An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy) (15 page)

              ‘Jack is a dick,’ I told Melissa the following day.

              ‘Who?’

              We were in the kitchen again. She was tucking into another packaged sandwich; I had already hungrily munched my way through mine.

              ‘Jack,’ I said. ‘Maybe John.’

              She shook her head.

              ‘Jason? The guy who sits next to me.’

              ‘Andrew,’ she said with a nod and a smile.

              ‘Yes,
him
,’ I shrugged. ‘He’s a dick.’

              She giggled. I liked her giggle, it was soft, endearing. ‘What makes you say that?’

              I shrugged. ‘It’s complicated. Just, I don’t know, watch out for him.’

              She looked at me silently for a moment, deep in thought. She picked at her egg mayonnaise sandwich, grabbing small chunks of it and popping them into her mouth, taking her time to chew them thoroughly.

              ‘Okay,’ she said eventually.

              ‘He hasn’t said anything to you yet has he?’ I asked, trying not to come across as suspicious or crazy but sounding like I was about to murder her and stuff her body into the fridge.

              She shook her head, teasing a small chunk of bread onto her tongue and pulling it into her mouth.

              ‘Good, just be--’

              Movement from the doorway behind Melissa interrupted me. I swallowed my words and my confidence as the manager’s wife walked in.

              ‘Good afternoon,’ she said, winking at me over Melissa’s shoulder.

              Melissa turned and replied, just missing the wink, I stayed silent.

              She drifted into the kitchen with the grace and confidence of a supermodel. I sat rigid with the awkwardness of a teenager
watching
a supermodel.

              Melissa flashed me a warning glance, she tried to tell me something with her eyes, probably that the horny middle-aged woman behind her was the manager’s wife and wasn’t picky about where she had sex, or who with. But I already knew that.

              ‘I better get going,’ Melissa said after a cursory glance at her watch.

              I watched her leave, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

              ‘Hello Kieran.’ The cougar sat down opposite. She didn’t have a yogurt this time, but her tongue was toying with her lips again.

              I glanced around; making sure no one was nearby. ‘Listen,’ I said, leaning in, ‘what happened yesterday was a mistake, I don’t--’

              ‘A mistake?’ she fluttered her eyes like a cartoon character. ‘Oh, you do say some cruel things,’ she said, exaggerating offence.

              ‘It's true; it was a mistake, we--’

              ‘So you don’t want to do it again then?’ she said, perking up.

              ‘What? No, who--’

              ‘Me. You. Now. Storeroom?’

              She leaned back, exposing her breasts which were tightly pressed into a low hanging blouse. A frilly black bra strap had slipped out from under the blouse and ran a tempting line over slender shoulders.

              ‘I don’t--’

              She plucked at the strap, peeling it away. Then she lowered the blouse, exposing the flesh beneath.

              ‘Just this once,’ I warned, pointing my finger at her.

              ‘Just this once,’ she agreed.             

              We had sex in that storeroom every day for the next two weeks. I found out her name was Charlotte, but she preferred I called her Mrs Mann. She said it made her feel dirtier. She liked to feel dirty.

              The sex started out simple. We met in the storeroom every dinnertime and had sex up against the shelving unit, keeping an ear out for anyone who might pass by outside. But Mrs Mann grew louder with every session and would avoid any attempts I made to silence her. It was almost like she wanted to be caught.

              On the fifth day she told me the storeroom was off bounds and insisted we have sex in the kitchen. I refused, but she undressed and after that it was all an anxious and sexy blur.

              I vowed never to have sex in such a risky place again -- and told myself never to eat off the kitchen table again -- but that was just beginning. During the second week she came to my cubicle under the guise of handing out instructions pamphlets, when no one was looking she dipped under the desk and gave me a blow-job. I saw Jack looking over at me a few times, wondering why I was smiling and where Mrs Mann had suddenly disappeared to. He looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t be that stupid.

              It all came to a head on the third week. I had secured a weekend cinema date with Melissa and was about to face my fears and blow it off with Mrs Mann. Things were looking up, I was confident I could do it. Then, minutes before the dinner break, the manager burst into the call room.

              I had never seen him animated in the few weeks I had been working there. He was grumpy and generally miserable, but here he was slamming his fists onto the empty cubicle desks, throwing pencils, staples and stacks of paper.

              Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. A couple of employees had to duck you of the way of flying objects.

              ‘Bitch!’ he was repeating over and over. He was practically growling it; the sound seemed to come from a dark place deep inside of him. ‘Fucking, fucking bitch!’ he screamed, just for variety.

              I felt my heart skip so many beats I was technically dead. I had worried this moment would come, but I had hoped it wouldn’t. I tried to avoid eye contact and told myself that he didn’t know I was sleeping with his wife.

              ‘The fucking slag!’ he spat, his voice filling the office and the street outside.

              Okay, he probably knew.

              Tears were pouring from his eyes. His hands were still working aggressively on a nearby empty desk, but he was now slipping to his knees. Everyone was still watching, unsure what to do.

              ‘Are you okay sir?’ one employee said from a distance.

              That seemed to awaken Mr Mann. He jumped back to his feet and pointed at the sympathetic talker. ‘You! You!’ he screamed. ‘
All of you
,’ he waved his hand around the room, looking at each of us in turn but failing to make eye contact with me. ‘
One
of you!’

             
Make your mind up.

              ‘What’s wrong?’ this time it was Melissa who spoke. I felt a sting of empathy for her and was ready to launch into an attack should the angry man pick on her. He didn’t.

              ‘Someone has been fucking my wife!’ he spat, throwing his arms around maniacally. ‘In my office! On my fucking desk!’

              I gulped. The office had been her idea. The kitchen didn’t seem appropriate anymore.

              Mr Mann continued his tirade for ten minutes before flopping to the floor, exhausted.  There was an awkward pause where everyone exchanged glances and silently asked
should we go to dinner now?
And when the first person did, they all followed. Leaving Mr Mann in a sobbing heap.

              A handful of employees disappeared outside for a smoke, hoping into relax and exchange gossip after the spectacle. Together with Melissa, another female employee and a man named Paul, I ducked into the kitchen for a sandwich and some gossip.

              ‘I think it’s Jack,’ I said, fairly quickly.

              They all looked at me. Paul spoke first, ‘Who?’

              I waved my arms about as if to pluck his name from mid-air.

              ‘I think he means Andrew,’ Melissa clarified with a giggle, the innocence of which had been affected by the scene in the call-room.

              ‘Could be,’ Paul said.

              ‘He seems the sort,’ the woman agreed. ‘I’ve seen Mrs Mann near his cubicle a lot.’

              I nodded exasperatedly. ‘Me too,’ I agreed. ‘I’m right next to him. I see her all the time.’ I felt bad for lying, so it felt good to tell the truth.

              ‘He kept talking about how she looked the other day as well,’ Paul added, ‘that she was flustered a lot, that she had a glow. Looked like she had sex a lot, he said.’

              ‘Seems an odd thing to say,’ Melissa remarked.

              ‘Very odd,’ the woman agreed.

              ‘Indeed,’ I added, feeling as if I should get involved.

              ‘And he
is
a very shifty character,’ Paul added.

              The rumour mill had started turning already. I had blurted out his name on a whim, keen to keep my job and not to lose Melissa. But as the belief spread I began to feel bad for Adam. I didn't like the guy, there was something so innately dull and mediocre about him, but it still wasn’t right to let him go down for something he didn’t do.

              Paul began to say something else but was cut short by the sound of restless sobs. We all turned towards the door to see our despondent manager trudge through, his head held low as the remnants of despair trickled out of his mouth.

              I felt terrible seeing him in that state, even if it was a refreshing change from his usual facade of Dickensian cantankerousness. I wanted to stand and own up, but I restrained. My honesty wouldn’t make him feel any better and it would make me feel a hell of a lot worse.

              ‘Derek, sit down,’ Melissa said reassuringly, the deepest grain of sympathy etched in her soft tone.

              He flopped down on an empty chair. I immediately felt uncomfortable in my own skin and wanted to jump right out of it. Preferably into a large hole.

              Melissa rested a hand gently on his slumped shoulders. I wished she would do the same to me, I needed reassuring as well. I was shitting myself. ‘Talk to us,’ Melissa said to Mr Mann. ‘You can tell us anything.’

              ‘We’ll help you find out who did it,’ Paul said.

              I looked at my fellow employee, staring daggers into the side of his face.

             
What a stupid thing to say,
I thought.
I should have blamed him instead.
             

              Mr Mann shrugged; he was in a world of his own. ‘I don’t know who did it, but I know her type,’ he explained slowly, lifting his head up to meet the gazes of his expectant employees. ‘She likes them young, dumb and innocent.’

              I was looking at the floor but I was sure he was staring at me at that point. I could feel his eyes burning into my guilty head.

              ‘She senses their fear and stupidity like a shark sensing blood,’ he continued as everyone hung onto his words.

              If I had gained anything positive out of this situation it was to be that at least an attractive woman had liked me without even getting to know me. Now I was beginning to doubt whether she had at all, maybe she just thought I was stupid and naive. Maybe I
was
her type.

              ‘I’ll find him,’ he finished, determined.

              I looked up slowly, expecting to see him glaring at me. He wasn’t.

              ‘Like Paul said,’ I explained. ‘We’ll help.’

              He looked at me and softly smiled. ‘She’s a bitch,’ he said after a short pause. ‘She’s done it before, more than once. I thought she had finished, I thought we were okay now.’

              ‘How did you find out?’ Paul wondered.

              Both women had arms around the manager now. His sobbing had ceased but the melancholia lingered on his breath like a stale mint.

              ‘My desk had been cleared. My files, everything, just shoved aside or to the floor.’

              I cursed to myself. She had promised she would clean up.

              He continued: ‘I found her knickers as well. She left them there on purpose; she did this to hurt me. I just--’ he broke down again, catching his head with outstretched palms and sobbing loudly into them. ‘I don’t know why she does it!’

              ‘She doesn’t deserve you,’ Melissa said comfortingly. ‘You’re a sweet, sweet man.’

              ‘And she’s a bitch,’ I added, maybe a bit too personally.

              Melissa stared at me, I stared right back. ‘Well, she is isn’t she?’ I insisted.

              ‘You can’t say that--’

              ‘He’s right,’ Mr Mann said, rising to meet the room again. ‘She
is
a bitch. I should have never married her. I should have never forgiven her.’

              An unsure silence descended. No one knew how to follow that remark.

              We all contemplated the silence for a moment. Derek wiped tears from his eyes. His breathing slowed. He seemed to soften again, but he was exhausted, beaten by the tears.

              Eventually he broke the silence. ‘She likes to take their virginity and rub my face in it.’

              ‘Sounds messy,’ I said quickly.

              Everyone around the table looked at me and I immediately regretted speaking. I hadn’t wanted the awkward silence to coat the room again so I had said the first thing that came to my mind.

              I slapped a hand to my mouth. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said through the gaps in my fingers, ‘sometimes I try to make jokes when I’m uncomfortable.’

              ‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’ Derek responded without missing a beat.

              ‘No. No. Not in the least,’ I hesitated, hoping someone would cut in and save me. They didn’t. ‘I mean
yeah
, a little bit. But you have every right, considering.’

              I ran that over in my head quickly. Did it sound like I said he had the right to make me uncomfortable because
I
was the guilty party?

             
Shit.

              ‘Because of your wife,’ I reiterated. ‘Being a slut and everything,’ I finished with relief. Everyone was staring at me, wide-eyed disbelief on their faces. I didn’t mind, I could have said a lot worse, I almost had.