“Jane, are you ok?” Olivia’s voice drifted up from the depth of Jane’s boob. “Did you just scream? Are you driving? What’s going on?”
Jane scrunched her eyes and then slowly raised the phone to her mouth. “Hey sweetie. Yes, yes, I screamed. It was one of those happy screams. You know, when you’re so happy you need to scream, or punch a wall or something?”
There was a pause from Olivia’s end. “I guess so. But anyway I have so much to tell you about him! His name is – “
“Love, love, I want all the details, but can I call you a little later? My blood sugar is low and I’m feeling a little woozy…”
“Are you still taking all of those laxatives, Jane?” Olivia asked. “Because maybe it’s not your blood sugar, maybe it’s your electrolytes.”
“I’ll call you in an hour. Love you. Kisses. Congrats. Bye!” Jane stabbed the “End Call” button with a pink pearl fingernail and glared at Mike. “Give. Me. Your. Quarters.”
Mike handed her six quarters like he was tossing a bloody carcass to a starving lion. Jane snapped them up and stalked down the hall.
“Sure, why the fuck not?” she cursed out the vending machine as she waited for the orange juice to drop down the shoot. “I don’t have a career, I’m don’t have a relationship. But why shouldn’t Olivia, whose ALREADY been fucking married, hitch her wagon to star hubby number two? He’s probably cute and rich with no illegitimate kids or nagging heroin addiction. There’s going be a great fucking entry in my worry journal tonight, let me tell you.”
“Excuse me, are you talking to someone?” a male voice broke her momentary bout of Turrets Syndrome. Startled shitless, Jane whipped around and punched the origin of that voice in the stomach.
“Don’t even think about stealing my money, pal” Jane sneered as the sandy blond guy crumpled over in both shock and pain. “These are my quarters, my orange juice, you just wait your fucking turn for your own fucking Snickers bar.”
“Take it easy, I don’t want your money or your juice,” the guy managed to gasp from his crumpled position. He panted for a few seconds, poking his chest and sides and trying to decide whether any of his ribs had been broken. Finally, he stood up straight and met her eyes. “But I wouldn’t mind getting your number.”
Jane had a stark moment of humility and realization at what had just transpired. “Are you going to press charges? Because I’m not an American citizen,” she lied. “You won’t get a penny.”
The guy laughed. “I won’t press charges,” he said and flashed a smile.
Even in the harsh yellow light of the hallway, this guy looked good – full head of blond hair, broad shoulders, nice shoes. Big shoes. Twinkling blue eyes. And he had nice teeth, Jane thought. White, bright, straight teeth basically could seal any deal in her world.
“I think your juice is ready,” the guy said, pointing at the vending machine. He was in office attire, Jane noted – tie, striped shirt, khaki pants that weren’t wrinkled. There was a good chance that this guy made his own living, Jane quickly surmised. And he looked too old to be living at home. But these days, you could never tell. There’d been too many times that Jane had been taken home, not to meet someone’s mom, but because her date that night still lived with his mom.
Jane changed her tune. She slowly bent over to grab the juice, giving the guy a full view of her ass and legs. “You think I’m cute?” she asked playfully. “And you’re not charging me with assault? This sounds like a good time.”
“So are you going to give me your phone number or do I have to let you punch me in the gut again?” he asked.
“Do you live with your mom?”
“Um, no.”
“Are those your own clothes? Did you borrow them for the day?”
“What?” the guy asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be wearing my own clothes?”
“Answer the question,” Jane demanded, her face hardening once again. The guy instinctively readied his stomach muscles. “Are those your own clothes?”
“Yes, of course they are.”
“Good. Want to have sex in that bathroom over there?”
A smile of disbelief spread across his tan cheek bones and he laughed. He ran his hands through his hair, looked down at the floor and then back up at Jane. Then he shrugged. “Guess so.”
“I’m serious. Meet me in there in five minutes,” Jane said and cat walked back to Mike’s office.
Mike was sitting his chair once again, lounging, when Jane burst in. He snapped to attention, sat up straight, and with eyes wide watched as she unscrewed the plastic top of the juice and the metallic cap of the vodka. She took a swig of both them swished it around in her mouth. Then did it again. And again again.
“I have a cup,” he suggested. “Just throwing the idea out there.”
Jane shook her head and swallowed hard. “No time. Need to get drunk within the next five minutes. Gonna go have sex in the bathroom.”
“In the bathroom down the hall?”
Jane nodded and went back to swigging and swishing.
“Babe, aren’t you on Atkins? You shouldn’t be drinking vodka or orange juice. Think of the carbs,” Mike reminded her.
Jane looked at him with glassy eyes and swallowed, “No worries. I’ll pop a laxative. Two. Get back on the protein train tomorrow. How am I doing on time?”
“Three more minutes,” Mike glanced up at the clock. “So who are you bringing to Olivia’s wedding?”
“Maybe this guy,” Jane said, raising the vodka bottle in the direction of the bathroom. “Or my last boyfriend. James. The musician. He’d probably go. Hope it’s evening casual cuz I don’t think he owns a suit. Maybe he could get away with jeans.”
“You know you’re probably going to be Olivia’s maid of honor,” Mike commented, now turning his back to Jane and focusing on his computer. “You’ll have to help her get this wedding up in five days, darling.”
Jane took a double swig of the vodka. She was finally getting the burning sensation and dizziness she was looking for. A little acid reflux ruined the moment, but she forced it back down her esophagus. “No way, dude. I was her maid of honor for the last wedding. I think there’s a limit to how many times a girl can be cursed.”
“Time’s up,” Mike said.
Jane took a final drink and found her way to the restroom, smacking her shoulder against the doorway as she left.
The stranger was waiting by the sink, looking slightly sketched out. Jane fell into the small, tiled space and flashed a smile.
“I’ve never done this before,” he confessed as Jane lurched forward and began unbuttoning his shirt and ripping it off. She whipped off her own blouse and flung it to the ground.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve done this a million times. Let me just get out of these jeans. Want me to keep my heels on? Give me a kiss.”
In her electric blue bra, with her jeans down by her knees, Jane grabbed the man’s head to face her own and stuck her tongue in his mouth. For a second, the guy’s body went stiff with repulsion but his hands started exploring Jane’s hips soon enough.
“Wow. You kinda taste like booze,” he told her, coming up for air.
“It’s a new mouthwash,” she said between tongue laps. “Now do me.”
Jane stalked back into Mike’s office, adjusting her soaked, stained blouse. “Where do you keep the cups?”
Mike procured two glasses from a desk drawer. “I don’t know what you just did but I’m sure I’m going to hear all about it and in order to truly appreciate the debauchery, I will need to have a buzz going.”
Jane shrugged and poured them both a drink.
“So is he coming to the wedding with you?” Mike asked. “What’s his name?”
“No, he’s not coming to the wedding, you jerk. We were so close to sealing the deal. Then he went soft and started crying about herpes. What a goof. Guess it’s down to James.”
“What did this guy look like? The one you almost just raped in the bathroom? Most of my coworkers have seen you and know to stay away from you.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t really focused on his face. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Nice shoulders. Cute, I guess. Maybe his name was Ben? Brian? But he definitely was an executive or producer or something.”
“Brian with blond hair? He’s our intern. We aren’t paying him.”
“Goddamit,” Jane shouted. “Goddammit. He said he wasn’t living at home.”
“And he was telling the truth, Jane,” Mike said. “The intern you just sexually assaulted lives in a dorm room. Now, if you want to take this relationship to the next level, why not offer to buy him and his frat brothers some booze for their next party.”
“Whatever. He’s not even registering in my mind right now. I think I have to ask James to the wedding. Let me use your computer.” She pushed her friend out of the way.
“Emailing? Why not just call him up?”
“He’s blocked me. And I’m not emailing him. I need to stalk him through Facebook.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “While you were partially fornicating in my office restroom, I was on the phone with Olivia. And yes… for better or for worse, she wants you to be her maid of honor. By the way, what happened to your blouse? It’s ruined.”
“Oh I dropped it in a puddle on the restroom floor,” she answered nonchalantly, typing in the website address.
“And you put it back on?” Mike asked incredulously.
“Doesn’t matter, Mike. Time to put that ADHD aside and concentrate. And pour us another drink,” Jane instructed. “I’ve already assaulted someone today, now I need to do some stalking.”
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