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I’m squished in the back of a Kia Forte between a girl from marketing and a middle-aged man—Thomas maybe?—that I met this afternoon. We pull up to Radiator Whiskey and file inside.
The bar is decorated with warm tones, wood, couches, and comfy looking chairs. I’ve never been here before, but it looks like a wonderful place to shed the work stress.
Getting the bartender’s attention, I order a Moscow Mule. A double. I rarely drink hard alcohol, but after that shit show with Arthur and his girlfriend this afternoon, I need this drink to hit my system fast. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a well-dressed woman with beautiful caramel skin sidle up to the bar next to me.
“Hi,” she says, flashing me a bright smile. “You must be Hollie. I’m Claire from marketing.” She reaches her hand out and I quickly shake it. I don’t know why, but I have a good feeling about her. Plus, she works in the marketing department, which is where I want to be. It can’t hurt to make some connections there.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I tell her, gripping her hand. We both wait on our drink orders and make small talk.
“So, how do you like working for Archer?” she asks me. I raise my eyebrow a bit. People rarely refer to him by his first name. Even though I’ve never heard him tell anyonenotto call him Archer, it seems like something no one dares to do.
“It’s good,” I reply. “He’s very…” I search for a word in my vocabulary to describe him that doesn’t begin with ‘jack’ and end in ‘ass’ “… professional,” I spit out. At that, Claire lets out a bright laugh, but I don’t get the sense that she’s laughingatme.
“You’re too nice. Archer Clarke is a pain in the ass.” I’m reaching across the bar for my drink and almost spill it at her comment. I glance over at her, not sure what I should say. Should I admit he is indeed the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met, or should I make the boss look good? “It’s alright,” she quickly interrupts my thoughts. “You don’t have to agree with me. I already know he is. I’ve been working with the man for seven years and I don’t think it ever gets any easier.”
“You work with him directly?” I ask, now curious about what this woman does.
“Yup, I’m in charge of the marketing department.”
My eyes widen as my mind searches for the bit of information that I’m seeking.
“Claire… Keating,” I state, looking up at her in awe. I recognize the name from Archer’s emails, but I always pictured a much older and stuffier woman.
“That would be me.” She laughs. “I see my reputation precedes me.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have put two and two together when you said you work in the marketing department. It’s nice to meet you in person.”
She takes a large gulp of whatever orange cocktail she has in her hand and pats my shoulder warmly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad to put a face to the emails.”
“I actually have a degree in marketing,” I admit to her. “I came here to interview for a marketing job, but Mr. Clarke told me that there weren’t currently any openings.”
“Then we should definitely get to know each other.” She raises her glass in a little salute. “He’s right. We don’t currently have any openings, but you never know when that is going to change. Here, let me introduce you to my team.” She leads me over to another group that is stepping through the door and makes introductions.
Over the next hour, any nerves I had about going out with new people are wiped away. I’m not sure if that’s because of how nice and welcoming everyone is to me or if it’s the fact that I’m on my third double cocktail. Drinking this much isn’t a great idea. Especially when I’m out with new people I work with on a Monday night, but it’s been so long since I put all my worries to the back of my mind and just relaxed. My mom, Paige, Archer… none of them seem so important right now.
Lucas comes over to the table with a tray of shots. “Come on, everyone,” he shouts. “I’ve got shots to celebrate our new friend and coworker, Hollie. May she survive Archer Clarke!” A cheer goes up as he passes out the shots of clear liquid and I can feel my cheeks heat. I hate having everyone’s attention on me. That’s one of the reasons that I hang out with Bianca. She’s always the center of attention, which lets me hang back on the sideline where I’m more comfortable.
I don’t think it’s wise to take a shot with how much liquor I’ve already consumed, but they’re toasting me, so what choice do I have? I grab a glass and join in with them. Tipping the shot glass back, the clear liquid burns all the way down my throat and settles into my stomach. I sputter as Lucas whacks my back, trying to make sure I don’t choke.
“What the hell was that?” I ask him, eyeing the remaining shot glasses on the tray warily.
“Bacardi 151. It’ll put some hair on your chest.” He winks at me.
What’s with this dude and winking? Does he have something in his eye?
I take another sip of my Moscow Mule to wash the gasoline taste out of my mouth. At this point, I’m feeling a little dizzy. I should head out soon before I do something embarrassing that has me the talk of the break room tomorrow. I excuse myself to use the restroom but nobody seems to hear me. As soon as I stand, I know I’m in trouble. I’m not just a little dizzy, the entire bar seems to sway around me. I slowly make my way to the back of the bar, trying my best not to trip over my own two feet. These heels are definitely not helping matters.
I groan as I realize that I’m going to have to take an Uber home. There’s no way I’ll be sober enough to drive home once we get back to the office where my car is waiting for me.
As I stumble for the second—or maybe it’s the third—time, an arm snakes around my waist from behind. My entire body stiffens at the unexpected contact and an unfamiliar voice in my ear says, “You need some help there, babe?”
I pull out of his grasp and turn to see a middle-aged man dressed in a cheap suit. He seems a little unsteady on his feet and the look in his eyes has me glad I’ve run into him in this crowded bar and not in some dark alley.
“I’m fine, thanks. No help required.” I try to head for the bathroom, but he’s grabbing my upper arm now, holding it tightly.
“I don’t know babe, it looks like you might need something that I can give ya.” He gives me a smile that I’m sure he thinks is charming, but in reality, it’s just creepy.
“There’s nothing you have that I need,” I spit out at him as I try removing his hand from my arm. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem too inclined to let go.
