Wiley E. Suzzi #2

Lunch with Pam

The sun cast soft beams of light across Wiley E. Suzzi’s office at Maga Logo as she nervously rearranged her desk. Noon couldn’t come fast enough. She had barely slept, her thoughts looping around yesterday’s surreal encounter with Donold J. Grump. The mushrooms, the dragon, the Twist—it all felt like a fever dream. Yet here she was, preparing for lunch with Pam Blondi, the one person she thought might help her navigate this chaos.

There was a knock at the door, sharp and precise. Wiley straightened her blazer, smoothing her palms down the front. “Come in,” she called.

Pam Blondi entered, a vision of poise and precision. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, her tailored suit immaculate, and she carried a sleek black briefcase in one hand and a large paper bag in the other. “Wiley,” she said, smiling warmly. “You look radiant. I hope you’re hungry.”

Wiley returned the smile, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Pam. Thanks for coming. And for lunch.”

“Of course,” Pam said, setting the bag down on the desk. She unpacked two salads, their crisp greens and bright toppings arranged with almost artistic care. “I thought something light would be nice. This one’s for you.” She slid a container toward Wiley and took the other for herself.

The smell was fresh and inviting, and Wiley’s stomach grumbled in anticipation. She grabbed her fork and dug in, the flavors bright and tangy. Unbeknownst to her, the dressing on her salad carried a carefully measured dose of Grump’s prized mushrooms, courtesy of Pam’s morning detour to the suite where they were kept.

They ate in companionable silence for a few moments before Wiley spoke. “I’m glad you’re here, Pam. I feel… safe with you.” Her voice was softer than usual, almost dreamy. She took another bite of salad, savoring the burst of flavor. “There’s so much I need to talk about, and I haven’t known who to trust.”

Pam raised an eyebrow, her fork hovering mid-air. “Safe is good,” she said smoothly. “I want you to feel free to share whatever’s on your mind, Wiley. That’s why I’m here.”

Something about Pam’s calm presence, or maybe the subtle influence of the mushrooms, made Wiley relax in a way she hadn’t expected. The room seemed warmer, the colors a little more vibrant. A faint shimmer danced around Pam, a soft golden glow that seemed to ripple when she moved. Wiley blinked, but instead of being alarmed, she found herself smiling. The strange aura only made Pam more mesmerizing.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Wiley began, her words tumbling out in a rush, “but I don’t know how I’m supposed to manage all this. Grump is… well, you know what he’s like. The mushrooms, Sparky, the paint in his suite—it’s like I’ve stepped into another dimension.”

Pam’s pen scratched across her notebook. “I understand. Go on.”

“And then there’s Donnie Jr.,” Wiley said, her tone darkening. “His Nose Candy habit is out of control. It’s not even private anymore. People are posting videos of him online, sticking his finger up his nostrils like—” She broke off, shaking her head in frustration. “He’s a mess, Pam. How am I supposed to maintain order when the President’s son is out there making a spectacle of himself?”

Pam nodded thoughtfully, her pen moving quickly. “I’ve seen the videos. It’s concerning, to say the least. What about the others? Earwic? Wiley, if you’re in a position to assess all this, you might be the only one who can make sense of it.”

Wiley sighed, leaning back in her chair. Her gaze lingered on Pam, her golden aura glowing softly like a halo. “You’re so composed,” Wiley said, almost wistfully. “I don’t know how you do it. I feel like I’m drowning, and you’re just… above it all.”

Pam’s lips curved into a small smile. “Experience,” she said simply. “You learn to keep your head when everyone else is losing theirs.”

Wiley took another bite of salad, the mushrooms subtly heightening her senses. She felt an inexplicable closeness to Pam, a warmth that went beyond professional respect. “I trust you, Pam,” she said softly. “Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. And maybe it’s because—” She hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “Well, I have a bit of a crush on you.”

Pam’s pen paused mid-word, and for a moment, her expression softened. “That’s very sweet, Wiley,” she said gently. “And flattering. But right now, you need to focus on what’s ahead. Trust is a good place to start.”

Their conversation drifted to logistics, strategies for managing the chaos swirling around Grump’s administration. Pam listened attentively, occasionally jotting down notes, but her focus remained unwavering. Wiley felt lighter with every word, as though sharing her burdens was lifting a weight off her shoulders.

When their plates were empty, Pam gathered her things and stood. “This was productive,” she said, flashing her signature smile. “I’ll follow up tomorrow with some thoughts.”

“Thank you, Pam,” Wiley said earnestly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Pam placed a hand on Wiley’s shoulder, a brief but reassuring gesture. “You’re stronger than you think, Wiley. Remember that.”

As the door closed behind Pam, Wiley leaned back in her chair, her mind still buzzing with the surreal clarity the mushrooms had given her. The room shimmered faintly, but she felt no fear—only a strange, peaceful acceptance.

Pam, meanwhile, made her way to a private bathroom down the hall. Inside, she locked the door, set her briefcase on the counter, and opened it. Hidden among the folders and notebooks was a small camera. She pressed a button to stop the recording, then slipped the device into a secure compartment.

Straightening, she looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing a stray strand of hair back into place. Her reflection smiled back at her, cold and calculating. “One more down,” she murmured to herself. “So many more to go. I will be the next president.”

With that, she snapped the briefcase shut, adjusted her jacket, and walked out, her heels clicking against the marble floor.