by Flynn, Mac
Just then Mrs. Winkle passed by on her routine inspection, and it looked like she was going to ignore her charge entirely until she happened to glance at her extended stomach. She came to a sudden stop and her face paled. Sam blinked and wondered if there was some food on her face or clothes but she looked down at her shirt and wiped her face, and there didn’t appear to be anything. She sat up and tried to make herself look a little more presentable, though, as she straightened her shirt and pressed out the creases in her skirt.
When she looked back up into Winkle’s face, there was a dark cloud over her brow. If they hadn’t been in the office setting, Sam would have worried for her safety. At it was, the proprieties of civilization saved Sam from probably imminent injury.
“Something the matter?” she asked her supervisor. She wasn’t sure what else to say. She certainly couldn’t bolt out of her cubicle with her standing there. When the other woman didn’t immediately reply, she pointed at the folders. “Oh, what am I supposed to do with these now? I got them all done.”
Winkle opened her mouth and the expression on her face warned Sam she was in for a barrage. Her supervisor must have thought better for it, however, and she quickly shut her trap. Winkle let out a simple, calming breath.
“Put them on my desk at the end of the day.” She was less angry than Sam expected, but there was something hidden deep in her tone. She was hiding something, and it wouldn’t be good when Sam found out the secret. “And I expect you to be there promptly at five. No later, no earlier.”
Winkle stalked off and Sam was allowed to resume her work in peace. However, as she recalled again and again the horrible expression on Winkle’s face, she was sure there would be more benefit than risk in escaping work a few minutes early. After all, she’d clocked in early that morning, and hell would freeze over before she found herself riding down an elevator with that woman. Especially if they were alone.
At the moment, however, she had bigger problems to worry about. Literally. Her stomach felt so cramped inside her skirt she worried the zipper wouldn’t hold. She had only one person to turn to for help at strange times like these, so Sam mustered her courage and peeked over the wall.
“Slinky?” she whispered. She didn’t want Winkle to overhear them. “You there?”
“Yeah, what you need?”
“You happen to have a belt stores someplace?” The only way she’d keep her skirt on was with assistance. “My skirt’s kind of, um…” There was no way to politely explain it without embarrassment.
“Kind of tight?” Slinky began rummaging around in her drawers. “You did eat enough to feed a small village.”
“I couldn’t help it,” she lamely objected, but her pout turned into a smile as her friend came to her rescue. She’d pulled out a thin belt from one drawer full of strange items. She swear she saw an iron before the drawer was closed. “Why are you keeping one of these things around, anyway?”
“Are you looking a gift horse in the mouth?” Slinky teased as she dangled the belt just out of reach. Sam tried to swipe it from her, but she pulled it back. “What do you say?”
“Are you going to give me them or just torture me?”
“That doesn’t sound like the secret word.”
“Please? Thank you? Gesundheit?” Sam was getting a little desperate as she felt the bands of her skirt tighten even more.
“That last one sounds good.” Slinky handed over the belt.
“I’ll give it back Monday, I swear,” Sam promised as she whisked away to the bathroom.
Safely in the confines of the stall, Sam now had the task of fitting the belt around her burgeoning waistline. For a moment, however, she unzipped her skirt and breathed a sigh of relief as the tension around on her stomach lessened. As she ran her hand across her waist she felt the deep lines from her skirt fabric where it had dug into her skin. She glanced at her watch and frowned. There were still three hours left of the workday. This was turning out to be the longest Friday in her life.
Bravely Sam zipped back up her skirt and strapped the belt around her waist. It fit with a little room to spare and she now felt like her skirt wasn’t going to drop down. Without her underwear she’d be flashing any innocent bystanders.
Fully prepared to face the remaining hours, Sam marched back to her desk and focused on her duties. Well, she tried to focus on them, and she succeeded for all of one hour before her unruly stomach began to clamor for food. She couldn’t believe her digestion system that day, and stubbornly she refused to satiate it’s demands with food for a good thirty minutes.
By that time, however, her stomach was loudly growling, enough so it caught Slinky’s attention and she glanced over the wall.
“I thought a bear was eating you or something,” she teased. “You hungry already?”
“Seems so.” Sam grudgingly pushed back her chair and stretched. “Any food in the break room fridge?”
“Only if you’re really hungry. Some of that stuff’s been around since the company was founded.”
“Great, maybe I can find a twinkie,” Sam countered as she stood. “Care for something?”
“I’m too young and beautiful to die, so I’ll just wait until after work.”
Sam made her way to the lounge and opened the fridge door. She cringed as a putrid smell wafted out, but her stomach growled and she forded on. After a few minutes of browsing through a wide variety of Jurassic junk and French Revolution food, she finally decided on a simple jar of pickles. The expiration hadn’t quite expired, but it only had a few weeks of life left. It also wasn’t opened nor did it have anyone’s name on it.
With her prize in one hand and a fork in the other, she didn’t even bother going back to her cubicle before she dug into the jar. She was so hungry she ended up choking on a few of the dills, and when they had disappeared down her gullet all that was left was the juice. There was only a little bit of hesitation before even that was downed in a few big gulps.
Sam tossed aside the jar and washed her fork, but she still wasn’t quite satisfied. The growing was gone, though, and nothing else looked edible. She didn’t want to risk poisoning herself just because she was having some sort of once-in-a-lifetime food craving. She’d also managed to kill another thirty odd minutes, so there only remained an hour left on this horrible Friday. Even that wasn’t positive, because she could leave a good five or ten minutes beforehand.
Sam walked back to her cubicle with a chipper smile on her face, but a sudden shouting match ruined her mood. She recognized both of those voices, and she knew there was trouble. Now she hurried around the corner of the hall and saw Winkle and Slinky wrestling with one another and each holding onto the side of a bag.
“Give it back, you thief!” Slinky yelled as she tugged on her end.
“This is none of your business!” Winkle snapped. Her clawed hands were wrapped around a black strap. “Now I order you to let go!”
“Like hell it’s none of my business! This is my god damn bag!” Sam moved in closer and realized her friend was telling the truth. It was the bag that had been hidden beneath her desk. “Now you let go before I call the cops!”
Being the younger of the two, Slinky gave a great tug and pushed back with her feet. The bag came loose from Winkle’s grasp and she fell forward even as her opponent fell back. Sam rushed forward and caught her friend before she hit the hard floor, but there was no one to help their supervisor as she crashed to the ground.
Winkle was only down for a moment, however, and when she sprang back up there was a trickle of blood oozing out of her nose. Her eyes were wide and her hands trembled with anger as she glared at her two adversaries.
“How dare you interfere in my official capacity!” she snarled. “I’m going to write a report so full of your disgusting display of rude and irresponsible behavior that even your father won’t be able to save you!” Her voice was at a high pitch and everyone was now looking over their cubicles to view the spectacle. Her flaming eyes darted over to Sam. “An
d you! You’re in on this, too, aren’t you! You two are planning something behind my back!”
“You’re bat-shit crazy!” Slinky yelled back as she shrugged out of Sam’s grasp. “I caught you stealing this out of Sam’s desk and I’m the one who’s gonna get written up? Like hell that’s gonna happen.”
“What the hell is going on?” Mr. Slink’s voice bellow as his door flew open. He stomped out into the hall and glimpsed the scene before him. “Can somebody explain to me why our office has suddenly become a shouting match full of mad women?” Slinky and Winkle both tried to get the first word, and he could see he’d asked for something impossible. “Enough!” he shouted to stop their squabbling. “I can see this isn’t going to work.” He looked between the two combatants, or who he assumed were the two adversaries. “Both of you, I expect a report on what happened giving your sides of the story, and since you’ve both decided to make fools of yourself with less than an hour’s work left, I expect the report on my desk promptly at eight Monday morning.”
“But dad-” Slinky tried to protest.
“No exceptions!” he snapped, and she flinched. “Now everyone get back to work!” He slammed his door so loud the walls vibrated.
Slinky was despondent over her father’s attitude, and Sam put her hands on her friend’s shoulders to comfort her. Their nemesis down the hall, however, was a look of pure fury across her face.
“You disgusting little whores,” she whispered loud enough only for their ears. “I’ll see to it you’re both fired.”
“Only if you lie on that paper,” Slinky shot back. She was in no mood to deal with their psychotic supervisor.
“That’s enough from both of you,” Sam interrupted. This would only turn into another yelling match. “Let’s just get back to work.” The suggestion was directed more at her coworker than Winkle. She had a feeling the woman wouldn’t listen to her advice, so she’d just be wasting her breath. “We’ve got less than an hour left before we can leave. Let’s just get it over with.”
Winkle saw the merits of stopping the argument and stomped off into her office. She slammed her own door almost as loud as Mr. Slink, but with fewer vibrations. Meanwhile, Sam led Slinky back to her cubicle and made sure she was all right.
“You going to be fine?” she questioned as her usually bubbly friend slumped down into her chair.
“Yeah.” She didn’t look fine. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she was trying not to blubber. “It’s just…he’s never spoken to me like that before. Not ever.”
“He’s probably already regretting saying that and he’ll be apologizing to you with some fancy restaurant,” Sam teased, but her companion only shook her head.
“I don’t think so. I made him look back in front of all my coworkers. I don’t think he’ll ever let me live this one down.”
“Well, look on the bright side.” Sam tried to figure something out, but her mind drew a blank. “You could, um, well…you could have to marry that guy your dad introduced you to a few nights ago.” Slinky snorted.
“There’s a problem there,” she noted. “I actually kinda liked him. He really wasn’t as stuffy as I thought he’d be.”
“Really?” A sly look came into Sam’s eyes as she leaned in closer. “Are you going to see him again?”
“Yeah, this weekend. He’s taking me out to one of those fancy restaurants.”
“All alone? No chaperon?”
“Yeah, just the two of us.” Slinky’s mood was lightening at her friend’s mischievous teasing. “Unless you wanna be that third wheel and get some free food out of it.”
“No way, I plan on sleeping in for the rest of my life after today.” Sam glanced down at the bag still tightly gripped in Slinky’s hand. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “So what happened between you and Winkle, anyway?”
“I caught that bitch trying to steal my bag out of your cubicle.” She pulled it up and into her lap as she looked for any damage. Other than stretching and tearing at the points where the straps met the bag, there appeared to be no damage. “I tried to grab it from her, and then all hell broke loose. She fought like her life depended on it.”
“Maybe it did.”
“Hunh?” Slinky wasn’t following her friend’s thoughts.
“What would happen if any of us was caught stealing something from someone else’s desk?”
“We’d probably get fi-” Slinky paused and her mouth dropped open. “Ooohhh. You think she went so crazy when she was caught because she knew she was gonna get fired for it?”
“Exactly. She’s been working here for how long? Twenty years or something.”
“I heard it was thirty, since she came in real young, so she’s probably really close to retirement. I wouldn’t want to miss out on that retirement package. I heard Mr. Cass is gonna be set for life when he leaves.”
“So that’s probably why she wouldn’t let go. That bag was the evidence needed to get her in trouble.” Sam glanced over all the pockets, but she didn’t notice if any of them were open. “Did she manage to take anything?”
“Good question.” Slinky went immediately to the main pocket, no doubt to the keys, and rummaged through it for a minute or two before she sighed with relief. “Looks like everything’s still there, especially these babies.” She lifted the key chain out far enough for Sam to see them, and then she dropped them back inside the pocket. “She probably wanted to take it to her office to make a good search of it. I wonder why she took it at all. I mean, it’s not like you’re hiding anything from her.”
Sam blushed and tried not to look too guilty. She wasn’t sure how much Winkle knew about her illicit relationship with Davies, but the supervisor knew enough to consider it a threat to whatever plans she had. She honestly wasn’t sure what Winkle had planned for the bag, however, and could only surmise it was to get her out of the good graces of Davies.
That’s when Slinky’s pager went off. She looked at the number and paled.
“It’s my dad,” she informed her friend. She sighed and accept her fate as she stood proudly to her feet. “I guess I better get ready for one hell of a talking to.”
“Good luck.” Sam wasn’t sure what else to say. Her friend wasn’t shaken, but she was nervous.
“I might need it and a stiff drink when I get out.” She glanced at the time. Forty five minutes left. “Maybe after this I’ll skip out. Make some excuse to go downstairs and not come back.” She glanced over at her comrade. “Want to come with?” Sam shrugged.
“I’m not really feeling all that well,” she reminded. She tapped the belt around her waist. “And I think I’d better work some of this stuff off before I go out drinking with you. You’ll drink me under the table and I’ll end up rocking myself to sleep.”
“I guess I’ll let that slide, but I need to warn you.” Her eyes darted to and fro as she leaned toward her friend. “I think Winkle’s gonna really get at you pretty soon.”
“You mean other than the bag?”
“Yeah. I heard through all those people I talked to that she’s got it in for you being right beneath her. I guess she feels pretty threatened by someone as young, pretty and talented as you being the new up and coming star of the place.”
“You’re kidding, right?” That had to be an outrageous exaggeration.
“Nope.” Slinky was dead serious. “I don’t know why, but there’s a rumor going around that you’re being groomed to be the new top dog of the management.”
“But I only just got here last Monday!” Sam protested. “There’s gotta be someone else here who wants the job that’s been working at it longer.”
“I guess it takes more than just seniority to get up higher than we are.” She gave her friend a comical smile. “Now if I were ambitious enough, I’d try to bump you off in the elevator.” Sam cringed at the idea. It sounded too close to what she suspected Winkle would do to her. Her friend noticed the slight fear in her manner, and slapped her shoulder. “Bah, you know how unambitious I am. If th
is cute guy I’m going out with asks me to marry him, I’d probably jump ship and become a housewife.” Sam laughed out loud at the image of her friend cleaning the apartment and burning the dinner. If Slinky was ever going to be a stay-at-home wife, she needed a lot of practice. “What’s so funny?”
“If that’s your plan, you might want to buy some cookbooks right now,” she teased.
“Hmm, you’ve got a point,” she noted as she rubbed her chin. “But if he kicks the bucket, I could be a rich widow. I can see the headlines now. Death by food poisoning. Lovely widow mourns loss of husband as she inherits millions.”
“You’ll never get away with it,” Sam sadly shook her head. “Anyone who’s had your cooking will know you must have forced him to eat it to get him poisoned.”
“Not if I cook him breakfast.” She rubbed her hands together, and then the beeper went off again. “Oh shit!” She tossed the bag into Sam’s hands and flew passed her into her father’s office.
Left literally holding the bag, Sam rolled her eyes and glanced at the clock. Forty more minutes. Maybe she would leave those ten minutes early just to escape this mad house and its inmates. Until then, she had a few errands to do which, if she were slow enough, would swallow the rest of the thirty minutes.
Slinky came out of the office about fifteen minutes later with a glum look on her face, but she brightened when she noticed Sam peek her head out of her cubicle.
“So how’d it go?” Sam whispered.
“Not as bad as I thought, but he gave me a real talking to about office etiquette,” she admitted with a resigned shrug. “He said he was gonna have to put a strike in my file, even if I was just saving my bag.”
“That doesn’t sound very fair.”
“That’s what I told him, but he said I should have figured out some other way to stop her stealing than starting a fight.” She sheepishly grinned. “He said I needed to stop treating this place like my playground and graduate to high school.”
“Has he seen high schools lately?” Sam laughed. “Those places aren’t exactly run like offices.”
