Page 34 of Playing with the Boss
Fuck. She’s right. “How did I not see this?” I drop my ass to the floor, my wine somehow managing to stay within the glass throughout my unceremonious flop. “I have a major hang-up about money, don’t I?”
“Mm-hmm.” She swivels to face me, leaning over the arm of the sofa. “Look at the guys you’ve dated.”
Drifters. I’ve dated men who had no clear goals, no clear direction in what they wanted from life. Guys who were happy cruising along through life, cashing in on their friends—or in my case, girlfriends—generosity.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Why do I have such major issues with a guy that can pay his own way and then some?
“Nothing’s wrong with you, babe,” Emma coos. “You’ve probably just learned the attitude from somewhere. Somebody in your life taught you money is bad, or that showing your wealth is rude.”
I sup at my wine, the glass resting on my bottom lip between mouthfuls. Emma waits patiently, chin resting atop her hands, while I delve into my past and try to figure where this dislike of affluent people came from.
Bingo. “My grandfather,” I say. “He worked the same job for forty years, sure if he stuck it out, he’d make his way to a supervisor and then manager.”
“Did he?”
I shake my head. “He made supervisor, only to have his shot at manager taken away when the job was given to the family of the owner.”
“Ooo.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “He had a major grudge against that place, which only got worse when Grandma got sick and couldn’t work.”
Emma frowns. “What happened then?”
“He asked them for lenience while she went through treatment, and you know what they did? Instead of giving him the extra five days paid leave he requested, they demoted him to a general worker again. Apparently, he could get the extra days if he worked on the floor because it was an hourly rate, not salary like he got as a supervisor. The problem was, the hourly rate meant a major pay cut. It almost bankrupted my grandparents.”
“Eish.” Emma straightens, her brow pinched. “Harsh.”
“His attitude is the one that taught me people with money don’t get the struggles of people without.” I close my eyes and sigh. “I can’t believe how damn ignorant I’ve been.”
“Well,” Emma announces as she slides from the sofa. “No point dwelling on it. Question is, what are you going to do about it now?”
I rotate the near empty glass in my hand. “Figure out how to get over my pride and apologize to Mason.”
“You want your phone, then?”
I chuckle. “I guess so.”
She bounds off the seat, leaping on tiptoes past me to find my purse. “Stalker mode: engaged!”
Lord, help me.
Actually, Lord help Mason.