03 Heller's Girlfriend - Heller

by JD Nixon

  “I decided to visit my parents. I had dinner with them.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone where you were going? I thought something had happened to you. I’ve been out of my mind with worry.”

  I was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Heller. I didn’t think about it.”

  “Come home at once.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

  “Okay, I’m getting in the car now.”

  I waved to Mum and Dad and drove home as speedily as I dared, which wasn’t very fast at all. I felt guilty, because I knew how much he would have freaked out if I wasn’t at home and nobody knew where I was. He would have feared the very worst. Boy, would I be in trouble when I arrived home!

  As I drove along a deserted road, the steering wheel suddenly jerked and the car took on the awkward thumping motion that meant only one thing. I pulled over and stepped out. Damn! The front right tyre was flat. Of all the places and times for it to happen!

  I glanced around. It wasn’t a good neighbourhood, the street empty and silent. I was immediately nervous. I slipped back into my car, locked the doors and rang Heller. His phone was engaged.

  I rang Daniel. No answer.

  Niq. No answer.

  Clive. No answer.

  Sid. No answer.

  Will. No answer.

  I thought about ringing Dad, but after a terrible heart scare a few months ago, I was loath to ask him to do anything physical.

  Instead, I left a series of increasingly frantic messages on people’s phones. I kept trying Heller for the next twenty minutes, but received the engaged signal every time.

  Where was everyone when I needed them?

  Burning with frightened anger, I hauled myself out of the car again and opened the boot, pulling out the jack and the spare tyre. I had a vague idea of what to do, having watched Dad and various boyfriends fixing flats before, but I hadn’t ever done it myself. It took me a while to work out how to use the jack, but once I managed to prop up the car, I moved as quickly as possible, looking over my shoulder every minute in fear. I was tightening up the nuts on the spare when loud male voices carried down the street, growing closer.

  Hurry! I entreated myself.

  I picked up the flat tyre and lugged it into the boot, then lowered the car and removed the jack, throwing it in the boot carelessly. I had just slammed the boot shut and remembered I’d forgotten to pick up the tyre lever when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

  “Shit!” I shrieked and spun around. A medium-height man in his early twenties with short dark hair, a small mean mouth, wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt, crowded me against the boot. He looked and smelled drunk, which triggered my red alert button. One glance over his shoulder showed me that he had five mates with him.

  Oh shit. Trouble for me. I thought longingly of my capsicum spray, sitting in my handbag in the front of the car.

  “Hello, darling. Need a hand with something?” the man asked, his voice slurry, standing too close to me.

  “Thanks anyway, but I’m finished now,” I replied politely, edging away from him towards the driver’s door.

  “What’s a pretty young chick like you doing all alone at this time of night?”

  “I’m not alone. My boyfriend’s in the car.”

  He leaned down to peer through the back window, exposing my lie instantly. “I don’t see anyone. Is your boyfriend the Invisible Man or something?” He laughed heartily at his own joke.

  “He’s on his way. He’ll be here in a minute. With some friends. Lots of friends.”

  The man smiled and scrunched his nose. “Don’t think so. I think it’s just little old you all alone on this deserted street.” He moved closer. “There’s nobody around for miles.”

  I swallowed. My heart battered against my ribs.

  “I have to go.” I attempted to back away, but was caught up tight against the boot.

  “What’s the hurry? Don’t you want to talk to me?” He leaned over and grabbed my wrist, roughly pulling me closer to him. His breath was foul.

  “Someone’s waiting for me to get home,” I said, trying not to sound panicky. I shook my arm. “Can you let go of me?”

  “They can wait a few minutes longer, can’t they?” His tone was casually friendly, but his grip on my wrist was painful. “You know, I was only just saying tonight to Thommo over there about how long it’s been since I had a bit of fun. Do you like having fun, darling?”

  I didn’t answer him.

  “We could have a bit of fun together now, couldn’t we?” He turned around and grinned at his friends. “What do you reckon guys? Is she ripe for a bit of fun?”

  “I have to go. Really.” My stomach tumbled unpleasantly and tears of fear prickled in my eyes. I couldn’t take on six men by myself and I didn’t know what to do.

  Stop it! I admonished myself. You are not going to start crying. Now, think! What would Farrell advise you to do?

  I knew the answer as soon as I asked myself the question. I could even hear his gruff voice in my head. Protect yourself. Find a weapon. I slipped my hand into the pocket of my denim skirt and closed my fingers around my car key. It flicked out like a switchblade when a button was pressed. It was the only thing I had on me that could be used as a weapon apart from my hands and feet. What about the tyre lever? Brilliant! Except it was still lying on the road near the front tyre and I was currently nowhere near it. Punch him in the stomach and run for the tyre lever, I suggested to myself. Excellent plan! I thought I’d have a good chance of fending off the men with the lever. At least for long enough to get into my car and lock the doors. And reach my capsicum spray. And my mobile, not that it had done me much good so far tonight.

  I felt calmer already. Now I was thinking like a real security officer.

  But first, I’d better try things Heller’s way.

  I looked over to the man’s friends, encouraged by the fact that none of them had joined in with him in hassling me and none had moved closer to me. I was polite. “Look guys, can you please tell your friend to back off and to let me go? He’s being really aggressive and it’s frightening me.”

  “Ooh, widdle diddums is fwightened by the big scawy meanie,” mocked the man, looking over his shoulder seeking support from his friends. He really was an obnoxious jerk. Maybe I should just stab him in the neck with the car key to teach him a lesson about manners? It was tempting. “Shouldn’t be out by yourself this late at night, darling. Especially flashing your legs in that short little skirt and your tits in that tight top. Looks to me as if you’re cruising for some meat tonight. What’s a man supposed to think?”

  “Guys, please. I had to change a flat tyre and now I just want to go home,” I implored his friends, not needing to inject any distress into my voice. It was already there. “He’s hurting me.” And he was, his hand encircling one of my wounds that hadn’t quite fully healed yet.

  The men glanced at each other silently, but none spoke.

  My heart sank. They weren’t going to help me. They must operate as a pack – the Six Musketeers.

  I tried once more. “Please, guys. I just had dinner with my parents and played with my little nieces. I had to suffer through my parents’ holiday photos. And their dog pissed on my shoes.” I hoped that providing a few small vignettes from my life would help make me a real person to them, not just a pair of boobs on legs in a vulnerable situation.

  They remained silent and the jerk grinned back at them, appreciating the brotherly support. And hadn’t we all once too often heard the story of a woman being attacked while a group of men, not participating, stood by and let it happen?

  But nothing was going to happen to me tonight without me first inflicting as much pain on as many of these men as I possibly could. I wasn’t going to let Farrell down. I didn’t dare.

  So with my left hand tightly gripping the car key, I bunched the fingers of my right, ready to slog the jerk one in the guts and make a run for it towards the tyre lever. Heller should have been speedin
g on his way to help me now, but here I was on my own. That thought was as sour to me as curdled milk.

  I was just about to move my fist when one of the other guys finally spoke up.

  “Fitzy, let her go, you dickhead.” That came from a tall man, also in his early twenties, with equally short, blond hair and also wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt, but with a buttoned shirt flapping loosely over the top.

  “Fuck off, tosser.”

  One of the other guys rolled his eyes. “Oh great, here we go again. Get over it, you two.”

  “No, I won’t,” insisted the blond-haired guy. “I’m sick to death of this dickhead spoiling every night out.”

  “You better shut your fucking mouth,” warned the jerk.

  “Maybe you ought to think about shutting your fucking mouth for once. Every time a decent chick even comes near one of us, you have to scare her away with your pig man routine.”

  “What the fuck do you know? Chicks love being treated mean.”

  “You’re so full of crap.” Blond-man’s eyes swivelled to me. “Go on, ask her if she’s hot for you. I’ll give you a clue for free – she’s not. She’ll never be. She thinks you’re worse than a steaming fresh pile of dog shit in her handbag.”

  “Hey, why don’t you guys just settle down,” said the eye-roller. He was obviously the peacekeeper in the group.

  “Why don’t you just stop inviting your dickhead brother, who even you admit is a dickhead, along to our after-match drinks?”

  The jerk forgot about me, dropping my wrist and marching over to Blond-man, poking him in the chest, rekindling what was clearly an old and festering argument. I wasn’t sure that was a wise move – Blond-man had height and weight over him.

  But I wasn’t waiting to discover the outcome. Freed from the jerk, I sprinted around the car, snatched the tyre lever off the road and flung myself into the front seat, locking the doors behind me. My hands were shaking so badly, I couldn’t insert the key. It was so slippery with my sweat that it fumbled to the floor.

  I scrabbled desperately at my feet to find the key, relieved when my fingers closed over it. I managed to insert it properly this time, despite quaking uncontrollably. I revved the engine and sped off, leaving those men in my dust. In my rear view mirror I witnessed Blond-man throwing the first punch.

  I hoped he pummelled the jerk into a mound of bloodied mush. It was nothing more than he deserved.

  I cried all the way home in nervous reaction, the tears blurring my vision. Thankfully there wasn’t much traffic at that time of the night and I made it home safely, the remote on the dashboard of the car automatically opening the Warehouse’s garage door. I skidded to a halt near Heller’s Mercedes, parking crookedly.

  The garage was full of men mobilising for major action. Before I even opened the door there were a dozen of them surrounding me, helping me out of the vehicle. I pushed everyone away violently, simultaneously terrified and pissed off. They wisely let me go, noting my tears and grease stains.

  Heller pressed through the crowd. He attempted to put his arms around me, but I shoved him aggressively.

  “Get away from me!” I screamed at him, looking around me wildly. I’d moved beyond upset to hysterical, and nobody was sure what to do with me. I didn’t even know what to do with me. “Where the fuck were you all? I rang everyone! Doesn’t anyone answer their fucking phones in this place? None of you came to help me. No one! As far as I’m concerned, you can all just fuck off and die, you . . . you . . . fuckheads!”

  And on that classy parting comment, I tried to stalk off to the stairs, but my legs crumpled and I had to stop to lean against the nearest vehicle, afraid I was going to collapse in front of them all. Heller grasped me around the waist and lifted me up to sit on the bonnet. I wanted to kick him and slide off, but I honestly didn’t believe that my legs would cooperate. So I sat there, controlling my breathing until I felt calmer. Someone handed me a handkerchief. I wiped my eyes and nose.

  Heller ordered all the men to leave, thanking them for their time. Most of them trooped off obediently, but plainly curious. I was sure they’d all know the details by tomorrow morning anyway. This place was worse than an all-girls school for gossip and rumours.

  Heller turned back to me, but didn’t touch me, although I think he wanted to. “What happened, Matilda?”

  I took a deep, shuddery breath. “I had a flat tyre. I changed it and a group of men started grabbing me and hassling me, well, just one did, but the others watched on and I didn’t know what to do and I thought about what Farrell would advise and I tried to protect myself but all I had was my car key and I tried to reason with them but I was so afraid and it was six against one and the tyre lever was on the other side of the car and my capsicum spray was in my bag but it was in the car and I didn’t want to stab him in the neck but I would have and I was going to punch him but then they started fighting and I ran to the car and drove away . . .”

  I drew in a desperate breath. Hysteria was rapidly building again, and the tears poured down my face. Heller gently rubbed his hands up and down my upper arms until I calmed again.

  I looked at Heller reproachfully, eyes swimming with tears. “I rang you for twenty minutes! I rang everyone. Nobody answered their phone. I was so scared, and there was nobody to help me. Where was everyone?”

  His face was a study in uncomfortable anguish. “The others were on the rooftop. None of them had their phones with them. And I was talking to . . . someone.”

  “For twenty whole minutes? When you knew I was driving by myself at night?” I couldn’t hide my hurt. “When did you stop caring about me?”

  “That’s not fair, Matilda. I’ve never stopped caring about you.”

  “Yes, you have,” I stated matter-of-factly and slid off the bonnet, testing my legs. “I’m going to my flat.” I needed a shower and a huge glass of wine.

  “I’ll come up with you.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  “At least let me know that you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay,” I confirmed coldly.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Matilda,” he demanded.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you don’t trust me any more.”

  His phone rang and he checked the identity of the caller, sighing heavily before answering.

  “Hello again,” he snapped impatiently. “Is it important, because I’m very busy at the moment?”

  He turned away to talk. I took that opportunity to carefully take myself upstairs where I had a very long and hot shower. Afterwards, I poured myself a large glass of wine and sat on the lounge to watch some mindless and forgettable TV. I wasn’t sure I would be able to sleep, but hoped I would hit that post-adrenaline slump and drop off instantly.

  I hadn’t locked my door, and there was a brief rap before the door opened and Heller stepped inside. I stayed seated on the lounge, my feet propped up on the coffee table.

  “Are you really okay, my sweet? You’ve been through so much lately.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted, not wanting to talk to him.

  He hesitated, appearing uncharacteristically uncertain. “Would you like me to stay with you tonight?”

  I hesitated too, because there was nothing more I wanted than to sleep in his arms all night, safe and protected. I almost softened, but then I thought of him with Vanessa and how he’d been talking to her when I couldn’t get through to him on the phone. I hardened up again.

  “Thanks, but I’ll be okay by myself.” My voice was cool.

  He didn’t argue, but after a final regretful glance, turned and left. I locked the door behind him and went to bed where I tossed and turned for ages before drifting into a troubled, dream-filled sleep.

  Chapter 19

  The next day Will finally rang me back and although I agreed to see him later that evening, I couldn’t deny that I was frosty with him. He sounded a touch distant himself and I worried that he was still upset that I hadn’t gone home with hi
m after I found out about Patricia. That thought only served to remind me that Patricia was due in court today to plead, and I wanted to be there to offer my support for her.

  At the desk I checked the court’s schedule on my computer and saw that she was scheduled for a late morning hearing. Heller walked in and asked me what I was doing and when I told him, he offered to drive me there. I accepted because my newfound confidence in driving had been shattered once more after the previous evening’s ‘adventure’.

  We didn’t speak much on the journey downtown. Heller’s phone rang and he threw it to me, asking me to answer it for him.

  “Hello, Heller’s phone. Heller’s little helper speaking,” I said. He smiled at me.

  “I want to speak to Heller.” A woman’s voice, not very polite.

  I, on the other hand, was the very model of polite professionalism. “I’m sorry, he’s not available at the moment. May I take a message?”

  “Tell him to call me back immediately.”

  “And you are?” I asked, even though I knew perfectly well who she was.

  “He knows.” Then I was listening to the ringtone. She didn’t even say goodbye.

  “Who was it?” he asked.

  “A very rude woman. Apparently you know who she is. You have to ring her back immediately. Or preferably even sooner.” He nodded without much enthusiasm.

  The phone rang again, so I answered. “Hello, Heller’s phone. This is –”

  A hang up. A minute later it rang again. I answered and received another hang up. A further minute and it rang again. I looked over at Heller.

  “Leave it,” he said with a sigh.

  His phone continued to ring every minute.

  “Does this happen often?”

  “Sometimes,” he admitted glumly. “When she’s not happy.”

  I couldn’t stop my laugh. “Wow! She’s intense.”

  “Drop it,” he warned.

  But the constant ringing started to annoy me so I turned his phone off.

  “That’s how I miss important calls, you know,” he said wryly. I rolled my eyes and turned it back on. It rang immediately and I answered.