Getting Chased

Chapter 7

I'm awaken by a rapid tapping on my shoulder. I groan, rolling over, only to be met with the cold, hard ground.

"Ouchie!" I stand up and glare at the ground accusingly.

Sam is racing around my apartment, grabbing his phone, his wallet, and his keys. "Sorry you woke up so harshly. We slept in."

My eyes widen in terror. In all my nine years of having a job, I have never once been late. My eyes become the width of saucers when I check the clock. 12:44. The numbers glower at me, telling me to get myself ready for the career I'm supposed to be at right now. Hell, I was supposed to be there at 8!

I make a mad dash for my room, screaming, "We slept in!". Pretty much exactly like the parents from Home Alone. I throw on the first shirt I see, not bothered by the fact that I've already worn it this week. I scoot my hips into pants -yes, pants- that are against the business dress code, then fly through the living room.

Sam stands behind me, eyes wide in awe. "Geez, girl. Were you a track star?"

I laugh, mashing my feet into the pair of shoes I left by the door last night. I take a brief look at myself in the mirror, letting out another groan. My straight blonde hair is puffed on one side from how I slept on it, and the skin around my brown eyes is streaked with mascara.

I sigh, pulling my hair into a ponytail and wiping under my eyes. Luckily, I have a secret bag at work to fix me up if I ever came in with a hangover. I think this might be worse.

"Great, this is wonderful. I'm gonna get fired, and I'm going to be terminated, and Miriam will never write me a letter of recommendation because she's going to see me today and she'll see that I'm not perfect, and then she'll fire me." I whirl around to Sam, who is patiently waiting for me to finish my rant. "And guess what else? She'll tell me as soon as she sees me 'Little miss Perfect doesn't seem so perfect now, does she'. And then it will finally be my time to commit a felony by punching my boss. Doesn't that sound fun?"

Sam hides his smile behind his hand like a prissy southern bell. "Well, no. Not fun at all."

"You're right! It does not sound fun because you know what?"

Sam pretends to be interested, leaning in to me. "What?"

I'm right in front of the door, walking into the hallway. "Miriam is the person who would press charges for anything she could. Even though she totally deserves a slap to the face. You know what she did?"

The elevator dings and opens its doors moments after I pressed the button. Under his breath, Sam whispers, "Why wasn't the elevator this fast last night?" Then, his attention focuses back on me and my tirade. "What did Miriam do?"

I scoff like I just received the news and I'm telling his first-hand. "She gave me five topics to choose from to write my own article. My own article. Can you imagine the nerve? And they were all shit ideas. I mean, am I supposed to give gifts for Thanksgiving? Sure, if it's a gun for them to kill you with."

Sam's shoulders shake in withheld laughter. The elevator dings, letting us into the lobby. I power walk down the white tile, pushing my way out the doors.

Sam and I rush to the subway station, running into the tram as it begins to move. We sit down, still out of breath.

"Anyway." I lean down to catch my breath. "How do you like your job? I have a feeling you're the kind of guy who follows his dreams and gets the career he's always wanted."

Sam shakes his head ruefully. "Damn, I wish. I work in a PR firm."

I frown, confused. "What's so bad about that? You probably get to see something new every day, right?" His face remains frowned. "What? Are you an intern?"