“Okay,” she says, snapping her cell phone shut. “We have an appointment with the realtor at 11:00.”
“Looks like we’ve got some time to kill,” I say, realizing that this was usually the line I used back in college when I wanted to make out with my girlfriend in her dorm room. The circumstances are just a tad different this time.
“Oh!” she says suddenly, clasping her hands together. “Let’s go to the branch.”
She can’t be serious.
“Are you serious?”
She nods excitedly. “Why not? We’ve got time, and I want to see the offices of Mr. Big Time Assistant Regional Manager.”
I snort. “Oh yeah, I’m sure they’re really classy digs. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s on the other side of town.”
“It can’t be that hard to find. Come on, let’s do it.”
And like so many other times in the history of our relationship, I let her win. We call information to obtain the address and after only a couple of wrong turns, we pull into the Dunder Mifflin Stamford parking lot. It doesn’t look much different than the one in Scranton; same boring paint job, same lettering and double doors that lead to what I assume is the lobby. I’ve barely turned off the engine before she’s out the door and walking boldly towards the main doors.
“Pam!” I call out, jogging to catch up with her and grabbing her arm. “What are you doing?”
“I want to look through the glass.”
“Because the lobby of Dunder Mifflin Stamford is actually the magical entrance to Narnia?”
“Wow,” she shoots me a look and shakes her head. “Dork.”
“Shut up. Seriously, we look like we’re about to break in.”
She snorts in sarcasm. “Yeah, we’re going to break into a paper company in the middle of broad daylight. I’m sure that’s what everyone suspects. When did you become such a wuss, Halpert?” She winks and cups her hands around her face, peering through the glass doors.
I roll my eyes and grudgingly do the same. But instead of seeing a lobby, I see a khaki trench coat headed straight towards me.
“Oh, sorry—“ I say, moving to the side to let a petite, olive-skinned woman pass through. She’s in a hurry to get out and how can I blame her? She’ working on a Saturday for God’s sake. My stomach sinks as I see a glimpse of my future in this random woman’s sour expression.
“It’s fine,” she says over her shoulder, clacking across the pavement and into her car without another word.
I turn back to give a look to Pam but instead of seeing her beside me, I find her on the other side of the door, wagging her eyebrows at me.
“Let’s check out your new digs.”
The directory points us to the fourth floor and after an awkwardly silent elevator ride up, the doors slide open to reveal the main offices. It’s much nicer than Scranton, with an air of professionalism that you can actually feel in the dark oak desks and newer equipment.
Pam strolls by reception, running a friendly hand across the countertop before she walks by the main row of desks. She lets out a long, exaggerated whistle.
“And you thought it wouldn’t be classy.”
I smile and shove my hands in my pockets, feeling unusually exposed. “Guess I was wrong.”
She stops by one desk, empty except for a lone cardboard box on top of it.
“I’m guessing this one will be yours.”
My stomach sinks even lower than before as this all starts to become much too real. Pam must notice because she looks around nervously for a change of subject. She points to the windows.
“Never thought you’d have an ocean-front office,” she waves me over to look out over the nearby marina. She wasn’t lying; it really is a gorgeous view with the sailboats rocking in the harbor, cutting through the small waves that loll against the dock.
“It’s a nice view,” she says in almost a whisper.
“My view in Scranton wasn’t too bad,” I reply in an equally hushed tone. We’re leaning on the windowsill, our arms barely brushing each other and I can feel her whole body stiffen. Another moment pushed too far with my dumbass mouth.
“Don’t deny it, Pam. Creed is one sexy man.” She lets out a relieved laugh and while I manage to choke one out, I’m mentally kicking myself.
She’s right; you are a wuss.
She moves from the window and boosts herself up onto my desk, kicking her legs absentmindedly. I swallow hard, using every ounce of what little energy I have to push back every thought I’ve had about this very scenario. Granted, it was a different desk but I’ll take what I can—
“So,” she interrupts my thought process, much to my relief. “As Assistant Regional Manager, what will be your first order of business when you get here?”
“You know, I haven’t given it much thought,” I say bemusedly, leaning against the desk across from her.
“Well, you have to find somebody to prank. Obviously,” she says with a teasing smile, like I’m an idiot for not thinking of it first.
“Of course. There’s gotta be someone annoying enough here to make it worth it. Though…oh man, I can’t believe I’m going to say this.” She stops kicking her legs and looks mildly concerned.
“I’m kind of going to miss Dwight.”
She bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach to try and catch her breath.
“I’ll tell him you said that,” she says between fits of giggles.
“No, please, don’t.”
“Nope, I have to. It’ll make his day.”
“Pam,” I warn. “You wouldn’t dare.”
She just gives me a tight-lipped smile, similar to the one from earlier in the evening (technically yesterday, wow) and it makes me want to fold, just like I did with my three measly nines.
“Alright, I won’t tell. But in return, you’ll have to pull a prank on him from here.”
“Here?” I point down to the ground. “As in—“
“As in here. Stamford. I have faith in you,” she says in a way that’s meant to be a joke, but the sincerity behind her words is all too evident. And it makes me feel brave about this whole thing since I first talk to Jan. It’s a weird feeling.
“I’ll do my best,” I assure her and she gives a single nod in approval.
“Okay Beesly, let’s get out of here before we get arrested for breaking and entering.”
She slides off the desk in silent agreement. “Good point. Though it’d make for a cool story.”
I just smile to myself. It already is.
9:59
