This is the sequel of a sort to Girlfriends
I’d noticed her before, all bossiness and tits.
Not her friend, though. She was new. A dark-haired piece in a too-small dress. It clung to her body, to everywhere. Stomach rolls, and fat acres of thigh.
They might as well have been on a date, ignoring the rest of us, crammed in the smallest bar of the pub because the Christmas do hadn’t been booked until October. I turned back to the knot of management behind me and when I next allowed my gaze to flutter over to those women, they were still talking, avoiding the rest of us. They could have been on a date. Lesbian canoodling on the company dollar.
I snorted into my pint and, catching Jay’s eye, went to join in with the departmental singalong of We Are the Champions. And every so often, I’d turn back and look at them, at their heads bent together, still ignoring the rest of us. I must have known.