KNOCKOUT by Nikki Wild

exactly any of my business, but I still don’t like it. He shouldn’t be causing you any problems at work. Maybe I should have a talk with him.”
    “No! Please forget I said anything about it. It’s not anything to worry about, I promise.”
    Luke sighed into the phone. I could tell he wanted to argue the point further.
    “He’s just drunk,” I said. “He’ll sober up in a few hours and forget about the whole thing. I bet he’s already passed out by now. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
    “Fine. But if he gives you any more shit, I need to know about it.”
    “Okay. Deal. But really, I’m good.”
    I needed to change the subject.
    “So, what about us?” I asked, hesitantly.
    “What about us?” There was the hint of a challenge in his voice.
    “When can we see each other again? It’s been a long week.”
    “I have to do this training seminar tonight. How about after?”
    “Does tomorrow work,” I asked. “I’m running on fumes right now and I desperately need a good night of sleep. Something tells me that won’t be happening if I hook up with you.”
    “Tomorrow’s perfect. I’ll pick you up at work. There’s something I want to ask you anyway.”
    “Oh, okay…,” What could he possibly have to ask me?
    “Call me when you’re ready and I’ll be there.”
    Before I could answer, he was gone. Everything Luke did seemed to have a finality to it. He didn’t linger around long once he’d made his point.
    I stuffed my phone in my handbag and stared down the dark steps. Ten hours in the records room. Better get to it.
    The light clicked and flickered on. It gave off a constant buzz. At first the noise could be annoying, but after a few minutes it blended in with the other background sounds.
    I pulled an armful of files from the top of the stack and started sorting. There were paper trails on court cases going all the way back to the late nineties in here. Thousands and thousands of pages that would never be touched or seen by human eyes again.
    I’d begged my boss to let me purge a lot of the older stuff, as it was all well beyond the state’s record keeping requirement.
    He’d dismissed the idea quickly.
    We keep everything here, Bria. You never know what you might need.
    I wanted to ask him under what circumstances we’d need to reference some random meeting minutes from back when Clinton was in office, but I’d held my tongue. Lawyers are particular types and they argued for a living. If that was the way he wanted thing, there wasn’t much I could say to change his mind.
    As I was about to dig into the Clark file, I heard the door click at the top of the stairs.
    Great, so much for my alone time.
    I hoped for Marcia or Lisa. They weren’t big talkers and would be fine with sitting in silence. But if it was Michelle… God help me if it’s Michelle. My head was pounding again and the idea of having to listen to her blab on about her upcoming wedding was enough to send me into a mini panic attack.
    But the footfalls were heavy. It wasn’t the sound that heels or other women’s dress shoes make. Who else could be-.
    “They told me I might find you down here.”
    I whipped my head around just in time to see Kevin clumsily descend the last three stairs.
    “Kevin, what the hell are you doing here?”
    “Easy,” he said. “Can’t a guy come see his beautiful girlfriend at work?”
    “I am NOT your girlfriend anymore. Or, are you too drunk to remember?”
    “I’m not drunk, just missing you.”
    “How did you find me, anyway?”
    “Really, Bria? You act like I didn’t work here myself. Everybody here still loves me. In fact, I sat in that very chair longer than you ever will.”
    “What, so you sweet talked your way in here? I bet everyone was so impressed to see you stumble through the office drunk before nine in the morning.”
    Kevin slammed his hand down on the end of the long table. “I told you, I’m not drunk!”
    His face twisted in a mix of frustration and rage.