“Please don’t fire me. I just earned thirteen hundred bucks in tips and I think I might actually be able to afford renting some recording equipment when I get back to New York. I could finally start my business. I’ve been dreaming of starting a podcast since I wa—” “Slow your roll, Little Miss Crapshine. One, I’m not gonna fire you. Two, I don’t care what you do with the money you earned. Waste it, burn it, donate it to Satanists in need. If we’re gonna work together, we need to set up some ground rules, though.” “Oh.” She sat back, nibbling on the skin around her nail. “Sure.”
