Five Little Stories About One Big Party
Five Little Stories About One Big Party
by Steph
Summary: An absent guest of honor, angry emails, trash can basketball and a few attempted drug deals... it isn't a party unless someone is crying.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Timeline: Season 4, up to some events in Survivorman
---
The principal was vague over the phone. After a few moments of hemming and hawing she finally got him to say “disruptive in class” and “suspension.”
Those words she definitely understood.
At least she wouldn’t miss anything important today. Michael was throwing a party for Ryan’s 30th birthday - and he was 100% sure that Ryan was going to show up.
Meredith, like everyone else in the office, knew there was no way in hell Ryan was going to show up.
Michael was angry that no one shared his faith in Ryan and had spent most of the day yelling at everyone. Including her.
And even worse, Angela was in charge of bringing the punch.
Which meant it was just going to be regular punch.
Not spiked.
Yeah, there was no reason for her to stay.
She picked up her purse, wondering if she should tell someone she was leaving. But everyone was busy with party planning so she was able to slip out with no one noticing.
Jake sat in the principal’s office, slumped over, kicking at the chair leg. He didn’t even look up at her when she told him to stand up. He stood up though, mumbling about the stupid school and the stupid principal.
And a good mother would have lectured him, told him to apologize, told him what his punishment was going to be. Something productive like cleaning gutters or volunteering at an old folks home or something.
But she wasn’t that good of a mother.
She was just kind of tired.
The ride home in her minivan, cluttered with fast food wrappers and clothes and his school stuff, was quiet. She tried to get more details about what had happened today, but he wasn’t that forthcoming and just sat and scowled.
That was fine. She didn’t mind silence.
Not with this headache.
“Are you going back to work?” he finally asked.
“No,” she said. “They’re having another party. For someone who’s not even going to show up. And Michael, our boss, is so excited and we’re not so he just gets mad and yells at us.”
Jake made a face. “Your boss is kind of a dick.”
She should say something about his language, but didn’t. Because it was sort of true.
“I don’t want you to marry him.”
She laughed. This was not the first time Jake had brought up her marrying Michael. “I don’t want to marry him. Besides he has a girlfriend.”
Who Meredith could snap like a twig if she were so inclined, but that was not the point.
“Is there anyone there you could marry?”
Meredith thought about this. Ticked off the men from her office in her head: hot but taken, too weird, too loud, too creepy, too sad, not straight.
Yeah, she was still kind of pissed about that last one.
She wasn't sure about marriage material.
There were a few of them she’d definitely sleep with though.
“Don’t think so,” she said. And because he was actually talking to her, she decided to try again. “Want to talk about today?”
“Nope.”
She didn’t say anything, just tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. “Do you want to go home now?”
“I don’t care.”
She didn’t want to go home. Or back to work. “Let’s go to lunch.”
“Whatever, Meredith.”
She was a horrible mother, she knew. Because she knew she should be punishing her kid, not rewarding him. But right now she just didn’t care.
The two of them sat in a coffee shop and she listened to her son tell her about some super-violent video game he coveted and she found herself thinking that it was a pretty okay day.
She was enjoying her burger and he was talking to her and she wasn’t going back to her stupid job with the stupid parties and the stupid lack of available men.
Maybe she wasn’t that bad of a mother. At least she knew the importance of spending time with her kid now. While she still had a chance.
After all, it was only a matter of time before he ended up in jail.
---
The redhead left before the party started.
Creed wondered what that was about. He actually liked all the parties. He got paid without having to work and there was usually food. Which was good.
The receptionist was setting up for the party when he wandered into the break room. He liked her - she was a pretty little thing.
Prettier than the tired looking redhead, the sour-looking blonde who was so stingy with the money, the older woman with the glasses.
The Indian girl was pretty too - and she wore shorter skirts - but she sat way in the back and she talked too much.
No, he definitely liked the receptionist the best.
There was another pretty girl who used to work here. Tall, long dark hair.
Hung around with Jimmy. But then she just disappeared.
And no one ever talked about her.
He suspected Jimmy had something to do with her disappearance.
Suspected that he had gotten tired of her. Stashed the body somewhere.
But Creed never said anything, never asked Jimmy about it.
He respected the man’s privacy.
After all, Creed had done things outside the law before. Who was he to judge?
There was quite a spread set out. Lots of baked goods.
The temp who was now their boss was coming in today from New York for a birthday party.
Creed was quite happy about this.
The temp who was now their boss had once been a fairly decent customer of Creed’s and he had some good stuff for him today.
Some people had been sad when the temp who was now their boss left for New York - especially the Indian girl and Michael.
Creed had been sad too, because he was losing some income.
What he needed was a new customer. Preferably someone he worked with.
He figured his best bet would be the guy who sat in back with the Indian girl - the depressed guy with the slightly slurred speech and the droopy eyes - but he hadn’t gotten around to asking him yet.
More people were starting to file into the break room. Including Jimmy.
The receptionist seemed pretty tight with Jimmy. Perhaps he should warn her.
When she handed him a plate for cookies and brownies, Creed smiled at her and told her to be careful.
“Thank you,” she said, looking very confused.
Creed stared at her for a second. There was something about her that suddenly seemed so familiar.
“Have you ever been to Central America?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He had slept with a woman several years ago. Kind of looked like the receptionist. Could have been the receptionist.
He studied her, wondering. She looked away, uncomfortable.
It had to have been her. But of course she wasn’t going to say anything - not in front of Jimmy the Beanpole.
After all, look at what he had done to that poor Italian girl.
“Have fun, Creed,” the receptionist finally said.
He was now 100% sure it had been her. In that little hut in Honduras.
He remembered everything about that night. About her.
He smiled. “You too, Pat.”
--
It was scary how similar the emails from Michael and Kelly were.
They both started out light and congratulatory, pleasantries about things and people he hadn’t cared about when he was in Scranton and he certainly didn’t care about now that he was here in New York.
As the boss. He was the boss.
He had the business cards to prove it.
The emails from Kelly and Michael started out friendly then got a little angrier - "Why won’t you call me?" and "You can’t forget everything just because you’re in New York now" were in several emails.
From both Kelly and Michael.
The emails, from both of them, usually ended with pleading - for him to call, to email, to come back to visit.
Michael was even throwing him a 30th birthday.
Ryan wasn't even turning 30 this year.
Ryan told him from the beginning that he wouldn’t be attending, that he had meetings that day. That he didn’t have time to drive several hours each way just to drink punch and talk to people he really didn’t care for.
Michael had told Ryan he could stay with him at his place for the night so he wouldn’t have to drive back.
Jan wouldn’t mind.
Ryan had told him no. He would not be spending his birthday in Scranton.
And yet Michael continued to email him. Telling him about the party they were planning, the treats people were bringing in. The “not so PG entertainment” that could be arranged.
Michael had forgotten again that he was talking not to the temp, but to his boss.
And no matter how many times Ryan told him he was planning to stay here in New York for his birthday, Michael just did not seem to believe him. Seemed to believe that Ryan was going to show up as a surprise and make everyone happy.
Not today. Today he was going over his (non-Michael or Kelly) emails and planning his first corporate retreat.
He had already invited a few of the managers.
He had not invited Michael.
Michael, Ryan feared, would attempt to join him in his sleeping bag after everyone else went to sleep hoping for a cuddle.
Michael emailed him again, telling him how ungrateful he was even after all Michael had done for him.
Nice.
It would be mean and petty to invite all the other managers and exclude Michael. And it would seem a little suspicious to not invite anyone from Scranton, the branch where Ryan used to work.
He could always invite someone else from Scranton. Like Jim.
No.
Ryan couldn't quite explain it, but he did not want to bring Jim.
He could invite Dwight. Which would just piss Michael off.
And Dwight probably knew a ton of stuff about roughing it in the wilderness. Not that they’d really be roughing it - but Dwight might be handy to have around.
Then again, Dwight might kill them all while they slept.
Yet another email from Michael. Telling him he was getting too much of a big head and everyone in Scranton was talking bad about him. And just because Ryan was hot didn’t mean he could treat his best friend this way.
No. Ryan could not possibly invite Michael.
He had to invite someone from Scranton who wouldn’t embarrass the hell out of him, who wouldn’t say anything creepy or wrong.
And if inviting that person would screw with Michael a little bit, well that was just another benefit.
And then he knew just the person. Perfect. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?
When he called Scranton, Pam answered. She pleasantly wished him a Happy Birthday and asked if he was planning on coming to his own party, already in progress.
Ryan said, for what felt like the hundredth time, no. Of course not.
And then he asked her to transfer him.
--
Kelly was crying.
Toby hadn’t realized that she was even there at first; assumed that she was at Ryan’s party with everyone else. In his defense, he had only been at the party for a few minutes before Michael ordered him to leave and when he was there he had been distracted by Creed, who may or may not have been trying to sell him drugs.
Toby wasn’t quite sure about that one.
He stuck his head over the cubicle. “Are you okay?”
Kelly sniffed, frowned and said, sounding very angry, “Shut up, Toby.”
Okay then. Back to work.
He was looking over some files when Kelly, done with crying, came over to him. “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”
He looked up. “It’s okay.”
“Why aren’t you at the party?”
“Michael kicked me out. Before I could even get anything to eat.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea.”
Kelly frowned again. “Didn’t anyone say anything?”
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. Angela? She’s the one who's in charge of all the parties.”
“Angela’s not going to stick up for me.” He shook his head at the memory. “Did you know she slapped me once?”
“Really?" She leaned closer, expecting good gossip. "Was it for something juicy?”
“No,” Toby said. “Sorry to disappoint you. She didn't think I was proactive enough with one of her complaints."
"So she just slapped you?"
"Yeah."
"That was like really bitchy."
Toby didn't say anything.
She took a deep breath. “You know, I totally knew Ryan wasn’t going to come today, but I still thought maybe he would and I was nervous about it and Darryl could tell and that made him mad so we had a fight and I came back here.”
“Well,” he said, looking at his files.
She stood there for a few seconds before asking, “Do you want to do something?”
This could be interesting. Maybe work could wait. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t done Dunderball in awhile. I just want to do something so I won’t be thinking about Darryl or Ryan.” She looked at him, her lip quivering, looking close to tears again. “Please?”
Well, it’s not like anyone else was doing any work. “Okay.”
He took his empty trash can out from under the desk. “How about Dunderball basketball?”
And for the next twenty minutes, they played so she wouldn’t think about her fight with Darryl and he wouldn’t think about getting banned from a birthday party for no reason at all..
Kelly seemed to perk up immediately. She started out by smack talking him whenever he missed a shot, but tired of that quickly. She said smack talking him just made her feel sort of guilty, because people smack talked him on a daily basis.
He had to admit that that was kind of true.
Her aim wasn’t too great and she seemed to get bored pretty quickly. So she cheered him on, having more fun dancing around and making up silly cheers than actually playing.
He had just made three shots in a row, stepping back a little each time when Kelly clapped her hands together.
“This is it,” she yelled. “The one that will decide the whole game. No, the whole season. Will Flenderson be able to make this totally hard shot? Will he be that awesome?”
He grinned, took another few steps back and shot. And landed it.
“Awesome,” she said, surprising him with a quick hug. “And thank you. For playing that with me.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It was fun.”
And a nice diversion. It took his mind off of how crappy it was being excluded.
Again.
“I’m going to go to back the party,” she said. “Talk to Darryl.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
“I’ll bring you back some brownies.”
“Thanks.”
He sat back in his chair, smiling. That had actually been really fun.
It had been awhile since he had had fun at work.
He wondered if this was what work was like for Jim everyday.
He looked back at his files, feeling very unmotivated.
His extension rang.
Back to work. While everyone else had fun at the party.
Must be nice to be included, he thought, his good mood fading.
He picked up the phone.
“This is Toby.” He paused. “Oh, hey. Happy Birthday.”
--
The party was a bust, Angela thought miserably.
It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault that Ryan Howard, former temp turned salesman who couldn’t make a sale turned boss, thought he was so much better than all of them.
She had tried to tell Michael Ryan wasn’t going to come. They all had. He hadn’t cared, he had insisted that the Party Planning Committee do all they could to make the party so wonderful that Ryan would have to come.
And she had tried. There were treats - cookies and brownies and an ice cream cake in the freezer - and punch. There were streamers, garishly colored orange (this was the last time Angela would let Phyllis pick those out). There was even a Happy Birthday sign, more appropriate for someone turning five..
Her head was starting to hurt.
Meredith had left before the party had even started without a word to anyone. Pam, who, as a member of the Party Planning Committee, should actually be helping her, had drifted back toward her desk, answering phones in between bites of brownies. Jim, being Jim, had followed her.
And on top of that, Andy… her… well boyfriend was such a tawdry word…her gentleman caller of sorts, was being loud and obnoxious and her head was hurting her even more.
She pressed her fingers to her head and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she spotted that trollop Kelly Kapoor loading a plate with brownies. Not just one or two - but six or seven.
“You’re taking too many!” Angela hissed. “Put some back.”
Kelly narrowed her eyes. “Or what? You’re going to slap me?”
Angela put her hands on her hips. “If it comes to that.”
“Hey,” a booming voice called out behind Kelly. “Let’s all calm down now.”
Darryl. Of course.
He would defend his little brownie-scarfing hussy.
She frowned and then felt a tap on her shoulder.
Creed.
“What?” she asked angrily.
“I have things,” he said. “To calm you down. If you’re interested, you just let me know.”
“No,” she said. “Just no.”
He smiled. “The eagle flies at midnight.”
“What?”
“Just remember that.”
“Get away from me,” she said. She stormed away, nearly colliding into Michael.
“Ryan isn’t here,” Michael said, pointing out the obvious.
“I told you,’ Angela said. “We all told you he wasn’t coming.”
Michael looked around the break room. He shook his head, looking disappointed. “This party wasn’t one of your best. No wonder he didn’t come.”
Was he kidding? She had worked so hard on this party - Phyllis and Pam were pretty much worthless, everyone knew she was the brains behind the committee. It wasn’t her fault that Ryan didn’t feel like driving to Scranton.
Why couldn’t anyone see that?
She had had enough and walked over to her desk.
She sat down and tried to think of pleasant things. Cats. Christmas music. She tried humming a few of her favorite hymns, but nothing seemed to help.
She put her hand to her mouth. It was no use and soon she was shaking slightly, crying softly.
She didn’t open her eyes until she felt someone in front of her.
In one hand, he held a handkerchief and a bottle of children’s strength aspirin (the adult kind made her nauseous sometimes). In the other a plastic cup full of water. She wiped her eyes with his offered handkerchief and swallowed some aspirin.
The water was lukewarm - just the way she liked it.
“I think it’s a wonderful party,” he said. “I appreciate your hard work even if those idiots don’t.”
She smiled slightly, the first time in a long time, and said quietly, “Thank you, Dwight.”
The end