falling in love in an empty theater

Chapter Three

Work on Monday morning was a welcome distraction from my newest conquest, although Mateo seemed to be walking past my cubicle at abnormally often intervals. The diamond on my finger burned whenever I saw him, like the guilt I should've felt for thinking about Carter Bishop was manifesting physically. Of course, I wasn't too worried about it - there had been others before him, and there would be others after. Carter was just a rest stop, one I'd already stayed at for too long.

Already wanting to see him again was a problem, though. I was a one-and-done girl, flitting in and out of men's lives like a ghost. There when they fell asleep, and gone when they awoke. I wondered if Carter snored, or if he talked in his sleep like Mateo - and then promptly, laughed at myself for even comparing the two. They had nothing in common, aside from the fact that they both had an interest in me. And that, hopefully soon, I'd be sharing a bed with each of them.

The sound of someone stopping behind me pulled me from my thoughts of what Carter was like in the bedroom, surprisingly, when sleeping.

"Dump the coffee, Williams. I thought you didn't drink whiskey anymore?" My supervisor's voice rang out from over my shoulder, and I spun around in my chair with a smile.

"I've had a change of heart, Candice. Does that make me a criminal?"

"No, but if anyone else catches a whiff of that, you might get reported to HR. I could smell it from my office, and getting hitched to the CEO doesn't mean you can pass a piss test. I don't think even he could save you then, no matter how high-functioning you are."

"Christ. I just needed something to chase the Xanax. I'd dump it right now if I didn't think you needed a sip, too. Did Jim jack off in your Cheerios again?"

"I wish he did. I could get a sperm count and see why I'm not getting pregnant. You don't think he had a vasectomy, do you?"

"Oh, we can only hope. Kids are the worst, Candi. It might seem like a good idea now, but once it comes out, you'll never sleep again and your body will turn into mashed potatoes. The worst part is that diapers are so expensive, you won't even be able to afford another tummy tuck." I chewed on the top of my pen, trying to hide my grin.

"I told you to stop calling me Candi. It makes me sound like a hooker."

"More like an exotic dancer, I'd say. And it suits you." I raised my eyebrows and gave a once over of her conservative blouse, buttoned all the way to her neck. The loose-fitting business pants did little to soften the effect - a pastor's wife, maybe, or just the bargain-hunter that refused to spend more than two hundred bucks on a new pencil skirt. I mean, she had the money; she was just saving it for a 'rainy day'. What fun is a certificate of deposit if you don't blow it on a designer bag or red bottoms once you get the return?

"Speaking of provocatively dressed women, how was your weekend? I hope you managed to get enough material for an article that doesn't have to do with cheating on my boss." Candice's features stiffened in a smile. I made a slow show of popping a button on my top, pretending to fan myself as if the office wasn't freezing. Her eyes narrowed when I crossed my legs, showing off the expanse of knee my skirt revealed that, gasp, were not stocking-ed.

"Great! Thank you for asking, Candi. I bet yours was a lot better, though. Do prenatals taste as good as everyone says they do?"

"On second thought, do you have any more Jack hidden in that desk of yours?"

"Sure do," I pulled the bottle from underneath my computer, handing it to her with a smug grin. "I should really just get a flask, at this point, but that makes it harder to share."