"Do y'all realise," said Bonnie, with an authority she once called 'ghetto confidence', "that the company for which we work -- that is, Crisply Ltd -- is going to retrench all of our asses the second they realise we don't know how to code?"
"I don't know," said Paula. "The CEO really relies on us to get the word out there."
"Oh, come on!" Bonnie let loose a hoot of laughter. "Paula, sweetie, I know this is your first job and you still believe in the goodness of commercial enterprise. But I am sorry to have to tell you that our beloved CEO would shoot us in a dark room if it meant a bump in the stock price. He's hell-bent on turning Crisply into-" -she whispered this dramatically, the back of her hand beside her mouth- "a unicorn."
"A unicorn? You mean, like Erin's boyfriend?" said Kyle.
"What, multicolored?" Bonnie roared with laughter at this, and so did most of the others.
"No," said Kyle, smirking. "Mythical."
Erin grinned through gritted teeth and looked down at her beer, then looked back up at Kyle. Narrowing her lips to a thin line, but still faintly smiling, she fixed her eyes on his and raised a middle finger. Kyle's smirk dropped a little. He held her eye for a few seconds until she wore him down, then looked away.
Erin lowered her finger and picked up her beer. She glanced over at Jim and found him already looking at her. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, as if to say, what can you do with this crowd? She raised her eyebrows back at him, smiling, and mirrored his head movement as she raised her glass to him and took a gulp.
The moment lingered just beyond comfort. Jim thought he could sense her mind whirring. Then she looked away, picking up on Bonnie's continuing rant.
"You gotta know how to code. More than that, you gotta have shown them you know how to code. Otherwise you're on the next train out. Y'all don't have to believe me, but I'm saying this cause I care about y'all, and I don't want to be showing y'all out the door just because I was the only one to use my 20% time sensibly." She let her words hang in the air for a few seconds and downed the last of her bourbon and cola. "Mmm. Lord, who's hungry?"
"Yes!" said Jim, a little too loudly, still thinking about the way Erin had glanced at him and trying to distract himself.
"Oh my god. I could murder some Chinese right now," said Kyle.
"Do you realise how that sounds, Kyle?" Erin, trying to get her own back a little.
"Chinese, fantastic. I am fucking starving," said Bonnie.
"Sounds good to me," said Darren.
They all looked at him -- Bonnie, Erin, Kyle, Jim, but also the quiet ones, Selma, Steve, and Paula. They were usually quiet, anyway. There was that one time Selma got quite drunk and really went for it at karaoke. Secretly, Steve hoped to see that Selma again tonight.
"I know you're all looking at me because I'm Asian," said Darren, haughtily.
A grin spread across Jim face as he looked over at Erin again. She caught his eye and widened hers, pressing her lips shut in an attempt to prevent herself laughing.
Darren sighed, then smiled. "But yeah, okay, there's a really good hotpot place round the corner."
Everyone broke up at that.
"Oh boy, I hope y'all don't look at me next tone someone says they want fried chicken," said Bonnie, prompting more laughter. "Now finish your drinks!"
*
Every guy thinks Erin is single the first time they meet her.
One, she is attractive. Flowing brown hair with blonde highlights, brightly expressive brown eyes, a small but appealingly curvy body.
Two, there's a mischief about her, a playfulness that seems flirtatious to any straight man.
And three, she might occasionally mention a significant other, but he's rarely glimpsed. Greg is his name, apparently, and he did come to Friday drinks just one time. He was nice, kind of quiet. They seemed close enough. But why do they seem to do so little together? Wouldn't he want to join her and her workmates for a beer each week? And if not, wouldn't she want to get home to him?
So when her straight male colleagues learned she was not in fact single, their interest dimmed only slightly, and temporarily. It didn't take many glances from those beautiful brown eyes to make them wonder: what if she and Greg were to break up? What if we somehow wound up alone in a bedroom somewhere? What if she were actually wondering all the same things about me?
*
The seating arrangement at the hotpot table went in a circle as follows: Darren, Bonnie, Kyle, Erin, Jim, Steve, Selma, Paula. Bonnie, as usual, was holding court, giving a running commentary on her enjoyment (or otherwise) of each aspect of the meal while Darren tried in vain to explain how she should cook her food. Selma and Steve quietly shared a plate of pak choi while they thought no one was looking, a conversation about the merits of the non-trilogy Star Wars movies distracting them from the commotion on the other side of the table almost as much as one another's faces, which seemed to grow increasingly attractive with each beer. And Paula, Kyle, Erin, and Jim basked in the Bonnie and Darren show -- until Paula broke in.
"You know, Darren, there is a better hotpot place in town."
"Get out of town!" Bonnie, unable to help butting in. Everyone laughed, most of all Bonnie.
"Wait a second," said Darren. "You're telling the token Chinese guy on the team that he doesn't know good Chinese food?"
Paula, blushing, replied, "I'm not saying that at all!" She became flustered and searched for words to defuse the situation until Darren put an arm around her and said he was just kidding.
"Don't you listen to him, hon," said Bonnie. "I saw fire in his eyes."
"Like you'd insulted his mother," added Kyle, leaning slightly into Erin as he spoke.
"Shut up, you guys!" said Darren. A pause, some silence as Paula -- sweet, serious Paula -- continued to collect herself.
