* * *
The first ten minutes of navigating the floor were absolute torture, but Jeremy did an excellent job of steering them towards groups of people who required her to say very little. She made inane small talk with a junior editor and her boyfriend, sipping every so often from a flute of champagne as she pretended to understand what they were saying. A hand grasped her elbow, and she nodded at the pair before Jeremy fluidly brought her aside.
“I’ve just spoken to Greta and Paul. Paul will be escorting you about, and Greta and I will do our best to make sure your Mr. Halpert is occupied. With any luck, you’ll never be face to face with him.”
“But what is he doing here?” she wailed, dreading the answer. Jeremy looked a tad uneasy and ran his fingers through his hair before answering.
“Halpert works for the company handling the American promotions for the book.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned.
“From all accounts he’s just joined the campaign - he was on leave for awhile or something - but there’s a good chance he hasn’t connected the dots yet.”
“He’s not stupid, Jeremy,” she retorted.
“I didn’t say he was. But if you think about there’s really no reason for the PR firm to know who you really are.”
“That’s right. You’re right,” she said slowly. “But he’s going to find out. In front of everyone,” she whispered, stricken.
Jeremy nodded grimly. “Yes. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do on that score. Unless you want to find him and let him to know beforehand?” She shuddered in response. “That’s what I thought. There’s nothing you can do now. Walk around with Paul and the both of you come meet me up in front. We’ve only got a half an hour before we’re introduced, so we’ll just lie low till then, do you hear me?” Pam nodded, marveling at the fact that she had been anticipating this night for weeks. “Ah, here’s Paul,” Jeremy said brightly, and Pam turned to smile at their close friend.
“Doing alright, kid?” Paul asked kindly, engulfing her in his giant embrace.
“Could be better,” she replied offhandedly, doing her best to mask her anxiety.
“Well, I know there’s a whole lot of craziness going on right now, but I just want you to know that we’re awful proud of you, Greta and I. Though I’m sure she’ll tell you herself when she sees you.”
“What about me? Aren’t you proud of me?” Jeremy asked in mock indignation, and Pam shook her head laughing.
“I’m proud of Pam for putting up with you, you idiot,” Paul teased, and Jeremy huffed before being called away by an acquaintance. He rolled his eyes imperceptibly and allowed himself to led off, calling back over his shoulder, “Only two glasses of champagne for you, young lady. And for heaven’s sake, mingle a little. We’ve got a bloody book to sell.”
“Diva,” Paul snorted, and Pam grinned in agreement. Together they socialized their way through the crowd, Paul using his height to keep Jim in sight. Pam caught brief glimpses of him through the crowd, the broad expanse of his back, a hand raised in a casual gesture, and each time it was as though a tiny star was exploding down her spine. It was impossible, simply impossible that she could still be so sensitive to the sight of him after all this time. She kept repeating Jeremy’s warning like a mantra in her head, trying to convince herself that they were worlds apart now, that it was inconceivable that they should still share any sort of bond after all that had happened and had not happened between them.
“Hey, Benny, come say ‘hello’ – Pam’s here!” Pam swirled around to catch a huge smile before being wrapped in a hug.
“Sonia, Ben, you have no idea how glad I am to see you,” she cried happily.
“Can she quote you on that?” quipped Ben with a smirk, frowning only a little when Sonia punched him in the arm.
“Shut up, Benny. Pam loves us, don’t you, Pam? Oh, should I be calling you Estella while we’re here?” Sonia bounced on the balls of her feet, and if Pam didn’t know better, she would have suspected a heavy caffeine intake. She knew for a fact, however, that Sonia Kanth never touched the stuff. Benny often said that Sonia was born with rocket fuel instead of blood and privately, Pam agreed. She had met Sonia and Benny a year ago when they interviewed her about the London release of City Sylphs. They worked for Tunnel Vision, an underground art and literature magazine for which Sonia was a reporter and Benny a photographer.
Pam hated interviews as a rule. They made her think of Scranton and the fact that she still wasn’t any good at coming up with interesting responses. She usually let Jeremy handle any press that come their way, and he was more than willing to oblige. On the occasions that Pam’s presence was asked for, they went in together, and the press was usually too pleased about a joint interview to complain. So when the request came for Pam, and Pam alone, neither of them knew quite how to handle it. They were in London at the time, and no one had heard of the small, offbeat American publication that wanted the interview.
“But why don’t they want me?” Jeremy pouted, clearly miffed by what he saw as rejection. “Why do they only want her? I’m much better-looking.” He jutted his thumb out towards the couch where Pam was sprawled out, still dripping from having come in from the rain. She stuck her tongue out in response.
Dena, Jeremy’s long-suffering secretary, ignored his theatrics. “They want to focus on the artwork, Jeremy. Since Ms. Beesly, who is both prettier and sweeter than you will ever be,” she paused to acknowledge Pam’s triumphant smile and Jeremy’s glower, “is the artist in your operation, they’ll be interviewing her.”
“As much as I hate to agree with Jeremy, Dena, I really don’t think I should go in there alone. I mean, I’ve been thumbing through a couple issues and these people are really, really cool. And I’m kind of…boring.”
“Nonsense!” cried Jeremy immediately, plopping down on the couch beside her. “You know what, this is my fault. I never should have let you get away with hiding for so long. You are going to do this interview and you’ll be marvelous.” Pam gave him a blank stare. “No, Morrie, I mean it. Just remember, they’re not talking to dinky Pam Beesly from the States, they’re talking to Estella Morgan, artiste du jour.”
Despite Jeremy’s constant reassurance up until the day of the interview, Pam still found herself dreading it. She was downright frightened, in fact, up until a tiny, ponytailed Indian girl zoomed in and hugged her.
“You!” she yelled out, with the biggest smile Pam had ever seen on a person so small. “Ms. Morgan, do you have any idea how am-a-a-a-a-zing you are?”
And with that, Pam’s nervousness flew out the window. Sonia, who seemed to be her new life’s answer to Kelly, was sharp, hilarious, and unassuming. By the end of the interview, Sonia had discarded ‘Estella’ in favor of ‘Pam’, and had confessed that she, too, was using a pseudonym. “No one, and I mean no one can spell Kanthaswamy,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “No one can pronounce it either.”
She had met Benny during that interview as well, a wiry, awkward kid about Sonia’s age who, as Pam would find out, would take some of the best pictures of herself that she had ever seen. He had a knack for using creative settings and unconventional lighting, the result being a series of pictures in which Pam looked fresh and vibrant and downright quirky. She looked like Estella Morgan, edgy, up-and-coming graphic novel artist, the alter-ego she was slowly allowing to absorb mousy Pam Beesly.
Seeing the pair of them here at the release dissipated the tension that had been building behind her forehead, and she felt herself beginning to breathe easier. “Nah,” she finally answered after leaning over to hug Benny, too, “You just keep calling me Pam. We’ll see how many people we can confuse.”
“Awesome,” Sonia squealed, putting out her hand for a high five. Her red spangled cocktail dress was paired with leather stiletto-heeled boots and her customary ponytail, putting her somewhat at odds with the general décor of the room. Benny looked a bit less out of place in a tuxedo, though the arms were a mite short. They chatted for while about Ben’s new internship and Sonia’s indecision over grad school, and it wasn’t until they left (“Gotta get a few more interviews in, kids. Knock ‘em dead up there, Pam.”) that she realized how well they had kept her panic at bay. Now with them gone, the faint murmur of anxiety grew stronger, and Paul patted her shoulder as if he knew what she was thinking.
After what seemed like an eternity, Pam realized it was time to make her way to the front. She tugged at Paul’s sleeve to get his attention. “Paul, we’d better go find our seats. Jeremy’s probably waiting for me near the stage.” He checked his watch and nodded. People were milling about, slowly breaking off from smaller groups and making their away over to the precise arrangement of chairs in front of the raised marble platform.
“Do you see Jeremy?” Paul asked, and Pam craned her neck, searching through the thick cluster of people until she caught sight of Jeremy’s thin shoulders.
“There he is,” she said with relief, tugging on Paul’s arm. “I see Greta with him, too.” They pushed and prodded their way through the slow-moving crowd, finally making it near enough to make out the voices of their party.
“Lovely,” came the perpetually-hoarse voice of their editor, Lila, over the conversation of nearly everyone around her. Pam wondered if Lila ever realized how loud she actually was. “I’m so glad the two of you could meet.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” they heard Jeremy say smoothly, and they exchanged glances at his velvety charm.
“I wonder who he’s trying to impress,” Pam whispered, giggling.
Paul muttered, “I can’t see with all these people in the way,” and they waited impatiently for the knot directly in front of them to clear.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go find Morrie. I promised I’d collect her from the atrium right before we started.” They heard Jeremy’s voice again, this time sounding slightly strained. Pam paused.
“That’s not what he told me,” she hissed to Paul, and they looked at each other for a long moment before they realized what was happening. Pam’s heart starting sinking and her palms grew clammy. Don’t let it be him, don’t let it be him, she prayed anxiously. She twirled around, frantic, as she searched for a possible escape. Around them, people were taking their seats; if they left now, they’d be seen for sure. Paul had apparently come to the same conclusion, and he looked down at her helplessly. She bit her lip. Perhaps if they edged away slowly…but then she heard his voice, and it was as though her heart were shattering all over into a thousand slivers, and her feet were stuck in cement.
“Morrie?” he asked, a note of confusion in his voice.
“Ms. Morgan, if you will,” Jeremy explained brusquely, and Pam could picture Lila’s frown at his rudeness.
“There’s no need for you to leave, Jeremy. I’m sure Pam will get here shortly. Isn’t Paul with her, Greta?”
“I’m sorry,” came his voice again. “Pam?” Closing her eyes, Pam couldn’t help but savor the sound of her name again on his lips. Had she imagined the small crack in his voice as he said it? She had given up on the hope of ever hearing it again, and as awkward and horrible as the night was promising to be, for a brief second it was worth it.
“Oh, how stupid of me,” Lila said. “I always forgot not everyone knows. Jeremy and Pam have worked together for ages and ages, and they both publish under their nom de plumes. Estella Morgan is actually Pamela Beesly among friends. I just can’t wait to introduce you, she’s such a sweetheart.”
The blood rushed through Pam’s ears, she couldn’t hear his reply. He’ll think it’s someone else. He probably doesn’t even remember me. She felt sick. Paul was frozen beside her as well, but she grabbed his arm and set off in the opposite direction, hoping to God they wouldn’t be spotted.
“Ah ha! There they are!” No such luck.
“Pam! Paul! Over here! You’re headed the wrong way!” Pam realized they had no choice but to turn around. She scrunched her shoulders discreetly, trying desperately to relax. Be calm. Be cordial. Hesitantly she turned around. Lila was looking at them expectantly, while Greta’s expression was guarded and anxious. Jeremy looked apologetic and more than a little a tense. Finally, she forced herself to look up higher, into the hard hazel eyes of Jim Halpert. She was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of every nerve ending in her body. Her throat was dry and her legs were shaking, and she wondered if she was going to faint. She had never fainted before, but she thought that maybe now would probably be a good time to start. One thing was clear though - she had been a perfect fool to think she could ever forget him.
* * *
Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the slow start...
Chapter End Notes:
Oh my.
