"I don't like your work," Mom said as she drove me to said place.

I was a blob beside her on the passenger's seat, the vestiges of me vaguely human-shaped after surviving the first day of the anniversary event.

"Neither do I." I slurred every word as though I were hungover. "Retail is brutal."

"Retail or your boss?" she asked, her lips pinching as though the last word had left a bad taste in her mouth. "He make you work eighteen hours yesterday, after working all weekend and what he do? Drinks coffee on his office all day and goes home early."

"In," I corrected. "It's in his office."

"En la oficina de mierda esa."

That was another way to put it, yes.

"He overwork you, not giving you green card and on top of that you date him?" She reached out and smacked me on the shoulder. "Es que eres bruta?"

"Dated, past tense." I rubbed the spot that no doubt had the shape of her hand. "I've told you the verb tense in English is very important."

"How the youth say, whatever."

By this point she was pulling into the mall's parking lot. I'd driven myself yesterday but after the eighteen-hour strong marathon it was, I trusted myself behind the wheel less than if I'd drank a whole bottle of wine by myself.

So, today she would be my personal chauffeur. It would be so much fun.

It was hard to listen to her when she was right, which was often—all the time, but I'd never admit that aloud. If I followed everything Mom said to a T, my life wouldn't be the mess it was.

But it would also not be my life. One trait I took from her was the desire to not do as others bid and follow my own set of rules.

She had been right when she said dating Bryce wouldn't be wise, and I hadn't listened. I'd been blinded by his smiles and the fancy dinners he took me to, to realize that as a boyfriend he would be the same as he was as a boss. Someone who would string me along with empty promises and not give me what I deserved.

While I'd freed myself from him as a boyfriend, as a boss he continued overworking the shit out of me, dangling the green card sponsorship in front of me he never actually followed through with.

And yeah, he did spend most of the day yesterday on the phone in his office, sipping expensive coffee from an espresso machine only he had access to.

Meanwhile, my limbs had turned into soggy noodles and my head was heavy as though filled with lead. The combination almost sent me toppling over when I stepped out of the car.

Mom joined me, grabbing my bag in one arm and her daughter in the other. "I'm never so tired after cleaning toilets for a living."

I sighed. "Maybe I should consider a career change."

"And I'm twenty years older." She scoffed. "I wish you didn't turn Gabriel down."

Great, it was back to that topic again.

Gabriel was my uncle. Out of my entire extended family, he was the only one with money—serious money. He used to be an oil mogul in Venezuela before criminals kidnapped his wife and daughter and killed the former. Nowadays, he was all about wind energy in Canada and he'd offered me a job there.

There were a couple of problems with that, though. One was I couldn't stand the cold. The other one was he'd already sponsored my Miss Venezuela run and I failed to make anything out of that.

I was done with failing others. All I wanted was to be able to fail myself without bothering anyone else, and I thought I was doing a pretty good job at it, except Mom sounded dangerously close to disappointed again.

As Mom walked me into the store, I said, "Cómo está tío?"

For once, my deflecting tactic worked and Mom lost her previous train of thought. "In Canada again."

We greeted a couple of the employees on our way to my office. It felt good to say I had an office, but in truth it had been a storage closet I converted into a work space for myself, and Bryce never objected. He'd once called it having initiative but I suspected it had more to do with the fact that, for a while, it had been our secret tryst place.

Mom put my purse and lunch bag on the desk and pulled my chair towards me. Plopping on my seat, I asked, "Oh, what are you gonna do now?"

When Uncle's house was empty, Mom only went over once a week to maintain it. The rest of the days she spent at home, bored out of her wits. According to her, it wasn't the same sense of satisfaction to do chores around the house while watching soaps on Univision, than it was to tidy up someone else's place with the same soaps running in the background.

"Your cousin girlfriend recommended another place for me," she said, narrowing her eyes at me in a way that made me forgo my desire to correct her. "Cousin's girlfriend?"

I gave her a thumbs up.

"That's great, Mom. What's the new place like?"

"Rich young people, probably dirty." She shrugged. "I will still not overwork as much as you."

No lies detected.

I reached forward to give her a kiss on her cheek. "Gracias por traerme."

"Nos vemos a las cinco puntual." She gave me a look, the one typically preceding her reaching for the chancla. "Hoy no vas a poner horas extra, me oiste?"

I nodded because sure, I heard her, but I was probably going to have to send her home and return a few hours later anyway.

After she left, I sprawled on my chair without caring my pencil skirt rode up and I was flashing the air. If someone came into the office without knocking I prayed I had enough energy to react timely, but for now I couldn't move.

I didn't know how I was going to make it through the day after yesterday. Heck, after having worked the whole weekend and pulling all nighters the previous week.

Actually, I preferred all that to facing another day of rude customers. Yesterday, one woman had even spat in my face after I assured her we were sold out of the hair cream she wanted.

After checking my emails, I dragged myself out of my office. As staff, I didn't have to be on the floor at all times but it definitely helped the part-timers deal with those unreasonable customers.

I sipped on instant coffee as the first customers trickled in. The mornings were somewhat calm, even with steep discounts. Around noon was when things started getting crazy.

"There you are!" I recognized the voice and a burst of energy went off in me at Quinta's entrance, her arms extended for a hug I was more than willing to return. She was so much smaller than me, but all the strength in the embrace came from her. "Good to see you, girly. You look about ready to keel over."

"That's because I am." I chuckled while I pulled back. "Meanwhile, you look just radiant. What's your secret?"

"A few creams I need your help to find, actually."

Arm in arm, we headed to the back of the store where we kept the real fancy stuff she liked. If the brand didn't have a vaguely French-sounding name, Quinta wasn't interested.

"Bah, I expected better discounts," she said upon setting eyes on the rack with ten percent off at most.

I shrugged. "Hey, we still have to make a living."

"Let me help with that and hand me a basket," she said, opening and closing her hand until I presented her with the handle of a plastic basket. She loaded it with all her usuals until she stopped. "Wait, where's the hydrating cream?"

The rack was empty of that product. After checking the warehouse, I came back with the same result.

"Sorry, my dear. Looks like we're fresh out of it."

Quinta's whole face scrunched up. "Damn it, I was waiting for the sale to stock up."

"Tell you what," I said as I steered her to another shelf. "This product here is really similar. All you need to do is add a few drops of vitamin E oil with every application and you actually have a more nutritious product for a fraction of the price."

Quinta's eyes narrowed at the cream in my hand, then at my face. "Why were you selling me the other one if you knew this?"

I shook my head, torn between laughing and crying. "Because you love that brand."

"True, but I'm not so inflexible I can't change." She snatched the new tub of cream from me and dumped it in her basket. "Now, let's go get that oil."

"Actually we don't carry it."

It was such a basic product that Bryce refused to stock it. He wanted Ultra Beauty and Spa to be all about upscale solutions that couldn't be found at the drug store, missing out on so much market. But whatever, I didn't call the shots.

"Where the hell am I supposed to get it, then?"

I grinned. "I got you, I have a new bottle at home that now has your name written on it."

She grunted. "Don't tell me I've been spending big bucks on shit I could make at home."

I bit my lip.

Yes, she was. So was every other customer of this store. It was why I'd been trying for years to convince Bryce to let me lead the creation of our own brand. The hope that, one day, I'd be able to wear him down into agreeing was why I continued working like a horse. It was the distant dream in the back of my mind I'd told Tae Yang about over dinner.

"Actually," I started, checking out our surroundings in case anyone heard us. "Yes."

Quinta's mouth dropped open. Closed. Open again. She narrowed her heavily kohl'ed eyes at me. "Then why should I buy any of this?"

Uh-oh.

"Um, to help us put food on the table?"

"Why don't you make me alternative products and I pay you for them?" Quinta asked, pushing the loaded basket back to me.

I was the one imitating a goldfish now. She reminded me of the challenge that Tae Yang had thrown at me, as we stuffed our faces with delicious food.

Why couldn't I do it? Why shouldn't I?

"Is there a problem here?" my asshole boss said from behind me.

I turned to him with a practiced smile, but Quinta beat me to the punch.

She waved her hands at him and said, "Shoo, you're not welcome here."

Stuffing my fist against my mouth was the only thing preventing me from cackling as Bryce's face morphed into a mask of shock. It took him a moment to realize that yes, a customer was indeed telling him to fuck off, until he actually followed suit.

"How about that?" She nudged me with her elbow. "I can help you prove to that fool that you have what it takes to start a product line."

Sighing, I said, "Quinta, you know I'm on a work visa. I can't make money outside of my employer."

She put her hand on her chest. "Who said it would be outside of your employer? It would just be research."

Well, when she put it like that...

We locked eyes and slowly, mirrored each other's grin.

Tae Yang was right. It was past time for me to show Bryce up. Fuck the anniversary event, today I'd go home at five PM. I had much more fun work to get started.

SONG OF THE DAY: Fifth Harmony - Work

i wanna be like Quinta when i grow up