them so they can put a hold on my account in case the asshole tries to use my card to steal the meager funds I have.
I walk to work, thinking about everything I have to replace, which upsets me even more.
Today sucks so bad!
When I get close to the ballet company, I glance around to make sure I don’t see Dario’s car, and not seeing it parked anywhere, I walk into the building.
“Hi, Quincy,” I say as I stop by his desk. “Some asshole just stole my bag.”
“That sucks,” he mutters. “Stafford is on a warpath, so you better get to work.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” I mumble before heading to the back, where the staff’s lockers are.
As I pull on my apron, my phone starts to ring, and I quickly dig it out of my pocket.
Seeing Tyrone’s name, I answer, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Two men were sniffing around your apartment and asking about Mandy.”
Sinking down in a crouching position, I rub my palm over my forehead. “The bitch. I’m going to kill her when I see her again.”
“Not if they get to her first. These men meant business, baby girl. Be careful when you come and go.”
“I will.”
We end the call, and I sit flat on my ass on the cold tiles as a hopeless feeling fills my chest. There’s a lot I can endure, but today is starting to get the better of me.
Just as my luck would have it, the door opens, and Madama Stafford catches me sitting on the floor.
I quickly climb to my feet, but it’s too late.
She levels me with an angry look. “I don’t pay you to sit around doing nothing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bring a mop. One of the girls vomited.”
Jesus, why do you hate me so much?
