"I can't fucking believe this."
Only an hour before he'd been sitting in Jake's office, legs crossed, listening to the accusation.
"You've been late at least fifteen times since you've started. On several of those occasions, you were tardy by at least forty-five minutes. You've only been with us a few months."
Bryan had inadvertently shrugged and rolled his eyes. He knew he had before he could stop himself. Something about those lunch time beers made it easier for him to do this without really thinking.
"Did you just roll your eyes?" Jake had asked.
"I didn't mean to," he responded.
Jake shifted in his beat up, second class, fake leather chair and then looked Bryan right in the eye.
"Listen pal, we know about the drinking."
Bryan had been mid-thought - something like "Jake the Fake with a leather snake" - when his boss' words hit home.
"Oh," was all he could muster, gazing down.
"It's really this simple, Bryan. You're fired. Get your stuff out of your locker, check in with HR, and leave. We can't have stuff like last Friday happen here."
Bryan stood, turned to go, and then in a flood of panic, turned back to Jake:
"Listen, man. I really need this job. I'm sorry about the other day and I'm sorry about the tardies and the eye rolling and that issue with Belinda that you won't talk to me about. I have to have a job. I have kids. I have to make a living. I have to do this. Please reconsider."
Jake stared back, eyes widening. It had been one thing to show up drunk on the job last Friday and run the company car into the warehouse docking bay at a pleasant 35 mph. It was something else entirely to reference Bryan's affair with Jake's wife.
Bryan and Belinda met at the company Christmas party. Having shown up three vodka tonics in, Bryan moved around the room chatting up the pretty executive's wives and girlfriends having told his date at the last minute he had to cancel. For some odd reason, one he'd never quite understand, he felt he needed to fly solo. He casually chatted with Jake and the seniors, before heading to the bar for whiskey.
Belinda, all 5'6 of her, wrapped scantily in gold sequins and with her dark chestnut hair falling down her back, was held up by the bar stool. She sat quietly observing Bryan as he walked up, running her manicured nail around the rim of her wine glass.
"Hello. You must be the new guy," she'd said.
That's what she'd called him all night long, "new guy." Bryan remembered that much.
Two hours later, they were peeling each other apart in the concierge closet downstairs, Belinda breathing in his ear to "Come on" and "Just do it hard before the party is over." He'd taken her number that night, driving home inebriated and collapsed into sleep.
For the next two weeks, they hopscotched between bar bathrooms, his car, her car, her health club, an elevator at the Sheridan Center, and his home office. It was when Jake caught them in the couple's bed that things really went south.
Now he was here, staring at the bewildered Jake.
"Get out of here," he snarled. "Get help. Get a program. Get therapy. Get your own God Damn woman. Get out."
It's really that simple, he thought. You screw the boss' wife, you get fired. You drink too much, you get fired. You screw up in general, you get fired.
"Fired," he murmured aloud, "Like, fired from your own fucking marriage fired."
He climbed out of the Jeep and walked toward Sticky's bar on Fourth. Sticky's had become his favorite hang out spot of late. It was quiet, dark, and relatively attractive people came in to watch the game or play pool. Nothing special. Just like him.
He plopped down at a corner table, ordered a beer, and took a look at his phone. He could text or call anyone right now, he thought. He thought about calling his soon-to-be ex-wife, who had moved on a year ago. It would really creep her out if he called about something other than the boys now. He thought about calling his boys, who were staying with their grandparents for the week. He thought about calling Stephanie, a marketing intern he'd met at a club two nights ago whom he'd been inappropriately texting for the last 24 hours in hopes she'd invite him over to her place. He thought about calling his old friends, the ones who didn't know enough about his fucked up life to still talk to him. He set the phone down.
He decided he'd call in a few hours. It was 11:30 AM and there was a really cute waitress on today.
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