Murfey's Law

Chapter One

Bbrrriiinngg!

"What the hell do you think you are doing Miss James? This isn't a drill, you need to evacuate the building NOW or face certain death!"

The sound of someone shrieking from the opposite end of the large open plan office wasn't enough to snap Lori out of her daze, nor was the putrid smell of burning plastic filling the air around the desk that she had occupied for the last six years. It was only as her waste paper bin began dripping little molten plastic fireballs onto the carpet beside her bare feet that she came to and realised there was anything wrong at all.

Lori looked up from the box of matches in her hand to see forty-odd members of Hunter & Hunter Acquisitions staff all pushing and shoving each other through the one seventh floor fire exit. Gay George from Property, as opposed to Straight George from Accounts, was taking his role as Fire Warden very seriously and was using a copy of this month's Cosmo to smack staff, mainly the men, on their backsides to herd them out the door. In between each whack he wafted the glossy mag under his nose and coughed theatrically.

"About bloody time someone torched this place Birdy!" Sara Hunter, Lori's best friend, walked towards her clapping loudly. She laughed as she up-ended the nearest pot plant onto the smouldering carpet.

"I opened it," Lori offered by way of explanation.

"Opened wha...? Oooh." Her friend's face fell. "The letter?"

Lori nodded. "Yes, but it's ok, really." She tried to smile genuinely.

"Oh really? Well then I would love to see what you would have done to this place if it wasn't ok." Sara grinned as she removed the matchbox from Lori's grip. Hastily tugging on her already low cut shirt she caused a button to ping open and reveal a little more than ample bright red Agent Provocateur lace. "Leave this to me."

"Leave what to you?" Confused, Lori spun her chair around to see what her voluptuous friend was looking at.

Behind her, several fully suited firemen were marching through the maze of desks towards them. The burly looking fluorescent man at the front of the group was pointing his axe at the detector on the ceiling directly above her desk.

Lori exhaled slowly. "Oh shit."

With a little hatchet touching and hair flipping, it didn't take long for Sara to have the situation under her control. Less than fifteen minutes later she led Lori out of the building and across the road.

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable being in the pub at three o'clock, even if it is a Friday." Lori fiddled nervously with her straw.

"Just drink your drink Birdy, and besides, we're in a hotel, that makes it perfectly acceptable." Sara took a sip of her Rosé and leant back into the plush seating.

They had been coming here after work every Friday since 'the letter' had arrived over a month ago. Sara's reasoning was that it was important to support local business, but Lori knew her friend was really offering her the proverbial shoulder-to-cry-on should she decide to open it.

The morning the little airmail envelope had dropped onto her doormat Lori took the day off sick, her first in almost a year, to give herself the privacy she thought she needed. But instead of opening it, she had stuffed it in to the salad crisper in her fridge and consumed an entire family size block of chocolate whilst watching crappy daytime TV. The salad crisper was the least visited place in her flat and so Lori felt it could remain there, safely out of sight, until she was ready to open it.

Concerned by Lori's unusual absence, Sara had turned up after work that day to see if she needed any supplies. Finding her friend perfectly well, besides an enormous sugar high and a fresh crop of pimples, she had marched her down to the hotel bar where Lori told her everything.