by Kayt Miller
I walk toward him. “Is that what I think it is?” I say smiling at Mick.
“You deserved a drink. So, I made you your favorite. Plus, we should we eat? I’m starving, and the food looks good.”
“Sure.” At the buffet table, we grab our plates and make our way through the line. I tried to choose a wide variety of menu options. With this many people from P&P Inc. and from our client’s company, I’m sure there are a few vegetarians and others with dietary restrictions. I created labels to place next to each dish with ingredients, nutrition information and a special designation for anything that was purely vegetarian. Our client is a sporting goods company, after all.
Sitting at the table furthest from the main table, we eat. “Damn, this is good, Roni. Did you choose everything?”
“I did. I’m glad you like it.”
“So, what’s the matter? You don’t like it? Because you’re not eating; you’re just moving things around your plate with your fork.”
“My dress is tight. If I eat, it’ll be more uncomfortable.” Plus, I’m wearing the most uncomfortable pair of Spanks known to man.
“What’s on your mind,” he asks between bites of mashed potatoes.
“Deborah thought I should stick Chris with all of the work after the party tonight.”
“Seems fair,” he agrees. “He did take credit for shit he didn’t do. He should pay for that.”
“I guess,” I say absently.
“Want to dance?” Mick asks, standing.
I’m surprised, to say the least. I’d seen people dancing but didn’t figure Mick for a dancing kind of guy. “I’d love to.”
He takes me by the hand to the center of the small dance floor. We don’t have a live band, but the D.J. is pretty good. Most of the music is slow and mellow. Mick wraps his left arm around my waist pulling me into him. He takes my left hand in his right and raises it up. “You know how to dance?”
“Of course. Two years of ballroom dance lessons when I was a young.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. We all had to do it. My mom is a firm believer that we should know how to dance––properly.”
“I think I love your mom,” I giggle resting my cheek against his chest.
“She’s somethin’ that’s for sure,” he chuckles.
We dance the night away, and it’s fantastic. As the party starts to wind down, I turn to Mick, “Ready to do this thing?”
“Oh, yeah,” he shouts. He takes my hand and leads me to the head table. Chris is still there talking to Mr. Phillips. In addition to Chris and Bill are Janice, Deborah, Trisha, and Frank.
I walk up to stand between Chris and Bill’s chairs. I place my hand on Bill’s chair and lean down. “I’m sorry to interrupt…” I say smiling. “I just wanted to tell you that we’re leaving now.”
There are weak mutterings around the table like, “Oh no, don’t go.” I ignore it. I turn to Chris and speak loud enough for everyone to hear, “Chris, thank you so much for letting me help you with this party,” I smile brightly. “I learned soo, so much.”
I reach into my purse and speak right to Bill, “Chris was so smart. He thought we should separate the duties. I’d set up, and he’d stay and tear down. He even made us both this checkoff list.” I pull out two sheets of paper with a single-spaced list of items to do after everyone leaves.
“I hope you all enjoyed the evening. I’ll see you at work on Monday.” When I finally look up at the others at the table, Deborah is laughing so hard she’s crying. Both Chris and Trisha look like they want to kill me, and Janice can’t take her eyes off of Mick.
She stands up and with hips swaying, makes her way to him. “I’m sorry you’re leaving, Michael. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you, alone.”
“Maybe next time,” he says looking at me. “It was nice meeting you, ma’am.”
Oh, no he didn’t! Ma’am? That’s like calling her grandma. She isn’t pleased. I give Mick a panicked look. He sighs and leans down and whispers in her ear. Her face lights up. She squeezes his arm with her hand and returns to her seat.
I walk over and grab his hand. “Let’s go, dear.” We get far away from the head table when I ask, “What the hell did he say to her?”
Mick chuckles at that, and we exit the ballroom. “I may have mentioned that her ass looked great in that dress.”
I gasp, “You did not!”
“I did too. I knew I had to salvage the ‘ma’am’ comment. Besides, her ass was all right.”
“Fine?”
“Just fine, baby. Nothing like yours, though,” he says reaching around to run a hand over my ass. I squeak when I feel his hand.
“God Mick, you’re such a tease,” I giggle.
“Who’s teasing?”
Surprised, I look at him, and he starts to laugh, hard. It wasn’t that funny.
Chapter 19: Mick
I wake up early Sunday morning. I’m working a double shift to make up for Saturday night, but before I leave for work, I straighten up my place and throw in a load of laundry. I want to take the tux back on my way to work, so I don't forget to do it.
As I’m walking out the door, I see a text from Veronica.
Roni: Thanks for going to the party with me last night, Mick.
Me: I’m glad to help. I had a great time last night. Any word on the clean up from last night?
Roni: I had fun too. Thanks for being my date. Well, not date. You know what I mean. And no, I haven’t heard anything about Chris.
Roni: I still feel bad about leaving everything for him to do. Not about him, but I am responsible for a lot of the equipment and centerpieces. What if he screws that up?
Me: I was your date. For the night anyway.
Roni: How’s your day going?”
Me: It’s just getting started so shitty. Lol. I’ve got to work a double today. At least the first shift will be mostly office / paper work.
Roni: Okay, maybe this will turn your day around. I just did an Interweb search for bartender jokes.
A guy walks into a bar, orders 12 shots and starts drinking them as fast as he can.
The bartender asks, "Dang, why are you drinking so fast?"
The guy says, "You would be drinking fast, too, if you had what I had."
The bartender asks, "What do you have?"
The guy says, "75 cents."
I start laughing, and I can’t stop.
Me: Roni, Roni, Roni. I definitely needed that. That’s actually happened to me before. It’s still funny, though.
Roni: Okay, well, I’ll talk to you later. Hope your day runs smoothly––I do.
This girl makes me feel better every time I talk to her. When I’m with her, I feel––more alive and optimistic.
Me: Did you just say that last part in Yoda speak?
Roni: Never tell, I won’t.
Me: Goddamn, you make me laugh. Before I forget, what are you doing tomorrow night?
I wait for a few minutes for a response.
Roni: Working then nothing.
Me: Wanna babysit the most awesome baby in the world?
Roni: Oh, you can’t? You need someone to fill in? I can do that.
Me: No, babe. I thought we’d babysit together. It’ll be fun. We could watch a movie and chill.
Roni: I’d love to. Where and when?
I text her the time and the address, and we end the call. Shit, I just invited her into the other part of my life. That was probably a mistake.
Chapter 20: Roni
At work on Monday, things on our floor are quiet. Too quiet. I had already scheduled a half-day off today because I thought I’d be wiped out from the party. Since I got a full night’s sleep Saturday night, it was just a bonus.
The vibe on my floor is uncomfortable. Something is stirring, and I don’t think I like it. I walk into my office and see my phone blinking. I hit the message button and wait.
“Roni, it’s Bill Phillips. Please meet me in conference room B as soon as you get in today
. Thanks.” Click.
Oh, shit.
I set my purse and coat down and walk out the door with only my computer case. I may need it. I slowly walk down to the conference room, dread pooling in my belly. This is going to suck. I’m about to pull the door open when I hear voices from within, more than one person?
I open the door and step in. At the table are Bill Phillips, Chris, Trisha, Deborah, Martha from Human Resources, and Bill’s administrative assistant, Gloria, who’s taking notes. Fuck!
“Hi, everyone. What’s going on?”
Bill clears his throat. “Ms. McGonigall, nice of you to join us today.”
“I took the morning off. It’s been on the schedule for weeks. Someone could have called…”
“Is it true that you planned the entire party on your own?”
I look around the room hoping for a clue about this meeting. “Yes. I planned and organized the party. Alone.”
“So, when Mr. Smith here,” he points to Chris, “decided to take credit for your hard work, you just let him do it? You didn’t want to speak up, defend yourself?”
“I didn’t think causing a scene in front of our new client was appropriate.”
“Okay, I agree with that. That was the right move. But, you could have pulled me aside during the night and told me.”
“Would you have believed me? You seemed eager to believe that Chris was the star of the evening,” I snip.
“We’ll never know, Roni. You never gave me a chance.”
“I’m sorry. That’s true.” I say lowering my head.
“So, at the end of the night, when you came to the table with the list of things to do after the party ended, you knew Chris had no idea what needed to be done.”
“Yes, but my list was incredibly detailed.”
“Unfortunately, Roni, we don’t have that list.”
I reach down into my bag and pull out a copy. I hand it to Bill.
“You just happened to have a copy of this on you?”
“I made several copies in case I misplaced one. The list had everything he needed down to the location of the boxes for the crystal vases and the ladder to take down the three projectors.”
“Hmm, I see that.” He turns to Chris, “So, you didn’t see on here that she’d listed where the boxes and the ladder were?”
“That must not have been on my copy.”
Bullshit! “It was. That’s a copy of my notes. You had the original.” I turn to Bill. “What’s this about? Did something happen?”
Deborah interrupts us by saying, “Uh, yeah, Chris and Trisha happened.”
“Not now, Deb,” warns Bill.
“Sorry,” she grumbles.
“Yes, something happened. The projectors are missing which means we’ll have to pay the equipment rental company three thousand dollars each for replacement costs. Ten of the crystal vases were destroyed, and we cannot locate the other thirty.”
“What?! How can the projectors be missing?” I turn to Chris, “What’d you do with them after you took them down?”
“I…” Chris starts.
Bill interrupts, “He didn’t take them down. He claims he didn’t have help or have a ladder and he didn’t know how to do it. He called the hotel this morning to ask about them, but they said they had no knowledge of the projectors or the remaining vases.”
I just bet they didn't. “I put them up all by myself! There were directions with the projector cases in the closet behind the main bar. Those sat next to the ladder that was in the same closet with forty boxes and protective wrapping for the vases. See number five on the list?”
I take a deep breath, “What happened to Martha’s vases?” I can’t look at her. She’ll probably hate me forever.
Trisha interjects, “We had no idea there were boxes. Do you know what a hassle it was to get those over here in a taxi? You’re lucky we got ten here.”
I turn to her and stare, “Of course I know, Trisha. Because, I’m the one that transported forty boxes, three projectors, and all of the other items that decorated the tables. In. A. Taxi. I had no help.” I look at both Chris and Trisha. “I paid seventy-five dollars out of my own pocket to have the cab driver wait while I made seven or eight trips to the hotel. So, yeah, I know what that was about. Where are the other thirty vases?”
“We. Don’t. Know!” shouts Trisha.
“Enough!” barks Bill. “Trisha. Not another word.”
“But…” she whimpers.
“That’s enough from you too, Roni.”
I close my mouth and let my hands roll into fists against my legs. I’m so angry I could spit right now.
“Bill?” It's Deborah speaking, “Don’t be so hard on Roni. She worked her ass off for us on this deal and then Chris swooped in there and claimed victory. I commend her for holding her tongue last night. She took the high road.”
“Until she played that little game with Chris,” Bills says turning back to me, “Do you want to know how much this deal is costing me?”
I already know. But, I remain silent.
“Nine grand for the projectors plus ten grand for the crystal vases. Replacement costs for those are $250.00 each. That’s cost.”
“Bill?” I attempt to speak.
“No. No talking. Here’s what’s going to happen, Roni. I’m docking your pay for that entire cost.”
“What?” I screech just as Martha and Deborah jump in to defend me.
“Not only that, but you're suspended without pay for two weeks.”
“You cannot be serious?” I look at him dumbfounded.
“Oh, I’m deadly serious.”
“What about Chris and Trisha?” asks Deborah. “They’re the ones who broke the ten vases and left them in the lobby.”
“Fine. Chris can pay for those. But, you’re still suspended, Roni.”
I grab my bag and turn to leave.
“You haven’t been dismissed, Ms. McGonigall.”
I turn to look first at Bill then at the smirking Chris and Trisha. “Oh, on the contrary, I think I’m done here.”
“What?” Bill shouts. “Roni! Don’t you dare walk out of here,” Bill’s spitting and sputtering now. He’s going to miss me. I did a lot of shit around here that he doesn’t know about––a lot of Chris’ work for one.
I open the door, step out, and slam it shut behind me. Fuck those assholes. I stomp to my office and grab everything that’s mine. I have family photos on my wall and desk. I have a drawer full of snacks and beauty products. I empty the contents of those into my bag. I grab every flash drive in my drawer as well. I save all of my work on flash drives, not on my computer. I’ve always been afraid of losing important documents.
Another precaution I’ve always taken was keeping duplicate copies of all of my personal notes and ideas. Those are at home in my filing cabinet. I keep the originals here and separate from the confidential work forms, contracts, etc.
I open the drawers that hold my notes and take my first handful and place them on my rolling desk chair. I move through the other three drawers and do the same. I roll my chair out the door of my office and see Barb standing here.
“Roni, I…”
“Not now, Barb. I’ve got to shred some shit.” I roll the chair two doors down to the copy room. We have a massive shredder there. I start with a handful of folders and shove them through. It chews the papers up fast. “This is fucking therapeutic,” I mutter to myself.
“Roni, you shouldn’t be doing that. It’s company…”
“These are my notes. Nothing more. All of the work documents are in another filing cabinet. These are my sketches, my ideas, and my brainstorming sheets. There’s nothing in these folders that means anything to anyone but me. Anything important that was used for an actual account is with the original file. Besides, I’m not taking them out of here. I’m just getting rid of excess junk from my office.”
That shuts her up. I know she’s looking out for me, but she needs to step away.
I turn and
shove more files into the mouth of the beast. It takes me only ten minutes to shred it all. I roll my chair back to my office to the spot behind my desk and turn to my mom and dad’s old chair. I sigh. I’m not leaving here without that chair.
I load the seat of the chair with a box holding my personal items, my purse, and my computer bag. That belongs to me as well. I add my desk lamp and find a spot for the floor lamp. The thing isn’t on wheels, but it’s not very heavy, so I drag it out of my office door. It barely fits through, but I get it done.
I get the chair out the door and see a crowd has gathered. Chris has a fucking smirk on his face while Trisha looks pissed. I push the chair with one hand and my hip while hanging onto my lamp in the other. It’s awkward, and I’m sure I’ll lose some things, but I make it to the elevator, at least.
“I sure hope you’re not stealing anything, Roni,” simpers Trisha.
“Shut up, Trisha,” mutters Martha.
I turn to see Deb and Martha watching me go. I give them a chin lift since I can’t wave. The elevator finally arrives. I force my shit on the board and push the Lobby button. I’m lucky, no one else jumped on with me.
Once the elevator begins its descent, I realize what just happened. I just quit my job. I loved my job. I really did. I gasp, trying to catch my breath, so I don’t hyperventilate. “I just quit my job. Now what the hell and I’m going to do?”
I make it to the taxi stand out front and let a veteran who hangs outside of the building, help me load the chair in the trunk. The cabbie has to use a rope to secure the trunk, and he’s not the least bit happy about it. I take the box and bags with me. I hand the vet ten bucks and slide into the back seat. “Home James,” I say with a British accent. I list my address and sit listlessly the entire way home.