Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
She chuckles. “Well, that’s a relief. Sounds like they’re excited for you.”
“I think the reaction would’ve been a little different if my sister hadn’t flown down from Montana to help me out. They love getting their Mimi all to themselves,” I tell her.
She nods. “You’re lucky to have a sister like that. Mine is an evil thundercunt who disowned me whenever I came out as gay.”
I choke a little, trying to cover my shocked laugh. “I’m sorry.” I clear my throat. “That’s awful and so not funny, but oh my God, ‘thundercunt’ caught me a little off-guard.” I whisper the word as I put it in air quotes. “But just FYI, I don’t give one care about any of that. Love is love.” I shrug.
She narrows her eyes on me, a smile pulling up one side of her lips. “You don’t get out much, huh?”
I tilt my head. “What is this ‘get out’ you speak of?”
“Oh…” She cackles. “This is going to be fun. Nice to meet you, Cece.” She holds out her hand like we didn’t already meet this afternoon. I take it anyway so I don’t leave her hanging. “I’m Steph, and I’m your new best friend.”
I snort. “I mean, it’s hard not to be the best when you’re the only, but I’ll take it.”
She pouts her bottom lip. “Now that’s just depressing. Stop that.” Still holding onto my hand, she pulls me to the door leading to the back, then lets go to hold another door open and gesture for me to enter the office before her. “I have your resume, but I need you to fill out some paperwork really quick, and then we can start your training.”
I take a seat in the chair opposite the desk as she walks around it and plops down into her seat, scooting herself in as she hands me a pen. She slides a clipboard to me holding a couple of papers, and I eyeball them wearily. I’ve never had to fill out anything so official looking besides my kids’ school paperwork at the beginning of each year, or at the doctor’s office during their yearly checkups.
“Don’t look so scared, Cece. This is just your tax paperwork. Very simple. This is just what we need in order for you to get your W-2 at the first of the year so you can fill out your taxes and get a return,” Steph explains, but it does nothing to calm my nerves as I get to the dependents part and all that stuff.
“I…” I swallow thickly, my heart starting to hammer inside my chest once again. “I um… don’t know if…. Do I mark three dependents for my three kids? Or will my husb— my ex claim them? Will I get into trouble if I say I have three, and then he says he has three, and then they find out we don’t have six kids but the same three we’ve always had, and then they’re going to think I’m trying to do some sort of tax evasion operation, when really I’ve just never had to fill out any of this shit before. And will I be married filing separately, or just single and filing for myself and—” My voice has gotten higher, shakier, and more hysterical as I’ve rambled on and on about something I’d never even thought about until this exact moment, and before I know she moved, I feel Steph’s arm around my shoulders as she stoops next to me.
“Shhh, it’s okay, girl. It’s really not a big deal. You have two choices. You can either have them take more out for taxes now, so you can possibly get a bigger tax return check later on, or you can have them take out less, and possibly have to pay back later. Which do you think fits your needs right now?”
I blow out a breath and try to stop my hand from shaking. “Um… I think I need as much money now as I possibly can get, and I’ll just um… deal with possibly having to pay more taxes later,” I reply, and with a nod, she explains which boxes to check and which lines to fill out.
When it’s all filled out, that’s when the embarrassment of the last five minutes hits me. “I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not usually this much of an emotional mess. And I won’t let it happen in front of customers,” I tell her, and she waves my words away.
“Girl, I’ve been dealing with a pregnant waitress in her first trimester for the last two months. I promise you are fine. Don’t puke on one of the customers like she did last week, and you’re golden.”
I squeak out a startled laugh and shake my head. “Oh my God, the poor thing.”
“The customer or the waitress?” Steph prompts, and I giggle.