Another plate of something expensive that I just picked at, but never really ate. Another conversation droning on around me that I wasn't really trying to be part of. Another boring dinner with co-workers that I didn't really know, and didn't really want to know. Typical Wednesday night for me. It had been like this for the past three months, every Wednesday. Supposedly a suggestion from some 'higher-up' in the company to help improve inter-office communication. I just thought it was another way for the boss to control my life. I hated feeling controlled. It was said that if you didn't attend these 'dinners', you didn't exactly get into trouble, but you did find yourself... 'shunned' by certain parties at the old water cooler. That would have been fine with me. These were the same people that I ignored anyway. Unfortunately, Sara, the only person I did consider an actual friend at the office, lived for this extra attention from the 'office elite'. So here I was, again, sitting beside Sara while she flirted and simpered her way into another project that she wouldn't be able to even look at otherwise. Why did I do this to myself? Because I had no life...or maybe I was just a glutton for punishment.
"So have you met him yet?...Lila...have you met the new Manager for the Public Relations office yet?" Oh shit, that was Peter, trying to pull me into another senseless discussion about office politics.
"What? No, I thought they would pull in Marcy from Human Resources for the job." Not that I really cared, but I had to say something.
"Heh, not this time. They hired from outside the company. Some Euro-Trash from some minute little part of the world. I hear he doesn't even speak English very well. Why, on Earth, would they hire from outside, and pick someone who no one's even heard of, and some one who speaks with such an indistinct accent, for a Public Relations position? Much less to head it up?" he smirked.
"Maybe because he's good? Or maybe he's just that much better then you?" I plastered a sickly sweet smile on my face as I over dramatically batted my eye lashes at him. Giggles and chuckles ensued from all around the table. Peter didn't like the joke. He frowned at me and heat flashed in his eyes, for just the briefest of moments, then he smiled too. Just as sickly sweet as I had, and just as fake. "Besides, why does it matter to you anyway, Pete? It's not like you would have been up for that promotion, now is it?" I sighed. That wiped the smart ass smirk right off his smug little faced. This time my smile was genuine. He was such a boorish dick, and I loved taking every little jab I could at him.
Just as he opened his mouth to respond, and I could tell it was going to be nasty from the dark look on his face, the waiter stepped up with the separate bills for each of us. That occupied everyone with the effort of digging through wallets and purses to cover the cost of dinner that night. Most of us just put it on this card, or that card, and made a mental note to have it written off as a business deduction, and, if we were lucky, be reimbursed for it later. Peter made a point of glaring hard in my direction. I made a point of ignoring him. Although I knew he would definitely try something tomorrow at work, he didn't dare try it now...too many witnesses. That was alright with me...that's why I carried mace in my purse.
I walked Sara back to her car as she blathered on about the little tid-bits of office gossip she had picked up during the evening. Like I would care, but sometimes she did seem to find the juicy stuff. Which could sometimes come in handy when I needed an edge to get my hands on a project of my own, or just to get people to keep their hands off of mine. Sometimes I just liked letting people know that I knew, just to watch them squirm. After watching her get in her car and drive out of the parking lot, I walked the four or five steps to my car. I was so absorbed in thinking about the wasted evening that I didn't notice him at first. When I did finally see him standing at the back of my car I nearly jumped out of my skin. I almost screamed, but there was something about his posture, along with the very amused look on his face, that made me think he wasn't about to attack me.
"What the hell are you doing? What do you want?" I started to reach for the mace even before I finished my questions. He just stood there, leaning against the back, driver's side of my car. Long legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed, arms folded across his broad chest. Very relaxed, almost nonchalant. He was wearing the typical 'Young -business-go getter-heading-for-the-top-of-the-latter' suit. Dark slacks, dark jacket, crisp white dress shirt. Even the plain, dark tie he wore screamed "I'm trying very hard to look like I'm the boss!" Too serious, and way too stark. Was he one of Peter's little lackeys left here to try and intimidate me? "Look asshole, I don't know what you think you're doing, but you'd better get the hell away from my car!"
Seeing his relaxed, almost passive, stance I felt a little more bold as I started to step closer to the car door. As I pulled out my keys he stood up to his full height, which had to be at least 6' 4", and his smile broadened. His arms came down and moved to clasp his hands behind his back, still trying to look complaisant, it seemed. I still kept one hand on the mace in my purse, just in case. I was hesitant to actually put my keys in the lock. I had heard too many tragic stories about women being attacked as they tried to enter their cars, and the attacker abducting them as well, using the victims' own car. I figured I had a better chance to defend myself, or run if need be, out in the open. Again I looked up to his face, trying to judge what he was going to do. If I wasn't so freaked out by his alarmingly sudden appearance next to my car, I would have found him attractive.
