There was only one other woman who worked for Mr Delacroix - the PR woman, Moira Higgins. She was a four-foot-eight redhead with a pinched face and wide doe eyes and she clasped a whiskey in her hand as she made her way to me, taking a long pull of her cigarette and blowing in my direction and she sat down with a smile. O'Malley's was overrun with our coworkers, drinking themselves silly.
"Danny's going to piss himself soon enough," were the first words she chose to say to me in over three weeks. How we dressed was a pretty big giveaway of the fact that we hardly interacted during work. Moira wore a form fitting dress-suit with highly polished black shoes and looked more like something from a an eighties American corporate doll collection. I had made the effort to change out of my overalls into something more casual, with my sweater balled up under one arm.
"How's your fiance?" I asked, trying to make small talk.
Moira smirked at me, "My husband is fine, thank you. You missed the wedding."
My mouth formed and O, but I did not pursue it.
"Cooped up in your little log cabin, then?" She asked.
"It isn't a log cabin, Moira."
She chuckled and drew on her cigarette, "I hear talk you're not one to socialize."
"I hear talk all you do is socialize," I said, even though technically it was her job to set up lunches and dress to the nines if it meant getting clients.
"I hear talk you've finally got a man in your life."
I froze and turned my head a fraction of an inch to her, "What?"
"Oh, honey. Don't pretend. Some of the boys have seen him driving down past your neighborhood into town," Moira swept the air with her cigarette, causing coils of smoke to curl into my eyeballs. I coughed loudly and gawked at her.
"Tall and handsome, they say."
"I don't know what you're-"
"Oh, don't you worry, honey. Lots of old folk this side of the forest, but who's to say they're not progressive? Live-ins are all the rage."
I stared at her trying not to laugh. A live-in. It was laughable.
"Oh, don't you worry!" She repeated. "People aren't talking about you that way-" what way was that? "If you ask me, it's a crying shame you didn't get involved sooner. We were starting to wonder if you were alright."
"Why wouldn't I be alright?"
"Oh, honey, it's what every girl wants eventually," she said, unconsciously picking at her ring.
"What if I'm a lesbian," I shot back.
"Clearly not," Moira flicked ash away. "I'm happy for you."
"Moira, last round!" Scooter called and she drifted away leaving me to stare after her in horror and amusement. The idea was laughable. As I was entertaining thoughts about actually being a lesbian to prove her wrong, the fire alarm went off and everyone started. The owner waddled around apologizing profusely and ushering us out.
"Just our luck," Delacroix grunted, being herded into the street with his employees.
In a slight drunken stupor, a few men were skipping down to the bus stand, and I, not entirely sober myself, went around back to where the truck was. And then I realized it was the same alley as where I had first met Loki.
Swaying slightly, I felt my neck and thought about what an asshole he was, trying to kill me without so much as a good morning or an offer of tea and cake. Even after a ten minute breather, I decided it was no good driving just yet. So I walked in stead. And came up across an internet cafe tucked between a deli shop and an ATM. I had a twenty in my pocket, which was more than enough to buy at least an hour on a computer so I sat down in one corner of the seedy little joint and cracked my knuckles over the keyboards. It was shameful, picking at the keys with my index fingers, but understandably, I had not been around computers much of my life. I thought smugly about how well I was doing compared to Loki, who'd have blown the monitor to smithereens and declared it obsolete technology. Obviously Asgard did not have wi-fi. Maybe it didn't need it, but I felt smug all the same.
About twenty minutes in I leaned back in my chair, locking my hands behind my head and heaving a sigh.
This is what it came down to them?
Trying to pretend I wasn't both mortifying and annoyed with what I'd read, I pushed my chair back and paid up in front. On the walk back to the car I shook my head, muttering, "Mistletoe? Really?"