● Erica Peterson ●
I was once again arguing with my mother about the bills. When I got a call from my boss telling me that I was fired. I spent ten minutes arguing with him, until I just hung up on him.
How could he just fireme? He knows I need this job. Ugh! Just my luck. Everything seems to be going wrong.
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● Four Days Later ●
Today I'm picking up my last check. I've been looking for another job to replace this one, but i haven't found anything yet.
"Hey girl. Where have you been?" Ashley asked.
"I got fired."
"What? Why?"
"I don't know. I came here to pick up my last check."
"I'm sorry to hear that. If you need anything don't hesitate to call me."
"Thanks Ashley. I'll see you around." I walked into my boss office.
"Erica? What are you doing here?"
"I came to get my last check." I said nonchalantly.
"Oh right....Here you go." He said handing me my check.
"Can you tell me why I was fired."
"Some customers came in complaining about you. You know how I am when it comes to complaints and I couldn't afford to get shut down." He said.
"But you know me better then that." I said. He sighed.
"I'm sorry Erica."
"Who complained?"
"You know I can't tell you that Erica." I grabbed him up by his collar.
"Tell me who complained or I swear you'll never have children again." I said. He looked scared.
"The complaint papers are in the file over there." He pointed. I walked over to pick up the file. I looked over the file.
Michael Stokes?
Joshua Whitmore?
Adam Lambert?
"What did he look like?"
"Who?"
"This Michael Stokes person."
"He was tall, black hair, light green eyes..." I blocked him out because I knew exactly who he was describing. That fucking prick. I stormed out my boss - ex boss office. Ashley was calling after me, but I jumped into my car and pulled off.
He is going to pay for this. I had to pull over because I was crying. I lost my job. How am I going to get by now?
I wiped my tears after crying for ten minutes. I pulled out my phone to search this Michael Stokes.
Damn was all I could say. He's the riches man in the United States. He owns Stokes Co. and many other establishments. I found his address. Oh he is about to pay for this.
I put my car in drive and headed to his office. It took me about thirty minutes to get there.
I walked into a high rise building. It was elegant. I kinda felt out of place from what I was wearing. I had on a pair of cut off skinny jeans, a plain white v-neck, and some white sandals. My hair was thrown into a ponytail.
