That's entertainment!

“The trick with doctors? Say, you’re fine but your friend, who is a doctor, is really worried about you. That’s how you get them to listen.”

“Well Dad, these pills I told you the doctor put me on, aren’t legal.”

The other end of the phone went silent. I waited for a response, grinding my teeth, making the problem worse; I jabbed a finger into my gums and felt around.

“Why would a doctor prescribe you illegal drugs?”

I sighed already regretting the call. “He didn’t dad. I get them from a guy at the gym. I need them. This job, I mean there’s cutthroat and then there’s this place.”

“You draw comics, Lydia. You aren’t on wall street. Just go to the doctor and tell them you took something bad and now your doctor friend is worried.”

“It can’t be the pills Dad, I’ve had them a while.”

“Jesus, how long’s this been going on?”

“Remember last Christmas when I insisted on doing all the driving? Well, you can’t have a sip of alcohol with these things. No exceptions.”

My stomach twisted knowing he was fretting in his empty house a thousand miles away. A lighter clicked followed by a long exhale. I looked into the bathroom mirror. Something out of the morgue stared back. Over the past three weeks my face had paled and I’d lost weight despite my appalling diet. This morning, I woke up to find my gums had turned black. In pure horror I scrambled for my phone and rang my dad.

“Dad, look, don’t worry. I’ll go to the doctor. It’s just stress, this job was not how I’d imagined. I put in eighty hours last week and I’m still falling behind.”

“Illegal drugs Lydia? To please some boss?”

“I need to go.”

I put the phone down before having to hear another deflated goodbye. My dad always told me he wanted me to succeed. Now, after moving away for a dream job, it felt as if he held it against me. I knew I shouldn’t have called him. Retired and alone in the house I could see him spending all day winding himself up before insisting on flying down to stay a while. I couldn’t think about that now, work had to come first.

I slapped on a thick layer of make-up, making a mental note to keep my mouth closed when I smiled. I arrived at work forty minutes early to find that all my colleagues had beaten me in, giving me disapproving looks as I walked by. I bent down to store my bag when a dizzy spell hit me. I tried to grab the corner of my desk but missed. I hit the floor hard with my hip. Red-faced, I stood back up with an abashed chuckle, covering my teeth with my hand. Standing over me was Rasheed.

“Looking a bit under the weather newbie. You wouldn’t rather take the day off?”

You’d like that wouldn’t you? Plenty of room to kiss the boss’s arse uninterrupted.

“I’m good, Rash, just busy, busy.” I replied, through gritted teeth.

“It’s Rasheed. If you’re not too busy, busy tonight we’re having drinks in the break room. The big man wants to celebrate another good quarter.”

“Sounds great.” I said, adding some pep despite wanting to crawl into a blanket fort and die.

“Hey, I’ll get you a coffee, gonna get myself an espresso anyway. I’ll bring it over.” Rasheed insisted, as he did every morning.

You mean espresso with a vodka chaser?

“It’s fine, Rash, honestly,” I called after him, but he was already striding to the break room. Reckoning my insides couldn’t handle coffee on top of pills and anxiety, I followed him, pushing open the door.

“Rash really…”

Three coworkers huddled over the coffee pot split away at my intrusion. Rasheed pretended to look for something in the top cupboard.

“Hope I’m not interrupting?” I asked.

“Just grabbing your coffee,” Rasheed said, pointing to the lone drink on the counter. I picked it up and blew on it, a tiny white film floated atop the rich blackness.

“No espresso?” I asked Rasheed.

“No, yeah, just grabbing it now.” He smiled, pointing to the machine. I looked over at the others, both staring at me as if waiting for a surprise.

“Good coffee here,” one muttered under his breath.

I walked back to my desk feeling eyes on my back, the strangeness of the break room had set my teeth on edge. Searching my symptoms online proved fruitless. I felt more ill than I had in years, but I doubted I had scurvy. I spent the morning staring at my computer, running a finger over my gums.

“You didn’t drink the coffee, newbie.”

I startled back into reality. Rasheed was once again looming over my desk, looking down at the untouched paper cup. Drumming his hand against a folder I could see his fingertips shaking.

Craving that liquid lunch, are you?

“Yeah sorry, in the zone today haven’t stopped for a moment.” I said, he looked over to my monitor. I hadn’t opened my drawing software yet.

“I’ll get you another.” He insisted, reaching down and grabbing the cup. I put my hand on top of it before he could pull it away.

“I’ll do it, need to stretch my legs anyway.”

“I’ve got it.” Again, he tried to slide the paper cup out from under my hand. I pressed down harder. Admitting defeat, he let the cup go.

“Don’t forget drinks in the break room tonight.” He gave me a plastered-on smile before striding back to his desk.

Hopefully you’ll leave some for everybody else.

I’ll be there!” I called after him.

I took the coffee into the break room, pouring its contents down the sink. The acrid bitterness found its way up my nostrils. My stomach gave a lurch. I made sure I was alone before quickly necking a pill. Twenty minutes and I’d be a firecracker. One of the interns struggled through the door holding a cardboard box. Glass bottles rattled violently inside setting my teeth to ache.

“For tonight!” he explained almost apologetically.

“No shit.” I remarked.

Lucky, you got them past Rasheed’s desk still full.

He cast his eyes down, leaving to haul in the rest. I stepped on the bin lever. The lid flew up, clanging against the wall.

“Christ!” I shouted, feeling the noise reverberate through my head. I was just about to toss the paper cup when something floating in the dregs caught my eye. I swished it. Tiny crystals lay at the bottom, stained by the coffee but undissolved. I looked out the break room window. Rasheed’s head dipped behind his monitor.

“Did that drunk suck-up try to poison me?” I whispered, staring into the cups remains.

“What?”

I whirled around, the intern stood behind me with another box of booze clutched to his chest.

“Just mix the bloody punch or something.” I said, dismissing him with a wave. I deposited my evidence into a plastic sandwich baggie and flung open the break room door. On cue, Rasheed’s pin head popped up from his monitor. I held up the bag in triumph, setting off toward the boss’s office.

Don’t panic Rash you can still be a kiss arse. In prison.

I knocked on the boss’s door in a panicked flurry. After a full thirty seconds of silence his throaty voice answered from the other side.

“Enter.”

I let myself in, giving the middle finger to Rasheed whilst he power-walked down the aisle. I slammed the door in his face.

“Mr Kenilworth, sir. I need to talk…”

“Lydia, I’ve told you, call me Andy,” he bellowed. “God, woman, what happened to your gums?”

I pursed my lips, organising my roaring thoughts.

“I think I may be the victim of a poisoning, Sir, by someone in this office.”

He lent forward in his reclining chair, steepling his fingers.

“Oh, dear me. Looks like he really took to heart what I said.”

He let out a chesty chuckle. I crushed the coffee cup in my hand, trying to rearrange the words he just said into something that made sense.

“You see Lydia, we are at the end of the day a business. Would I prefer he be out there poisoning those hacks over at Marvel? Yes, but the man’s got ambition and the stones to see it through. Right now, you’re his only real competition.”

He lent back in his chair and winked at me. I tasted bile at the back of my throat. Suddenly feeling stupid, I put the cup on his desk and sat.

“Sir, I think Rasheed’s trying to kill me.”

Andy doubled over, as his wheezing laugh turned his face a deep beetroot red. When he recovered, he slapped his desk.

“If he’d killed off one of my best artists, then he’d be in trouble! No, he just wanted to put you behind him for a few weeks. Give himself the edge. To be honest we could really see some more of that determination from you.”

I stared at him slack jawed. His contented smile dropped seeing my gums again, his eye twitched in disgust. I snapped a hand over my mouth.

“You knew he was poisoning me?” I said, the words muffled behind my hand.

He shrugged, “Watching you soldier on was inspiring. Thought you’d drop after the third day but you’re a trooper and we’re at war.”

He drew his finger across his neck in a slicing motion. My entire body plunged into an ice-covered lake.

“I’ll go to the police, or the press.” I said, stuttering out the words in little more than a whisper. Andy drew in a breath, eyes shining. He looked down at me like an adoring father.

“Do it! Get him jailed and you’re that much closer to all this!” He gestured round his office. A malicious glee stretched the corners of his mouth. “This is how winners think, Lydia!” He got up from his desk, pacing like a mad scientist on the verge of a breakthrough.

I needed to be sick, my vision blurring, I felt for the door of Andy’s office, wrenching it open. From behind me I heard the echoes of his applause.

“That’s entertainment!” he cried.

The office ambiance died as I shoved my way through the crowd around the water cooler and burst into the break room. Sticking my head over the sink, I wretched until my throat had turned raw and my chest was cramped from heaving. Hearing a squeak, I turned to spot the intern, staring bug-eyed, ladle in hand.

“I made punch,” he announced.

“Please fuck off.”

He dropped the ladle and stepped swiftly out the room. I wiped away the vomit and drool still clinging to my chin before slumping to the floor.

I just wanted to be an artist. God what the hell have these people done to me? Another pill should do it, just to clear my head.

I dug in my pocket for the pill bottle, giving it a shake before I popped the cap. Knowing it was full was enough to steady my thoughts. I cocked my head back and let a single pill drop onto my tongue. It went down slow and painful due to the rawness of my throat. My shoulders relaxed, eyelids fluttering, knowing relief was on the way. From my seat on the sticky floor, the candy pink liquid inside the punch bowl looked to be the perfect thirst quencher.

All that sugar and booze should mask the vomit taste nicely.

I lifted myself to my feet and stirred the punch, creating a fruity maelstrom, then my own warning hit me.

“You can’t have a sip of alcohol on these things, no exceptions.”

I leaned forward and let the pills slide out the bottle. They hit the punch one by one with a pleasant fizz before being swept away by the ladling. I shook off the ladle and placed it down. I lifted the empty pill bottle in a toast.

“To another great quarter!”