My Greek SEAL by Sabrina Devonshire Page B

wrong.”
    A flicker of compassion appears in Eros dark, sensitive eyes. “It would be good to get some of that pain off your chest.”
    “Yes, it’s really quite all right,” says Maryann. “We’re good listeners.”
    Apparently, the we she’s talking about doesn’t include her husband because Randy clears his throat, glances away and starts up a conversation with Scott.
    “A vacation is a terrible time to talk about work. I’ve already said too much.”
    “Quoting those women’s magazines again?” Eros asks.
    I laugh. “Maybe, but no one really wants to hear about all the crap I’m dealing with.”
    “Dear, I really do,” says Maryann. “You’ve got me right curious now.”
    The waiter walks by with a tray and places our drinks on the table. I pick up the bottle of Coke and pour it into the ice-filled glass filled. “To be honest, I really don’t want to dwell on it. It’s over and done with and what I want to do now is find a way to go on.”
    “That could be good. And it could be bad,” said Eros.
    “Why could it be bad?”
    “Because you’ll still be angry. It’s hard to move on when you’re carrying all that weight on your shoulders.”
    I shrug.
    “Why not tell us a story or two about your boss from hell,” he says with a smile.
    His eyes twinkle with flirtatious mischief and at the same time radiate warmth. I’m afraid to trust what I see. It could be cleansing to spew out my frustration about the years I put up with Steve’s ugly moods, how I worked overtime way too often and got little in return to show for it. It would feel like getting an elephant off of my chest. “You really want to hear about my former boss?”
    “Yes, of course,” says Eros. “It will help me get to know you better. I can see by that little smile that you would love to tell us every little ugly detail about the man.”
    Now everyone, even Scott is watching at me curiously, waiting for me to speak. I’ve become the pre-lunch entertainment. I pause for a moment, debating about what to say if anything.
     

 
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
     
    Why not tell them a thing or two. They’re not weighed down by the situation like I am. Hearing about Steve and his weirdness might even make them laugh. “He had a really nasty halitosis. Sitting next to him on the plane for long flights was hell. I used to run to the lavatory to put aromatherapy oil in my nostrils to block out the smell.”
    Laughter erupts around the table.
    “You never told the bloke he had bad breath?” Randy asks.
    “No, but I offered him chewing gum and breath mints a couple of times.”
    That incites another round of laughter.
    “Tell us more about this wanker,” urges Maryann.
    “He was a really stingy tipper. He would ask a porter to haul three bags and give him a dollar. I always had cash ready slip to them when Steve wasn’t looking. It made me so furious. The company is very successful. It wasn’t like we didn’t make enough money to be generous.”
    “What a bloody bastard,” said Maryann. “Why didn’t you look for work elsewhere?”
    I pause before answering. This question has run through my mind hundreds of time since everything fell apart. I’m almost ashamed to talk about it. How could I have been so blind to what was happening? Why didn’t I come up with a strategy to defend myself from what he and Nora were planning? I knew for a long time they were up to something. “That’s a really good question. I should have. My gut had told me to run from that job a thousand times.” I flash back to my meditations during my recent swim. I’d wanted to quit even before Nora started up with her nonsense because of the unethical ways Steve ran the business. Often Steve wouldn’t pay the freelance authors on time and in some cases, he never paid them at all. After many of the best writers quit, he “hired” some very skilled writers who would write for free. Some were Nora’s retired friends. He said it would give them