TMI (2014 Collector's Dream Winner)

TMI - Chapter 7

"Megan, a word with you please."

The manager on duty did not look happy, but Meg followed him to the employee lounge, where the scent of stale popcorn and pizza hung so thick in the air, she could taste them. He scraped out a chair from under the table where an empty soda can sat in a pool of condensation.

"Have a seat. How ya doin'?"

"I'm fine." She knew what he was going to say but sat anyway. Best to just rip off the bandage instead of prolonging the pain.

Mr. Reese pulled an envelope from his suit jacket pocket. "This is your last paycheck, Megan. I'm sorry. The theater's closing in three weeks. I can't afford to keep you on the whole time." Bushy eyebrows climbed over the rims of his glasses when he gave a helpless shrug.

She took the envelope and nodded. She'd known it was coming. This tiny two-screen theater just couldn't compete with the multiplex that had opened a year before, with its eighteen screens and restaurant food brought right to your seat.

"You're a hard worker, Megan, never gave me a minute of trouble. So, I tucked a letter of recommendation in there, too. Maybe that googleplex can use you." Mr. Reese said with a sad smile.

Meg laughed once, wondering if Mr. Reese made the lame joke on purpose, and shook her head. She wouldn't apply there. It... well, it wouldn't feel right.

"Thanks, Mr. Reese." She stood, took the soda can, tossed it in the recycle can on her way out.

"Megan?"

She turned at the door, surprised to see Mr. Reese's eyes wet. "Grab some boxes of candy on your way out. I know how much you like those things."

She grinned through the bright stab of pain. "Parting gifts?"

Mr. Reese shrugged. "A token of appreciation."

"Thanks. Um, bye. Oh. Here." She took off her name tag, put it on the table.

Outside in the cold night air, she felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. No anger, no fear, no regret. Just a numbness that was kind of a pleasant change of pace. She walked home, the bag holding two boxes of the Junior Mints Bailey loved and two boxes of M&Ms that she did banging her thigh with each step. It was early; she thought about heading over to Bailey's place, but didn't want to see any more of her wrapped in Chase's strong arms.

The pain stabbed her again, putting a hitch in her step, but she didn't falter. Tomorrow, she'd visit the stores within walking distance and find another job. She would have to buy canvas soon and—

"Hey."

Megan froze, one foot still in the air. Her lips instantly twitched up and she tried her hardest not to smile, knowing she'd fail miserably, but trying anyway.

"What are you doing here?" She put her foot down, forced herself to walk up the porch steps to the front door, where Chase sat looking like a poor abandoned puppy.

"Uh— waiting for you."

"Why?"

"I— I had a fight with my parents after dinner and had to get out for a while."

"You've been sitting here that long?"

Chase shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Well, first I hid in the garage for an hour and pounded nails. Then, I came here. That was long enough ago to freeze my ass off."

"Pounded nails?"

He gave her half a laugh. "Yeah. I do that to channel my 'excess rage'." He quoted the pyscho-babble with an exaggerated eye roll.