Do Not Respond

by M R Field

  I briskly walk over to where the boys are sitting in a booth in the corner. I eye the bartender to find him polishing glasses, and raise my hand to get his attention. His eyes find mine, and I hold my curled hand up, the universal sign for wine. I point my finger toward the roof to indicate, “fill her up.” He smiles, shaking his head, as he knows me all too well, considering I’m a Friday regular. I know legally he can only fill it to the standard limit, but I am sure the look on my face says, “bring me the entire bottle or a crate.”

  “Letty!” Brad shouts as I get closer. “Why are you walking funny?”

  I cringe, as I’d hoped my flats would hide the fact that I have a few blisters the size of eggs on the heels of my feet.

  “I have sore feet,” I grumble and plop myself next to Nige at the edge of the booth. I scan the boys and ask, “Where’s Theo?”

  “He had to meet that client of his this afternoon. Guess it went longer than expected.”

  A few months ago, Theo got specially requested to design a fancy restaurant, and from the sounds of it, the dude seems quite fond of him.

  “Well, I need to ice my feet, as apparently our boss decided to send me all over Melbourne to fill up our storage room.” I lean against the back of the booth and see the bartender coming over. I dig into my purse quickly and count out my coins, holding them up for him to take as he slides my glass over to me. “Cheers, mate.”

  I toss in another dollar and smile. Not at the waiter, but at the wine. Hello, friend. You have been on my mind all freaking day.

  “He has a name,” Nige pretends to scoff as I take an eager sip of my wine. The cool liquid soothes me, and as I’m such a lightweight, warmth circles within my cheeks.

  “Who?” I hug my glass closer to me, afraid that if I let it go, my day will continue to suck.

  “That bar dude. You know he’s not supposed to give you half price wine in happy hour? It’s just beers and oysters.”

  I tilt my head and look at him, assessing his words. “I don’t know his name.” A tinge of embarrassment tickles my cheeks, along with the blush that’s already there. “I feel bad now, as he’s giving me cheeky wine.”

  “His name is Heath, and he’s been trying to get your attention for months now.”

  “But I hardly talk to him,” I moan, taking another sip. I glance over at the bar and watch Heath serve a few customers. Sure, his brown hair is nice, and he has a cute smile, but I don’t feel anything. No spark. Nada. No chemistry. Shouldn’t there be chemistry?

  “Maybe you should try and talk to him,” Nige pushes. “Put the guy out of his misery.”

  I stiffen in my seat, uncomfortable with the idea of being set up. I’m not the easiest to talk to on dates. I am shy, clam up, and spout random facts about art if I am nervous, which means I go into a tizzy about art media projections on canvases or the steel statues I love, as my date’s eyes glass over in complete boredom. Just like Tom’s used to.

  “Give her a break.” Steve whacks Nige on the shoulder. “She can’t date; Dennis would be heartbroken.”

  My body recoils so abruptly that I am surprised my spine is still attached.

  “You guys are the only ones I let use my pens without demanding you use the anti- bacterial gel that I stow in my drawer.” I narrow my eyes at Steve. “But I will seriously dismember you if you ever mention that idiot’s name again.” I shiver, and not in a good way. “I was out doing stupid errands all day while you guys were in the comfort of our office. Cut me some slack and”—I look at Brad—“give this guy some shit for a change.”

  Brad jerks in his seat and laughs. He is a pretty built guy, and I know for sure the guys won’t tease him, despite me asking. The gym-loving dude probably makes the treadmills sigh when he stands on them.

  “Well, speaking of Denn—”

  I reach out and hold my finger near Nige’s lips. “I will seriously throw you out of your chair.”

  “No you won’t, and you should be buying us the next round, as we had to see him today.” I startled.

  “He came back today?”

  Nige holds up his empty glass and tilts it back and forth to drive his point home. “He’s finally taking his plan to the council, so we shouldn’t see him until we go and check out the site in a few months’ time, but he seemed awfully grumpy that a certain someone was not in the office.” Nige raises his eyebrow at me.

  “How many times do you think he mentioned her while he was in our office for that forty minutes?” Steve leans forward and rests his arm on the table top.

  “I don’t wanna—”

  “Oh, is Letty unwell?” Nige raises his voice like a little girl, putting his hand on his cheek in mock concern.

  “Will she be able to deliver another copy of the plan if this one gets damaged?” Steve rests his head on his hands, staring back at me.

  “Will Letty invoice me before the council meeting? Would she prefer direct debit payment or … being bent over—.” Brad winks at the boys, and I lose my shit.

  “He fucking did not say that!” I shout. The people in the booth behind us turn to stare at me. I shrink in my seat a little as I’m surrounded by a thundercloud of laughter.

  “You bastards!” I grumble. “I don’t know whether to throat punch you all or vomit on the floor. Seriously, that guy is bloody revolting. It’s bad enough I have to watch what I wear on days that he’s due in.” I place my empty glass on the table and stare at it, willing it to magically refill so I can dull the disgust that swirls in my stomach.

  “It’s a good thing he doesn’t know about your exhibitions, or he’d be there trying to woo you, talking bullshit about art,” Steve teases. I wave my middle finger at him and narrow my eyes.

  “Maybe Heath doesn’t look so bad after all,” Nige adds. “Dating someone and having his picture on your desk could stop sleazes like Dennis from overstepping.”

  “What did Cole do?” The words slip past my lips before I have a chance to stop them. My feet are still angry at him. He doesn’t deserve any of my head space right now. He deserves a swift kick to the mini Marsupial.

  “Cole politely informed him that you were in a meeting across town and would not be joining us,” Brad states, and a part of me is disappointed that he didn’t tell Dennis to piss off, which is unrealistic as he is a huge client and we have to be professional, unfortunately.

  “Letty, don’t be pissed at Cole for sending you all over town. Dennis is giving me a bad vibe, and we didn’t know when he was dropping in, as he thinks he has carte blanche to drop by. He’s an arrogant arse, and Cole was protecting you.”

  “By giving me blisters? I can protect myself. There’s no way that Dennis would come near me,” I whine and lean down to rub my ankle.

  “Yes, we know that, but he was getting too familiar with you. It was getting too much.” Brad taps the table in front of him. “At least you won’t have to order any more shit for us for the rest of the year.”

  “Or two.” My fingers rub around my ankle, while a smile curves my lips.

  “What is that smile for?” Nige asks, placing his empty glass in front of me in the mother of all hints for beer. I release my ankle, hold Nige’s glass, and stand, ready to get the boys beer.

  “I might have changed the pens he ordered.” I look away sheepishly.

  “Did you change the colours?” Nige sits back, and I shake my head.

  “Let’s just say they will be more therapeutic on our ears from now on.” The boys nod in approval, and I collect the rest of the glasses as they nod for another round.

  “While you’re there —” Nige calls to me after I’ve travelled across the floor to the bar. I turn to see what he wants, when he puts his hand to his mouth and shouts, “—find out if Heath is single!”

  My eyes widen in horror, while the glasses tingle in my hand. I take that back; I am going to add him to my list of deaths I need to plot. He is going to drown like Cole, but not in decaf. In his worst enemy, chai latte. He hates the smell—and the ide
a—of it. My arms tense, and the glasses rattle again. I can’t raise my hand to point a threat to him, nor can I give him the finger. Arse.

  I turn sharply and run smack-bang into a hard chest, the glasses clattering as the familiar cologne of Cole surrounds me. His arm reaches out to steady me. My skin heats, and suddenly the room feels twice as hot as it did before. I haven’t stood this close to Cole in more than ten years.

  My pulse quickens as he looks down at the cluster of glasses before looking back to me. Those blue eyes caused this stupid girl endless sleepless nights when I was a teenager. To think we ran naked through the waves together when we were kids. I shudder to think of the times I wrote his name in the sand when I thought he wasn’t looking. Ugh.

  “Oh, h-hi,” I stammer, stepping back slightly, out of the heat of his touch. My feet ache, and I’m reminded why I have my crappy cheap flats on. All because of you. Um, no. He’s a big dickhead, hormones. Don’t let me down now.

  “I saw the stock in the storage room.” He pushes his hands into his pockets, his satchel swinging slightly across his chest as he glances over at the boys, tilting his chin in a greeting. “Thanks for that.” His eyes turn back to mine. “I’ve added a fuel charge and lunch amount to your next pay to cover any inconvenience.”

  The glasses clink in my hand from shock. Nice words. Kind words. From Cole. I don’t know if it’s the shock or the buzz of the wine wearing off, but I shrug as if it’s not a big deal. Hormones, 1. Sanity, 0. You big fat idiot. He was at his desk earlier, for shit’s sake. Why didn’t he tell me then?

  “Too easy. Thanks for the credit in my pay.” The hormones decide not to listen, as I blurt, “Did you want a beer?”

  Cole’s eyes widen in shock, and I wince. I’d be surprised too, if the secretary who you’d had nothing but terse words with for the past two years were being nice. The same chick who secretly adjusted your desk chair just to put you off balance. He looks down at the glasses for a moment. Maybe he thinks I am going to stick laxatives in his beer.

  “Yeah, sure.” His hand rubs his chin, and I notice again the soft stubble across it. I’ve never seen Cole with longer facial hair, and part of me can’t stop wanting to touch it. It looks so soft. Adult Cole has a neat, trim, never-clean cut, with deep blue eyes and a square jaw. Professional. Straight-laced.

  “I’ll have what the boys are having.” He reaches into his back pocket.

  “No, all good. I got it.” I walk to the bar in a complete tizz, thoughts of touching Cole’s chin all too vibrant in my mind. That’s it. I’m indoors too much. I need something to do—before I start finding cats to adopt. I shudder. Never going to happen.

  I put the glasses on the bar to be collected, and I wait for Heath or the other guy to come and serve me. I place my arms on the bar top and look around. Most of the corporate workers in the area come here, as it screams pedigree. Until I walked in. I don’t wear suits to work. The mirrored wall behind the liquor bottles shows how out of place I am, with my dishevelled curls and my slightly worn-out lipstick. The collar of my green dress is partially stuck against the skin of my neck, and I press it down to flatten it again. It kind of works. I run a finger quickly under my eye to clear up any remnants of mascara that the rain from earlier might’ve caused. Kind of explains why Cole was looking at me funny. I do look like the crazy cat lady.

  “You look fine.” Heath appears in front of me, and I flinch, almost stabbing myself in the eye. Great, compliments make me hurt myself.

  “Um, thanks.” I indicate to the glasses. “I’ve been summoned to be the drink wench, but I need an extra beer the same as the others, please.”

  He grins and moves the glasses to the dishwasher rack behind him, and I take in his body. He’s not too bad, but even though he is decent-looking, I don’t feel even a sliver of heat. Instead, I stare, picturing him in an etching. He reaches out to grab the bottle of merlot I am drinking. An idea begins to form.

  “Just the regular, plus one?” he asks, turning over his shoulder to look at me. I flinch and nod, looking down into my bag to find my purse. The bright blue card with Maggie’s details stares back at me, and I use the Dutch courage from my drink to store her number in my phone, finally. By the time I drop my phone back into my bag, the drinks are on a tray ready to be taken over. I hand over my card, and he quickly charges the cost to it, all the while my fingers are tapping against the bar, itching to give Maggie a call. I want her to come and see my recent projects.

  “Did you want me to bring these over to your booth?”

  I look up and find him watching my fingers with an amused grin on his face.

  “No, it’s fine. I can do that.” I tuck my card and phone away, weave my arm through my bag strap and pick up the tray, sliding my eyes nervously to Heath and muttering a soft, “thank you.”

  His chin lifts in acknowledgement, and he moves onto his next customer. I wonder if he’d model for me so I could get the angles right. I giggle, thinking he’d probably reckon I was coming onto him. I walk back to the booth, eager to finish my wine and head home. I need to call Maggie. I feel my groove coming back with more ideas fluttering in my head. I am keen to start brainstorming. I need a couple more models.

  I look over to the guys in the booth and ponder if it’s worth getting them to help me out, and I chuckle at the thoughts. Bunch of peacocks, all of them…. Yet, it would be a lot of fun—if they’d let me take some pictures.

  “Oh, look who’s here!” Nige claps his hands twice and rubs them, watching the tray as if it’s the holy grail. I place the tray in the middle and find my seat taken—until the boys shuffle around, and I’m forced to sit next to Cole.

  I sit quickly to get it over and done with. The sooner I’m done with my drink and leave, the sooner I can call Maggie. They grab their drinks, and I lean forward to grab my wine, my leg moving against Cole’s, and the heat from before returns. What the? Is he a walking electric blanket? Is that it? I shake the notion of being attracted to him. Sure, he is hot, but I’m not that stupid naïve little girl anymore.

  I lean back in the booth and smile. My art buzz is fluttering away, and I am barely containing my excitement. I am going to make this weekend my bitch. I cross my legs under the table top, and my foot taps to the song playing above us through the speakers. I take a big sip of my wine and continue to bop to Bruno Mars.

  “Looks like someone found out whether or not Heath is single,” Steve teases, and my foot stops moving. I stare back at Steve, confused.

  “What? I’m bopping to the music.” I lean forward to look at him, wondering what planet he’s unleashed himself from. Mars, surely. I shift my foot to the floor and feel Cole’s thigh tense next to me. He probably thinks I have germs. Maybe I should offer him my antibacterial gel.

  “You look like someone—” he tilts his head toward the bar “—who just revealed something about themselves.”

  Nope. Uranus. Definitely has his head jammed up his ar—

  “Did he ask you out?” Steve prods.

  “What? NO!” I shriek and place my glass down on the table top before I drop it.

  “Oh, so no grand gesture then,” he teases, and I want to lean forward and “accidentally” knock over his beer. I’m never drinking with these boys again. The last time we got onto the topic of love, I revealed my ultimate kryptonite. A guy actually doing something big to show he likes the girl. For me, it’s never gonna happen, as let’s face it, my life, albeit as crazy as it is, is not a movie. No chances of Keanu coming to my rescue. Sigh.

  “Why are you so giddy?” he asks, drinking from his glass. I look around and find all eyes are on me, until I look to my left, at Cole’s. His eyes are on the beer in his hand, barely noticing that I exist. Yeah, like he’d really give two shits about who likes you. I sigh, almost missing our childhood.

  “I have plans tonight. That’s all.” I try to brush them off, reaching for my drink and taking another sip, regretting not leaving sooner. Talk about a buzz kill, guys.

&n
bsp; “Guys, leave her be.” Brad says, his eyes on me. “Whatever you have planned is none of our business anyway.”

  “Is it a date?” Cole asks, taking a sip of his beer, but looking at the bar menu in front of him.

  “Nope.” I stand, hoisting my bag over my shoulder. “It’s better.”

  His eyes shoot up from the menu and clash with mine. I can’t read his expression, but if looks could incinerate, I’d be ash.

  Geez, what have I done now? Forgotten to line his pens in colour sequence? He almost looks as pissed as he did the time I shaved half his head while he was sleeping. But he got me back, by drowning all my tampons in the fish tank. My lips quirk at the sides as I remember what I actually did do to his pens today.

  His brows indent as his eyes focus on my mouth. Oops.

  “See you guys on Monday.” I give a little wave and turn around, walking straight to the door. I smile, my pace increasing as I head back to collect my sister’s car. I have an important call to make, and I’m not going to let Cole’s grumpy demeanour spoil it. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is going to be part of my big idea. I just need to work out in what way.

  I step outside in the pouring rain, and not one single drop annoys me. I giggle as I dash across the road, my achy feet no longer a problem, as I’m too eager to hear Maggie’s voice. I can’t wait to get started.

  Cole

  I watch her virtually hop, skip, and jump out of the bar, and my gut twists. I know what’s better than a date. It’s sex. Long, hard, fast, sweaty, and sexy sex. Her thighs alone make me clench my fingers around my beer.

  I lift my glass and take a huge gulp, returning my attention back to the table, where I hope the guys haven’t noticed. Nige is lifting his arm while the other boys are picking on his muscle. Nope. They didn’t catch a thing. Not sure if they’d have the balls to, either, given my terse attitude at times.

  Anyone would’ve thought she was Dorothy heading down the yellow brick road. Whoever this guy is, he’s a lucky prick. I hope he’s a limp dick. I hope his dick falls off on his way to meet her so there’s no chance of sex. Maybe she can be so upset about it all that she never wants to have sex again. The thought of any guy touching her makes me want to chase after her. But what good would that do? All that it would get me is her knee to my balls. She hates me. She has every right to hate me for what I do to her. Letting her work for me was a double-edged sword. Her smile ignites me, and her smile terrifies me. Even if it’s never directed at me.