Maggie Jordan

Leave phone messages for Maggie Jordan here.

When Maggie really thinks about it, she's still not entirely sure how all of this happened. Part of that, she thinks, may have something to do with the fact that she was kind of drunk when she walked up to Jim on Halloween, aware of what she was saying and what it meant but substantially less inhibited than she might have otherwise been, but really, it's more than that. After more than a year spent not knowing, avoiding any feelings they might have had for each other, especially after the month and a half they spent dodging the issue here, she never actually thought she and Jim would have a shot at anything. Maybe this has happened in large part because the people they were dating at home haven't shown up, but she tempers any guilt she has about that by remembering that Don wasn't all that serious about her in the first place. With Jim, however much might still be uncertain, she has a feeling that could be different.

If nothing else, the one thing she is sure of is the fact that she's pretty crazy about him, something she's done her best to hide except when they're alone. Sooner or later, she knows, they're going to have to address just how public they mean to be, but as long as he's serious — which she's pretty sure he is — then she's not worried about dealing with that just yet. For the time being, that's not too important. Besides, she has a feeling that, given some of their coworkers — okay, given Mackenzie — any attempts at discretion will be short-lived. Right now, when how surreal it is keeps her from really knowing what's happening at all, she doesn't mind keeping it quiet. It's actually kind of refreshing, even if she knows it won't last.

She still isn't expecting it to come to a probable end so soon. Maggie really doesn't mean to lose track of time, but then, it's not like she's the only one, and it's not like there wasn't good reason. (If sex isn't a good reason, she doesn't know what is.) That doesn't make it any less awkward to be going into work late with Jim at her side, the both of them pretty obviously a mess. It's not like they had time for anything else, though, not without drawing more attention to their showing up late in the first place. She just hopes that everyone will be distracted enough that they won't notice, though she's aware that it's pretty damn unlikely that will be the case. She might be pretty good at deluding herself, but even that only goes so far. As it is, she'll have to find Mac and apologize, so maybe, with any luck, it will already be busy tonight.

"Lisa," Maggie protests, but Lisa's already made her way to the door by the time she gets the word out, and this is all so wrong. She knew she shouldn't have said anything, knew it the moment she opened her stupid mouth and knows it with even more certainty now. None of that knowledge makes it any better. With as long as she's tried to hold it together, ignoring anything she fees for Jim so Lisa wouldn't have to feel too guilty to date him and to keep things good with Don — who apparently still doesn't see her as anything more than a booty call, though she thinks that's pretty irrelevant right about now — she isn't going to let one mistake ruin everything. She can't, unable to fathom the possibility of having to do so. Hurriedly collecting her things and leaving a few bills on the table, momentarily grateful that she manages not to knock over either of their glasses, she follows in the direction Lisa just went, calling after her. "Lisa! Lisa!"

The obnoxious yet music from the bus driving by is easily ignorable. What isn't, though, is the way it drives through a puddle, soaking her with dirty water. Of course, of course this would happen right now, as if her night couldn't get any worse. For a moment, mouth agape, she just stands there, then blurts out, speaking to herself or the air or anyone else who might be bothering to listen, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Obviously that isn't the case. "To the left is the famous brownstone where Carrie Bradshaw lived, loved, and lost," says a voice over a loudspeaker from the top of the bus, to which Maggie can't do anything but roll her eyes. "Thanks to Carrie, we all got to live the typical life of a single woman in New York City!"

The tour guide's little speech is met with cheers from the women seated there on top of the bus, but for Maggie, it's the last fucking straw, the last thing on earth she needs right now. "Hey!" she shouts, storming forward a few steps, head tipping up so she can direct her tirade up at the gaggle of women on the bus. At least it's stopped, though she hasn't, continuing without bothering to think about what she's saying. "No, you didn't! I'm a typical single woman in New York City! I don't wear heels to work because the typical woman's job doesn't exclusively involve gallery openings. And I know Carrie must have made boatloads writing her eight hundred word column for a newspaper no one's ever heard of. But I just spent my last seven dollars having a fight with my best friend who, by the way, is not available at three p.m. on a Wednesday to console me about some guy because she, too, has a job! And mostly —" Her face falls a little, but she presses on, less angry but no less worked up. "When you fall for a guy and he's going out with your best friend, it doesn't work out. Things get really bad."

She doesn't know what she's expecting. For them to ignore her, maybe, which she wouldn't mind all that much, even if she thinks they're still fucking insane. Before anyone can do anything, though, herself included, someone distinctly male, a voice she's sure she'd recognize anywhere, speaks up. "Maggie?"

And there he is, Jim, the very guy in question, standing up on top of the bus, and God, she should have known this, too, but she pointedly didn't spend a lot of time thinking about that stupid Sex and the City conversation, something that's clearly come back to bite her in the ass now. She thought things were bad before. That has nothing on how they are now, with her once again having said too much. With Lisa, at least she knew she could make up for it. Now, she's stuck, staring up at him with wide eyes, feeling like her heart's stopped. "Oh, no," she says on an exhale, this time entirely to herself. That it's far too late to cover her tracks doesn't keep her from trying. "I was just —" she starts, faltering, trying to sound more confident than she actually is. "I was talking about other people."

"Stay right there!" Jim calls down to her, clearly not believing her for a second. She has no intention of doing so, taking off down the sidewalk without looking back to see what he does. Already he knows too much, and she can't trust herself around him, too mortified to face whatever the consequences of this might be. In such a hurry, it's a block or so before she notices that she isn't actually sure where she is, a fact that's more than a little disarming when she's been to this restaurant with Lisa before. She knows her way around. Now, looking up at unfamiliar buildings, taking a few more steps forward to look at the street sign on the corner and find neither is one she knows, she's a lot more freaked out than she was when she heard Jim say her name moments ago, chest seizing tight with familiar panic. Drawing in a shallow, shaky breath, trying her best to swallow hard, she leans against the street sign's pole with one hand, though she's in need of more than physical steadying. This isn't right. Even if she's having a psychotic break — not unlikely, with how brilliantly she's managed to handle the last few minutes — she doesn't think it would happen like this, one street just morphing into another or whatever. That being the case, she's not sure it would even do any good to stay put until some of this panic subsides. It probably won't give her any answers. Someone else might, though, her head jerking up in worry and hope alike when she catches a glimpse of motion from down the block. "Hello?"