Dallas Called My Ex Rich and Barren, So I Found Out He Was Neither novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: The Machine

The woman from human resources did not look at me while she talked.

"Your position has been restructured, Reyna. Effective today."

"Whose idea was that?" I asked.

"The women's committee raised some concerns about the store's image."

"Which member?"

She studied her stapler.

"You can say her name," I said. "She's not in the room."

"Mrs. Kellum has been a friend of Tatum's for thirty years."

"And I've been the alterations department for eight," I said.

I stood up and pushed in my chair.

The industrial sewing machine on the third floor was mine.

I had bought it secondhand with four years of savings.

The store had let me keep it in the atelier, and I had never charged them for the use of it.

I loaded it onto a hand truck myself.

I rolled it down the service elevator, across the shoe department, and out through the front doors onto Main Street.

Every salesgirl on the first floor watched me go.

Three women stood in the lobby with garment bags over their arms.

They were brides, with fittings I had booked for that week.

"Are we still on for Thursday?" the nearest asked.

"I don't work here anymore."

She looked at the hand truck, then at me.

"Where do you work?"

I thought about it for a moment.

"My grandmother's front room in Oak Cliff. Eleventh Street. I'll text you the number."

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