Page 99 of When There Was You
Damn. “I’d much rather join you than attend this company affair, but it seems like bad form to skip it.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Really. How about I try coming up that weekend? We can walk downtown and check out the department store windows, see the lights, have dinner.”
“I’d like that.”
“And you’ll think about Christmas? I’m dead serious about you staying all four days.”
His words burrow into the intended spot. “Mm-hmm.” It sounds perfect, honestly. Not like I want to sit home alone, crying into my pillow. “Thank you. It means a lot, Butch.”
He makes a little scoff. “Baby, you’re all I need for Christmas.”
Swoon. “Feet-sweeper-offer.”
“Who’s your daddy?” he says, lowering his already sexy timbre, and we both burst out laughing.
The office closes promptlyat five on Friday, with the holiday party immediately following at a restauranttwo blocks away. Most people dressed up for work, but some scramble to change before heading over. I’m still wearing my day-to-night outfit: a scoop-neck crimson sweater with a black skirt and matching heels. Val and I touch up our hair and makeup in the restroom, then walk over together, keeping a brisk pace despite our coats barricading us against the frigid air.
Welcome heat blasts us upon entering the establishment. We navigate through the crowded bar to the reserved back room, whereVirginia Nowemployees mingle. An open bar beckons, alongside tables brimming with appetizers and desserts.
“Alcohol first,” Val says.
“Definitely,” I agree.
We wait in a short line, then score our drinks. The first sip of my gin and tonic slides down easily, hitting the spot and serving as a primer to get through this party.
Val and I join a group of coworkers, where a discussion about a new Oliver Stone movie is underway. I half-listen. A Vietnam War setting.Platoon. Starring Charlie Sheen, the memorable degenerate inFerris Bueller’s Day Off. Based on Stone’s personal experiences. Academy Award buzz. Maybe Butch and I will see it at the theater.
The room grows louder as staff filters in. A band threatens to douse conversation with its cringey covers. Currently:Beat It. I give them twenty minutes until they trot outY.M.C.A.
I slip away to fill a small plate with nibbles, then stand in line for another drink. After a wait lengthy enough to polish off my food, I get my second cocktail in hand. As I crane my neck searching for Val or anyone recognizable, Don sidles up alongside me.
My whole body stiffens. I’m trapped.
He leans in close. “You look ravishing, Jacqueline.”
Gross. It takes effort to force my lips intoa weak smile.
“Hav…a…time?” he asks.
I don’t catch what he said over the music, and he repeats it next to my ear.
I flinch, my body jolting away from his hot breath. I school my features, lift my drink, and lie.Yes, having a great time, boss.
He grins, those hazel eyes twinkling, then leans in again. “I thought … see … before…” I’m only catching about half of what he says.
Pulling back, I shrug, pantomiming that it’s impossible to hear him above the noise. The band launches intoMacho Man. Still the Village People, and ten bucks saysY.M.C.A.is on the finale playlist when people are drunk enough for dance moves.
Don presses in so close to my ear that he touches the shell. This time, his voice rings loudly.“Follow me.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My blood chills in this now-humid room crammed with bodies as we navigate through the throng. The lyrics to the song they’re butchering only makes it worse.
Body…wanna touch my body
My boss gazes back, ensuring I’m following along like a dutiful puppy. Everything in my head screamsRUN,but at what cost? How should I handle this? What are his intentions?
Every man wants to be a macho man
