by Poppet
I examine my desk and feel sorry for her, "It's not your fault, Kristy. How can I hate you? We all just do as we're told. He made you do it. I don't blame you."
Man, she's seriously crying over this. She sounds more torn up than I feel.
Sniiiiiffffff. "Promise?"
I nod, even though she can't see me. "Kristy, we're cool. Honest."
"Will I ever see you again?"
How the hell should I know? Not if it means seeing Aladdin. "I don't know, right now."
She bursts into tears and manages to get out, "I have to go."
I have a huge lump in my throat, "Okay. Thanks for calling."
"Stef, I love you! I'll miss you."
My eyes are prickly and my nose is hot, "Me too!"
Click.
I look up and meet Selene's eyes, "I'm going for a smoke."
She nods supportively, "I'll take your calls."
"Thanks."
* * * * *
Oh yeah, it's going to be just a peachy all round happy day. The moment I return to my desk my phone rings again. We only open at eight-thirty and it's not even eight yet.
Taking a deep breath, I say, "Stefanie speaking, how may I help you?"
"Wait!"
Fuck.
"Don't hang up!"
I'm flooding with tension at Gary's voice.
"Did you get my messages?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you phone me back?"
"Because, I have nothing to say to you."
And I hang up.
Ohsheeees. My boss, her boss, and everyone else in the open plan office stares at me with horrified shock.
My cheeks throb with instantaneous embarrassment, "My ex-boyfriend." I announce in explanation.
No one looks convinced. I open my drawer, grab my smokes again and tell Selene, “I’m going outside. I’ll be back before we open.”
* * * * *
Selene decides the only thing that can save me is party therapy. So, we get dressed after dinner, to go out. My eyes nearly explode out of their sockets at my friend's dress. It's short. It's skin-tight. And it has a huge hole cut on either side that gives the perfect view of skin and the wrong side of cleavage. She gives a whole new meaning to the word cleavage. (I wonder how many boys will have their eyes cleaved straight out of their skulls when they see that!) Selene is buxom; she has boobs that rival Adelle's and is obviously proud of them. We've never done this before, I've only ever seen her dressed for work.
She looks at my jeans and hauls me to her room, rifles through her closet for a dress, and throws it at me, "Put this on."
I take the skimpy thing that doesn't even look big enough to be a negligée and grin with shyness. I go back to my room and change. Then I return to stare into her body-length mirror.
Fuck me blind.
She smiles, "That should do it."
It's exactly the same as hers, except the sides aren't missing. My back is completely open and it leaves nothing to the imagination.
I'm suddenly delirious with rebellion. I'm free.
It hits me: I can do whatever I want and I won't get into shit. Yipeekayaymotherfuckers, let's start this party!
Selene has thick, almost black, straight hair. She has that whole Egyptian princess look about her. What's really funny is she's as ‘good’ and as ‘shy’ as I am, (during the day at work, anyway). But this is an education. She wears court shoes; I wear high heels. (I only own high heels to go with a dress.)
Smokes. Money. Eyeliner. Let's go!
(I urge you to picture Robert Palmer's video here Addicted to Love – which I see on MTV and VH1 regularly – well, Selene and I, looked like that, with hair down and loads of cleavage popping out.)
We hit the smoky dance floor and dance, laugh, drink and smoke. It's been a long time since I've had to listen to music like this and it's like forgetting how to drive. I’m awkward, all hands and feet.
She can read minds this girl, "It gets better. They have to play this crap for the trendies."
I nod.
Poof! Magic spell, a guy manifests next to Selene. My insides contract as the creepy sidekick hones in on me.
I can't do this and escape to get drinks. I watch Selene's professional flirting skills and am thoroughly impressed. I pay for the drinks and sag with relief as I spy Michelle. I wave her over and yell over the loud music, "Hi! What are you doing here?"
I buy her a drink too and nod as she points at Selene instead of shouting back. I take the drinks and hand them out, relieved to be dancing with Michelle. I keep turning my back on the creep. Seriously, I cannot handle this shit.
After a while Mishi and myself go off to a table and vegetate. We have one objective: let's get drunk.
Mishi is adorable, very sweet and a complete geek. Together we drink cocktails as though we're dying today and voyeur in on Selene's man snatching techniques. She is shameless. (And ruthless. Yep, she lost her ruth long ago.)
Erm......okaaaay, the ‘single’ young men at the bar where we order have noticed the pattern. So now drinks just magically arrive the minute ours are close to empty.
(You saw this happening didn't you? I'm out of practice myself.)
A fairly yummy dude strolls over, takes a seat and extends a hand that matches his predator smile, "Hi, I'm Stewart."
I laugh. (I'm toasted already.)
"Hi! Thanks for all the drinks!"
Whoa! Fuckenhell. Never lean in to speak into a man's ear to be heard.
He thinks this is my pick-up technique and, gaboing, he plants his lips on mine. I'm shocked and horrified. This guy is pulling in fast and I'm way too drunk. I feel like I'm cheating. I have this sick knot contorting my stomach and I feel ill, instantly, with self-disgust. I put my hand against his chest and SHOVE.
"Sorry Stewart, I can't do this."
Mishi is looking embarrassed and like she wants to leave. (Nooo. Stay. Don’t you dare leave me alone.)
Na uh. ‘No’ wasn't uttered: (we have to say it right?)
Stewy just kisses me again. Like this is somehow going to convert me and change my mind. (Nope, I'm not a believer. Conversion unsuccessful.) Mildly panicked I pull away to shoot my about-to-be-roadkill eyes to Mishi in a silent plea for heeellp. She stands, (sober as a judge my little nerd is. Wow, how come I’m drunk when no one else is?)
"We're going!" she announces, and grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet, away from him and out the door, before I can say ‘Boo’. In the passage she examines my face with worry, "Are you okay?"
(Okay wait. I have to give you the vibe. Michelle manages to make you feel like she's your mother and you're about to get a scolding. She's very good at giving disapproving glares. So I'm feeling like I'm about to get a lecture here.)
I nod. "Just scared the crap out of me."
She scowls and states, as if it explains everything, "Men!"
"I must tell Selene ..."
"Selene, is too busy to notice. I'll keep you company until she gets home."
Phew. Okay then.
So, off we whisk up to our hill and sit together smoking, enjoying fresh air and night silence.
Finally she hears who Gary is and I tell her why I don't particularly wish to speak to him right now.
She stares out at the night, exhaling her cigarette smoke, "Men!"
(Did I mention I adore this pumpkin?)
Chapter 14
Back in the Ring
For two blissful weeks I was rebellious. The crowd at work ranged from eighteen to twenty-three and they were all thankfully normal and in normal relationships.
Between Dianne, Julie, Selene and James, we had every ladies night plotted and planned. We knew up to what hour ladies could get in free, with a free drink to boot. We were booked every night of the week. I laughed, I flirted, I thrived like algae in sludge. My self-confidence just flourished, and I now knew without a doubt that I am not the ugliest girl in the room.
Unfortunately, the side effect of bonding with colleagues, is they
find out why you're suddenly single. Even some of the guys at work seemed ambitious about getting to know me. I was one of the crowd, these were my people. We worked together; we played together; on Friday nights after work, we drank together at the work bar.
But – I can't stress this enough – one thing I knew I would never do again, is dress the way Selene dresses. We looked like wannabe prostitutes that night, and I did not like the way men just assumed that they could examine the merchandise. You know what I'm saying?
So, I'm happy. I honestly am. I still love Gary but we're over. He phones me every day at work and every day I hang up on him. He crossed a line and I wasn't that hard up that I needed to stay with a guy who not only made me feel like a cheap harlot, then stuffs around with other women behind my back. I could not have tried any harder to please him. And my best obviously wasn't enough. I wasn't going to waste another day of my glorious life following the leader of the pack down the dry dusty road to hell.
Right, so I've been flirting up a storm the last two weeks. I'm hurt. I'm seriously not ready for a new Mr Right, but, flirting makes you feel so delicious. It validates that you're not half bad. So on Thursday morning, when flowers arrive at work for me without a card, I have no idea who they're from. Seriously.
All of the girls at work, ‘Ooh’ and ‘Aaah’. "Who are those from?"
I stare at the two dozen red roses making my desk look like a telephone table and shrug. "I have no idea!"
This day goes down in office history. I pick them up, move my trash can, and dump the whole lot into the bin underneath my desk.
In unison the ladies all exhale, "Gaaaaasp"
"You can't do that!"
I smile at Frank, "Oh, yes I can!"
His girlfriend also works with me, and from across the office I hear Julie, "If you don't want them, I'll take them."
I look at Frank for confirmation that this is in order. He nods and smiles, retorting back across the office, "Don't say I never buy you flowers. I just organised for you!"
Julie literally skips to my desk, as I remove the flowers from my trash can and hand them to her. She even kisses me, "Thanks."
She flounces to Frank and kisses him, "Hmmm, you are the best. I expect this every week from now on."
The office is smiling when my phone rings. It's the internal ring.
"Hello?"
"Stefanie, please come to reception."
I'm suspicious, "Why?"
"You have more flowers."
I roll my eyes, "Coming."
I stalk off to reception and pick up pink Amaranths. No card. Just flippin great. Now I'm psychic too, have you noticed? I doubt the same guy sent both bouquets. Men! (To quote Mishi.)
I walk back to our open plan office and announce from the doorway, "Who would like these?"
Five chorus ‘Me!’ I place them down on the sign in table, "First one here gets them then."
The entire office is laughing as the girls bolt for the flowers like a bunch of singles catching the bridal bouquet. Selene gets there first. I giggle as I walk back to my desk. She follows me and asks the question on everyone's mind, "Who are they from?"
"God only knows! There's no card!"
(I wonder if tarot cards work? A tall dark stranger will send you flowers ...)
My boss raises her eyebrows. I suppose it doesn't look that good to get flowers and not know who they're from. Whatever.
My phone rings and I lunge, "Stefanie speaking, how may I help you?"
“Hello, gorgeous."
Um ... “Hello."
I have no idea who I'm speaking to.
"Did you get my flowers?"
Um ... crikey. I have no idea what to say here. I wing it. "Yes, they just arrived." So I dig, "Why didn't you send a card with it?"
"I did."
Oh crap.
"Oh!" (Trying to sound surprised and flirty.) "I guess it fell off somewhere."
He laughs. Oooh he does sound nice. I wonder who he is?
"So when do I get to see you again?"
Fucked if I know sunshine, I have no idea who you are. "I'll be at the Stagger Inn tonight."
Another deep, throaty laugh. Lordy, he sounds delicious. How drunk was I that I don't remember this guy?
"See you there."
I gigglewaaay nervously . "Can't wait!"
I feel shaky as I hang up. I think I'm in over my head here.
Riiiing...
"Hello?"
"Aren't you the popular one? More flowers!"
I feel stunned and almost panicked by this freaky turn of events, "Be right there.
Two minutes later I walk back in with a yellow and white bouquet of flowers. The card is from some guy named Jason. I guess he was the one that phoned. At least tonight I'll know his name. I get clever and give them to my boss, "For you."
She smiles, "Why don't you want them?"
The whole office is in pause mode, especially the men. Yes, everyone wants to know what my problem is.
"I can't stand watching something die."
Suddenly the girls who have flowers seem disturbed by the thought.
Shayne comments quietly from his desk next to mine, "I'll never understand women."
I smile at him, "Me neither.” I giggle and feel elated. I haven’t felt this good in forever. The ego is pumped up now.
* * * * *
That night I make sure the cleavage is blossoming with my new secrets. (You get that, right? I got my secrets from Victoria. Please tell me you get this?)
My long hair is down, I'm wearing tight black jeans and reinforced toe boots, (the only shoes for the sane to wear on a dance floor!)
I smell good and feel as though I look good. The girls and guys from work surround me as we dance and joke up a party together, when this tall, geeky looking guy, comes up to me, with a huge smile. He leans down and kisses my neck, "Hi gorgeous."
My mind is racing. Shit shit shit. I don't recognise this man at all, but I'm gathering he is Jason, because he's the only person I told where I'd be found tonight.
I smile and laugh, "Hi!" (Way too enthusiastic. I'm not one hundred percent sure that this is Jason, to be honest.)
Thank the lord men are forward. Frank gets all protective and holds out his hand, "Hi, I'm Frank. AND YOU ARE?"
The music is loud, but the way he did that made me want to laugh.
"Jason."
Oookay, this is Jason. So I play all coy, "Thanks for the flowers."
Frank interjects, "Which ones did you send?"
Oooooh nooooo. Now I could just kick Frank. Just pop his ego, why don't you?
Jason arches one eyebrow at me, "Yellow and white thing."
I smile, feeling like a slug caught under this poor man's shoe.
Jason grabs my elbow and glides me away from the pack to a dark corner. I'm expecting to be in shit now. Isn't that what happens?
My heart is racing with nervousness as I look up into his face. He's not bad, he's just not Gary. He's got short, dark blond hair. Greenish eyes: (hard to tell, it's a bit dark here). He seems nice. He's nice and tall. (I still have no recollection of him. Period.)
He leans over me, resting his arm on the wall, speaking intimately, "So who else are you dating?"
Fuck.
"No one." (And that's the God honest truth. I'm not dating anyone. It's not my fault complete strangers are sending me flowers.)
He laughs that delicious laugh, okay this is the same guy that was on the phone. “Chill out. It’s just good to tell a guy he has some competition."
I'm so relieved, I could kiss him. I reach out a hand and place it against ... oooh, a wash board stomach … HELLO.
"Thank you for the flowers. Really. But please don't do that again." I step onto my toes and kiss his neck. (He's much too tall.) It's a thank you kiss.
He covers my hand with his own and holds onto it, "Why?"
Here goes nothing. "I don't like flowers." I do, just not ones that will die in front of me. Cut flowers die, it's
inevitable.
He smiles. He has a gentle smile. He's so different from what I'm used to.
"Well, am I allowed to get you a drink?"
Giggle. (A relieved giggle.) "Yes!"
He entwines his fingers through mine and takes me with him to the bar and orders for both of us. I spent a lot of my time with him that evening. By the end of it I knew we had nothing in common. Which is a pity.
Friday morning Frank corners me as I get into work, "He's awful! A girl like you can do better."
I'm going to change his name to Counsellor Frank. "There's nothing wrong with him."
He grabs my elbow and spins me around and points at James, "Look at him."
I look, "Yeah, so?"
"That's a man."
Ha ha ha. I know that. He's certainly not a woman
Frank eyeballs me again, "Listen to me girly. Jason isn't secure in himself. You are. You need a man that knows who he is and what he wants."
I arch eyebrows. I'm feeling mildly insulted. "Frank, it's none of your business."
He walks back to his desk, "You'll be sorry."
Somehow my happy bubble is burst. I feel chastised and full of doubt. I knew for myself that Jason and I wouldn't last longer than a week. But James? Come on! He's definitely not my type.
Oh all right. James is huge. He's about six-foot-four and built like a wrestler. I find that excessively intimidating. I really like him as a person, but gigantic men make me feel paranoid and intimidated. I can't help this.
* * * * *
Wednesday morning I'm mildly hung over, (the routine is established). I'm at work, life is good, coffee is maintaining my equilibrium for me, I'm competent, I'm fairly dishy myself and I have a phone-sex voice. I am ready to conquer!
Riiiing ...
"Stefanie speaking, how may I help you?"
"I need you."
The voice is so croaky, I can barely hear it properly.
"Hello?"
"Stefanie, I need you."
Oh My God. It's Gary. He sounds terrible!
"Gary?"
"NOW!"
My heart starts racing. I'm panicked. He sounds like he's dying. "Gary, what's wrong? Is everything all right?"
