Do Not Respond

by M R Field

  “Decaf?” She smiles sweetly, and I almost choke on the hot liquid. “No, I ordered your rocket fuel double shot.” She grips the crepe as she sits and munches on it quickly, holding the base of her coffee in her hand. Her scarfing the crepe should repel me, but it just makes her look cute. Fuck. Not today.

  I click the pen between my fingers to gather my focus and draw my eyes away from that mouth. My thumb presses incessantly for a few seconds, each click pressing the wave of desire down further. If she knew that each click was corresponding with the motions of a dirty thought, she’d probably choke on that crepe. I drop the pen on the desk, my eyes narrowing in on the lid of her cup. “You have something on your cup.”

  “Huh?” Her brow creases as she continues to chew, turning her cup in her hand. Her eyes widen as a soft blush colours her cheeks. “Oh, fuck my life.”

  “What’s up?” Steve pipes up, and Leticia squirms in her seat, finishing the last mouthful of her crepe as she tears off the lid and throws it in her bin.

  “Just another stupid note from Tom,” she mumbles.

  “Oh, is lover boy still not over you?” he teases.

  She lifts her cup to her lips and says, “He misses me, apparently.”

  Rolling her eyes, she takes a sip, and I tense. Don’t get jealous begins to repeat in my mind as I watch her face for any signs of longing. Surely she’s over that dickhead? Can’t get jealous, you twat. I reach for my coffee, my thoughts unsettling me.

  “He’ll get over it.” She shrugs as she continues to sip her coffee. I grind my teeth together to hold back a grin that threatens to surface. Thank fuck for small miracles. I take a sip and let the caffeine rejuvenate me and restore some sense into my thick head.

  Eager to be as caffeinated as possible before the meeting, I take a few more sips before placing my cup down to recheck everything, when a knock sounds at the door. No other client does that. I look up and put on a generic smile as Nige stands to open the door for Dennis.

  We’ve spent the past three months surveying the site and seeking approval for his entertainment centre to host cinemas, restaurants, and a mini mall. It is a costly venture, but the area is building up, and it is prime real estate. He kept us on edge at the start with three other tenders vying for his project, but in the end we won. Unless the other tender holders told him to rack off, as he has the ability to make you want to break something.

  “Nice to see you, Mr. Bailey.” I step around the table to shake his meaty palm before returning to my chair. He grunts his reply, holding his briefcase under his free arm before glancing over to Leticia as she gathers her laptop to take notes at her desk. His eyes linger on her for a moment too long, and I clench my coffee cup. He smiles in her direction, but she doesn’t notice as her head is down while she presses a few buttons on the work phone to redirect calls during the meeting. Thankfully, her high-necked dress is stopping him from seeing anything, but her shape leaves little to the imagination.

  Leticia holds the laptop across her chest as she walks around her desk toward us. The few steps she takes feel like forever as he continues to watch her. She moves to sit next to Theo, as she normally does, but Dennis abruptly shifts to sit in her seat, causing her to sit in the spare chair next to him, at the edge of the table. He smiles leeringly at her, and she stiffens slightly, but she quickly corrects herself and smiles awkwardly. This client is worth a $6.4 million high-rise, and we need to keep him content. I won’t have her disrespected, though. I might be an arsehole, but I am her arsehole.

  “Okay, let’s begin.” I lift the printout of the recent plan for his mega structure and slide it toward him, watching Leticia setting up her laptop to begin typing notes. We are on the cusp of finishing with the main component, as long as the council agrees with our plans. It is one thing to agree to let us build, but they need to like it, too. The clicking of Leticia’s keyboard distracts me for a moment as I wonder if she’ll document Dennis’s horrible toupee in the minutes. “Present: Brad, Nigel, Theo, Cole, and an orange-faced buffoon.”

  “Thanks, Cole,” he grunts and clears his throat, plucking the glasses from his top pocket while bending down to put his briefcase between him and Leticia. Of course he does. He slides the glasses onto his face and looks at the plans and frowns, pointing to the document.

  “What’s this?” His finger traces the outer quarter of the building that he wanted last meeting.

  “That’s where the entertainment section will go,” I begin. “The markings all indicate the—”

  “I don’t remember asking for this,” he grumbles, forgetting his fascination with Leticia as his hand gestures to the sketch. His fingers press against it as he focuses on the section we spent more than ninety minutes discussing last time. I have a feeling I am going to hit the hills on my bike tonight as Dennis is already pissing me off.

  My hand clasps my notebook, where I have my original ideas and drawings. I flick it open to the sketch from our last meeting, slide it over to him, and stand to lean across the table, picking up my pen. I reach out and use the pen to point to the same area that I dated and signed to confirm the changes. This is the first client in eight years that I’ve needed to do this for. I can practically feel the vice clench around my nuts. Leticia’s soft typing lingers within the tension-filled room.

  “Here”—I circle the etchings—“is where the cinema and restaurant area will go, complete with a north-facing window ledge.”

  “Oh, I see. I thought it was meant to be taller.” He looks over the final drawing again and his brow furrows, probably trying to find a fault. I watch his face as the creases deepen.

  “You’ll find from that angle, you’ll have a fantastic view of the parkland; however, the council will not allow for it to be any higher, due to their restrictions,” Nige interjects, diffusing the stress vibes emanating from Dennis. Sure, his $6 million is a giant risk, but we aren’t going to make his tower into a giant eyesore.

  “Yes, yes.” He presses the design onto the table and glances up at me as I lean back slightly, but continue to stand.

  “Any problems?” I reach out for my sketchpad and open it to a fresh page, pretending to get ready to draw. Dennis shakes his head, and I continue, “Is there anything else you’d like to add before we draw up the final sketch?”

  His eyes dart quickly to Leticia, who keeps her eyes on the screen as she types, and I roll the pen between my fingers, eager to have him specify what he wants. I look over to Leticia to see her shoulders tense more as she presses her lips together—a tell-tale sign that she’s uncomfortable.

  “No, I’ll take this sketch home, though.” His fingers touch the paper. “I’m meeting with the builder this week and might see if there’s something I’ve missed.”

  My back stiffens, but I quickly shift to ease the tension, as clients never take the plans unless they are going straight to the council to get the ball rolling. I have an unsettling feeling as to why he needs to add yet another meeting with us to his schedule. Sure, the guy is loaded, but something isn’t adding up. His eyes roam back to me and across to the rest of the team once he’s finished explaining. Oh, you’ve finally noticed they’re there? Rude prick. The feeling of him thinking our team’s work isn’t good enough causes a sense of unease in my gut.

  “Not a problem,” I say and close my notebook, placing it next to my iPad. Leticia clears her throat, and I instantly look at her. She looks at the plan and then tilts her head toward the storeroom. I nod, and she quietly stands, capturing the attention of Dennis once again.

  “I’ll just make another copy so you can take this one home.” Her voice is sweet, but her body is stiff like a plank of wood.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” Dennis coos as he goes to help her with that non-heavy piece of paper. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as she quickly moves around him and walks to the door, her heels making her legs look fantastic. I force my eyes away, since I’m the only one watching her besides Dennis, and find Theo trying to hide a smirk behind his coffee
cup as he drinks. Shit.

  Our storage room is across the hall, and thankfully it holds all our boxes from clients and our photocopier, so our office isn’t cluttered. I would imagine it would be a good breather for her to get away from the leery jerk face here.

  “Did you want to see the designs for the internal structure?” I indicate the folder beside him. He rubs his forehead for a moment and pulls out his phone.

  “I have another meeting that I need to get to, but….” He glances to the side. His eyes brighten when Leticia returns and places the printout next to him, while giving me the original one. I look over, find the company stamp on the sketch, and smile. “I’ll bring this plan back later in the week. If you guys are busy, I can leave it with….” He looks over at Leticia, who lowers in her seat, her eyes flicking to him in a barely-there smile. His eyes drift to her chest, where her name badge rests. “Letty.”

  She nods and turns to face her computer, but not before I unintentionally correct him. “Leticia,” I say. “Her name is Leticia.”

  I watch her stiffen. She hates me calling her that, but to hell if I am going to let that jack arse call her by her nickname.

  “Leticia. So pretty.” Dennis smiles, and she ignores it to focus on the computer screen, probably documenting that her chest was stared at.

  “That’s fine.” I struggle to not grit my teeth. I’ll send her out for an extended lunch when he schedules his appointment, with a few errands to keep her away. “Just let us know, and we’ll accommodate you the best we can.”

  Dennis rises from his seat with his briefcase, unclipping and opening it. He begins to haphazardly roll the sketch up, and I watch the other boys flinch at the movement. We have irrational connections to our work, and seeing it treated like a kindergarten drawing is more than annoying.

  “I’ll do that for you,” Theo quietly interjects, grabbing the sketch from him and proceeding to roll it like a normal human being, unlike this orangutan. He hands it back to Dennis, fastened, and he takes it without thanking him and shoves it into his briefcase. I watch him leave and shake my head at Nige to indicate he should rise from his seat and escort him out, but Dennis rushes away, without farewelling us. I shake my head.

  “Something seems up with him. We have everything pretty much ready to go, and he’s not interested in seeing the council yet,” Steve says, looking over his shoulder toward the door, watching Dennis disappear out of earshot.

  “I don’t trust him as far as I could kick him. Plus, you didn’t get his door, you rude prick.” Brad laughs. I take a sip of my coffee, but it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

  “Ugh. I feel like going into your shower and washing the sleaze off me,” Leticia grumbles, and the boys laugh, but a hot sensation lingers at the base of my spine.

  “I could feel that sleaze from over here,” Theo mutters, looking to Leticia. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, but I’ll definitely be having a hot shower tonight. Might not have any skin left, but I’ll feel better than I do right now.”

  My pulse quickens as I imagine her soap-laden hands running across her skin.

  “So that shower isn’t just for you, Cole? We can wash bad customer vibe off? Sweet.” Nige sits back in his chair. The thought of Leticia in there washing anything away causes my fingers to clutch around my pen and begin clicking.

  Her eyes zoom to my pen, and her features harden. I know she hates the noise, but sweetheart, it is a necessary evil right now. I am also adding an extra half hour to my ride tonight. I am going to need it to get to sleep.

  “Sure.” I sit straighter in my chair and eyeball Brad. “But bring your own soap on a rope.”

  I pick up the untouched folders and grimace at all the hard work the boys put in to have Dennis’s project ready. All today was meant to be was the final sign-off, but in typical douche behaviour, he is delaying the project. Something doesn’t feel right about it.

  “Okay, lads, thanks for all your hard work. My apologies that we couldn’t conclude the preliminaries.” I move the folders to the shelf, despite it normally being Leticia’s job. Images of her in my shower are still trying to take room in my thoughts, and I need to keep my hands busy. Chairs shifting indicate that the team is moving. I risk a glance over to Leticia to see a familiar frown on her face. What now?

  “You guys right for the next lot of appointments?” A few of them nod as I toss my coffee cup into the bin and take the few steps back to my desk. “Did you get my task list for the day?” I ask her.

  “Yes.” Her voice has hardened. “I was organising the rest of it before you sent me to retrieve the coffees.”

  “That you were late for?” Right, now I am being even more of an arsehole. I need to tone it down. I look to the guys, but they are at their own desks, earphones in, doing their tasks. Or ignoring another hissy fit between Leticia and me.

  “As you sent me last-minute to retrieve them,” she snaps back. That is the one thing I have to hand to her. She has the gall to try to hand me my balls on a regular occasion. Pity for her, as I crave it.

  “Leticia, you had ample time to fulfil those tasks, or do I need to revise your duties?” It is a cheap shot to insinuate that she is incompetent, as she is the best administrator I’ve ever had. She isn’t just my secretary; she is the glue that holds us all together. She is also getting paid almost double what others in her position would be. My stupid means of keeping her, dangling that carrot of temptation in front of her to make her not want to leave. You have to let her go sometime, idiot.

  “It’s Letty, and I’ll have it all done by five, like I always do.” Her fingers tense on her laptop before she turns to type on it, her features softening and a small smile appearing across her lips. She probably got an email from her sister.

  I turn to my opened laptop and type in my password, feeling the tension dissipate. I can’t help but think of the ways she’d plot my death if she had the chance. Death by bad coffee would probably be it, for a start.

  “Oh, Leticia.” I gesture with my hand to get her attention. “I’ll have another set of tasks for the remainder of the week that I’ll email tomorrow. There are a few things I want you to pick up for me. Will you be driving to work or taking the train?”

  “Yes, I have Odette’s. I can drive to work when you need me to.”

  “Excellent. Aside from what I’ve already assigned you, there are going to be a few things for you to pick up. I’ll have the calls transferred when needed, as you won’t be in the office much this week. Bring your iPad with you at all times for further correspondence. I’ll have the list that will need to be completed as soon as possible.”

  “Fine.” Her jaw clenches. She knows my tasks are intense, and basically, I am getting her to be my errand girl, which she loathes even more than my “cheerful disposition.” Maybe if I had her picking up a few personal orders that were waiting for me, she wouldn’t be so angry—just shocked to the absolute core.

  Yet, there is a method to my madness. Keep her away from the wanker, Dennis. I do not trust that guy, and his vibe today confirms it. The last thing I need is for him to come racing back, and I haven’t got her out of his sleazy sight.

  I open my email account, ready to send a few requests, including a few bogus ones to keep her busy. My eyes sneak a peek over at her desk to find her focusing on her screen, her smile no longer in place. Yep, she is contemplating my death. Most likely involving decaf coffee, just to really make me burn.

  Letty

  To: lchase@innovationdesigns.com.au

  From: lchase@innovationdesigns.com.au

  Subject: DNR

  Date: Fri: 15/6/18 3:08pm

  What a smug bastard.

  A total smug bastard. Sitting at his desk, while I sit at my desk SWEATING, as he couldn’t be stuffed helping me cart the supplies from the car park to the storage room. I want to grab that tie around his neck and pull until his head pops off. Can that happen? I’m willing to freaking find out!

  This list was wors
e than stocktake at mid-year. No one likes counting what we have and what we’ll need. Highlighters, sticky notes, manila folders, storage boxes, and printer paper … quotes for new office chairs. What’s next? A Zen garden sandbox?

  What the ever-loving fuck did his last slave die of? Did he ever boss me like this when we were kids? Honestly, if I don’t soak my feet in an ice bath soon, I am going to lose my mind. I want to flick my stiletto at his head.

  Who needs ten boxes of those annoying pens? Seriously. What are you going to do with all of them? You just want to send me into a click-induced coma.

  I just ordered toner for the photocopier last month, enough to last us for another two months. What the hell are you printing? Your arse on there? Here’s hoping.

  Fact: I don’t need to drive to a suburb on the other side of town to pick up those highlighters. Turns out they didn’t have the notebooks that you requested either. Ever heard of Officeworks? Why am I going to some tiny shop that takes thirty minutes on the freeway to get to—while driving in the rain!

  On a Friday afternoon, I should be at the pub with the boys having a big glass of wine, not sitting in this office with your smuggy smug smug face. You need a shave. You’re so not hot with that goatee. The ’90s called, and Ethan Hawke wants his bum fluff back.

  I still have invoices to complete. Why does my bamboo look unloved? I thought I told you to spray her!

  The wine better be chilling at happy hour, by the time I hobble over there. Or heads will roll.

  ***

  I stagger around the newly formed puddles as I make a quick, awkward dash while the rain splashes down. Thanks, Melbourne. You were sunny fifteen minutes ago, and my stupid umbrella is in my sister’s car. I march through the oak doors of the Crow bar and shake off the drops while the heel of my shoe prods me from my bag. I made a quick changeover, as my feet were in fire pits of hell.