Boss of Me

“What else can I do?”

“But I’m okay, Rock. I’m better than okay—I’m happy. And you were happy there. I could hear it in your voice. Don’t ruin your career for me.”

“You’re happy now, but you were not happy when you left there. I don’t care what you say.”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me, but I also know you wouldn’t return my calls. You stayed in bed for who knows how long.” My stomach hurts remembering her that way. “You had a real crisis, and it was his fault.”

She puts the gun down and walks to where I’m standing. “It wasn’t his fault. Yes, he was a bastard, but I was glad to leave Fletcher International. I didn’t return your calls because I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t know what I was going to tell you. That’s why I hid.”

“You can always tell me anything.”

“But I felt like I let you down.” Her chin drops, and I see the guilt in her eyes. “We lost Mom and Dad. You needed me to be strong, to take care of you…”

“I just needed my sister.”

Our watery eyes meet, and we hug again. “You’ve always got me. I’ll do anything I can to help you.” She squeezes tighter, exhaling a little sigh as she releases me. “Even if it means giving Patton Fletcher another chance.”

Blinking away the mist in my eyes, I look at the ornament in my hand. “I kind of fell in love with him.”

The side of her mouth tilts down in a little half-frown. “Then go back. You’re the fighter in the family. Make him prove he’s worth your love.”

She gives me a nudge, and we head to the front of the store. Ms. Hazel is with a customer, so we smile and walk outside to where our bikes are waiting. We pedal slowly back to the house, and I look around, memorizing the scenery.

“I won’t wait so long to come back for a visit next time.”

“Then maybe you’ll know what’s going on around here.” She’s teasing, but I pull my bike up beside hers in the garage.

“You need to tell me more.”

She waves a hand, and I follow her inside, watching the hem of her skirt sway as I think. Renée has always been more of a girly-girl, wearing skirts and beads. She likes drinking tea and not wearing makeup. Suits are not her style.

Thinking of her in Patton’s office, keeping up with their corporate lifestyle… Of course she felt like a fish out of water.

We go to my room, and I take out my small suitcase and place items I’m not going to use tonight inside. I’m picking up my makeup when my phone starts to buzz on the dresser. I don’t recognize the number on the screen.

“Telemarketer?” I look at Renée, but she’s inspecting my toiletries. With a shrug, I slide my finger across the face. “Hello?”

“You have to be careful with these exfoliants. They contain microbeads.” She holds up the tube of facial scrub.

“Hello, is this Raquel Morgan?” I don’t recognize the female voice.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“They go straight into the ocean and end up in our fish… then in us.” Renée’s eyes are stern, and I hold my hand over my phone.

“Tell me the good ones, and I’ll get just those.”

“Sorry?” The female says.

“I’m sorry. I was talking to someone else. What is this about?”

Renée is still going. “Just check the ingredient list for polyethylene or polypropylene… these things should not be in your facial cleansers.”

“Okay… I’ll do that.” I’m nodding as I step into the bathroom and close the door. “Sorry, what did you say your name is?”

“This is Aly Walden. I’m with NABI, Nashville Association of Business and Industry?”