Wednesdays at the office were usually uneventful. It was the kind of midweek lull where the most exciting thing that happened was a debate about the superiority of almond milk versus oat milk in the shared fridge. But this Wednesday, things were different. It was Amber's turn to pay for the team lunch, and she had no idea what fate awaited her.
Amber stood outside La Trattoria Bella, the fancy Italian restaurant Claire had chosen. Claire was the type who enjoyed ordering dishes she couldn't pronounce, making her feel like the protagonist of a lifestyle blog. Amber, however, was having a silent panic attack. She patted her bag once, then twice, and the realization hit her like a freight train of marinara sauce: She didn't have her wallet. Or her phone.
She'd been running late that morning, her caffeine fix only half-consumed when she dashed out the door. In the frenzy, she'd left her phone on the kitchen counter and her wallet? God knows where. But she couldn't tell the team that. Oh no. She had to figure something out, or she'd be branded as the one who couldn't even handle the office lunch. Her boss, James, would never let her live it down. James was the kind of man who made comments like, "The early bird gets the worm," while sipping a $12 matcha latte.
"Hey, Amber! You coming?" shouted Marcus, waving her over.
Amber forced a smile, like a prisoner walking the green mile. "Yeah, yeah, just, um.. adjusting my shoe!"
Marcus, ever the cynic, eyed her suspiciously. He was sharp like that - a guy who could sniff out weakness and unpaid invoices from a mile away. Amber swallowed hard and stepped inside the restaurant, praying for a miracle.
The group was already seated, studying the menus like they were deciphering ancient runes. Claire was raving about the handmade gnocchi she'd read about online. "I heard they use a secret blend of herbs that's only known to the chef's grandmother," she cooed.
Amber sat down, trying to act normal while her brain ran through a list of possible solutions:
1. Pretend she's fasting. But that would be ridiculous because she had been the one pushing for this lunch all week.
2. Claim an emergency and leave early. But that would require her phone to stage a fake call.
3. Offer to Venmo someone later. Which would work.. if she had her phone.
The waiter approached, wearing a smile that was both welcoming and vaguely condescending. He could smell fear, and Amber reeked of it.
"Buongiorno! Ready to order?" he asked.
"Yes, I'll have the truffle risotto," Claire said, with the self-assuredness of someone who didn't just realize they had no way to pay.
"Make it two," Marcus added, smirking. "You only live once, right?"
Amber's turn came, and she blurted, "Uh, just water for me. I'm.. detoxing."
There was a brief silence, followed by a collective eyebrow raise from the group.
"Detoxing?" Marcus snorted. "You had two doughnuts at the morning meeting."
Amber felt her cheeks flush. This was going to be a disaster.
As the waiter left, Amber leaned towards Marcus, her last resort. "Hey, funny story," she whispered. "I kind of forgot my wallet and my phone today. Any chance you could cover for me, and I'll pay you back?"
Marcus grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Oh, this is interesting. I think I could help you.. for a price."
Amber narrowed her eyes. "What kind of price?"
"You know that report due on Friday? The one I'm totally behind on?"
"Marcus, no!" Amber hissed. "You can't be serious."
"Serious as a heart attack," Marcus said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk.
Amber considered her options. She could agree and save herself the embarrassment, or she could find another way. But what other way? Fake a fainting spell? Hide in the bathroom until everyone left?
Just as she was about to agree to Marcus' terms, Claire piped up. "You know, I forgot my wallet last month and Amber covered for me. I'll get this one!"
Amber's jaw dropped. Claire? The same Claire who once reported her to HR for using the wrong coffee mug? This was a plot twist she hadn't seen coming.
"Oh, you don't have to?" Amber began.
"I insist," Claire said, waving her off. "Besides, I've been meaning to thank you for all the work you've been doing on the Daniels account. You really saved my skin."
Amber blinked. Was she in some kind of alternate universe? Claire was being nice, and Marcus looked like someone had taken away his favorite toy. It was thrilling, unexpected, and a little bit terrifying.
The food arrived, and Amber enjoyed her detox water with a side of relief. The lunch went smoothly, full of laughter and gossip. By the end, Claire had paid the bill, and Amber had somehow come out of it looking like a hero rather than a walking disaster.
As they left the restaurant, Marcus sidled up to Amber. "Well played," he said, giving her a grudging nod of respect.
Amber grinned. "You know, Marcus, sometimes the early bird doesn't get the worm. Sometimes, the worm gets away."
"Ouch!" Marcus replied, shaking his head.
Amber walked back to the office with a spring in her step. She'd survived the Lunch of Doom, without her phone, without her wallet, and without selling her soul to Marcus. It was a small victory, but on a Wednesday in corporate America, she'd take it.
And next week, she was definitely bringing her own lunch.
