Vacant Heart

Chapter Twenty-Three

"New Years Eve, baby," Samantha hums at the edge of my office, waiting for me to gather my things. I'm procrastinating, wanting everyone out of the office before I emerge from the safe four corners of my own work space. Today was the first day my boss didn't say a single word to me.

I want to tell Samantha that the last thing I want to do is show up to Matthew's house and drink his booze and schmooze with his friends, but her kids are with their grandparents tonight, and I don't have the heart to destroy the epic night out she has planned.

"What are you wearing?" she asks as we walk to the elevator. I'm relieved that nearly everyone is gone, having ran out of here early for festivities.

"The gold gown I bought with you a few months ago," I reply, uninterestedly.

"Matthew will forget he's even mad at you when you walk in with that on." I glare at her, and she snickers. "Joke. Geez, joke."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired, bitchy, and guilty. All I want to do is sleep off this week."

"You are not starting off the new year in bed. As your best friend, I refuse to allow that."

"Gee, thanks."

She entwines her arm with mine, and smirks. "Want to know what I'm wearing? It's got to be couple hundred dollars less than yours, but it's still something I think."

"Tell me," I murmur, wrapping my arm around her shoulder with a sigh, shaking off the negativity for her.

***

Matthew Crawley's home is infested. Infested with cheerful, drunk people high on life and cash. Lots of it. Yearly, Matthew holds an extravagant, senseless giveaway of money to already insanely privileged people, and they go wild for it.

I'm glad that I've arrived after that, judging by the dollar bills spewed across the floor still, along with confetti and spilt liquor. Thinking of it, I head to the bar before I search for a familiar face, needing the help of vodka and maybe some champagne to get me through tonight.

"What would you like, beautiful?" the man asks behind the bar.

"Champagne and a dry martini."

I scan the crowd, remembering the year before. I was here with Bradley. We got slammed, and stayed until three in the morning. It was as easy as breathing with him.

"Here you go."

I grab the martini, lifting the olive and throw back the liquor in one swift move, swallowing until it's gone. When I set it down, the man's eyes have swelled with shock. He laughs.

"Damn, you're either an alcoholic or you really needed that drink."

"It's not the first one," I quip back, tipping the flask of champagne to him in parting. To weave my way through the guests is a strenuous task, but thankfully the buzz of the liquor is quick, relieving me of some of my burdens.

Rory skirts in front of me, preventing me from moving forward. I look at her, blinking.

"Hi."

"I can't believe you let that Hughes story go. I fought for that story, Josephine. If you didn't want it, you could have given it to someone who could handle it."

"Oh, give it a fucking rest. I went. I investigated. And I concluded there was no story. Whatever you've heard is bullshit."

"I heard you fucked him, and got sentimental. Is that wrong?"

"Take a hike, Rory," Samantha snaps, showing up beside me. "Quit being a vulture and try to have to some fun. I know it's hard for someone like you, but try."