The Official Office Games

Victoria's POV

I try to think about rainbows
When it gets bad
You've got to think about something
To keep from going mad-
I try to think about big, fat roses
When the ship starts going down
But my head is wicked jealous;
Don't wanna talk about it right now.

These past couple of days having extremely vexing for me. As I'm driving down the morning commute, I feel an urgency to rip out my radio and toss it across the highway. What has caused me to act so aggravated? Some that know me well might say that it's because Cole and Claire- the obnoxious double Cs- have hooked up.

But that is not the case.

A new chica has moved up to our section. She’s a little timid, not very ugly but not pretty either, and a diligent, organized worker with a steady head; a little like myself. We should be best buds, right?

Absolutely wrong!

It seems that Cole has taken an interest in her. He's jumped from Claire to this new meat as if he were an STD.

Her name is Haylie.

Haylie has officially become my personal Hell.

She's definitely not mean-hearted; she's fairly bashful and polite. What had troubled me about her is that she had done in three minutes something I would never have dared to hope to accomplish in three years.

And so the past two days have put me in a very, very dark mood.

There's just something about you that gets me in a twist. And sometimes I think that cupid is just taking a piss...

And now No Doubt is taunting me about the epic failure of my personal life through lyrics I'm usually fond of. Every song in my mix tape that plays in my car seems to link to me and Cole, so all of the songs I love are currently annoying the hell of me.

I flip to the next song.

It's funny how I find myself in love with you; if I could buy my reasoning, I'd pay to loose...

GAH! And I rip the cd out, consequently having to listen to mainstream crap for the rest of the drive.

By the time I had reached work, my head was buzzing with even more breakup songs like 'Hot and Cold' and 'Teardrops on My Guitar'; I was practically blubbering.

What a great way to start 30, hmm? Please note the venomous sarcasm in my voice.

I ride the elevator to the eighth floor where our section's cubicle's were at, a Dunkin' Doughnuts coffee cup in my hand, and the advertisements I worked on the night before on the newest John Frieda and Cover Girl products that Boss wanted me to do, both tucked under my arm in a manila folder.

Haylie's already there, typing away busily on her first assignment, whatever that may be; apparently she comes as early as I do. Oh, did I mention? Her cubicle is right next to mine.

Bloody hell.

Curtly, I sit down in my rolly chair and turn the CPU on; playing FreeCell once it was up. I had been given no further assignment, so I was left to fiddle with my hands and watch the time crawl by. Jeez, Cole was right. I had no life.

After some time, Haylie eased back in her chair for a break, rolling her shoulders and her wrists to prevent arthritis. She looks over at me hesitantly.

"So... the living barbie's a pain in the arse, huh?" Haylie asked in her attempt to break the ice.

I offer her an aloof raised eyebrow, suggesting that I was annoyed, but inside, really, I was grinning bemusedly. No truer words had been spoken.

"Come on, you know it. You just wanna jab a pencil into one of her boobs and watch the water-bag in her bra leak."

I slip a giggle. Okay, I admit, that was flippin' hilarious. She smiled, and I extinguish the lightness in my mood right away, remembering that she was on my hit-list, along with 'the barbie' herself and her troupe of clueless bimbos.

Cole- I mean, that guy- climbed up the stairs. "Hey, Cole!" Haylie called, and my sour mood returned.

"Hey, Hayes. Victoria," Cole greeted. I pointedly ignore him and busy myself with the manila folder.

"Okay, weird," he muttered to himself and stalked off.

Cole's POV

'Bitch' was radiating from her so brilliantly, that Claire would have been proud.

Speak of the devil; there she came stumbling up the stairs. "Cole..." she mumbled once she reached me, leaning on one of my shoulders for support “… H-how are you, darling?” she drawled. Mascara was smeared around one eye and there was no eyeliner on the other eye. I could smell alcohol on her breath.

"Claire," I hissed, "What the hell? Are you drunk?"

It was a rhetorical question, but she lurched to one side and giggled, "Of course not, silly. Intoxication is unbecoming of a proper lady."

That explained it.

I stopped her from falling over to one side. "Excuse us," I said quickly as I led her to the bathrooms to wash the makeup she had applied messily. Haylie looked alarmed. Victoria looked amused.

I sighed as we turned to leave, Claire occasionally tripping over her lethal, tall heels and looking absolutely muddled.

God, these trickeries took way too much work.