Ms or Miss? (Part 3)
Holly’s POV
I get neither an answer nor direction as to this sudden visitation by Liam and, as per usual; within 30 seconds have been insulted although I tell myself quietly that he doesn’t mean it – negativity? Buzzkill? Please. I’m a ray of fucking sunshine when I need to be.
Nodding although not as a reply to anything; a quick check of my emails emotes a groan of frustration. I hate drinks, I had socializing, I hate having to spend more time around the office family than is already expected of me to get a weekly paycheque. Slumping down into my seat, I kick some cables beneath my feet which result in the knocking over of that god-awful coffee and a spill to leak across the desk – ready to stain almost everything.
“Fuck me…”
It’s 10am and I have at least 13 hours of the day ahead of me before I can roll into bed and fall asleep – I’ll need luck to survive anything more than what the world is planning on putting me though today. Glancing up again, I shoot Liam a ‘do you mind?’ look which is followed by a not so well considered disclosure of, “You know you fluster me when you’re around. Do you really need to be here?” that is overheard for a few office folks who manage to tease me with the use of the confession for the rest of the day. By 5pm, I’m definitely ready for that drink Meyers has emailed about.
“A mojito please”, I request of the bartender, “Double strength.”Carson’s POV
Resting up inside the doorframe of Robin’s office; with hands in pockets I sigh out aloud in the hopes that she hears me, rather than having to make myself announced and wait patiently. The office hasn’t changed much since it was my own – with the addition of course, of a new senior writer and slightly updated magazine – it’s a wonder some days as to whether I should have taken the promotion my mentor waved in front of my face like candy to a child on Halloween.
“You ready?”
Not a word is said from the office to the cab to the bar which seems to be the usual measure as of late. It’s just work, stress, deadlines, clients and scooping the troubled out of deep water. Before we get there, I remind Robin – friend to friend rather than boss to understudy that every now and then it’s alright to switch off from work mode and enjoy one’s self; that there’s “no need to be in journalistic mode 24/7 otherwise you’ll burn yourself out completely.”
The rooftop is just as I like it – buzzing with a youthful sense of story and curiosity which I’m too old for but still get a kick out of. At the bar, I’m informed that my tab has already begun to ring up into the hundreds and tell the bar staff not to stress. Soon enough a whiskey sour is in hand. Flirty youngsters half my age whirling around, I notice from the corner of my eye someone who could stir trouble. Stepping in toward Robin, I’m sure she’s already noticed her ex, but watching the interactions these two have give me life.
“Charlie’s here.”
Charlie’s POV
Hearing my name whispered across the other side of the bar, I turn my head to look in the general direction of where the commotion came from and part want to roll my eyes, part – flattered that I was even mentioned. Ending the conversation with the pretty strawberry blonde whom has managed to hold my attention for a little less than five minutes, I maneuver through the crowd of bodies which has increased over the last twenty minutes and rest up against the bar to one side of an ex-girlfriend I haven’t seen in… well months.
Her boss, who I’ve had the innate pleasure of meeting a few times before raises his glass to toast some colleagues and leaves us alone briefly.
“Fancy seeing you here”, I start with a hint of sarcasm rolling off the tongue, “Strapped for story ideas and wanting to write about me or is this just an unforeseen styled occurrence?”
Either way, Robin is gonna get something a lot stronger than what she’s currently drinking.
“Bartender… tequila – two shots.”
