Reach Me Read Online Free Page B

day.”
     

     
    “Morning, Cally,” I greet my one and only cubicle neighbor like I always do.
    “Hey.” It’s her usual monotone response, but I don’t mind because in the eight months that I’ve been working alongside her, I’ve discovered that Cally is not a morning person and should really be left alone until after lunch.
    She’s a temp like me and I can see that she’s stressed about the project ending too. We were both hired halfway through the Gayle building project. The architectural firm that won the bid for the contract decided to add two more temps as well as a slew of other staff to finish the build ahead of schedule. Great for them. Not so great for me, as they only needed the extra temps for this particular job.
    I settle into my small space and begin my routine. Coffee. Emails. Worrying about the official unemployment that the end of the week is bringing… the norm.
    My morning zips by, and when I pause next, my much-needed lunch break is looming. I pull my cell phone from the side pocket of my purse beneath my desk and feel a tad disappointed to see an empty inbox. I get to sending Brian a message that I’m sure he’s expecting, since he knows all about my impending unemployment. I know he’s searching for me. My little brother may appear careless and whimsical, but he’s quite possibly the most reliable, organized, and detail-oriented person I know. I guess that’s what scored him such an awesome job working for that uber-rich Las Vegas mogul, Damon Cole. I don’t exactly know what the guy’s business is, but he keeps Brian thoroughly busy and pretty well paid. Maybe he’s eccentric enough to hire an assistant for his assistant. I snort-laugh as I type out the text to Brian.
     
    Hey, Bri, I need your help. Come over later?
     
    Can’t, honey. Working. Meet me at the bookstore tomorrow? Lunch?
     
    Okay.
     
    I sigh and lean back in my chair, hoping and praying that Brian will have some good news for me tomorrow. At this point I’ll do just about anything. Hell, I’d be someone’s call girl if I had the option, but I’m nearly thirty with stretch marks courtesy of pregnancy. I’d probably have to pay the guy instead of the other way around. My son is my everything and at the rate I’m going, child services will want to know how I plan on feeding and sheltering him. Thoughts of some social worker leading Trey off to someplace more stable forces bile up into my throat. Panic courses through my veins and I feel the urge to do… something . Anything . I have to fix things.
    My brain is so preoccupied with the knowledge that I’m in the fast lane to unemployment that I’m starting my lunch hour now. Thank goodness my work to do list is almost completed—my life to do list is staring me in the face, and right now securing things for Trey is at the top of that list.
     
    Find job
    1. Talk to Maggie.
    2. Talk to Brian.
    3. Dad?
     
    Bills
    1. Rent
    2. Electric
    3. Water
    4. ETC.
     
    I’ve been so consumed with worry and actually working (last ditch effort so they see what an awesome employee I am) that I haven’t even thought of talking to Russ. I’m late on the rent again, but it was either buy Trey’s new school shoes and pay the electric and grocery bills or be late with the rent. Again. Rent is the most forgivable of offenses. I would never want Trey to feel humiliated at school by wearing tatty sneakers that are too tight anyway. He seems to grow an inch a month and it can be difficult to keep up with. The grocery bill is the least forgivable. We have to eat and the electric company… well, they’re sick of me. I’ve exhausted all courtesy extensions and I have far too many disconnects on record. The rent payment, amazingly, has been the easiest bill to work with. Sharon, the property manager, has been my saving grace multiple times, but I hate putting her in a position where she has to bend the rules and fudge on paper just for me. It isn’t right. I dream of one day