“I'm not quite sure what there is to talk about at eight-fifteen in the morning,” Jim complained as the assistant director prompted him to start his segment. “I'm not even sure what day it is yet.”
“No, everything's fine. Just another day here at Dunder Mifflin. Let's see,” he paused, looking down at the floor. “I have three phone calls to return regarding paper orders, and a sales call at the administrative offices of Moses Taylor hospital at three. That's about as exciting as it's going to get, I'm afraid.”
“Pam?” Jim frowned slightly, and ran his hand self-consciously through his hair. “She's fine. We're fine. Nothing exciting on that front either. Sorry guys.”
“No, we didn't do anything last night. We don't usually go out during the week.” Jim bit his lip, and his foot tapped impatiently. “I'm not sure what you want me to say.” He looked over his shoulder to see who was walking past the conference room.
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It was four minutes past nine when Pam finally walked in the door. Jim knew this because he'd been anxiously watching the clock tick away, and he'd been eleven minutes away from giving in and calling her. He cocked his eyebrow at her, his look asking her the obvious question.
Pam glanced at Jim as she walked in, and could tell from his expression that her absence had been noticed. She smiled weakly in his direction, but she was feeling a little too nervous to acknowledge him. She had spent last night feeling badly for how she'd left things, and how she'd made it so painfully clear she didn't want to see him that night. In the end she felt like she'd only punished herself, because the night seemed to drag on and she found herself many times a step away from calling him. But pride won out, and in the end she went to bed early, even though sleep eluded her. This morning she was tired, both physically and mentally. She didn't want to fight anymore. Or more accurately, she didn't want to do this little dance they were doing to avoid fighting. As she walked behind the reception desk she gave Jim a look that she hoped expressed her regret.
He couldn't resist getting up out of his chair and walking over to her desk. “Car trouble?” He asked nonchalantly, looking for any excuse to start a conversation.
“No,” she said slowly, a bit confused by this statement.
“Oh. I just trying to guess why you were late.”
“I had a hard time getting moving this morning. I didn't sleep too well,” she said, putting her purse in her desk and sitting down.
“Funny, he mused casually, even as he felt his insides shaking, “I didn't either. Maybe there's something going around.” Their eyes met briefly, each wearing an expression that wavered between hopeful and guarded.
Pam looked down at her hands. “Hey, I'm really sorry about yesterday,” she finally said.
“Not a big deal,” he shrugged, his focus centered on picking out the red jelly beans from the container.
“Yes it was. I shouldn't have ended things like that,” she replied. Jim just shrugged again.
“I missed you last night.” She added, barely loud enough for him to hear.
That got his attention. His eyebrows rose as he met her steady gaze. “I missed you, too,” he replied, his voice a bit gravelly. He smiled slightly and jerked his head back toward the kitchen. “You want to get some tea?”
“Please,” she smiled, standing up to follow him. The day was already looking a bit brighter to Pam.
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“So I had a talk with the little lady last night,” Michael smiled, “and I told her all the reasons it was a good idea to appear in Playboy. She was a little hesitant, but I told her how proud I was of her and, uh, all her assets, and that I wanted everyone to know what I knew. To be able to say that they saw what I see in her. She finally agreed to the idea.”
“I really want the men of America to look at those photos of Jan and say 'Wow, that Michael Scott is really doing a great job in the women department. I wish I was getting what he's getting.”
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Pam stood in silence as her tea brewed, the only interaction between her and Jim being brief glances that were met with small encouraging smiles. She picked up her mug after it was ready, and sighed.
“So do you want to talk about it now or later?” She asked.
“Well, I'd rather not talk in the middle of the office where someone might overhear us and think we're fighting.”
“You mean we aren't fighting?” She replied dubiously.
“You know what I mean,” he replied.
“Well, the email Phyllis sent me last night made it pretty clear she was worried we were breaking up or something.”
“Really?” Jim looked genuinely surprised. “Why would she think that?”
“Apparently she saw the death glare I gave you before I left yesterday.”
Jim had to laugh. “Did you assure her we are fine?”
“I don't know if we are fine,” she replied, her eyes questioning. “That's kind of why I think we need to talk.”
“Pam,” he said, his brow furrowing. “We're fine. I mean, we're fine from where I'm at.”
“That's why you avoid talking about the one thing I keep asking you about?”
Jim stared down at the floor, as if he had never noticed the linoleum there before. “I don't know what you want me to say.”
It was then that Phyllis opened the kitchen door. She noticed how startled both Jim and Pam had looked at the sound of her arrival and she stopped mid-stride in the doorway.
“Oh, dear,” she said apologetically, “I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll come back later.” She disappeared back into the main office area before either one could protest or stop her.
“See what I mean?” Pam said. “Listen, I know Michael has a call with Ryan at around ten-thirty, so as soon as I patch that through I'll meet you on the roof. That should give us enough time.”
“Enough time for what?”
“Enough time for you to either talk to me, or have me kick your ass,” she grinned challenging. “Your choice.”
“Wow. Nice choices.” Jim muttered, causing Pam to giggle delightedly as she walked back to her desk.
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“I think it's a great idea, I really do,” Creed nodded. “I don't know why we haven't done this sort of thing before. Celebration of the body is a glorious thing.”
“I have, of course, done my share of nude work. Photography, mostly, but I've dabbled in other mediums. All tastefully done, some with women, some with men, some with as many people as we could fit in the frame. There's no shame in showing one's body, and like a fine wine it ages beautifully with time.”
“Of course back then all of that was done for free, just one more example of self-expression. How much did you say we are getting paid? Maybe Alice knows.”
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The hour passed far too quickly for Jim's liking, and when the phone rang at exactly ten-thirty he seriously contemplated asking Michael if he needed him to take part in a conference call. The realization that he would even considered such an idea made him finally admit to himself that he needed to come clean to Pam. His discomfort and guilt was literally pushing him to the edge of sanity.
He stood up when he heard Pam telling Ryan to wait a minute while she connected him, and took the stairs two at a time on his way to the roof to try and burn some nervous energy. He knew the right thing to do was to tell her the truth, to tell her how he felt, even if it was the opposite of what she wanted. But part of him still wasn't one hundred percent certain that their relationship wouldn't just fall apart over the most trivial of matters, and it seemed easier to hide the truth than face an unpleasant alternative. They just hadn't been together long enough for him to totally accept it was all real. He had set out the lawn chairs and was pacing behind them when Pam finally joined him.
“Hey,” she greeted him.
“Hey,” he replied, indicating she should sit.
“Wow, these chairs are really starting to look like hell,” she commented. “We should buy some new ones.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Jim said, sinking into the lawn chair next to her. “These have a lot of history.”
“True,” she nodded. “But we could always get chaise lounges this time.”
“Chaise lounges? And what exactly would we need those for, Miss Beesly?”
“You could stretch out for a nap on one,” she offered.
“Yeah, naps,” Jim mocks. “That's exactly what you had in mind.”
“Why, what else would you use them for?” She grinned. “Admit it – you wouldn't turn down the offer of sneaking away for a nap in the middle of the workday sometime.”
“It depends who's sneaking up to nap with me. I mean, I can't have any snorers around ruining a good nap.” He raised his eyebrow accusingly.
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Yeah, of course you don't. You don't snore. At all.”
“I think you're confusing me with Kevin.”
“Maybe,” he grinned. “You'd be surprised how often I do that.”
Pam giggled. “That would explain a lot of things.”
“Shut up,” Jim laughed.
“You started it.”
“Whatever, Beesly.”
“So when did you start sleeping with Kevin?” Pam teased.
“I'm not sure that's any of your business.”
“Really?”
“Really. A man's allowed to have his secrets.”
Pam giggled. “Fine. I just wanted to know if I should be thanking Kevin or not.”
“Thanking him?”
“Yeah, clearly you've picked up your skills somewhere.”
“I suspect you're no longer talking about naps.”
“Maybe I just think you are a very skilled nap-taker.”
“Now you are trying to flatter me.”
“Obviously.” They gazed at each other for a moment, then Pam reached for his hand, hoping not to lose the rapport they'd fallen back into so easily. Jim interweaved his fingers through hers, and Pam squeezed his hand before speaking again. “So you want to tell me what's really been going on with you since Tuesday's announcement?”
Jim stared down at their joined hands, then out into the glare of the morning sun. “I don't think you are going to much like what I think about that.”
“I kinda figured that out already,” she replied evenly. “But what I like even less is feeling like you don't trust me enough to tell me what you're really thinking.”
He glanced over at her. “I do trust you.”
“Then talk to me, Jim.”
Jim sighed. “I'm not very proud of how I feel about it,” he began. “I mean, I want to be there to support you, but if you want my honest reaction, then I'd have to say that I wish you wouldn't do it.”
“Why?” She asked, not sounding surprised or angry or upset. She was simply curious.
“I guess I'm being selfish.”
“Selfish can be okay,” Pam replied. “But in what way?”
“In the obvious, completely illogical way,” Jim said. “I don't want everyone to see you like that.” Jim shook his head, as if he were fighting with himself to say the right thing. “I want to tell you not to do it, and I know that's stupid. I know that. It's just that – well, you're mine. Finally mine.”
There, it was now out there, the feelings he'd been trying to suppress and rationalize away. He felt his face flushing with the embarrassment of feeling so unreasonable about the whole thing. But she had asked – she'd practically pushed him into confession. He heard the sound of Pam's chair dragging against the gravel as she scooted closer to him. He turned to look at her when he felt her hand brush against his cheek.
“It's okay,” she said.
“It's not okay,” he grimaced. “And I already know I don't have the right to tell you what to do and what not to do. I'm not Roy.”
“Oh my god,” Pam replied, followed by a chuckle. “So what you're really saying is that your problem really lies in your need to prove to me that you aren't Roy?”
“Well, maybe partly,” Jim admitted, which only made Pam laugh louder. “I'm glad you find that so amusing.”
Pam shook her head. “No, you don't understand. I have no doubt that Roy would be completely for me posing in Playboy. That's why I think it's funny.”
Jim was confused. “He'd want you to do it?”
Pam nodded. “A few years back one of his buddies was bragging how he had taken photos of his girlfriend and they'd been published in some magazine's readers' section. Roy begged me for months to do it too, but I refused.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“So you refused then, but you're thinking about it now?”
“The magazine he was interested in was not exactly professional or dignified, as I'm sure you can imagine. And I wouldn't have been paid for it.”
“The money is really that important to you?”
“Jim, just the basic fee is more than I make in six months here. You can't tell me you don't understand that.”
Jim shrugged. “I guess not.”
“But no, it's not the only reason.” She squeezed his hand again. “The old me would never consider doing such a thing. I've been trying to decide if the new me would.”
“Well, as far as I'm concerned you have nothing to prove by doing this. We both know how much you've changed, and you are already the bravest person I know.” Jim still found it hard to look her in the eye, so he kept his gaze focused on the Scranton skyline. “But again, the decision really is up to you.”
“You keep saying that you don't have a right to tell me what to do.”
“I don't.”
“Maybe,” she nodded. “Maybe you don't have the right to tell me what I can and can't do. But you do have the right – have an obligation, really – to tell me how you feel about what I'm doing, or what I'm thinking of doing. You've earned that right at least, don't you think? I would certainly tell you how I felt if the situation was reversed.”
He finally looked at her again. “And would you want me posing in Playgirl?”
“Seriously?” She thought a moment. “If I could come along to the photo session, I don't think I'd mind it.”
“Yeah, right. You're just saying that - “
“No, I'm not,” Pam interrupted. “I guess I just don't think it's a big deal, and if you thought there was something to gain from it, I'd say go for it.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Having said that, it does matter to me that you'll be unhappy if I decide to do it.”
“I know,” Jim replied. “And the truth is that I'd probably get over it.”
“You probably would. Would it help if I gave you complete creative control?”
Jim laughed. “What does that mean?”
“I mean you tell me what you'd be willing to compromise on. I assume you'd prefer clothed to nude, right?”
“If I had to choose,” he nodded. “I think that would be a given.”
“Okay,” she grinned. “Then it is. You can now help me pick out what clothes I should wear.”
“I'm not sure what they'll want you to wear can even be called clothes.”
“Lingerie then. But will you help me?”
Jim was quiet for a moment. “Will this involve you just pointing things out in a catalog, or will there be live demonstrations of the choices?”
Pam tried to hid her smirk. “Oh, I don't think catalogs would do at all, do you?”
“No, you're right,” he nodded. “I'd definitely need to see you in the lingerie. Probably multiple times. This could take hours to determine. Maybe days.”
“So is that a yes or no?” Pam smiled up at him, knowing that things were going to be okay.
Jim cleared his throat. “I guess I'll have to clear my calendar.”
