Drive Me Crazy. Portia MacIntosh

a hint of any kind of emotion.’

      ‘That dirty devil.’ New guy laughs. ‘Who’s that twat?’

      I look over in the direction he’s pointing and spot Karl. He’s simultaneously picking his nose and drooling over Charlie as she eats her sausage roll.

      ‘That’s Karl. He’s from Liverpool. He’s one of the drivers, and an office party repeat offender. He’s actually the reason there’s now a “three strikes, you’re out” behavioural policy.’

      ‘This I need to hear. Shall we sit down?’ new guy asks. ‘I’ll grab us a couple of lemonades.’

      I smile and nod.

      I take a seat at one of the canteen booths and shortly after the new guy joins me. He doesn’t take a seat opposite me like I expected him to, he sits next to me and scooches up close so we can continue our conversation without anyone hearing.

      ‘Do you know what this is?’ he asks, flashing me his key ring.

      ‘Of course,’ I reply, almost offended. ‘Just because I didn’t know what the Ocu- Ocul-’

      ‘Oculus,’ he interrupts me, putting me out of my misery. ‘It’s virtual reality gaming – even I’m not nerdy enough for that, don’t sweat it.’

      ‘Oh. Well, I know what that is – it’s a flash drive.’

      New guy wiggles his eyebrows before popping the top off it and pouring its crystal-clear contents out into our drinks, half in each lemonade.

      ‘What is that?’ I squeak.

      ‘Vodka,’ he says coolly. ‘For emergencies.’

      ‘What kind of emergency requires vodka?’

      ‘Dull parties.’ He laughs. ‘Now tell me about Karl and his previous.’

      I’m not much of a big drinker these days, but I sip my drink gratefully.

      ‘His first strike was not long after I started working for the company and the party was at Wi- Mr Starr’s massive house,’ I begin, correcting myself as I go along. ‘It was a Friday night and Karl got so wasted he had to go and throw up in one of the bathrooms. Anyway, he must have passed out. The party ended, everyone went home…’

      ‘But not Karl?’ new guy guesses.

      ‘Not Karl. Karl woke up on the floor the next morning and was too scared to leave. As the story goes he had planned to try and sneak out, but the opportunity never arose. He stayed in the bathroom until Saturday evening when the cleaner found him – and the toilet he’d blocked with his vomit.’

      ‘Nice.’ New guy nods, almost impressed by Karl’s antics. ‘What was his second strike?’

      ‘That took place in this very room last Halloween – we had a costume party,’ I explain, widening my eyes, pre-empting his disbelief.

      ‘This lot in fancy dress?’ He laughs. ‘It’s mostly middle-aged women and old truckers.’

      ‘Yes, a superhero costume party,’ I continue, and he finds this even funnier.

      ‘Who were you?’ he asks, quick as a flash.

      ‘I was – of course – Wonder Woman,’ I tell him, modestly.

      ‘This I need to see pictures of!’ New guy looks visibly surprised as he says this. ‘I’ve never seen you in anything but your office Stepford get-up. I bet you were a hit with the fellas.’

      I flash the new guy an unimpressed side glance.

      The truth is that my outfit was actually a big hit with the drivers, who were also only used to seeing me in my office attire – although back then it wasn’t quite as Stepford as it is now. With my big, brunette curled wig, my boobs pushed up underneath my chin and the red thigh-high boots I had to visit a sex shop specifically just to find, I actually felt like I looked pretty cool. Will didn’t agree, and he took me to one side to tell me as much. He thought that it was far too revealing, and not really me. I remember the exact words he used: ‘not right for my body’. I glanced over at Stephanie in her red-belted mac and her red fedora, that he was obviously fine for her to leave the house in. I had accidentally whipped Will with my lasso of truth, and that’s when I realised he didn’t want a thigh-flashing Wonder Woman with her cleavage on show, he wanted Carmen Sandiego, in her figure-hiding clothes and with her educational agenda. That’s when I realised I needed a Wonder Woman makeover circa 1950s, when they took away her whip to get rid of any bondage overtones, and made her more traditional and Christian. I’d already been watching my mouth and behaviour, but that’s when I stated dressing more appropriately.

      ‘Karl came dressed as Mr Incredible and at some point in the evening, the Flash decided to tell him a superhero-themed joke.’

      ‘Dare I ask what the joke was?’

      ‘I believe it was something along the lines of: “What’s the difference between Batman and a Scouser?”’

      New guy widens his eyes.

      ‘I know the one.’

      ‘Well Karl didn’t, and when he heard the punchline…he got a bit punchy himself. He launched at The Flash, the two of them crashed through the buffet table and they had to be pulled apart. If you look over at the table, you can see where the leg was repaired. The best part of the tale is that no one actually knows who The Flash was. So not only did he not get into trouble, but Karl doesn’t feel like he properly avenged Liverpool. He swears he’ll find out who it was, one day.’

      As I realise how quickly I’m getting through my drink, I puff air out of my cheeks and I examine my glass.

      ‘Gosh, what is this?’ I ask. ‘It’s…powerful.’

      ‘Just a little something I picked up while travelling Europe. Balkan vodka – there are thirteen health warnings on the bottle,’ he announces proudly. ‘I was in Serbia and there was this rugby team from Yorkshire on a stag party. One of them thought he could knock back neat shots. You should’ve seen the paramedics trying to get him onto the stretcher. You don’t drive, right? Probably don’t drive today.’

      ‘I don’t drive,’ I assure him. ‘Do you?’

      ‘Yes, but not today, babe.’ He laughs. ‘Maybe not tomorrow if you come back to mine after work and have a drink with me.’

      We are interrupted by a loud, exaggerated cough. For a moment, Will just hovers near our table, staring at us, before walking over to grab a glass of orange juice and taking his position in the centre of the room to make a speech.

      ‘Think the boss thinks we’re up to no good,’ the new guy whispers to me, giving me a pally nudge that Will definitely notices. As he gives his speech, he can’t take his eyes off us.

      ‘We’re a family here at Starr Haul, and it’s always sad to say goodbye to a much-loved member of the team. But I, for one, am proud of Charlie for leaving to open her own café,’ Will says, trying to direct his words at Charlie, but his eyes keep darting back to me and the new guy. ‘If Charlie ever needs any support, I’m sure you’ll all join me in extending a hand.’

      ‘I know what she needs supporting,’ new guy jokes to me, as he raises his hand.

      ‘Put your hand down,’ I snap.

      ‘But if you raise your hand for the easy ones, you don’t get asked the hard questions,’ he reasons. He’s clearly underestimated the strength of his vodka. I’m definitely feeling tipsy, and new guy is definitely acting it.

      I reach up and take his hand, slowly bringing it back down to the table. Will, who seems to have one eye constantly on us, notices this too.

      ‘Charlie truly was, er, the bread and butter of the…the canteen,’ Will babbles, the distraction clearly ruining his perfectly planned speech. ‘Basically, we’ll miss you,’ he adds, clumsily, wrapping