Tengo una mala noticia
No fue de casualidad
Yo quería que nos pasara
Y tú, y tú lo dejaste pasar

[I have bad news
It was not by chance
I wanted it to happen to us
And you, and you let it happen]

“Nada fue un error” - Coti

---

He was focused on a new client, and the fact that he’d been for over 20 minutes on the phone, the fact that he was actually trying to do his job, was a little bit disconcerting.

But there was this thing about Jim when his head was on something, which rarely happened to tell the truth, that made it truly memorable. Like the office Olympics over a month ago. He would launch himself into it, and put all his creativity and resources to make the best out of it.

Only now it was about a sale, and Pam was confused. There had to be a reason for this to be so important, and she knew he would tell her, as soon as it was finished, but for the time being she couldn't help but feeling restless and curious.

23 minutes. Not that she was counting or anything, but she was bored. The Party Planning Committee had given tasks to almost everybody in preparation for Meredith birthday party that evening. Everybody but her. She was equally relieved and annoyed.

Just the day before, Angela had suspended her from said committee, after she’d caught Pam distracted by Jim during their meeting, right at the middle of something about the color of the streamers that, apparently, deserved her fullest attention.

It wasn’t entirely her fault. Should she be blamed for the fact that she had been the only one facing the window to the office? Was it her fault that Jim had noticed and had decided to write increasingly obnoxious requests on Dundler Mifflin’s uncoated 24 lb., to show her over Phyllis and Angela’s turned backs?

Tell them we’ll need confetti. Sparkling confetti

And fireworks. Big ones

3 banners… no, make it 4

Pam. Urgent. And then at the other side. FRENCH ONION CHIPS.

We need a rollercoaster. 4 realz

Inflatable dolls for Michael. 3 at least

Inflatable male-doll for Angela

That’s where she lost it. She couldn’t mask her laughter in a convincing cough, so she got a frowned glare from Phyllis. Angela turned her head so fast that it was a miracle her neck didn’t snap and Pam was 90% sure she managed to read, at least, her name on Jim’s sign, before he put it away and tried for an unsuccessful innocent expression.

And then Pam was suspended and unceremoniously thrown out the conference room.

So now she was to answer the phone while watching Angela standing on tiptoes trying to hang the banner - just one regular “Happy Birthday” banner - over the door.

And Jim, oh-I-have-a-thing-for-jelly-beans-that-makes-me-come-to-your-desk-every-half-an-hour-or-so, had been on the phone for 39 minutes, while diligently taking notes and, from time to time, searching for information on a catalogue opened on his desk.

To top it all, Roy had dropped by for less than 2 minutes to tell her that he wouldn’t stay for the party because he’d rather go hit the bar with Kenny and then maybe he’d stay at his place, Pammy, so they could leave for the lake early, and you have a good weekend.

And it hurt. Not, not really hurt. Just… bah. The fact that she seemed to be furthest from his thoughts and choices lately sucked. And yeah, maybe it hurt, too, in her pride, the little of it there was.

She had to wait for three more minutes until, finally.

Finally, Jim hung on the phone, sighed deeply and buried his face on his large hands.

Pam looked at him, almost jumping with curiosity. What had that been about? And then, as if he’d sensed her eyes fixed on him, he raised his head, met hers with his own green ones and beamed.

“What?” she mouthed.

And finally he approached her desk, took a green jellybean from the container and replayed that smile.

“So, Beesly, guess who’s our new client.”

“Ehm… the White House? Otherwise I don’t get why would you bother so much.”

“Try again. Try better and dirtier.”

“The union of garbage men of Pennsylvania?”

He made a very theatrical face palm. “No.”

“Then?”

Jim leaned over her counter and beaconed her to move forward. “Adam & Eve.”

“Huh? Did they have writing back then to begin with?”

“Adam & Eve sex toys,” he clarified. She felt her eyes open wide, and he continued. “It happens to be the largest chain of, uhm… adult entertainment in the state. So, not only I’ll get a nice commission but… guess who’ll be in charge of doing that piece of accounting.”

She gasped, laughter bubbling, and she glanced at Angela who was now carrying bags of chips from the kitchenette.

“She will actually have to write those receipts,” Jim added.

“Niiice,” she said.

"Consider it my revenge gift to you. No one kicks my Beesly out of a meeting and goes away with it.”

And without further ado, Jim turned around and headed to the restroom.

Leaving her there, frozen. His Beesly? Like… his? What did that mean? All right, he was literally the only person who called her Beesly, and she was the only one he’d call that but… his? Was it just a manner of speaking? Did he mean… something? At all?

His stomach gave a couple of funny jumps but she shook her head, took a couple of deep breaths, and opened a random unread email. It was just a manner of speaking, just that.