Do Not Respond

by M R Field

  “Cole, Cole, Cole.” Dennis turns his shoulder into my grip to face me straight on, looking me up and down. “Never thought a blue blood like you’d be so piss weak as to let a girl override you, or see you defend guys like this.” His nose scrunches up as he looks at Nige. “It’s just not natural.”

  “You need to leave before I call security,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Or better yet,” Letty’s drunken voice pipes up, “before I kick you in your teeny-tiny ping-pong balls.”

  Oblivious to the tension emanating from our group, he continues to drink from the bottle, his glassy eyes red from booze, ignoring Letty as he stares at me. “Didn’t you get the company through old money? Like your grandfather carking it?”

  “Leave.” My voice hardens.

  “Fucking blue bloods. They think they can buy anything.” He spits on the ground, and my blood boils. Disgusting miscreant.

  “Speaking of blue blood,” I step closer to him, my hand holding him still, “I got an interesting call from the bank today.”

  His head shakes in shock, as I watch the colour pale from his face.

  “I can ex-plain,” he stammers. “I just need more time to sell.… That bitch ex of mine….”

  “I don’t fucking care if she was your money ticket.” I release his shoulder and fold my arms. “I’ll see you in court. Now, leave.”

  He holds his bottle in front of us, almost as if he’s going to throw it, but he stumbles to the side, making eye contact with Letty, who chooses this moment to raise her middle finger at him.

  “Ah, you better watch this one.” He points the bottle at her. “Clever move, hiring a broad with a great a rack and a bit of sass. But just you wait—her pretty pussy will take everything from you.”

  Letty gasps and moves forward, but Nige holds up his arms to block her, as Dennis continues stupidly. “Before she does, you all better line up and just fuck her. Except you, Nigel. I’ll be happy to join in and help flick—”

  Blood roars in my ears, and I leap forward and clasp him under his chin and push him directly into the concrete pillar behind him. Fuck being level-headed. He drops the bottle and sends it crashing down, but my feet don’t stop. I stomp through broken glass, each crunch mimicking what I want to do to his body. He raises his hands in self-defence as I push him harder into the pillar. I move closer, shoving his arms away to choke him.

  “I’m going to kill him!” Letty’s voice booms from behind me. I turn to see her standing there, clenching her bag in one hand and using the other hand to smack Dennis’ side.

  “I’ve got this,” I tell her, but her enraged eyes turn to me.

  “No! I can handle it!”

  “Letty, fucking step back.”

  Before she can utter another word, Brad comes forward and wraps an arm over her shoulder and draws her back. She waves her arms angrily in our direction, her eyes not leaving Dennis’. I feel Dennis’ body try to break out of my hold, but I turn back and push. “Never, ever, say a fucking word about her again, got it?”

  “Ye—s,” he splutters.

  “Nige is a better man than you’ll ever be. You back the hell off him, too.” I loosen my grip, noticing security coming closer, so I waste no time. I lean a little into his face, keeping eye contact with the piece of shit. “Considering how your wife took everything you had, makes me wonder what the hell you did to cause it?” His hands clutch at my hand, but their grip is feeble against mine. “Stay out of my company’s sight. If you step even one foot in our building, I will ruin you worse than your wife did.”

  I step back just as security arrives and raise my hands to indicate that I won’t touch him anymore. He slides down the pole, clutching at it behind him to regain his balance. Drunk bastard. I quickly tell the guys what occurred and they hook their arms under his and drag his pathetic arse out. I’m surprised they haven’t asked me to leave, considering all the noise he made.

  I ignore the looks from those around us and walk back to the guys, putting my hands in my pockets. If the trophy had been in my hands, I would’ve knocked the fucker out with it. I kick a bit of broken glass to the side, stomping over to the boys. Nige’s shoulders are stiff as Theo talks to him.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” I shrug. “Didn’t mean to make a scene. Just hate how he screwed us over and what he said—.”

  “No.” Nige’s voice tremors slightly. “He deserved having his face rearranged. You’re lucky you restrained yourself and Brad got Letty away. She was ready to fuck him up. If the stupid fuck tries to accuse you of assault, I’ll get him charged with a hate crime against me.”

  I pat his arm to show my support. I look over the group and find one member missing.

  “Where did Letty go?” I look around the guys, and Brad points over to the far end of the bar.

  “After you told her to back off, she went to the bar. I called out to her, but she didn’t respond.”

  I nod and move through the crowd, the floor sticking under my shoes.

  “Hey,” I say to her back, but she ignores me and instead holds two shot glasses in her hands and tilts them to her face.

  “Fuck men!” she shouts and downs them one after another. She slams the glasses against the surface, looks back over the bar, and spots me. “Oh! Don’t you sneak up on me,” she slurs. Her blue eyes are glassy, yet full of anger.

  “Not nice. You’re not Batman.”

  “I dealt with Dennis,” I respond, assessing her state of mind. Which is currently pointing to a quick drunk.

  “I was gonna rip his balls off,” she snipes, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

  “Sorry I stopped that from happening—.”

  “He made me feel like a cheap fucking hooker.” She cuts me off. “I had every right to punch him in the face, Mr. Secrets Man. I could’ve ninjaed his arse, Charlie’s Angels style.”

  Oh, boy. Her state of mind is Mars. “Mr. Secrets Man? What is that about?”

  “Oh,” she hiccups. “You and your secrets. One minute you talk to me, another you don’t.”

  My face heats as she’s misinterpreted me again. I can’t blame her though. Going from friend to prick to potential lover would have anyone at anger pitch.

  “You need to let me explain. He’s screwed us over.” I touch her arm, but she flinches, grabbing her purse and moving off her stool.

  “No. I don’t want to hear about him anymore. I wanna go home. I don’t like feeling like an outsider.” She blinks as a hiccup breaks, causing her to pause to rub her chest for a moment. “I have a date with a vodka bottle, and it won’t act like a protective alpha arsehole like you. I’m going to get a taxi.”

  “Letty, you don’t understand.”

  “No, Cole! You don’t control people. I can handle it. You can’t let me in and shut me out at the same time. It hurts.”

  So this is what she’s really pissed about. Her eyes drop to the floor, and my heart sinks. She’s also an honest drunk.

  “C’mon, I’ll drop you home, okay?” I lower my voice, afraid she’ll attack. “No taxi. I won’t talk, promise.”

  “You’re not coming inside,” she warns, stumbling toward the coat room. She retrieves her jacket and rushes toward the exit at the bottom of the staircase, fiddling with her jacket arms. She’s almost at the bottom when she stumbles, causing me to reach out to steady her as she isn’t near the railing. She twists her body violently away from my fingers.

  “Fuck’s sake, Cole! I managed my jacket before, and I can manage it—,” she squeals as her ankle slips on the second-to-last step. She crashes down, unleashing an almighty yelp as she lands in a heap.

  I yell after her, my heart racing as I tear down the steps and lift her up.

  She whimpers in my arms. “My ankle kills,” she whines.

  My jaw tenses with fury. What a clusterfuck tonight has been. I carefully lift her and carry her to my car to rush her to her place. I remember Piper telling me she is a nurse. Hopefully, she can help.

  “I�
�ve got you, baby,” I say into her hair.

  “Nope, you’re just gonna hurt me again,” she whispers, but I catch every word.

  Later, as her drunken self lies on the couch with her ankle strapped, she points to the door and tells me to leave. Her eyes can barely focus on me, but I read her intention. Piper looks at us both, her brow raised, but I don’t stay to explain. Letty wants me out.

  I leave to give her peace, but not before telling her that I’ll be back. No amount of insults can keep me away. I’ll let my drunken princess sleep it off. For now.

  Letty

  Piper moves to the end of the couch, empty-handed.

  “I thought I said I wanted sustenance?” I whine.

  “Vodka in a mug is not sustenance, babe.” Her chin lifts toward the kitchen. “I have cheese toasties cooking, and you need one of them before I vodka your arse up.”

  I grumble and fold my arms across my chest, shifting a little, as an ache pierces my ankle. “Ouch!” I shriek. “I bet it’s broken!”

  “It’s not broken. Sprained, but not broken.” Piper tries to reassure me, but I don’t believe it.

  “I probably need plaster or something.”

  “Or not.”

  “Maybe an operation. Six weeks’ recovery.”

  “You might be a little bruised,” she concedes.

  “Maybe eight weeks’ recovery.…”

  “Nope. I reckon you’ll be fine in a couple of days. Maybe even by tomorrow.”

  “Ugh. I blame Cole. He touched me,” I grumble, leaning toward my foot to push frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel onto my foot. The smell of melted cheese drifts closer, and my stomach grumbles. I turn quickly, ignoring the fact that the room is spinning. Piper appears with a little plate, and I’m ready to praise Jesus.

  “I love you,” I coo as I bite into the cheesy goodness, ignoring the melted drip that lands on my chin. I’ll get that later.

  “Whoa, slow down, chick. You’ll burn your throat,” she says as she lifts her own plate.

  “Too hungry—,” I munch, feeling more cheese drip, and I try to use the plate to catch it, but the plate is playing tricks on me and missing it. Must be a voodoo plate of some sort. Fucking slippery madness.

  “You gonna tell me what happened tonight, hot mess? Cole looked really worried about you.” Piper perches on the end of the couch near my ankle, and I’m tempted to ask for her toastie.

  “Ha!” I say through a mouthful, catching the fallen cheese. “You should’ve seen him tonight. He was a mega douche. I told him to be my boss, and then there was some secret squirrel business with this dodgy client that he wouldn’t tell me about, and.…” I watch Piper nod, and I continue to prattle on about the night’s events, not leaving a detail out. I ignore her hand covering her yawning mouth and continue, “How can that toss bag even do his job without me? I didn’t study to be his coffee wench, and then he wears these tight pants…”

  “Letty, honey … that’s not what we’re…”

  “And then he wears this pink shirt to work sometimes. It’s like he’s screaming he’s single. Like, honestly.” I hold up the empty plate and feel a great loss. I mourn the eaten cheese and then perk up. Pointing my finger at Piper, who keeps moving out of finger range, I say, “You promised me vodka.”

  “I don’t think you need any more.”

  “Yes! I do! He was a douche.”

  “For telling a guy off for being rude to you?” Her eyes narrow at me, but I ignore the sense of judgement. I want my vodka. Vodka understands me. Every freaking time.

  “He stopped me ninja punching him!” I slam my hand on the side of the couch. I push my lip out and blink heavily a few times, and the room dances before my eyes again. “Please?”

  “One drink.” She moves to the kitchen, and I clap in celebration. She returns a decade later, and I notice she has my drink in her niece’s tiny Paw Patrol mug. “I don’t trust you with our stemware.” She hands it to me, and I take a sniff. Yep. There’s vodka. No trick trickery here.

  “Ugh. I need to vent.”

  “You think?” Piper’s tone wavers as she smirks at me. I’d throw another pillow at her, but I’m too busy holding my cup and taking a few sips. An idea strikes me, and I try to put on my winning smile.

  “What is it?” Her voice lowers in suspicion. She knows me too well.

  “Can I have my laptop? I’m going to NDR.”

  “You mean DNR, right?”

  “Yep!” I click my fingers and shift to hold my cup as the liquid swishes inside. Phew. “That’s what I mean.”

  Piper bends down by the couch, picking up my laptop. Oops.

  “You sure I can trust you with this?” Her brow raises, and I try to mimic it, but I can’t feel which eyebrow is which.

  “Yes!” I skol the remaining vodka and hand her the mug so she can use her other hand to give me my laptop.

  I open it eagerly and wait impatiently for it to boot up, shifting around the seat as ideas pop into my head. As it finally loads, I click on the app to connect to my work email and carefully check that I’ve entered in my details correctly. After writing my password in key by key, the app unlocks and I’m in.

  I dramatically weave my fingers together and bend them out to crack them, but it doesn’t work, and Piper steps forward to hold my laptop that has almost shifted off my lap. Oops.

  “Cut to it, hon. Then you can go to bed.”

  “I can totally think of what I think of Mr. Stinky Stinky Brain.” I smile as I open a new email and type in the details. “This will be best DNR ever.”

  The room spins, but my fingers begin sailing across the keyboard in exasperation. I type everything that is bugging me about Cole. “Don’t judge me, Mr. Thistle Cock.”

  “Charming,” my housemate pipes up from the back of the couch.

  “Well, Mr. Marsupial is a bit overdone,” I explain, as I continue to type.

  “It’s meant to be a vent, not an emasculation,” she chides.

  “I couldn’t emasculate him if I tried.” My tongue feels thick behind my teeth. “There’s a serpent in there.” I wriggle my nose as I remember him in Lycra. Nope. That’s not going to stop me from writing. My face feels numb, and I press a finger into my cheek for a moment. Huh. Weird. I continue explaining in my email why he behaved like the biggest dick ever tonight and laugh at my teasing. I’m a brave ninja!

  Take that! I sneer as I type, smashing my fingers into the keyboard.

  And that! The giggles move up my wind pipe until I sound like some demented witch. The same freeing feeling that I normally have while writing these emails tickles my belly with pride. I have the upper hand now!

  I finish the email, triumphant. Piper walks behind me and looks down at my screen.

  My blurry eyes struggle to focus, but I know that the email is beautiful.

  “It certainly is beautiful.” Her voice is light, as I realise I said that aloud. Oops.

  “I can’t see if I spelled my address right. Can you check it for me?” I hold up the laptop in the air.

  “Sure.” She takes it from me. “This is like a drunken Persuasion. Jane Austen would be proud.”

  “Huh?” I try to turn to face her but the room is on roller skates. Fuck, who put those there?

  “Nothing, honey. I’ve sent it for you.”

  “Ta.” I look to the side and feel a crushing tidal wave in my brain.

  Oh … my head spins.

  The floor spins.

  I try to stand, but I end up stumbling and crashing back into the couch. Warm hands cover my body in a warm blanket. Oh … comfy. My eyelids feel heavy as the same hand rubs along my forehead soothingly.

  “Thanks, Pip,” I slur, as she hushes me.

  “Sleep well, little tiger.”

  I smile as the cushion cradles my head, and I fall asleep, feeling lighter about having a good ol’ vent about Cole.

  Little did this drunken tigress know, in a suburb not too far way, a beep sounded from the phone of a blond-ha
ired Lycra-wearing man, indicating that he had a new email. His hand reached for it on his bedside table, moving aside the frame of a group of kids covered in sand at the beach. He was still awake and worried about the blonde-haired drunken girl he’d spent the better part of the night with.

  As he reads the words she thought she wrote in secret, a wide smile forms on his face, and a new plan begins to form.

  In my stupid alcohol-filled brain, I neglected to do the one thing I was hired to do. Proofread and check recipients.

  Cole

  To: clawson@innovationdesigns.com.au

  From: lchase@innovationdesigns.com.au

  Subject: DNRRR R

  Date: Sun 29/7/18 12:47am

  So, email. We meet again. What is this? Email number 9383 of yet another time I’ve been annoyed! But you know who my focus is aimed at? Boss Jackarse. Listen up, bucko. I’ve a few things to say, and yeah, you’re not going to see this, but I’m going to pretend you did. So listen UP.

  There’s a sale on helmets at the bike shop. Got your attention, didn’t I? Bet you got all hot thinking about it. All that Velcro and all those straps … potential Lycra outfits on sale too … Eyes back here. Right. Here.

  I have a few things to tell you. So man up and take them.

  For your information, I’ve watched Rush Hour at least ten times. That means I KNOW how to kick someone in the balls. You stole that opportunity from me. I DEMAND you call Dennis in next week so I can do it! Nige gets a go too.

  You’re not so cute anymore, buddy, with your soft blond hair and scruff. What’s with the scruff? Is it so you’ve got a furry companion with you and you’re not sleeping alone? I can safely say that I’ve never thought about how it felt before you kissed me. Never ever ever ever. Scruff is so … rough.

  Your blue eyes aren’t like the sky either or the waves by the salt caves. They’re lame.

  When you wear your suit pants, your bum is not hot at all. I can’t even look at it. It’s so offensive.

  You should totally stop wearing those bike pants to work as you could cause an eye injury with your Mini M.. No one wants to see that on a Monday morning. Do you have a license for that weapon? Lock it up, animal.