What Stays in Vegas (2 page)

Speaking of which, those tracks taunt me.  They make me think of where I could go if I were on one of those trains.  It’s all very silly as I know exactly where that train goes.  Boston.  And what would I do in Boston that is different from what I do here?  Most likely I would work at another civil engineering company as another administrative assistant.  Perhaps I would work in a high rise building, or for a bigger and more important firm.  I would definitely spend more of my paycheck on lunchtime shopping.  So maybe I am better off where I am.

“Have a seat," said Tom, who had already managed to get back to his desk and start typing an email.  The man could type emails in his sleep.  I pushed aside a set of plans and sat myself down on the leather couch, studying the top of his curly gray head as I waited.  I could literally tell by his hair how much energy he had.  Each curl was unusually perky that afternoon, as if they had personally taken a sip from the bucket sized cup of coffee on his desk. 

With a few more brisk taps to his keyboard Tom sent off his email and leaned back in his chair.  It was a little hard to take him seriously with the framed picture of the very first built Jiggly Kitty strip club hanging on the wall behind his head, but I tried my best.

“So,” he said, “do you remember Kendra Stoltz?  Branch Manager out in our Las Vegas office?  I think you met her at the Christmas party.”

Ah, the
Flamhauser-Geist Holiday Gala.  This is when all four branches converge on a hotel ballroom dressed in their finest, get totally shitty from the all-night open bar, and are kindly asked by hotel management to find themselves another venue next year.

I remembered the night quite clearly.  Nick and Megan were slow dancing to
Wonderful Tonight
, and I could tell that Nick was singing the lyrics into her ear.  Totally vomit-worthy.  I stood by the bar downing a gin and tonic, while some freakazoid from Las Vegas tried to make conversation.  He said his name was Todd Stoltz and that he had a Twister board upstairs in his room.  Clothing optional.  At that point I excused myself and hurried off to the ladies room where I noticed a blonde kneeling in front of a toilet trying not to vomit.

“Are you alright?” I called over to her from the sinks.  She sniffed and wiped her mouth with about three hundred squares of toilet paper. 

“Too...many...shots.  Look, look what I did.”  She turned and jabbed at a bluish stain smack in the middle of her white dress.  “My husband is so embarrassed.” 

“Oh I’m sure he won’t even remember any of this tomorrow,” I said.   I pulled a travel sized stain removal stick out of my purse.  “Come sit over here, we'll get that stain right out.”  I sat her down on the ladies room couch and rubbed some stain remover into her dress.  It didn’t exactly come out as I’d promised, but it did turn to a lighter shade of blue.

“Oh my God, I love you.  You’re the awesomest awesome person ever." She hiccupped and held out her hand.  “I’m Kendra.  Kendra Stoltz."

Stoltz
.  She had to be kidding me.

“Tessa,” I said, shaking her hand and trying not to picture her husband upstairs playing a game of naked Twister with the housekeeper.  “From the Massachusetts office.”

"Jessica," she muttered, closing her eyes.  "That's a pretty name."

"Actually it's - "

"Jessica," repeated Kendra.  "You're my new best friend."  She leaned over and gave me a drunken, sloppy, hug. 

After that, I had helped her off the couch, walked her back to the ballroom, and never saw her again.

“I think I met her briefly in the ladies room,” I said to Tom.

“Well, you must’ve made quite an impression.  I got a call from her last night," he said.  "Her assistant will be g
oing on maternity leave and she needs somebody to fill her place.  She’s requested you, Tessa.  Actually, she requested somebody named 'Jessica,' but I put two and two together."  Tom smiled. 

The words took several seconds to sink in.  Las Vegas.  Maternity leave.  She requested Jessica
. 
I was Jessica!   

“You want me to go to Las Vegas?”  I asked slowly.  “You’re serious?”

“Completely serious,” said Tom.  "It's a three month deal."

  Despite the joy rising up inside of me and the desire to scream "Yes!" from the roof tops, I was slightly insulted that they would just hand me over for three months.  Who would type their letters?  Send their faxes?  It is true that a monkey could do my job, but I didn’t think there were any other monkeys so readily available.

“But, um, don’t you guys need me here?” I asked.

“Tessa, don’t think for a second that we’re happy about losing you.  But you know Kendra, she has a lot of pull around here.”  He pushed his glasses to the top of his head where they were instantly swallowed up by curls. 

Kendra did have a lot of influence in the company.  Perhaps I didn’t mention that she is also the daughter of company President, Mr. Sean Flamhauser, owner of the very couch upon which I sat. 

“It's just temporary anyway, and we can make do with Donna until you get back,” said Tom.  

Fifty-seven year old Donna Spang - when she wasn't outside smoking she was  inside enveloped in a cloud of hairspray.  So basically, the company just wasn't going to survive. 

“It’s a free trip to Vegas, Tessa.  I would never stand in your way.”

“I'm just shocked," I said.  "I mean I only met Kendra for like ten minutes, and that was a
year
ago.”

“Hey, whatever happened between you two in that ladies room, it worked." said Tom.  "I requested a transfer to Vegas quite a few times and never got it.”

“Oh no!” I said.  “You wanted to leave us?”

“This was years ago, back when Donna was the only admin around here.  Half the office probably put in for transfers.”  He gave me a wink.  “But I guess I didn’t have the right connections.  Maybe I should have hung out more often in the ladies room.”

“I’m thinking that would have landed you in jail, not Vegas.” 

I know that I called him stupid earlier, but I really love Tom.  He has never spoken a single harsh word to me, and for the most part has always treated me like I actually have a brain.  In return, I developed loads of respect for the guy, which is not something many people can say about their bosses.  You might even say that I will miss him.

“So it’s settled?” he asked.  “You accept?”

“Of course I accept!”   An icy rain was once again beating down on the window behind him.  The weather was only going to get worse around here, but now it no longer mattered.  I was going to Vegas.

We sat and talked for a few more minutes.  Tom made a joke about how I shouldn’t gamble away all my paychecks.  I said something back about how I was sure I’d find other ways to spend my money in Vegas.  Then I kind of wished I hadn’t said that.  Even with a sense of humor, there are things you regret saying to your boss.  But he was cool about it, as usual.  He told me I was to leave in early January, and that Flamhauser-Geist would be putting me up in one of those business hotel suites, all expenses paid. 
Me
in a hotel suite on business.  All expenses paid.  It is a crazy world we live in.  

A train full of commuters passed below Tom’s window and tooted its horn.  For once I did not wish to be on it, as Boston seemed rather dull after this unexpected turn of events. 

- 3 -

This strange little hobby I have started when I was on the phone one morning with Jiggly Kitty tech support.  Their web based document upload system hadn’t been working, so I sat there on hold for at least half an hour and I began bending a paperclip.  Then I started bending two paperclips.  By the time a human being came on the line, I had crafted a perfect little stick figure.  And by the time I got off the call, the little stick figure had a little desk and a little chair, all made out of paperclips, and I was well on my way to fashioning him a little computer.  For Nick's birthday I made him a paperclip man holding a paperclip dish - then I filled it with paperclips.  I considered filling it with staples or thumbtacks, just for the irony, but birthdays are not always the right time for irony.

My office supply sculptures have become more and more intricate over the past year.  I have about fifteen of them spread out around my cubicle right now, and I’ve branched out to include binder clips, erasers, pushpins, and whatever other supplies I can get my hands on.  I was warned once by Margaret Sherman, head of Human Resources and a serious pain in my ass, about stealing office supplies.  But as soon as I showed her that all the supplies were in fact still in my cubicle, she backed off.  I think it was mainly because she just didn’t
get
it.  The woman is seriously lacking in creativity.  If she needed a binder clip she would easily disassemble my Eiffel Tower without even batting an eye.   I skipped lunch to work on that tower, it’s no joke.

I punched 212 into my phone and waited for Kara to answer.  Kara Kelley is our receptionist and pretty much my only female friend in the office.   What can I say?  I just don't mesh very well with girls.  But Kara's different.  As soon as I found out that she owned a dog named Larry, I knew that we were meant to be friends.  Me, Kara, Larry, and my goldfish...Barbara.  It's not everyday that you find someone who shares your love of pets with human names.

"Hiya," answered Kara. 

"You hoarding any boxes up there?" I asked.

"Did you just call me a whore?" 

"
Hoarding
you moron!  I need a few boxes to pack up my sculptures so Margaret doesn't ransack them the next time she needs an eraser."

"That bitch totally would," said Kara.  "Though, you are kind of a freak with those office supplies, you know that right?" said Kara. 

"You got the boxes or what?"

"Yeah, yeah.  I'll be right over."

A couple of minutes later Kara popped around the corner carrying two empty boxes.

"I can't believe you're already leaving this weekend," she said.  She perched herself on my desk and kicked up one leg, then the other.   "You nervous?"

Nervous?  I'd been so busy packing and getting my Massachusetts life ready to go on hold for three months that I'd barely had time to think about it.  But yeah, I suppose I was a little nervous.  I mean, I didn't actually know anybody in Vegas.  And I would be staying all by myself in a strange hotel.  And what if my new coworkers didn't like me?  I mean, it's no secret that I don't mesh well with girls, and my new boss is a girl, and...oh God, I was so nervous.

"Uh, no, not really," I lied.  "It's just going to be such a great opportunity for me, you know? It'll be good to get away from this place for a while and maybe figure some stuff out."  I gave her a meaningful look.  Kara was the only other person in the world who knew about my feelings for Nick. 

“So are you getting an expense account too?” she asked, kindly changing the subject.

I nodded.

“Holy crap.”  She shook her head and kicked my filing cabinet with her heel.

“But it’s not like I can use it for anything I want,” I said.  “It’s just for work related stuff.  It’s really not that great.”  I suddenly felt the need to downplay my good fortune.   I mean, if it had been Kara instead of me who was being whisked away to Vegas, I would probably be in the ladies room in tears right now.

“Whatever,” she said, making a rude gesture with her finger.  “I’m so jealous of you that I might not even tell you the moronic thing Donna did this morning.”

“No, please!  Tell me!” I begged.  “I’m going to be living three months without Donna Spang, don’t deprive me of a few last memories.”

“Well,” said Kara.  “She came in carrying a dozen hard boiled -”

Yet another juicy conversation was cut short as Tom walked in to grab something off my printer.   We quieted the conversation down a bit and Kara acted as if she were just leaving to get the phone that had been ringing off the hook for the last five minutes.  We would continue our conversation via email anyway.  Eighty percent of our day was spent sending emails to each other.  The other twenty percent was spent wondering how many of them were being read by the IT guy.

That afternoon, Kara and Nick took me out to TGI Friday's for a goodbye lunch where the three of us drank frozen margaritas bigger than our faces.

"There's nothing wrong with coming back to the office buzzed," Nick told us.  "Trust me, the managers do it all the time." 

I returned to my desk ready for a nap, but was instead faced with pages and pages of redlines from Keith.  Redlines are when you hand something in that you typed up and your boss decides he wants everything to be different.  Out comes the red pen, and your document is transformed into a bloodbath of scribbles and arrows, undecipherable to the untrained eye.   Apparently leaving for Las Vegas wasn't a good enough reason for the leprechaun to stop bothering me, so I settled in front of my computer for the rest of the afternoon.

The last few hours ticked slowly away, until finally I was carrying my two cardboard boxes into Nick’s office for safekeeping.  As soon as I walked in, he stood up from his desk and wrapped his arms around me.  He lifted me slightly off the ground.

“We'll see you in three months,” he mumbled into my neck.  Then he kissed me on the cheek.