Nuu Untitled Story (UPDATED:CHAPTER 5-9)

Chapter 5: EMMA WHO?

Dae & I had met about a year or so before she dated Emma. Dae was at her prime, scoring chicks from sundown to sunrise. She dated girls the same way she earned commissions selling electronics at Harvey Norman back then. She never missed an opportunity. She worked hard, she partied hard. Dae was the kind of person who knew how to balance her life, despite the dyke drama she went through from her chick habit. She spent her money on people that made her happy, mostly her family & close friends. She spent her commissions on exclusive goods that only came in limited numbers, ranging from a bottle of 300-year-old wine to a customized Supra cap to a limited edition dildo that had a layer of swarvoski crystals under the second layer of transparent latex.

She didn't speak much in reality, unless she was on a roll with deep intellectual or complexed emotional talks. Neither didn't she spend much time picking up girls. Jo & I noticed a pattern in how Dae executed that - 7 seconds flat. If the girl didn't bat her lashes or attempt to touch Dae by 7 seconds, Dae's eyes were already onto the next one. She was the kind of butch you thought was far too cocky for her own good but you still have a yearn to taste her, the kind of butch that seemed inapproachable but made you swoon the moment she locked her gaze on you. Dae was her own swagger. The way she dressed spoke a whole Gay Rights Rally - the slouch, the outlandish choice of graphic t-shirts, the specks of leather & studs, the large hoodies & skinny jeans, & of course, the hair. She was by far the only girl I knew who had a signature hairdo - the classic Riot Grrl faux 'hawk dyed Jet Black. The only reason she it wasn't a full mohawk was because she had a job to keep. Her hair was far more valuable than her life. Once, she was hospitalized for food poisoning for a week but there was no way in hell she was going to miss her hair appointment that Friday. She faked going out on a stroll, pulled out the drip by the time she got to the garden, pulled on a hoodie & fled to the salon for the appointment. By the time she got back she was puking out nonsense & got weaker that the doctors kept her for another week. But hell, I've never seen a more well-groomed patient in my life.

All that vanity made up for her quiet soul. Dae spent half her lifetime in cyberspace. On days when she retreated into her own space, it was always certain she'd be stuck to the screen of her Mac desktop. She had her networking sites wired. Myspace, Pitchfork, Purevolume, Lookbook, Facebook, Fridae, Straponpeople - you name it, she had them, which made it easier for her to fish for girls. Half the girls she knew, were all initially just online chat friends. Likewise, Dae met Emma on Myspace.

Their relationship was almost instantaneous as it only took 2 or 3 nights of chatting to get Dae to fall under her spell. No girl got her the way Emma did. I vividly remember her toothy wide smile, the bounce in her steps & how her voice was a little higher in pitch than usual whenever I met her. She only spoke of Emma & almost too quickly, her days of fishing were fading behind her. Her Player aura disappeared as the days drew nearer to exclusively dating Emma that went on to override her prime & led on to consume the wrath of a commitment for 3 degrading years. Let me just make this clear - I'm no believer of lasting relationships nor monogamy. I have a pet peeve for PDA. In all honesty, through the first year or so of their relationship I began to believe the possibilies of the three. I was almost convinced that two people could be happy just having each other. On top of that, I was genuinely happy for Dae because she finally settled down with one girl she had her heart set on. Dae & I held a similar nature about relationships but Emma, somehow, changed that about Dae. She became far more receptive about being committed. Sure, it shocked me but I got over it, so did the others.

We bonded pretty well while they dated. There were days when we'd just hang out in the living room, just us 3, playing charades or Taboo, watching a movie or two. Dae & I even had our own pacts sometimes. On nights I brought a chick home, she'd call Emma over. Dae & I would secretly place bets on who could make a girl scream louder or go on longer that night. We'd tally our scores over time & thus far, she led by 3 incidents. We were tight competition, apparently, but all in the name of fun. I had personally bonded with Emma over music. We shared the same passion for Rock music in general, sometimes Electronic, but we definitely had a soft spot for Hip Hop. We had gone to gigs & street festivals together, even crossed over to several parts of Malaysia & Australia for their hardcore or electronic shows multiple times a year. She was the one person I was glad to have met that made travelling for music a little more worth the while. Locally, Emma & I had organized more dance competitions than we have organized gigs. I had a short stint performing with her crew for about a year until they decided to disband for good. We ripped up every stage we took on. In the short time I had with the crew, we came in first 4 out of the 7 major competitions. In the clubs, we'd battle out with other crews till they're dry.

"We're so fresh, we look real fly. Girl, these kids got nothin' on us," Emma would pump up my energy before any performance.

"We'll send them back to Hip Hop 101," I'd chip in to boost some team confidence.

We didn't have to convince ourselves, our moves did the talking. The crowd would go wild rooting for our crew. Dae was our fan. In fact, she was Emma's #1 fan. She'd be so blown away during her solos.

"The two best people on earth on one stage, rippin' it. What else can I ask for?" Dae would say sometimes. That made Emma tick. She didn't want to have equivalent importance to me in Dae's life. She wanted to be her only priority. She had always hinted at Dae that she had to choose between me & her but Dae had always managed to divert the attention else where & steer out of the decision. Sometimes I'd help & tell them how great they looked together.

God, they looked real good together. Dae's playfully icy eyes complemented Emma's flirty mascara-clad ones. Dae's boxy frame shielded Emma's lanky shape. They both had angular features in all the right places - high cheek bones, fine eyebrows, strong jawlines, slick collar bones; they'd make perfect pretty babies. It was the classic picture of femme & butch, always projected from the way they dressed. But all things pretty are costly.

Emma was a parasite that fed on greed, competition & above all, cold hard cash. I never saw Dae spend a cent on herself ever since they officially got together. She was living from paycheque to paycheque, slugging her guts chasing sales for the benefit of keeping a high maintenance bitch of a girlfriend, or so said Emma herself. I beg to differ, though. Emma held her own job, waitressing at DYMK 4 days a week while juggling a private diploma at MDIS. She didn't care that it was an unglamourous job because she got the attention she wanted anyway. Sure, she didn't earn much but a weeks' worth of tips alone was enough to aid a whole month's travelling fare. Her profligate ways though, always left her high & dry by the middle of the month. Initially Dae was just showering her with gifts to show her how much she adored her, gave her what she wanted to show how true her love was for Emma, but she'd leave Dae when she couldn't fullfil her materialistic needs. Dae would give up every once in a while & let her leave but it never was long enough until she'd come knocking on our door to look for Dae. It became too much a hassle to open the door at 3 fucking am in the morning that even I let up & gave her our spare key.

These visits were never pretty. Dae would end up in tears most of the time because Emma always had the upperhand. Sometimes I'd just walk out of the house. Other times, I'd pretend to be asleep or blast my headphones & can't help but to eavesdrop from my room. Emma had her way to twist stories & issues to make her look like the victim instead of Dae, that she got Dae brainwashed into her theories. Dae's guilt would pile up everytime they fought. She would shut out for the rest of the day or two, convinced she's to blame for all that. She'd make lists of things she has to do to make things right & things to not do to stop any future fights. Emma was my friend, that's for sure, but there was no way I was going to sit around letting her treat my best friend like that. God, she was swallowed whole & spat out one time too many. One night, I just broke loose.


CHAPTER 6: BROS BEFORE HOES

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE," I interrupted their argument.

"What?! Stay out of this Rey!" Emma shot back.

"Come on, Rey, it's okay, don't talk to her like that," Dae defended. I shot a deadly gaze at Dae. I felt a pinch of hurt. How could she?

"SHUT THE FUCK UP & GET THE FUCK OUT, EMMA," I insisted.

"SHUT UP REY. WHY DON'T YOU GET OUT?" she was burning.

"Yeah, Rey. Just leave us to this okay? We'll be okay. Don't come in between this," Dae's defense levelled up. Out of umbrage, I picked up Emma's things & threw it out the gate.

"THIS IS MY FUCKING HOUSE. GET OUT WHEN I TELL YOU TO!"

"Fine! I'm out of here! Come on, Dae!" Emma breathed. By now Dae was pulling her phone & cigarette box into her pockets, ready to leave with Emma to settle their argument some place else.

"No. You leave. Dae stays." I put a foot down & folded my arms.

"NO! THIS ISN'T OVER. COME ON, DAE!" she coaxed on. Dae almost fully got out of the couch.

"Walk out this door & don't even think of coming back, Dae. You'll never come back to this house. You'll never come back to a friend that you have in me," I threatened.

"Fuck, Rey, don't do this," Dae pleaded.

"YOU DIDN'T JUST...." I interrupted Emma.

"YES I DID. BROS OR HOES, DAE?" I made it real clear.

Dae's body went limp as gravity pulled her back into the couch, her face was blank like a useless map, searching for a reason in my face. She looked at Emma then buried her face. She started sobbing again.

"Fuck...don't do this. Don't fucking do this," she cried harder.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...," she started pleading again. Her heart was soft enough to walk out on me with Emma but she killed her own chance.

"YEAH, CHOOSE. ME OR HER?" Emma shot me a cocky look, tapping her foot.

"FUCK, EMMA, GET OUT!" she shot almost instantly. Emma was about to start on her diva moment but I didn't let her.

"You heard her. So moooove, bitch, get outta her way," I cooed.

Emma picked up her things outside & left in a huff. I slammed the door at her & turned to Dae. I started to walk towards her to give her a comforting hug but she stood up before I could catch her.

"Dae..."

"Great now I have to deal with both of you," she huffed & wiped her tears in fury, "Now it's gonna take my whole fucking paycheck to make it up to her. Fuck, Rey. Fuck you."

"Fuck me?! Where the fuck is your dignity?!" I was about to go ballistic.

"What has that got to do..." I cut her off.

"Your dignity's got to do with everyfuckingthing, dammit. How long more are you gonna let her walk all over you like that?! How many more months do you wanna survive on fucking cup noodles & crackers? How many more times do you want that bitch to suck you dry?!"

"Don't call her that."

"BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH. EMMA THE BRAINLESS OBNOXIOUS BITCH."

"Hey, lay off, she's your friend, too."

"Oh come on, you know I could do damn well without her. My life doesn't revolve around her."

"My life doesn't..."

"OH FUCKING HELL YES IT DOES."

"Shut up, Rey. Shut up..." Dae pleaded again. This time, she had dug her fingers into her perfect mohawk. She doesn't ever touch it unless she was washing out the wax. The symmetry disappeared for the first time ever. She clutched on the little hair there was on the sides of her head. She was crying now. I didn't hesitate this time. I took a spot right next to her on the couch & eased her hands away from her face. I stroked each of her hands so that she would release her fists. I took her face in both my palms & attempted to wipe her tears off but they kept coming. Her head dived into the nook between my ear and my shoulders, hands wrapped tight at the back of my chest, fingers curled into clenched fists as she took some of my t-shirt into her palms. She heaved, body vibrating hard against mine, eyes buried into my shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay, babe. Shh, it's okay," I coaxed. She cried hard through clenched teeth, trying not to make too much noise, afraid she'd looked less of a butch. I hugged her tight, assuring her that I'm here for her. I kissed the side of her head that was closer to me. I let her cry out her ducts a little longer. My own heart ached at two ends. I know I was hurt for how she could even have to stop & think before choosing a friend over a lover. I was hurt at how she could still defend Emma even though she was in the wrong & let her make me look like a lunatic. But at the same time, I felt my heart ache for her. She believed so much in the relationship, so much in Emma. She sacrificed time, effort & her own money just to make it work. She was always the one saving the relationship, making it work, even if it meant she had to bite the bullet Emma shot her. Sometimes even swallow it. I helped her up to her room, made her change to boxer shorts & tucked her to bed.

"Rey?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Will you sleep next to me tonight?" she spoke between sobs

"Sure," I turned off the lights, tucked myself under the duvet next to her.

"Can I hug you to sleep?" she asked like a child. I took her in my arms, kissed her hair & said goodnight.

"Thank you," she whispered, her hug tightened. My heart wrenched again for her. I let my tears slip, hoping in some way it will comfort both of us.



CHAPTER 7: HAVE IT YOUR WAY

Beep. Beep. Both at the same time. A tweet update.
checkyesari: @reyr @jowhatsherface incoming riot

It's a codeword we'd use when there was trouble approaching that involved anyone of us. More often than not, it was girl trouble. Ari must've been in the vicinity while doing her rounds as a parking attendent. I wanted to panic but I didn't know what was coming. Jo was calm, a usual sight. She put her hand atop mine & pat on it, as though channelling her calmness into my nerves. A deep breath. A casual swig of the beer. I bopped my head, trying to synchronize with an Adam Lambert song playing softly through the speakers. Whaddaya Want From Me. Nice. Just freaking nice. I felt like a cliche for a few seconds. I probably had myself psyched into concentrating on the bopping. Perhaps I had amplified the song in my ears to cover up the anxiety. Either ways, I didn't hear the clacking of heels come through the door & work its way up to where I sat. A tap on my shoulder. I swung the stool around. Slap! I didn't even have time to register who it was. I knew it was a girl though. Her voice was unfamiliar, her booming words didn't help me comprehend either.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Thank God she was speaking English. I finally got to look at her, but she was still rather unfamiliar. Both hands on her hips now, her arms angled out into two triangles. I blinked back into reality. I left her question rethorical. I drank in her presence with the little time I had to buy. Her auburn hair fell in soft curls that were all in a bunch on one side. She wore her face in light make up - a dash of purple eyeshadow, a smudge of matching eyeliner & a hint of pink in her lips. The grey material wrapped tightly around her body that I wondered how she breathed, even her round breasts threatened to pop out of her low neckline. The white blazer could barely contain them but helped to show off a decent exposure of cleavage. I zoomed out my view so I could see her as a whole. Corporate. No bag. I was sure she came with someone. She came closer to the bar top, attempting to snatch my beer but I was fast enough. I even got a glimpse of her bra - maroon with tonnes of sexy lace. My face heated up.

"And you are?" I asked her.

"My mother," cooed a familiar voice that appeared from behind her. Emma emerged all fresh-faced, smelling like she'd been at the spa the whole day. There was no sign of remorse or grieving, not even a tinge of guilt. Instead, a smirk. A kind of knowing that she can't be messed with now that her mother had her back. Emma looked nothing like the milf who just slapped me. Well, I know now where she got her racks from.

"Oh, you got your Mommy in this, haven't you?" I shot at Emma but my eyes were still all over the milf. She went on to say how if I messed with her, I messed with her mom, too. She spat about how I was in deep shit now that her mom knows who I am, where I live & what I'd done. I found it hard to believe she was a mother. The milf handed me a card but held my grip a while longer. She leaned in closer to my face & locked her gaze on mine. I was bracing myself for the specks of saliva to come falling on me like a threat.

"Call me," she mouthed, then winked. She pulled down the shades from atop her head,

"That's the receipt for her belongings you've damaged. I'm onto you, kid," her tone now serious. It wasn't long till the her racks disappeared out the door with Emma. My eyes saw her meaty rump to the door.

"I didn't know Emma was such a pussy pulling her Mom into this. Fucking money-faced cunt." Jo barked.

"Who cares? Her mom's playing my team," I waved the name card at her, eyebrows raised. I was almost victorious. Just then, the rest of the girls came in & Jo ranted on about the encounter with Emma's mom. They each slapped me a high-five & cheered for me. Dae played it fairly cool, acting like nothing happened. The rest hardly spoke about what they already knew. We all knew something like would happen to any two of us in the circle, all in a moment of folly. We never talk about it, but we know it. Emma was usually the one who went on a hype with it, broadcasting any hook up episode.

"OMG TURN IT UP TURN IT UP," Jo told the bartender. Single Ladies was playing and we all sang to it, dancing in our stools. Jo & Ari stood up to make a fool of themselves dancing through the chorus. Dae handed me a beer. I noticed her promise ring was nowhere in sight. No words. We both nodded, clinked our beers & gulped down. I slid out my Xperia.

reyr: have it your way, @emgotu


CHAPTER 8: NEW JOB

Soft kisses tickled the bottom of my spine. A blunt finger traced the same track, then two, walking through a forbidden path up the middle crook of my back. Yet it almost offended when the kisses stopped right atop my right shoulder. Fingers now curled onto my shoulder, like imprinting the kiss into my skin. Some stray hair was pulled back, leaving my neck naked like the rest of me. The kisses came back for a short cameo. Teeth. Initially merely nibbling the surface, then working deeper into my flesh. A decent-sized meat got caught between two rows of perfectly straight teeth. A force exerted. I felt my body curl forward. A stronger force now. My free hand grabbed at the sheets, trying hard not to make a sound. My other hand found a tuft of hair to pull at. A hand snaked between my butt cheeks. A sudden thrust into my pussy. A noticeable pause. Another thrust. A shorter pause. Another finger slid in, a pattern picked up. In, out. In, out. Painfully slow, adrenaline surged hard into my body. A touch of hardened nipple against my back, as her head curled into my neck, biting hard into the flesh she'd been containing. Her fingers now picked up pace. God, it went at triple speed. I moaned, both in pain & pleasure.

"Fucking hell, Dae," I cursed at the bruise in the mirror.

The clothes I had picked up the night before looked ridiculous with a scarf around my neck, save the corporate pants. I checked my wall clock. 8:10AM. I flipped through the clothes hanging in my closet vigorously that I forgot how old the wood was & it might just give way. I glanced back at the mirror & found my hair still tucked under the towel. I dried it out in about a minute or two, still figuring out what to wear. Paramore blared.

"Shut up!" I yelled at my Xperia. I didn't bother picking it up. I finally settled for white loose-fit t-shirt with folded sleeves, tucked into my best pair of black corporate pants. I fished around the back of the wardrobe for my slick skinny suspenders & clicked them onto my pants. I topped it off with a t-shirt scarf in dark grey with specks of colours only visible when you looked close enough. Paramore blared again. I pretended not to hear but threw it into my bag. 8.25AM. I panicked while I slipped into military booties & out the door, only to be horned at. The window of the Toyota zipped down. It was Suraia, my little life saver! I was too caught up with myself to even remember that she had agreed to send me to work last Friday.
****

A month had passed by then & it was my debut at MyFest as a magazine journalist, writing articles on the local dyke pop culture. Fedrick Bakhan, Assistant Editor, walked me through the office, all two stories of it, pausing at common areas or to emphasize a certain rule. It was a small corporation afterall because the magazine was only selectively published in the country. He'd turn so effortlessly on the heel of his suede chukkas. He could pass off as a heterosexual if he'd ever thought of buffing up. I would have never believed he was of Indian native from his fair skin, save his slightly curly hair. His long lashes fluttered behind his horn-rimmed glasses as he talked me through other mandatory stuff he'd included in the box he handed me. I reached out a hand to thank Mr Bakhan, he took it but insisted I addressed him as Mr. B.

"That's M-i-s-t-e-r B. We're a knit family here, no need for formality, hon," he welcomed me with a cherry chapstick smile. He motioned for me to take my seat on the swivel chair.

"Love your the look, by the way. ZARA?" he prompted, looking over his glasses.

"Renoma, flea market, Charles&Keith," I pointed to my top, my pants & my shoes.

"No way! Lucky find," I sensed the surprise in his voice, almost impressed. He winked & swerved out towards his own cubicle.

reyr: OMG I MY PASS EVEN HAS MY FACE ON IT
reyr: OMG I GET TO USE A TABLET PC !!

I was too excited that I didn't even wait till the tablet started up.
****

I had never had fun going to work but this was refreshing. I began to wake up with a new agenda every working day. The workload wasn't too demanding but the researching & the sourcing was a bitch. I was the kind of writer who wrote about things I'd come across from a website or two, perhaps a random read. Dissect it, take a stand & open it up to discussion, sometimes even encourage readers to take my stand. This job, however, required writing on a media-attention level with emphasis on facts rather than opinion. Both are important, actually, but facts won by a mile. Sure I could use random reads & such but goddammit I had to pick out references from statistics & partner sites or similar articles. Then again, I wasn't going to complain because those tedious referencing has helped me discover other things that I could use in my future work. I did many minor articles on the online version of the magazine, usually for event/exhibition reviews, like the weekend sale, an exclusive art exhibition or the upcoming events at Pynk! I did a few major articles a month for the printed magazine. These are usually submitted & pre-approved by the editor. You were considered lucky if she even picked one of your articles to be revised. You were celebrated when your article gets published. There was tight competition around, about 5 or 6 permanent journalists working on the magazine. We clicked pretty well at the office - during lunch, sneaking smoke breaks, coming in to work hungover from the weekend - but when it was down to writing, it was serious business. Any one of us would tense up if another comes by his desk, we were all so guarded about our work. It wasn't as easy when I first started out as it was now. I had such a hard time trying to seek assistance that Google became my Guru through the times Mister B was unreachable.

My life was swell. No, wait, my working life was swell. My life was still in a rut. My incestrous involvement with Dae was still ongoing. Dae was a whole other issue herself.


CHAPTER 9: SILENT PRAYERS

The door vibrated a little from the heavy bass thumped in the living room when I noticed it was unlocked. A row of shoes formed at the gate, a usual sight on a morning like this. I carried my shoes in one hand, unlatched the gate & slowly pushed my way into the house. A drunk Ari laid flat on the ground, groaning once in a while complaining about the heat she felt, drifting in an out of consciousness. She didn't even realize she had a post-it stuck to her forehead with Fran Fine written on it. I figured they must've been playing Who Am I?. I turned down the stereo & turned on the fan. Jo & Suraia folded onto each other on the couch, asleep. I took sometime to push Suraia's bangs out of her eyes. In a moment or two I would sigh at how cute she looked without the image-conscious tick in her aura. I picked up empty bottles, cards & cans as I walked, careful not to wake anyone up. I winced at Emma's thong hanging on Dae's doorknob. So what if it was a clean one? What's so hard about just using a Do Not Disturb sign? I knew better than to peek into their lovey dovey sleeping positions. It was obvious what I had missed while I was out at a clothing launch party with the company. I would have loved to invite them all but it was an invite-only event, so I couldn't. I opened my bedroom door, just wide enough to send my bag flying onto my bed, then I was set on an agenda to clear up the mess while they slept till sunrise.

It didn't occur to me that the kitchen door was shut until I wanted to get another trash bag. My nose detected a pungent smell from the other side. Released gas. As soon as I slide it open, I found Dae crouching just below the window. Her eyes were bloodshot, stinging from fresh tears, closing, almost sleep-like. I turned off the stove & switched off the main plug. I drew closer to where Dae was, praying so hard I thought I found a religion again.

Her body jerked in odd rhythms, mouth agape for air. She breathed silent prayers for courage as she knifed the skin of her left forearm. Hot streams of anguish & fear gushed down her swollen face. Eyes closed, but determined to see through a few more slashes. The way her face was held away from the works of her hands, amplified the confusion, the contradiction within her. A fight even I doubt she was able to comprehend. Barbed wire wrenched her heart, wringing out every inch of love & faith she carried all these years. The hurt was electrocuting but she couldn't find enough strength fuse it. Somehow she was convinced she was dying. Her mind willed to fight the hurt inside. The physical infliction projected how her heart truly looked like on the inside. Traces of blood on the peeling knife reminded her how very well alive she was. And yet, tears dripping into the cuts were proof she wasn't brave afterall. She had fallen victim to her weak heart.

I crouched into her shape on the side away from the knife. Honest to God, I was pretty afraid she would take a stab at me just for coming close. She barely moved though, save the slow motion of dragging the blade off her skin. I grabbed at both her wrists, restricting any further action, hoping some blood would stop flowing to her fingers so she'd lose the grip. I held my breath for two beats before flanking her right arm. I breathed again when I heard the tool clank onto the marble floor & waddled to the front of her. I held her palms in mine as I studied the art. EMMA </3, it read. I cursed under my breath. She opened her eyes & all I could see was emptiness. She seemed soulless.

"I lost her," her voice trembled.

"It's over...It's over...It's over...," she repeated, quietly wailing. Her body shook evenly now as she settled to cry like a child. I pulled her into me so I could wrap my arms around her. All I could do was comfort her the only I knew how.

"No, babe. Your nightmare's over, your nightmare's over," I assured her.
****

A part of me crumpled into uselessness looking at how lifeless Dae was. She spoke lesser than I was used to. She would eat sometimes when she had a stash of pot. Some nights I would get high with her just so I could feel closer to her & let her know that I was there for her. She left her job, spent a lot of time in her room & went for days without showering. Her phone was switched off on most days but she clung onto her computer for the little civilization it offered. She never logged on to most networking sites but she kept tabs on her e-mails. Sometimes I wondered if she pinned a hope for an e-mail from Emma but she assured me that she was sending out resumes, awaiting a job offer that didn't demand for much interaction. We'd talk on Google Chat while I worked or not at home & it helped me to keep an eye on her, hoping she was alright to live through another day. None of the other girls knew what had happened, except that Emma had gloated in the tweetsphere that she had officially broken up with Dae. Fucking heartless cunt. I would buy her takeouts for breakfast on days I wasn't rushing. I would come home early as often as I could to cook for the both of us. I had forbiddened her to enter the kitchen since the incident & I trusted her enough to abide to it, for her own good.

Dae hung out with the girls less often, or rather, it was often a conditioned decision. If Emma was around, she would disappear. When she was around though, Emma would drop by sometimes, arm clung onto a new pair of hips every time she "happened to pass by" just to rub it in Dae's face. It didn't matter much when Emma was on shift because she was often restricted by the careful eyes of the manager. Dae would often dress in hoodies & longsleeved tops despite the tropical heat to conceal her bandaged arm.

Surprisingly, though, the both of us continued sleeping with each other since that fateful February morning. There were no qualms, restrictions or even nagging feelings anymore. I stopped freaking out & just enjoyed the times we spent sexing in each other's bed, on the couch & the kitchen table. It was what it was - more than friends, less than lovers. We were the few lucky people who kept that kind of relationship consistent since the day we met, except now it's a little better with the sex. It was disturbingly comforting knowing that if I had an itch, a great fuck was just a door away.

"I thought I was the only one who thought of that," she agreed one night while we talked, watching Bree on Desperate Housewives.

Her gestures, though, spoke a different language. She would touch the small of my thigh or sling an arm over me when we sat together, push a stray hair away from my face & tuck it behind my ear, gaze into my eyes a little longer than I'm comfortable with, sometimes stealing glances at me as I manouvered around the house and even more so as she studies my actions while I clean her wounds & change her bandage. The cuts were gruesome but she didn't flinch anymore.

"Your dad would kill you," I'd comment sometimes just to drill in the seriousness of the scars that were going to form. Even then, she didn't panic anymore - just a shrug. I sensed an infatuation falling through but I let it pass, every time. An unofficial, unspoken thing kept at bay.
****

BARCODE DETECTED, the machine blinked. The door unlocked & I pushed the metal bar. Bright lights greeted the Wednesday morning as I strode through the first floor before taking a left turn for a steep flight up to the next floor. I greeted everyone, including the ones whose names I never got 'round to remembering. Just as I planted my butt into my chair, I caught a wiff of Dolce & Gabbana's The One.

"Morning, Mister B! Are you joining us for Ladies Night later?" I quirked.
"You'd be lucky to even leave the building tonight. We've got a little crisis," I have to admit, he sounded rather whimsical instead of sarcastic.

I turned on the tablet & let it detect my fiinger print. I clicked on a shortcut & lauched the corporate portal. There was an e-mail from Kristanna Gan, the Cheif Editor, & the subject title was capitalized, bolded & accompanied by an orange exclamation mark icon. The icon was an indication of an extremely important e-mail. I clicked on it. The subject read, "QUARANTINED STAFF (!)". My jaw dropped & I jumped right out of my sleepiness. My eyes zoomed to the words bolded in red.

The photographer we've engaged has been quarantined due to suspiscion of contracting the H1N1 flu. As you all may have noticed, it's the middle of the month now & all work has to be submitted, finalized & printed by the 24th this month. I seek your help in engaging a legit photographer to fill in for our June issue. Get his/her portfolio(s) ready for me to see through by Friday, 18th May, at 9AM sharp. Go ahead & book for an interview with them for the same day or following Monday in case they get picked.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Photographer has to have a flair in portraiture, snap shots & vast spaces; willing to commit to long working hours in short notice.


I launched Google Talk on my Opera browser.

reydeye says: Any luck with a new job?
photodaes says: No ):
reydeye says: Come have lunch with me. Breko, at 1.
photodaes says: I'll race you there (: