Free Blast From The Past 1 by Faith Winslow Page B

building. Your time at rEcore is done, and you should thank your lucky stars that you’re not leaving with a police escort. This is breach of contract and espionage—and a few other things, I’m sure. I could very well have you arrested, but I won’t, because I feel sorry for how pathetic you are. But I guarantee you, if you show up here again, or if any other fuck up or leaks are traced back to you, I won’t hesitate to call the police and have them put you in handcuffs.”
    “Joe, wait—” I started, but I wasn’t allowed to go any further.
    “That’s enough, Trish ,” J.R. said, standing and taking hold of his cell phone. “Get the fuck out of here right now. We’re done.”
    With that, J.R. rushed out of the conference room and left the door ajar behind him. Seconds later, Stephanie walked in and shoved my purse into my chest. “Buh-bye,” she said with a grin that actually made her look ugly.
    I took my bag, turned, and walked out of the building. I’d done a “walk of shame” only once before in my life, and the same man was involved—but, this time, it was far more disgraceful. Some of my other—former—coworkers were in the lobby as I exited, and, if looks could kill, their critical stares would’ve put me six feet under.
    As soon as I stepped out of the building, I tried my best to regain my composure. Something had gone horribly, horribly wrong in just a matter of two days, and, even though J.R. had closed the book on the matter, it remained open in my mind. Someone at rEcore had sabotaged me, and I didn’t know who, why, or how—but I was determined to find out.
    I reached into my bag, which had obviously been rifled through, and pulled out my cell phone. I dialed the only Pittsburgh number I had memorized, and, as soon as Julie picked up the phone, I let the words pour out.
    “I just got fired,” I said with newfound strength and resolve in my voice, “and don’t even get me started on the part you played in it… Right now, all I care about is making this right—and, that all begins with one question.”
    “What’s that?” Julie asked, sounding somewhat timid.
    “I know you mostly cover the music beat,” I said. “But, tell me—do you have any experience with investigative reporting?”
    “A little,” my friend responded.
    “Good,” I said with a smile, imaging that Julie could see it through the phone lines. “There are a few people I need ‘looked into.’”
    “Why?” Julie asked back.
    “To clear my name,” I told her. “Trish Williams isn’t the type of girl who puts up with anybody’s bullshit.”
    ~~~
    Thank you for reading Part 1 of Blast from the Past. Parts 2 and 3 will be released soon :)
    Please SUBSCRIBE TO MY NEWSLETTER and I'll email you when I have giveaways, new releases and more. I would also love to be your friend on FACEBOOK .