Chapter 4: The Toast and the Mockery

Brian’s eyes narrowed when he realized I hadn’t joined his toast. “Eric, I heard government folks are heavy drinkers. Why aren’t you drinking with me?” His voice was all Midwest passive-aggression—smiling, but his eyes sharp. The table quieted, everyone waiting for my response.

Before I could answer, Mark Hudson piped up with a sneer: “Yeah, Eric, don’t you want to catch up? Or do you just look down on us now?” His laugh was the same nasal cackle I remembered from the hallways. Old habits really do die hard.

I kept my voice even, jaw tight. “I don’t look down on anyone. I just really can’t drink—I have a meeting later.”

Brian stood abruptly, chair screeching. “What’s that supposed to mean? Too good to drink with us because you’re a government worker?”

Mark added, “Anyone would think you’re some big shot. Most days you’re just carrying bags, pouring coffee. Who do you think you are?”

Laughter erupted—mean and sharp. Rachel just shook her head at me in sympathy. Heat crawled up my neck. I focused on my glass, trying not to let it show.

Someone else chimed in, mocking my job and salary. Another bragged about the ranks of the people they ate with. It felt like being shoved back into a locker, invisible and exposed all at once.