His back was to her. He said to his companions, "Okay, I'll catch up with you guys at Chili's."
Chili's? Her memory momentarily floated back to another time and place, but suddenly Jim turned around and was walking toward her. He met her gaze as he walked past, smiling politely, but there was not the slightest hint of recognition in his eyes. He continued on to his car without giving her a second look.
Pam felt deflated. He didn't know her. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She fought the urge to burst into tears. Instead, she headed back to her car. Chili's it is, she thought.
She followed his car (which was a SAAB, not a Corolla, she couldn't help but notice) out of the CTX parking lot and a few minutes later into the parking lot of Chili's. She parked far away and waited until he walked into the restaurant before she got out of the car.
It was set up just like any Chili's in any other nondescript town. She noticed Jim was at the bar talking to his co-workers, and it was apparently an after-work happy hour. He was already drinking a beer and was animatedly telling a story. Everyone around him was laughing.
Ten minutes later the work group had dispersed somewhat, and she noticed Jim talking to a tall blonde woman, who was sipping a fruity drink. She was giggling at whatever he was saying and she reached out and touched his arm. Pam felt herself getting queasy at the sight of another woman close-talking with Jim. So she gathered her nerve, stood up and walked across the bar.
"Jim," she said loudly, and he looked at her. The blonde he was talking to glanced at Pam, then back at Jim, and said, "Thanks for the drink," before walking off. Jim stood there with a puzzled expression on his face, which then seemed to turn to annoyance. Several seconds passed before he said, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
Pam, realizing the bar slut had left on her account, suddenly felt embarrassed. Thinking on her feet was not her forte, but she managed to stumble out, "Um... no, I guess... uh, you just look like someone I know. I'm sorry." She started to back away when he said with a grin, "And this guy also happens to be named Jim?"
She tried to force a smile. "Is it your name too? What a coincidence. Uh... common name, I guess."
Jim didn't respond at first, but when she turned to leave he said, "Hey, wait!"
She turned back to face him again, and he asked, "Could I... buy you a drink?"
"Sure," she answered, hesitantly.
"What'll it be?" he asked, gesturing to the bartender.
"A margarita," she replied, smiling.
"A margarita it is," Jim said. "So I saw you at work today. Are you new?"
She gulped. She hadn't been expecting that. "Oh no, I don't work there. I just had, um, business there."
"So where are you from... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
She blinked once and said, "Pam. Pam Beesly. I'm from Scranton, actually." She searched his face for some kind of familiarity, and he didn't disappoint.
"No way! I'm from Scranton too. Well, Dunmore actually," he was enthusiastic as he reached for their drinks that the bartender had just placed on the bar. "I moved here about four years ago. Still have family there though."
Of course you do, Pam thought, wondering why she didn't think of that before.
"So what brings you down this way, Pam Beesly?"
"Oh, nothing too interesting, I just work for... hey, you know what would be great? An Awesome Blossom. I'm sorry, I just haven't eaten all day and I am starving." She hoped her attempt to change the conversation wasn't too obvious.
"Oh totally! Let's do it," he motioned over toward the waitress and put an order in.
Three more margaritas and an Awesome Blossom later, Pam was officially tipsy. She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn't her Jim, that she had to be careful what she said, but their conversation was so easy and fun that a few times she almost forgot that this whole weird thing was happening.
There was one major difference, however, and that was that this Jim seemed to be trying a little too hard to make an impression on her. Almost like he was used to picking up girls in bars and had some sort of script ready. Definitely not something the Jim she knew would do.
But after a few more drinks, Pam was totally drunk and she almost didn't care. She was giggling and laughing at all his jokes, leaning in and whispering in his ear. She even saw him blush a few times. Before long, he offered to take her back to her hotel. Which she was vaguely aware could mean either he was being a gentleman and realized she was too drunk to drive, or that he wanted to fuck her. Either option was fine with her. She was just living in the moment.
As she led him up to the fourth floor of the hotel, she giggled and made nonsensical comments about Dwight and Michael. Jim just smiled, obviously amused but just as obviously having no idea who she was talking about. When they reached her room, she kept putting the key in backwards, and Jim laughed, offering to take it from her. That was when she grabbed him by the shirt and hoisted herself up on her tippy toes to press her lips to his. He responded immediately, his hand snaking up her back and into her hair. He fumbled with the key, and they spilled into the room, hands and tongues working frantically.
Suddenly Jim pulled back. "Pam..." She ignored him, reaching for his mouth again. He held his hands up and pried her away from him. "Pam, seriously. As much as I... want to. Oh God." Her hand had found its way to his groin and he moaned.
"No wait. Stop. I... you're drunk... and something tells me you're not the kind of girl to..."
"How do you know what kind of girl I am?" It was said in a whisper but without any snark, almost earnestly, as if she was willing him to remember.
"Point taken," he replied gruffly, not picking up on her tone, "but I don't want to take advantage of you."
She pulled back and stared at him, and then shook her head as she felt the tears stinging her eyes. Yes, of course her Jim wouldn't take advantage of a drunk girl he just met like an hour ago. She felt a strange warmth in her chest as the familiarity of him sank back in. She sat down on the bed and grabbed a pillow.
"What... what's wrong?" He seemed genuinely concerned at seeing her upset.
"No, no, you're right," she answered. "I just. I miss you."
He laughed then, and said, "Uh, we just met."
She started sobbing then, and thought for sure that was going to make him run for the hills. Instead, he sat next to her. "Hey, don't cry. Look, I think you're great, and that's why I don't - "
"No, it's not that. It's just that... have you ever lost someone close to you?" Her eyes were getting heavy and she curled up in a ball, still hugging the pillow.
"Nope, can't say that I have. Have... have you?"
Now the alcohol had really pushed her over the edge of exhaustion, and she murmured, "What about Tommy?" before drifting off. And perhaps if she had kept her eyes open for just a few more seconds, she would have seen the look of shock and recognition on Jim's face.
