Page 4 of Nice

"In case you didn't realize, there's actually a party going on out there. Why are you squirreled away back here? Hoping Santa would come find you?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I plaster on a smile that doesn't quite reach up high enough. "Are you Santa?"

He blushes, the red from his cheeks spreading to the rest of his face. "I could be if you wanted."

His eyes shine with hope. But no. It doesn't matter how desperate I am for company, Mr. Can't-Remember-His-Name is not on the invite list to Pound Town. I take a moment to look him up and down. Tall, lanky frame; glasses way too big for his head; red, sweaty cheeks from way too much alcohol; small, beady eyes. Not quite my style. I prefer men that are bigger than me, and poor Mr. Wishful Thinking would probably snap in half if he tried even half the positions I was interested in. With a sigh, I push away from the desk fully and head towards him and the door.

"I don't need a Santa, but I could definitely use a drink."

Jovial nods his head rapidly and steps out of my doorway. Finally, blessed peace. I ease my way back out into the foray, only to catch the eye of my immediate boss. He looks between the door and me, shakes his head, and motions for me to head over to his office.

My spirits lift from their doldrums. Reggie never wants to speak with me. As I shuffle my way over, my brain goes into overdrive. Facts and figures flow through almost too fast for me to keep up. Maybe he's finally noticing all the stuff I'm doing around here? There were whispers about the office of a promotion. Finally! Excitement fills my soul. I can almost taste the freedom!

Another drunk couple bumps into me, their drink jostling onto my favorite skirt. Looking down, I stare at the spreading wet spot, my brain and my eyes not agreeing on what's happening. I shoot the two a scathing look but say nothing as I head towards the office. What does a small accident matter when I'm finally going to be noticed and appreciated for the work I do? When I get promoted, things like skirts won't matter. I'll finally have enough to buy several of the same skirts if I need to.

I open the door and ease my way through, a wide smile on my face. My cheekbones ache, my muscles fighting against the inertia of my ready frown. Reggie sits at his desk, his suit and tie immaculate. While others have been carrying on being crass and slovenly, here's a prime specimen of a man, working away, caring nothing for the revelry just outside his door. My eyes linger on his chest, the muscles straining against the shirt with every move of his arms. Yummy.

"You wanted to see me Sir?"

His looks up, a frown marring his face. "Yes, come in and have a seat."

I close the door behind me and make my way to one of the plush seats in front. My fingers fidget about as I sit, excitement zipping down my spine. I want to move and bounce about, but how would that look for someone about to be promoted?

"Listen, I think you're an excellent worker. You're one of the best we've ever had. You're honest, hardworking, punctual." He waves his hand about. "I could go on."

"Yes Sir. I do try my best at all times." My insides twist and turn. Can he just get on with it? Why drag out the suspense?

"And that's why-"

Here it comes!

"-It pains me so much to have to let you go."

I sit there for a moment. A faint ringing fills my ears, blocking out all other sounds. I shake my head. I must not have heard right. "I'm sorry, did you say you're firing me?"

"No. Not firing." He steeples his fingers and leans forward. "You are an exemplary employee. You've done nothing to cause you being fired. We just don't have the budget to keep you on. You are more than welcome to file for unemployment, and of course, I'll give you a glowing recommendation."

I slump down into the chair, mulling over his words. They replay in my brain repeatedly as I try to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like it's passing me by at slow speed, but I still can't catch up. As my brain finally comes to grips with what's going on, the deafening roar in my ears gives way, letting in the raucous merriment. It seeps deep into me. Jumping to my feet, I plant my hands on his desk, startling him out of whatever bullshit work he was doing.

"You can't afford to keep me, and yet you can afford this office party?"

"Caitlin I-"

"No. There's nothing you can say to make this right. I did above and beyond, and now that just means nothing?" I take in a deep breath, trying desperately to quell the nausea climbing up my throat. The air is way too warm, the walls way too close. Reggie makes a move to stand, but I hold my hand out, effectively stopping him. "Don't worry about it. I'll clean out my desk and be out of your hair."

Whirling around, I fling the door open, the sounds and smells crashing into me like a tidal wave. Bile continues to creep up. Somewhere in my brain I hear Reggie calling out to me, but I can't make myself turn around and face him. I just can't do it.

Scanning the main office area, I spy several boxes that once housed copious amounts of liquor. Wading through the sea of sweat and lust, I worm my way through and grab as many as I can manage to keep a hold of. On the table next to me is a bottle of peppermint vodka. I contemplate it for a moment, staring at the swirls of red and white circling the bottle. Making my decision, I drop one of the boxes and grab onto the bottle, bringing my small treasure trove to my office.

Slamming the boxes down on the floor, I make my way over to my desk and sit down. I look about, seeing not much that belongs to me. There are no pictures, no memorabilia, just papers and office supplies. Unscrewing the cap, I tilt my head back and take a large gulp. Fire races down my throat. I cough and sputter, trying to keep most of it off the equipment.

After my hacking dies down, a small kernel of peace permeates my body. My limbs feel soft and heavy. Smiling, I take another sip, this time only taking in small increments at a time. The burn is still there, but it's much more manageable. Leaning back in the chair, I take my office in again and laughter bubbles up out of my mouth.

The sound is harsh as it fills the office. Standing back up, I sway for a moment and amble about, grabbing a box. With a sweep of my hand, I knock all the contents into the box, office supplies and all. A dark niggle of glee fills me as I walk around the office taking staplers, pencils, pens, the works. Any and everything goes into the box. After a few minutes, all that isn’t boxed up is a marker and the computer. Leaning over, I pluck the marker up, tuck it behind my ear, grab the box and bottle and head out into the party.

The foray is still going in full swing. With a smirk, I tuck my loot closer to my body and head out to the main door. Near the entrance, a large poster with Reggie and other prominent members looms, their faces smiling down with smug glee. Setting my box down, I keep a tight hold of my bottle and take the marker out from behind my ear. I stick the end in my mouth and uncap it with my teeth. Glancing around, I snicker as I lean forward and start drawing on Reggie's face. A small hiccup escapes my mouth, and I chuckle even harder. It takes a few minutes, but finally my artwork is complete. I recap the marker and let it clatter to the floor. It's tiny but sounds thunderous in the deserted lobby.

I bring the bottle up to my lips again and stare at him a moment. Sweet oblivion races down my throat, the burn taking a bit of the edge off. Pain and misery beat at my chest, but I ignore it, opting instead for yet another swig. I stand there for a bit more, looking about, guilt shuffling to the forefront. Shaking my head, I tamp it back down and head out the door, bottle still firmly in hand. The brisk wind tears into me as I shove open the glass door, but I push through, relishing the sharp bites of pain.