You closed the door.
Nina placed the bags on your kitchen counter and turned to look at you.
“Tell me everything.”
So you did.
You told her about Lucia’s cold office. The fake performance review. The salary reduction from $12,500 a month to $730. The file you were expected to sign. The way Lucia avoided your eyes. The way you quit before your anger could turn into humiliation.
Nina listened with both hands pressed against the counter.
When you finished, she said, “I’m sorry, what?”
You nodded.
“That was my reaction too.”
“Seven hundred and thirty dollars?”
“Yes.”
“A month?”
“Yes.”
“In New York?”
“Yes.”
“For running the entire artist division?”
“Apparently, I was not meeting standards.”
Nina stared at you.
Then she began laughing so hard she had to sit down.
You laughed too.
Because if you did not laugh, you might start thinking about the years you had given that company.
