This

Chapter 7

I grabbed my bag and headed to the elevator, hoping that I wouldn't bump into Psych-Olivia nor Stanley, and preferably not Mark either. As the elevator doors began to close I felt a sudden wave of relief washed over me, for I was alone in the elevator and I could enjoy the solitude as I rode the elevator down.

“Hold the doors,” I heard a voice say as a hand shot between the doors to keep them from closing. I groaned as they opened on the worst possible face I could possibly have been greeted with in that moment. Mark stepped into the elevator, the two of us standing side by side in awkward silence.

“So how are you finding work? It isn't too boring?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes at his attempt at a conversation.

“It was fine until an executive for the company I work for allowed me to completely embarrass myself and insult him at the same time, and while I was at it I bought myself a one-way ticket to getting my ass fired.” Mark chuckled at my little spiel.

“Executive, that's sweet,” he uttered, and I felt a ball of rage burn in my chest. This asshole wasn't even anyone important, how dare he make me feel like shit?!

“Then stop pretending you're important when you're clearly not, Mark.” The doors opened onto the ground floor, and I turned to look at Mark one last time before departing from the elevator.

“Tell your wife that her characterisation of David was fucking spot-on,” I spat, leaving Mark dumbfounded at my snarkiness. I hated the way he was such an egotistical bastard. His wife was probably some snaggle-tooth whore who sucked his dick once and decided it was love.

When I got back to the hotel I was still fuming, but instead of throwing things I decided to get dressed up and go out to take my mind off of things. I showered and dressed myself in a tight skirt with a white singlet top, and the highest heels I owned. Seeing myself in the mirror made my stomach twist in to knots. If my mother saw me dressed like this, she'd probably faint.

I ended up in some club down town, filled with scantily-clad women and men wearing baggy clothing. A few guys eyed me up and down, but the barely dressed woman were the winners of the male attention. After a couple of hours my feet were dying from dancing in heels and I was feeling pretty drunk, so I caught a cab to my hotel room and left myself a note to 'find an apartment' before I collapsed into a drunken coma on the bed.

The next morning when I woke up, I saw that I had fifteen minutes to make the half hour journey to work. I practically fell out of bed and ran out the door, spying my note from last night that I thought said 'find an apartment'; turns out I had written 'fnied a aptartmet'. Well done, Drunk Elle, you winner. Luckily for myself, the cabbie I had managed to snag was kind enough to avoid the heavy traffic roads and speed through the quieter streets, making my half an hour trip last only twenty minutes. I tipped him what I thought was normal, but by the look on his face I had just tipped way overboard, and that's when I knew I was still a bit drunk.

Everyone stared at me as I entered the office and walked over to my desk. Stanley leaned against the door frame of his office and smirked at me as he sipped his coffee, winking at me as I found a note on a manuscript; “Elle, see Boss-man ASAP.” Fuck. Not only was I probably in trouble for the whole manuscript business from yesterday, but I was also late, partially drunk and dressed like a secretary from a low-budget porno.