Do Not Respond
Page 32
To: clawson@innovationdesigns.com.au
From: lchase@innovationdesigns.com.au
Subject: Please respond
Date: Tues 14/10/19 8:15pm
We’re broken, and despite what everyone is telling me, I don’t know if I want us fixed. But it doesn’t stop me from missing you.
No way. Hot damn!
I read the words over and over, and feel something I haven’t felt in weeks: hope. She misses me. Please respond. She wants me to write back. But I’m going to do better than that, my love. I’ll take that tiny glimmer of hope with me on the plane.
I avoid the reply button just in case she has second thoughts about writing to me. Instead, I flick open the web browser and start checking out flights.
I bite my lip to hide the glee I’m feeling as I spot a Webjet flight for tomorrow morning. I quickly send myself the link to finish processing it when I get home. I look up at the clock and for once, I play the boss card. No late night for me trying to keep busy while missing her. I’m going home to get packed and go get my girl.
I grab a piece of paper to quickly write a few things to remember to pack so my scattered brain doesn’t forget. My pen stops abruptly. How the hell am I going to get her Canadian address? My hope falters for a moment. Fuck. I need to message Odette and beg. I can do that later.
“Hey, Cole,” Theo calls out to me, and I put down my pen and look up at him from my desk. Whatever it is, mate, you’re going to have to handle it.
“Yeah, mate?” I raise my brow, hoping that my face isn’t portraying how anxious I am to leave. He points his finger to the tablet next to him and says, “Just sent you something to check out. Let me know if you want any more help with it.”
I nod and tap my tablet to access my email. My brow furrows as I read his message. I feel the edges of the tension I’ve been carrying these past few weeks begin to loosen.
To: clawson@innovationdesigns.com.au
From: teien@innovationdesigns.com.au
Subject: FYI
Date: Tues 14/10/18 4:25pm
Cole,
Below you’ll find Letty’s address. She’s staying with her sister. Think she’s having trouble finding a job over there. Also, I’ve added a link to Webjet. They might happen to have deals from some airlines for you. You know, just in case.
Theo.
Ask and you shall receive. I notice that he’s sent me the same site I was just on, and I shake my head. First Parker, now Theo, and I make three—all of us know I need to head over there and work it out. I can now go and find my girl. I rub my chin before tapping on my screen a few times to respond to him. I can’t get my fingers to move fast enough.
To: teien@innovationdesigns.com.au
From: clawson@innovationdesigns.com.au
Subject: FYI
Date: Tues 14/10/18 4:27
Theo,
Thanks for that, I’ll get right on it. No more assistance required.
Cole
He smiles and looks visibly relieved. I need to make it up to these guys for being so broody lately. My tablet lights up with another email, and I click on it to open.
To: clawson@innovationdesigns.com.au
From: teien@innovationdesigns.com.au
Subject: FYI
Date: Tues 14/10/18 4:30pm
Go get ’em, tiger.
I chuckle. Letty’s going to get her grand gesture, all right. She wants me to respond. I’m going to. Here I come, my love.
I don’t spend the next hour finalising what I can with the projects, as I know the boys know exactly what they’re doing. I also know they’re not stupid; they know where I’m going. I can trust them to cover what I need, saying I’m on personal leave. I race out of there to call Parker. I only have tonight to get sorted.
“Dude,” he drawls. “I’ve been wondering where you got to. Thought you fell asleep in a ditch somewhere.”
“I haven’t slept,” I say, driving out of the parking spot with one destination in mind: home to pack.
“You need to look after yourself better. I know you’re cut up …”
“I know. I’m coming home. But I need a favour.”
“Oh, man, I need to tell you what happened today,” he says, seemingly oblivious to what I’m asking, but I persevere.
“Are you planning on sticking around? Do you mind—.”
“Mum stitched me up! She was talking to Odette on Skype and—.”
“I’m going to Letty. I leave tomorrow morning. I need to get my stuff—.”
“And there she is: Anja on the screen! Looking like a fucking goddess, and I chok—.” He stops and slowly asks, “Wait, what did you say?”
“I’m going to Letty. I need you to please look after Duke for a week or two.”
“You think that’s all it’ll take?”
“I’ll take as long as I need to,” I say, determined. “Normally, I wouldn’t dump Duke on you, but I—.”
“Of course I’ll stay, man.”
“I just have to hope Odette will let me in the door,” I grumble, not liking my chances.
“I think you’ll find she’s not as angry as before. She’s been talking to Mum, and I’ve kept her up to date on the sad tale of your moping.”
“Oh, shit, man. I don’t know whether to hug or throttle you.”
“It depends. Would I get a hug if I showed you the pics I sent of you clutching a pic of Letty as you slept?”
“You’re a dickhead,” I growl, but can’t help chuckling.
“You’re good to go, mate. Her exhibition is on Wednesday, so you have a few days to grovel at least.”
“Thanks so much. I’ll be home in half an hour. See you soon.”
“Hey Cole,” Parker calls, as my finger lingers over the End button.
“Yeah?”
“I saw her on the screen, Cole. She looks just as shit as you do. Make sure you fix that. Bring back our Letty.”
“I’m going to, come hell or high water,” I promise, hearing his chuckle, and hang up. I was looking for a sign of hope. I have it, and I’ll beg to be given another chance. Don’t give up on us, Letty. I want to fix us, too. More than anything.
When I arrive in my driveway, I send out a quick text to Odette, hoping she won’t tell me to stay home.
Cole: I’m coming. Leaving tomorrow morning. I need to see her.
I step out of the car as my phone beeps.
Odette: It’s about time, dickhead. But you’re messaging me at 1 a.m.! What is it with you and early messages?
Cole: I’d say that I was sorry, but I’m too revved up about coming. I need to get packing and book a hotel nearby. Fuck knows how I’m going to sleep tonight, but I’ll manage.
Odette: I’m going to send you what we’ve got planned around her exhibition. You can get your game face on. Don’t be a cheapskate. Book something fancy, but don’t feed her burritos. You’ll thank me later.
Cole: Thanks so much.
Odette: Cole, I know you’ve realised what a massive knobhead you’ve been. But, I’m warning you, if you ever, ever hurt my baby sister again, you’re going to wish you were born a eunuch.
Cole: Got it. Take care of my girl until I land. I’ll take care of it from there.
Odette: You better.
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I mutter, moving to the front door. I’ve got some packing to do.
Letty
“Stop fidgeting,” Odette says.
“I’m not.” I pout.
“You are,” Odette scolds, slapping my hand away. I nudge her with my elbow as I attempt to pull the top of my dress closed. Damn it, the fabric is not budging.
“You can pull all you like, but your boobs aren’t going anywhere. In fact, I think they have their own spotlight tonight.”
“I can’t believe you convinced me to come out,” I grumble, draping an arm across my chest to hide what little is left of actual dress that barely covers my chest.
“Well, I wanted you to attend my work function and enjoy
some of the perks of my job. Plus, you were glued to your phone. I’m sick of it. You’re a surly bitch lately.” She takes a sip of her cocktail, and I press my lips together, biting my tongue in order to not prove that she’s right. I’ve been a dragon these past few days, all due to not hearing back from Cole. Breathing out softly, I do what most little sisters do when people in general are scolding them—I change the subject.
“Well, this place sure is fancy.” I tilt my head toward the black ceiling with gold crystals hanging from it. The bar is dark with thick curtains pulled to the side, hiding doorways to the adjacent rooms. The soccer team is here with their partners, standing by tall round tables that have canapes on them. The wives are fairly dolled up, and even though my boobs can cause a traffic collision, I am relieved I dressed up, even if some of them have a bit of an unhealthy obsession with sequins. Most are looking great though.
The balcony at the far end of the bar has a glass wall to look over the harbour. I really miss Cole, despite him not seeming to care.
A waiter passes with champagne flutes, and I wrinkle my nose. I’m going to need something stronger to clear the bitter taste in my mouth. The bar is calling to me. I’m here to enjoy a night out with my sister, despite my hurt turning nuclear. I’m a hurt woman, struggling to put a lid on it. I need Vodka. Stat.
“Of course, this place is going to have all the bells and whistles,” Odette assures me, “When you don’t have a budget and your main job is to restore philandering soccer players’ reputations in the media, even if you have to use their own team or families, I’m going to pick classy. They give me the chequebook and I pick the pretty shiny location.”
Looking at the couples around, some don’t seem cosy. The drink in my hand is giving me more comfort than the look on some of these wives’ faces. Poor Anja.
I adjust my dress, and my nose crinkles. If Anja was here, I’d ask what possessed her to sway me into buying this number. I hardly wear V-necks to avoid my boobs being a traffic obstruction. This is so not me. It’s a deep purple halter with its swishing A-line skirt. I was wooed by the pretty tie around my neck. The deep cut, which runs down past my cleavage, is sinful and seductive.
Stuff it. I throw my free hand to my side and take a huge sip of my fruity cocktail. I don’t know anyone in here, so they can judge me all they like. I’m pretty sure the antisocial vibes emanating from my pores are screaming, “I will cut you if you come near, sequins and all.”
After waking up with a soaring hangover a few days ago, I remembered the stupid email I’d sent Cole and scurried to check my phone. I wished that it was to my own email, but liquid courage had gotten the better of me. Why the hell was I still even using my work email? So stupid. I was angry at myself and embarrassed; yet, what’s worse, I heard nothing in return. This was a guy who was glued to his phone if he got notifications and always responded to me. He fired those emails back quicker than a ninja in battle.
I need to stop checking and rechecking my phone. I’ve even sent Theo a few weird emails just to see if the work server is working. It is.
I can’t lie and say I was excited to hear from Theo, as each response was a brutal reminder that Cole was ignoring me. As I’m pretending to be engaged in Theo’s life, I’m self-combusting in mine. As each day passes, the angrier I become.
So, he’s giving up, throwing us away, after I asked for him to respond? No even a line telling me that I’m too much hard work? I must’ve not been worth it after all. That bar is looking better and better.
“I’m going to ignore that thunderous look on your face and introduce you to some of the players.” Odette interrupts my thoughts, and I tense.
“I don’t really want to meet anyone tonight—.”
“No, silly.” She waggles her eyebrows. “We won’t be moving from here.”
Her head tilts to the guy by the curtain talking to a waitress. “That one cheats on his wife and ends up coming to these functions solo, as he doesn’t hide it.” She rolls her eyes. “He has been one of my biggest headaches to work with.”
I stare over at him and hope the beer in his hand ends up on his crotch. Wishful thinking.
“The one over by the bar”—she indicates subtly with a nod, and mutters softly—“gets teased for having a third testicle.”
I gasp and quickly cover my mouth, pretending to cough as the patrons near us stare. Unfortunately, the movement causes the nearest guy to stare openly at my cleavage. I cease pretending to cough and curl my hand into a tighter fist and stare back. He catches my eye, winks, and looks away. The bloody cheek!
“The one near the balcony is apparently handsy at parties. Anja can unfortunately verify this. She can also verify that he squeals like a girl if you knee him in the balls.”
“What a legend.” I giggle, “I can imagine her doing that.”
“Oh yeah.” Odette smiles, while her eyes continue scanning the room, regaling me with more stories. Her attention goes back to the balcony and the smile dies on her face. I look in that direction to find Micah in her line of view with a slender blonde standing next to him. Odette turns her head away quickly, but I don’t. I take a moment to observe him.
“So that’s it.” Odette tries to distract me, but I persist in watching him. I haven’t seen him since my drunken lecture. Plus, Anja has reassured that he won’t fire Odette or be mad.
His girlfriend is tiny, her face tight with a frown while she gazes at her phone. Who is on their phone at a function like this? Boredom? Intolerance? Either way, she doesn’t look like she wants to be there. Her hard-lined face doesn’t strike me as that of someone who is warm and kind. I straighten, realising something. She is the opposite of Odette.
“That’s Heidi.” Odette breaks through my thoughts. “Don’t take it personally, but she’s not warm at all. Don’t be surprised if she gives you unwarranted opinions.”
“Like what?”
“Diets, exercise, that type of thing.”
“No fucking way!” I gasp and stiffen as the same sleazy guy from before looks at me. “Turn around, idiot,” I snap before looking back to Odette, who narrows her eyes at me.
“Language! I know Scott was being an idiot, but I essentially work for these guys. There are ways of handling things.”
“Sorry, but what a bitch. Is that what upset you? What made you sad?”
“No.” She shakes her head, her lips rubbing together. Her eyes flick to Micah and I tense. “It was him.”
“What did he say? There’s got to be a reason why he is at you so much? It’s not right to be constantly on your back.”
“I don’t really want to get into it now.” She twirls her almost empty glass in her hand. “All I will say is that I’ve never doubted myself, ever.”
“What do you mean? Does he think you’re not a good worker?”
“No, hon, more like my looks are upsetting.”
“You’re joking!” I snap, ignoring the eyes near me, facing toward us.
“He called me fat, Letty. What guy in this day and age does that? I don’t care if he’s my boss. It was rude.” She lifts the glass to her lips, swallowing the last mouthful. My heart breaks watching her tense shoulders. Sure, the both of us are of a curvier variety, but we aren’t horrible people. My sister is hot. She doesn’t need to be a stick to be seen, and fuck him for telling her otherwise. The rage from before returns, and I decide that in order to survive tonight without any casualties, vodka is needed.
“Okay, bar time. My shout.” I declare, linking my arm in hers.
“Work is paying, you goof.”
“Excellent. Then I won’t feel bad ordering the best for my sister.”
“Let’s get some poutine, too. The Canadians go crazy for it.”
“What the hell is that?” I scrunch my nose, and Odette giggles.
“It’s fries loaded with all sorts of yumminess. Looks like a hangover, so don’t judge it by its looks.” She winks, and I brace myself for something that’ll look like a car wreck.
“Me, too.” I pull the fabric across my chest, as Odette giggles at my ministrations. “Though, I can’t help slay any boss dragons for you unless they lose an eye from this.” I point to my dress.
“I’m okay.” Odette’s voice lowers to reassure me. But I don’t believe her.
I grab the bartender’s attention and decide that it’s time to make her smile more and hopefully do a bit of networking. She needs to be seen to be socialising tonight to make some of those wives a bit more comfortable. The night is young, after all, and neither of us deserve to be depressed anymore.
While we wait for our order to arrive, a strange sense comes over me and I can’t help feeling as if we’re being watched.
A while later, I walk back from the bathroom, taking care not to slip on the polished floorboards. A lot of the guests are taking advantage of the free bar and turning this place into a not-so-classy place anymore. I walk to the small table Odette and I have occupied most of the night, but I don’t see her. A shiver tingles down my spine, but I’m not cold. My head turns, but I don’t see her or anyone I know. Strange. What’s going on?
Despite wanting to have a good night, my instincts niggle at me. Why has he not responded to my email? Did I miss it? I reach into my clutch and recheck my phone, and a ball of lead settles in my stomach. Still nothing. My fingers move quickly across the screen, straight to my messages, where I type a text to Cole.
So that’s it, then.
I hit send. I blink back the angry tears threatening to break and breathe through my nose, scanning the room for Odette. I need to go home; I can’t go out and pretend I’m okay. I need to hide and nurse my wounds.
I catch movement in the small room adjacent to the balcony, and my instinct tells me to go toward it. I hold my clutch firmly, moving toward the entrance, where a dark grey curtain is draped partly across, probably to stop people using that part of the club. I see the swish of emerald at the edge of it, and recognise it instantly as Odette’s skirt. Her black lacy top comes into view and so do the sleeves of the very tailored suit of—Micah.