Page 32 of One Night in Vegas

“You are?”

“I am,” I said. “Next week. Let them know I can only do it next week.”

“What is this about?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Make sure it’s on my calendar please.”

“Have you been drinking today?”

“No,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I went down to the gym. I was going to put myself in her path. She was not going to get away from me. I was going to make her want the job. I envisioned myself spinning a web. A web that would catch her. She would be released though. I just hoped I released her the way she released me. I wanted her to feel that same crushing feeling of being dumped on one’s ass.

13

MACY

Iwasn’t nearly as hungover as I wanted to be. Part of me wanted to black out the whole part that included me seeing him again. I would have also liked to black out the part that meant I was stuck at this stupid job.

No fancy coffee machines and espresso by the gallon for me. I was stuck with burnt coffee in paper cups with stale granola bars for a snack.

But in the long run, I was better off. I would rather deal with my crusty team of professors than some dude that hated me. Some cocky, arrogant man that haunted my dreams and could still make me just a little wet between the legs with a simple look.

What kind of work environment would that be? I couldn’t work around him. Nothing would ever get done. I would constantly be in a state of heightened emotion. I was either going to want him to take me to bed or hate him to the point I wanted to kick his ass. It was just not a good mix.

It wasn’t fancy or pretty, but my work provided a paycheck. The expectations were pretty low. It wasn’t like I had to try to impress anyone. I should be thankful.

“Good morning,” I said to Harold. “Here’s your coffee, the newspapers from today, and your Tylenol.”

“I thought you were sick?” he muttered.

“I was. Now I’m not.”

“Good,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I’ll be at my desk.” I left the aroma of staleness in the cramped, dark office and went to my desk.

I sat down feeling nothing in particular. I wasn’t happy to be back, but I wasn’t necessarily sad. I was resigned to the future. I would look for another job, but I was no longer confident I would find one. I just needed to accept my lot in life. Be thankful for what I had and stop trying to aim too high.

“I need this printed,” Harold said and dropped a photocopy on my desk.

“How many?”

“I don’t know, maybe a hundred,” he muttered. “Donald—Professor Mitchell—his girl is out for the week. He asked if I could help him out with this thing.”

Which meant he was loaning me out to yet another department. This happened at least once a month. He was always lending a hand, which meant I took on extra work. “Okay.”

“I need this sent out to all the business majors and posted in the hall,” he went on.

“Sent out?” I asked. “As in a physical copy?”

He looked at me as if I was crazy. “Is there another way?”

“Yes, emails. That’s how most communication is done. I don’t know that anyone checks their mail on a regular basis.”

“Fine. Both. Just make sure everyone knows about it. It’s short notice. We want to make sure there is a good turnout. It makes the school look good.”

“I’m on it,” I said and put the paper on my stack of things to copy.