In the Company

The remainder of the day drug on, and by the time we could leave for work I was all but itching to get home. I insisted that we walk, stopping by our favorite coffee shop to get some muffins and a drink, before I drug Rose into the liquor store to pick up a bottle of Dom and a box of beer for our night in.

“Ugh, I’ve been waiting all day to get out of these,” I groaned as I kicked off my red pumps. I loved them to death, but my feet were absolutely killing me by the time we’d walked in the door. I was unbuttoning my dress shirt on the way down the hall and to my room, ready to pull on a pair of sweats and a baggy old T-shirt before planting my ass on the couch where it would stay for the night. As soon as I was in the door I shed all of my business clothing and opened my closet to find something comfortable to wear.

“No doubt - those things are what? Six, seven inches?” Rose called from her own bedroom. She always made fun of me about my shoes – I loved high heels like nobody’s business, but most of the time I paid for it by the time I got home.

“Six,” I mumbled to myself as I pulled my T-shirt over my head and piled my hair into a messy sock bun on top of my head. After kicking my work clothes to the general direction of my laundry basket I exited my bedroom and turned the television on so we could listen to some music. I poured us each a glass of Dom before replacing the bottle in the fridge; placing Rose’s glass on the table as I got ingredients out to make lasagna. I knew Rose needed to relax, and I was more than happy to comply by taking control of making dinner and organizing our evening.

“Oh my God, thank you,” she sighed, taking a long sip as she slid into a chair, novel in hand. It had only been a few days, but the anticipation of this assignment and the stress we were about to be under was already taking its toll on us.

“No problem. Lasagna’s on the go,” I informed her as I turned back to keep an eye on what I was doing. We wouldn’t be eating until later, but we’d get to eat a nice meal and I would have left overs for lunch at work.

It was the one thing I’d really taken from my mother; she had loved to cook, and the only really good memories I had with her was when I was just a child and we’d spend hours cooking and baking together. That had ended by the time I was eight, but the love of being in the kitchen had stayed even after all of the issues I’d had with my parents. It was sometimes a release and a way to shrug off things that were bothering me for a little while. Then my grandmother had kind of encouraged my love of baking, because it was about the only thing my grandparents had approved of that I did. So for a while I’d done as much as I could to try and earn their approval, but once I realized that there was nothing I could do I had completely dropped both things. It was only since moving to New York that I’d re-discovered my love of cooking and baking, which Rose appreciated.

Getting the ingredients together and starting to organize our meal immediately began to calm my nerves. I began humming along to the music while I made my way through the kitchen, letting the smells engulf me and fill the apartment while Rose sat quietly and immersed herself in her novel.

Once I had the lasagna in the oven we retired to the living room – Rose’s nose was buried in her novel while I surfed through the television channels for something to watch. It was a nice, quiet and relaxing way to spend an evening after all of the stress that Deena had put us under. We were about halfway through our champagne bottle, and I could feel that my face was already turning red. Another lovely perk of being so damn pale all of the time; anything that wasn’t rye or beer made my face flush even darker than my hair.

“Come on, please,” Rose begged, batting her eyelashes at me as if it would make a difference in my decision. I groaned and flopped backwards over the arm of the couch, wishing I’d kept my damn mouth shut instead of mentioning that Pretty in Pink was on TV.

“Ro-ose,” I whined and drug out her name like I was a little kid, making her pull a pout to try and convince me to watch it.

“Please?”

“Ugh, fine,” I huffed and selected the movie channel before getting up to check on the lasagna and refill my wine glass.

We ate in front of the TV; well on our way to being absolutely smashed as we watched stupid movies and continued drinking our way through the Dom and box of beer before I emptied the little bit of whiskey I had in the cupboard beside the fridge.

By the end of the Lion King we were a mess in the living room – a pile of giggles and ridiculous bouts of laughter at nothing – and any of the day’s earlier issues were long since forgotten. There was no mention of our job, David, or any other problems that had been plaguing us. I was about to put in another film when the phone rang, and I had to scramble to find my cell phone and read the caller ID before the person hung up.

I didn’t recognize the number or the area code, and after a blank look and a shrug from my roommate I connected the call. Immediately I was met with loud music – whoever was calling me was in a club or a bar – and that made me think that it was an accidental call.

“Hello? Ryleigh? Is that you?” my brow furrowed as I tried to recognize the voice that was on the other line.

“Yes… who is this?”

“Uh, it’s Jon. Look, I’m really sorry that I’m calling you, but I um… I need some help,” I sat up straight, and saw the alarm on Rose’s face from my reaction.

“Um… well, that depends on what it, uh, is,” I slapped a hand over my mouth as I hiccupped, hoping Jon hadn’t heard it or had any indication of the fact I was drunk.

“I need some help… I can’t get Patrick out of this bar and I really didn’t know who else to call,” he quietly admitted. I covered the bottom of my phone and groaned, before taking a deep breath.

“Okay, and you think he’s somehow going to listen to us?” I asked as I chewed on my lip.

“I figured it might be worth a shot,”