to agree with Dillon. Rick did have a similar resemblance to the hottie that played Captain Kirk. “I didn’t notice. I just think of him as the dick that’s going to fire my ass,” I said giggling.
Dillon giggled with me. “Is that what we’re calling him? Rick the dick? Or how about just…big dick?” I shot him a cynical glance, but Dillon’s chocolate brown eyes just gleamed. “Come on, Marley, you can’t even admit he’s hot?”
“Okay, he’s hot. He’s that guy who’s hot and knows it.”
“Yeah, well he’d have to be mentally impaired or have an aversion to mirrors not to know it. He’s not just hot, he’s like hot sex on legs.”
“Dillon!” I chided, but he just laughed.
“I mean, sure he’s going to fire out butts, but you have to admit it. Even his name exudes sexuality…Richard Randy.” Dillon had this faraway look in his eyes he got when he talked about hot guys. I felt bad that as his best friend I could only reply by making a gagging noise.
“I guess.” I bit down on my pencil, a telltale habit that I was thinking very hard. Dillon cocked a well-groomed eyebrow at me. “Dillon, do you know the meaning of randy?”
He smirked. “Of course, I do. That’s why I said that about his name. What, you don’t?”
I hesitantly relayed the airport debacle to Dillon. Then I stared, incensed, as Dillon proceeded to howl with laughter, putting even the TSA agent’s chortles to shame. I had to tell him to be quiet several times, so people didn’t think I was tickling him to death.
“Oh, that’s precious, Marley,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. Was it really that funny?
My office phone rang, interrupting Dillon’s rambunctious antics, and I was thankful for the break. The temporary relief was short-lived when Kathy Carver—in a brusque and miraculously cough-free voice—requested my presence in Mr. Henley’s office. Dillon sensed the shift in my expression and smiled sympathetically.
“I got the call. I guess they decided not to wait for payday.” I tried to keep the smile pasted on my face for Dillon’s sake.
“I’m sorry, kid.”
I didn’t know why Dillon called me ‘kid’ when we were close to the same age, but I’d always liked it. “It’s okay, at least I’m prepared.” I kicked the cardboard box below my desk that contained all my personal effects. I’d packed it the day Mr. Bellman had left.
“Don’t worry, I’ll probably be following you in a few days myself. We can work the breadlines together.”
I stood and clasped his hands, realizing that this might be the last time I talked to him at work. “Dillon, please, please, remember to take your pills at lunch. You know you can’t take them at night. Promise me.” I always made sure he took them, because I had seen him when he didn’t. The cleaning crew had threatened to quit because he’d followed behind them, pointing out spots of dust they’d missed. Although some people said it was cute, Dillon did have a disorder, and I knew he became antsy and nervous without his medication. One time, he’d re-arranged every drawer in his house for ten hours straight until he fainted from exhaustion.
“I promise, Marley.”
I brightened my smile not wanting either of us to start crying. “Gotta go, have to get fired now…or I guess, you would say…laid off.”
“Yeah, not as good as getting laid on,” Dillon replied, faking his own smile. “I’ll come over tonight, and we’ll dish it out okay?”
I nodded, blowing him a kiss.
I walked to Mr. Henley’s office, which had an outer and inner office similar to Mr. Bellman’s, but was larger. Kathy greeted me with a disdaining smile as her eyes travelled up and down my outfit, in what I assumed was an attempt to make me cower. I stood straighter. Kathy was one of those women who didn’t like other women. She was the kind of girl who couldn’t spare an occasional compliment or good-will gesture to another girl, but was extremely gracious towards the opposite sex. She was a beautiful woman with a dancer’s body, ebony hair, crystal blues eyes and flawless skin. Despite that, I’d always felt her insides were uglier than a monkey’s armpit. Kathy played up her looks with short skirts and tight tops. I bet she’d have some salaciously witty comeback when someone like Rick Randy noticed her garter belt. She fell into her gorgeousness gracefully, while I stumbled clumsily into the territory of passably pretty.
“You’re dressed up,” she announced,