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“I flushed my pen out in it while you were in the land of nod.”
“Mhh-” Eyes widening as the words and the acrid ink flavour registered, Richard pivoted and retched, spitting out the vile mixture into the waste bin beside the desk. “You… asshole!” Coughing, it took everything he had not to hurl the mug at McClaine. What little of his curse made it through the spluttering, however, was lost in the other man’s laughing.
“Hey! Why aren’t the pair of you out for lunch? Trying to bugger each other over the desk or something?”
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Richard shot a withering sideways glance at Dave Sing. “Or something.”
A third generation English-Nepalese, from the generation who had turned their back on the ancestral beliefs and completely assimilated to western culture, Dave Sing was also tall and thin. Handsome, with almond skin and copper eyes, but jet black that hair that he kept short and spiked. He’d joined the firm shortly after Richard, a fresh-faced graduate from Coventry University. Young and ambitious- Richard liked him well enough. An asset to the team, but in dire need of seasoning.
His own lunch in hand, the office’s third resident settled in his own seat and was about to take a bite of a generous beef burger when he got his first close-up look at Richard. The burger dropped into its wrapper. “Geez Rich, you look awful.”
"Yeah-"
"Yeah, well, what do you expect?” McClaine cut in, just managing to get control of his guffaw. “Ben Dover here had a wild weekend after the do last week.”
“What?” Richard rounded on him, his heart in his throat. No, he couldn’t know about Rebecca. There was no way he could know, unless-
“Oh, come on, Dick, don’t give us any of that old pony. That look your missus got when she saw old Walrus Face’s daughter putting the moves on you. You can’t honestly expect us to believe you didn’t get a little bit. Alice damn near started fucking you right there in front of everyone.”
“Fuck off,” Richard warned, but inside he felt the knot his insides had wound loosen. Slightly.
McClaine shot Sing a sly look and added under his breath, as if to keep the man sitting just meters away from hearing, “Pity she didn’t. What I wouldn’t do to see that fine ass bouncing-”
“Mike! I’m warning you,” Richard growled. “Shut your fucking hole or the next thing out of your mouth will be your teeth.” He emphasised the threat by pushing back from the desk and rising to his feet, the rancour contorting his features into a look of such maleficence it had both Sing and McClaine backing away.
McClaine raised both hands in supplication, his face turning pale. “Woah, Dick, woah. I’m just busting your balls. Okay. Okay? I-I I’m sorry. Jeez… just relax. Relax.” He was on his feet and backed round the desk.
Richard watched him go, letting him put a bit more space between them before dropping back into his chair.
All the tension seeming to evaporate from the room at once, and McClaine let go of a deep sigh. “We cool? God, my heart’s beating so fast I think you were about to give me a coronary.”
“Well, you do deserve it from time to time.” Richard kept the bitterness from his tone. McClaine was the sort who needed a slap now and then, and he'd enjoyed the opportunity. No matter what, he loved his wife too much to let that sort of slander pass unchastised, but it wasn’t worth settling at work. She’d be the first to tell him that. A man has to do what a man has to do, and the first thing a man had to do was to care for his family. Everything else, including giving mouthy gits a smack in the gob, came later.
“Ouch! That hurt. No, seriously mate, what’s with you today? You’ve been bumbling around here like a zombie high off its head.”
“Well, can you blame him?” Sing looked up, his burger already much reduced. “You said it yourself. Scarlet has it pretty wet for him. And you’ve heard the stories.”
“Yeah, but come on, you don’t believe all that shit, do you? What would she have to gain?”
“What do you mean, what would she have to gain?” Sing looked incredulous; his speech momentarily dissolved into the singsong accent of the Hindu.
“Why would Scarlet want to sleep with Tommy Cox or that asshole Mike in legal? She’s a bird. They don’t spread their legs for their underlings. What could they do for her? I mean, she’s the big boss’s daughter. Why should she shag anyone in the firm? If she wants a promotion, or a pony, all she has to do is ask 'Daddy', and Walrus Face will give his little princess anything she wants.”
“Please, that is such misogynistic bullshit. A woman can be every bit as abusive as a man. Haven’t you read Disclosure?”
“I saw the film,” McClaine cut in, and then his features twisted with a leer. “And I tell you, that Demi Moore can suck my cock any day…“
Richard was only half listening to them. He had heard the stories, too. And like McClaine, usually dismissed them as idle office gossip.
Whatever else she might be, Scarlet was undoubtedly a very beautiful woman, and beautiful women in positions of power and authority attracted rumours the way a dog drew fleas. Often as not, they were just stories spread by jealous colleagues or bitter subordinates left in her wake- and Scarlet wasn’t short of those. Quite the reverse in fact, but she was also the daughter of the firm’s MD, Derick Holmes. The consequence for any employee caught besmirching her good name would be unpleasant, but after their encounter on Friday, Richard was no longer entirely convinced all the stories were just stories, but he wasn't about to admit it.
There’d been a look in her eyes. A certain, predatory gleam...
“Okay, that’s enough,” Richard snapped. “Have either of you actually spoken to anyone who actually fucked her? Or heard a story that wasn’t from a guy who spoke to a guy?”
McClaine’s grin dropped. “No.”
“Well no,” Sing admitted, shoving the empty burger box into a desk drawer. “But Jasper Hawkins told me he once saw her going down on the girl from the mailroom.” He looked vindicated.
