VIII. Entourage

Darkness had fallen completely by the time they reached Jim's apartment. Although Pam's place was homier, Jim's kitchen was bigger and had more cabinet space, so most of their shared meals were eaten there. They each grabbed a few bags and trudged toward the door of the building. As Jim fumbled for his key, a group of five or six young guys burst out of the building, talking and laughing loudly. "Hey, Jim," one of them said as they all headed toward the parking lot.

"Hey," Jim answered. Jim held the door open for Pam as the voices of the young men receded behind them.

"Are those your new neighbors?" Pam asked. Her expression was a mix of amusement and alarm. The guys had been very loud.

"Yep. Well, just the one who said hi. The rest of them are always around, though."

"Ah, yes," Pam said. "His posse."

"I believe the kids call it an "entourage" these days," Jim replied.

"Silly me. Sort of like you and Andy and Dwight are Michael's entourage." Pam laughed as Jim made one of his "camera faces" as she liked to call them. She claimed he had a wide range of expressions he only used for the camera, but he thought she was crazy and told her so frequently.

"Ugh, don't remind me," he said with a shudder. "You know, he actually tried to convince me to move in with him? He said I could be Eric, and Dwight would be Turtle. He gave me a key and everything." Jim gestured with the set of keys he was now juggling to unlock the door without dropping anything.

Pam laughed. "You have a key to the condo?" Amazement and amusement mingled in her voice.

"Absolutely. In case I ever want to come over and, I believe his exact phrase was, 'bring hotties'."

"Oh, my God."

"Yeah."

Pam followed Jim into the darkened apartment, then laughed a small, incredulous laugh. "Huh," she said, as though to herself.

"What?"

"Oh, it's just that...honestly, I think house keys would not have reminded me of you while you were gone. I mean now, yes, between the day we traded them and now this fun story. But before- I think house keys would have made me think of Dwight."

Jim almost dropped his bag. "Excuse me?"

"Well, in a round-about way, I'm the one who suggested that Dwight give Angela a house key." Pam's smile turned into a frown. "I feel bad about those two. Angela was actually happy with Dwight, at least as happy as Angela gets."

Jim bobbed his head in agreement, flipping on lights as he moved through the apartment. "Yeah. I don't know what we can do about it, though. Or even if we should."

"I know." Pam started putting cold goods into the refrigerator. "Still..."

"'Still,' what?"

"I don't know...it's just the look he gives her sometimes. It..." she paused, her face suddenly sadder and more guarded than it had been since the game had started.

"What is it?"

"The look Dwight gives Angela sometimes- it really does remind me of you. From before."

Jim put the box of spaghetti noodles he was holding down onto the counter and walked over behind Pam. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin against the top of her head. "If they are anything like us, it'll work itself out," he said simply.