Nick

The "Pepperwood and the Hollow Corpse" book release goes off without a hitch and the ensuing congratulatory party the office throws has few surprises. Nick observes the usual shenanigans of photo-copied butt shots, Leo drinking too much then hitting on everything in the office, be it male, female, or office plant, and rolling chair races (his team wins, obviously).

A week later, he sits in his office, face in hands, attempting to massage a headache away. He just spent the last fifteen minutes verbally sparring with Russell, a snakey literary agent that's been sniffing after Tran for years (Nick is Tran's unofficial agent). Guy has a deep gravely voice that sounds like he sits in an office of mahogany with a tumbler of brandy on the desk and a cigar in hand as he makes great decisions for literary or world betterment. Nick always wavers between admiration and despise during their conversations.

Unwillingly his stressed mind begins to bring up memories from the party last week. There weren't any dramatics…but one occurrence is still plaguing him.

Jess being Jess obviously got everyone "Happy Successful Book Release" presents. For Leo she had framed the New York Times article praising the latest novel with the headline 'He's back! Pepperwood spies another success!' It now proudly hangs on his "Wall of Fame" (the wall in his office dedicated to successful releases - most of them Pepperwood related). Big Bob and the other office drones proudly display their personalized bobble-heads she'd made (who is this chick? Martha Stewart on crack?).

But his gift he keeps hidden…because seeing it constantly would only piss him off due to the memory it triggers.

…...1 week ago…...

The party had been winding down and he slipped back into his office to check on an e-mail from Tran. He switched on the dusty green desk lamp versus the glaring fluorescent lights which would have given him a headache and ruined his happy drunken state. Swaying slightly he bent to read the message and quickly typed a response before looking up to see Jess standing in the doorway, a black, glossy shopping bag in her hands.

"Can I come in?"

No. "Sure." Crap.

He didn't want her in his office, her perfume always filled the room and lingered for hours after she left and he wasn't sure if that made him angry or anxious. Angry because he liked his office to smell manly and intimidating. Anxious because as soon as the smell faded he found himself missing it, taking deep breaths to try and find it again.

But honestly, he especially didn't want her here because of his level of inebriation. When he was this lit, all her attributes he normally forced himself to find annoying suddenly became endearing…and he tended to notice her clothes more. A simple 'blue dress' becomes 'her legs look like they go on forever until they disappear under the skirt of the almost too short, blue dress.'

Said blue dress was now sitting in the chair directly across from him. He remained standing, leaning on his hands until her eyes widened in an expression that said, "Ya gonna sit?" so he flopped down into the leather seat.

Her eyes shone bright from all the pink wine she had been drinking.

"Were you e-mailing Tran?"

"Jess, what did I say about being-"

"Nosy. I know, I know, it's just…you had the Tran wrinkle."

The corners of his mouth turned down. "The what?"

Jess looked embarrassed at what she'd just said but seeing as it had slipped out decided to elaborate. "Oh, it's nothing. Just something I noticed…whenever you talk to Tran, by phone, e-mail or in person, you get this eyebrow scrunch going." She rubbed at the spot between her own eyebrows, brushing the ends of her bangs.

He just stared at her, lips still pressed together with the corners down.

"And that's your 'I don't understand or agree with you, Jess' look," she said under her breath fidgeting in her seat.

Now feeling guilty, he rolled his eyes and leaned to his left, pulling open the bottom drawer of his desk, removing the flask and shot glass he kept stored underneath a few worn brown accordion folders.

"You did good, Day," he said as he poured out a shot of amber liquid. "Not sure this would have gotten out before the deadline if not for you."

It was Jess's turn to roll her eyes as she stood to take the offered glass. "It's weird hearing a compliment come out of your mouth. Go back to being a curmudgeon."

He shrugged and stood as well, tapping her shot glass with his flask before taking a healthy swig. Jess downed her shot and immediately sputtered and coughed with a few 'blegh's' thrown in.

"Oh come on, ya ninny. Tighten up!" She laughed as she gave one last shake of her head in revulsion.

"That's more like it," she choked out. "…I have a gift for you."

He sighed deeply. "Yeah, I was hoping you skipped me."

"Nope!" She turned and reached for the black bag, showing a tantalizing expanse of thigh as the blue dress rode up. He heard the rustle of tissue paper before she turned back to face him with her hands behind her back. "Close your eyes."

He swallowed heavily. "No."

"Please?" She was giving him the wide eyes. It was useless. He closed his eyes then heard her soft footfalls on the carpet. She was moving around his desk to stand next to him. A gentle touch on his left arm indicated he should turn so that he was facing her once again. He swayed and took hold of her elbow to steady himself as she chuckled. She pulled her arm free and from the sudden rush of her perfume filling his nose, he could tell she had leaned toward him. He quickly closed off the scent by not inhaling but then felt her breath rush across his face. He knew it would smell strongly of whiskey with a subtle fruity undercurrent from the wine. He was about to breathe in deeply to see if he was right when a heavy weight fell on his head.

"Open!" His eyelids rose slowly, as if he was coming out of a pleasant dream to see her excited face less than a foot from his. He said nothing as he steadily held her gaze, eyes darting from one blue iris to the other. The silence was heavy in the dimly lit office and Jess's smile slowly faded as she licked her lips.

"What do you think?" she whispered. He broke eye contact to look at the lips she was now abusing with her teeth.

The alcohol in his veins was making everything move at a glacial pace and he knew his decision-making ability, strike that, his good decision-making ability was non-existent. He leaned toward her-

"Whoa, Miller, thas a great hat, man," Leo slurred from the doorway.

Closing his eyes tightly, Nick turned to face the newcomer. He could see in the reflection from the glass walls the hat was a replica of Pepperwood's detective fedora. Reaching up, he removed the hat before tossing it on his desk.

"Day, there's a Sam downstairs. Security won't let anyone up since it's after-hours."

"Oh!" A blush spread from her cheeks down her neck. "Thanks, Leo." She stepped back around the desk to grab the empty black bag, not looking at Nick.

"Hey, Jess." She stopped and turned at the doorway next to Leo who began eyeing the deep cut of her dress. Back the fuck off, dude."Thanks. This is…great," he motioned to the hat.

She smiled that secret smile he'd only seen directed at him. "Count yourself lucky I didn't go the Sherlock Holmes route, Miller." With a quiet "See ya," to Leo, she was gone.

He snorted to himself, then grimaced at the image of him in a deerstalker. Leo was watching her walk down the long hall to the right of his office towards the elevators. A question was burning in his mind and he knew he never would have uttered it had he not been so hammered. But quick consumption inspires loose lips…plus he wanted Leo to stop looking at her.

"Hey, Leo, d'ya know if it was a girl version of Sam or a guy version?"

"No idea," Leo said dismissively. "Hey," he pointed at Nick. "Those Heisler's aren't gonna drink themselves. Get back out here…And bring that hat."


He had ended up sleeping in it that night, drunk and bent over his desk, head on his arms, hat askew. That had been a rough morning. He remembers his last semi-coherent thought had been something along the lines of how awesome a P.I. he'd be and that his first case would be to find out which version of Sam Jess had picking her up.

For the hundredth time that week, Nick groans into his hands as his mind tries to bring up the memory of the heat of her body standing so close to his in this very spot. Her scent burning his nostrils, the whiskey warm in his stomach, a black curl wrapped around her shoulder like some exotic snake, the blood flowing to her lips, making them plump and red where she bit it.

He jerks in his seat as the shrill sound of his phone ringing crumbles the memory from his mind. He clears his throat.

"This is Miller."

"What are your thoughts on a female assistant?"

Tran's calm and steady question seems to paralyze him.

"You've already been thinking it, haven't you?"

Nick's loud and petulant groan is his only response as Tran's laughter echoes over the phone.