Devonne Brown

Nobody could tell if Alice was pretending to be sorry or not. The punch she made at the bar was too tangy for human consumption, and though she apologized, there was a funny sparkle in her eye. It made me doubt her sincerity. I’m not sure anybody else bought it either. She poured more rum in it to sweeten it up, “Yes, try it now, it’s much better.”

Jackson was the first to try it, he looked doubtful, but his expression changed when he tasted it. The rum had indeed improved the taste of the punch enough to make it drinkable. Folks gathered around the punchbowl. What a stupid thing to do. 

It was fifteen degrees outside and these ten people, who were supposed to be bonding over a work project were now bonding over a rum filled punch bowl. I was glad I always carried diet coke with me. I didn’t need to drink, didn’t want to end up a human popsicle on the interstate somewhere between here and home. I thought drinking had gone out of style. Apparently, I was wrong.

The group pushed the tables together and started drawing on the paper table cloths. They’d had enough punch to make them feel confident and smarter than usual.

Jackson’s arrogance factor had doubled. He strutted around the table with his ever present laser pointer. He was the only person I knew that carried one at all times. He was always presentation ready. “One never knew when the need to make a good impression would arise,” I heard him tell Alice one day. He wanted in her pants.

From the way he strutted and pointed his red dot, it could happen tonight. Alice was smart to bring the rum. Snacks appeared. The work cronies gathered round the morsels and discussed the pros and cons of why the project was better left to die on the floor. It was a jank maneuver. A takeover that none of them were capable of leading, not even Jackson or Alice, especially not Alice. She was too much of a party girl. 

At last, somebody was talking sense. I thanked everybody for a good time and said I had to leave, I lied and said I had a houseful of company. The drunken project died on the table. Alice’s sparkle was back in her eyes while she watched Jackson’s laser pointer. All was not lost for her.