The Fierce Diva Guide to Quitting Bad Jobs and Breaking Contracts

Rudy plunks two Jack and Cokes in front of me and whistles through his teeth, which are stained from nicotine.  Before I can grab the drinks and run, he pushes his mouth to my ear. "God, I love the way you look in those pants.  Although I'd like to see how you look without them."    There is a twang in his voice from somewhere south.  He's short, skinny, and at least ten years younger than he looks. I pull away from him and load the cocktails onto a tray in silence, as I resigned long ago to ignore the comments … Continue reading