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Great Writing - Home > Short S. > Right here is where you start paying...pt 2
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| Right here is where you start paying...pt 2 | |
| By NeilTollfree | ||||||
| 07 March 2007 | ||||||
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How do, thanks for sticking with it. Here's the next part, it bears similarity to 'the Two Towers' in that it's the middle bit. Hope you like it but if not then the ending is my favourite part so you'll like that more. ‘Spotted ! Simon Peters looked moody and suave in his posh suit. On a Tuesday lunchtime ! Hope you’ve not been sacked Si !’ “No, can’t have ‘Spotted’. Ow, Sally, this chair is broken” Miriam stood and rubbed her bum where that chair had got it. She was even tinier than Calvin, and covered her slight frame exclusively with dark and hefty material. “I know, I think I’ve got a callus on my left cheek. Why can’t I have ‘Spotted’. He’s been spotted, I’ve spotted him hence, you know, ‘Spotted’” Oh bloody hell, where was Cal ? Miriam was always going to be a snob about a gossip website. “Sally, I’m not an idiot. I understand what ‘Spotted’ means. Look, has it bruised ?” She’d hitched her grey skirt right up and was showing Sally her bum. There was far too much hair involved. Sally stared fixedly at the screen. “No. Look, why can’t I have ‘Spotted’ ?” “It’s what Heat use for there celebrity photo page thing. I think I need some nettle butter to rub on this.” She gingerly placed one cheek on the battered sofa on the other side of the room and continued to rub the other one. Miriam really didn’t have the padding for a lumpy chair. “Heat ? Miriam, you read Heat ?” “No, of course not.” “Well, how do you know what there celebrity photo page then eh ?” Miriam stopped rubbing her bum and looked out at Sally from under an unusually heavy eyebrow. She’d been caught out. She didn’t like that. An atmosphere landed without a parachute “Are you really sure that you should have those hob-nobs Sally, I thought that this time you were really going to make a serious effort to get some weight off your backside ?” Bitch. Sally could feel her heckles getting up. Before Sally could suggest that it would be easy for Miriam to lose weight by just shaving her legs, Calvin brought in a pot of herbal tea. “Tea, Sal ?” “God Cal, what is that…it smells like a sauna. “Garlic and fennel, very good for the immune system” “And the digestive system” chipped in Miriam. “Miz, if you ever need to borrow a razor you really only need ask.” Calvin glanced at the monitor “Can’t have ‘Spotted’” Miriam smiled triumphantly. “I know Cal” Sally caught the smile but had wearied of the battle. She was damn sure Cal deserved better than Miriam but she didn’t like getting catty. She focused back on her website. “I’m not sure if this is going to work. I’ve ripped off Heat and my exclusive is man wears suit” “But why ?” said Cal. “I don’t know, to go to work. Men wear suits to go to work.” “I don’t” “You’re hardly in the same league as Simon Peters though Cal.” Cal paused. “What league is he in then ?” Miriam started on him ; “Well, Simon Peters is one of the most famous people in the country and you work in an anarchist bookshop.” Cal ignored the dig, Sally wondered how he did that. “Look, I realise where I work. My point is, where does this Peters chap work ?” “In the city isn’t it ?” said Sally “God, what is the matter with you Sal. I thought that women were meant to be perceptive.” “Don’t stereotype Calvin. What are you talking about ?” Miriam was getting a bit snappy. “Look, I don’t know an awful lot about these sorts of people. But do either of you know exactly what it is that he did to get so famous ?” Miriam pursed her eyes at him. “Oh, don’t be so stupid Calvin. He’s all over the place, everyone knows who he is.” Cal sat next to her and clammed up. “Hang on though, you’ve got a point.” Sally was starting to switch on to what Cal was saying “We all know who he is. But what does he do?” “Oh what does anyone do?” said Miriam. “No Mizzy. Really, with most famous people they have a job don’t they” “Oh sure, beardy pierced one from Take that is as valid a job peace worker, veterinary nurse is it?” Miriam’s voice was starting to rise. “I realise it’s not a terribly important job.” “You’re damn right it’s not buster, how many sick animals does Mr fancy suit Peters cure”. Sally could see that Miriam was simmering and didn’t want her to boil over on to Cal. “You are absolutely right” Sally stood up emphatically. “She is ?” Cal looked surprised. “I am ?” Miriam gathered herself together, kicked Cal. “You’re damned right I am” “It’s a disgrace, why should this fraud get away with his fame when hard working medical carers go unnoticed” “You should expose him Sally.” Miriam had leapt to her feet. “Miriam, on behalf of Vets everywhere, I’m going to ferret out the truth about this man. “Good for you sister, I’ll get you your hob-nobs” “Thank you sister!” Miriam left. Cal looked wide-eyed at Sally. “How did you do that?” Sally winked at Cal and smiled. “We women have powers. Oh look, I owed you, I think I wound her up into that mood. She does get firey, doesn’t she?” Cal looked at her with a depth of gratitude that belied just how firey she was wont to get. “And, you may well be on to something. I can’t think why Simon Peters is famous.” “That’s my point you see. But then there’s a lot of famous people that I don’t understand why they are famous” “Yes, but you can trace it back to something, Big Brother, being thrown out of a girl band… wanking off a cat” “Sally !” “It wasn’t me.” But she held his gaze and smiled to show she was only teasing. “Look Cal, this is what I need to get this website going. I need to know what made Simon Peters famous”. Cal smiled at her; she thought he looked a little bit proud. Simon pulled the white tendrils from his ear. Some very loud Elvis Costello had blocked out the beetling press corps who awaited him every morning outside the office. He was astonished that anyone could ever get used to this. Monday morning and not only did he have to deal with an evil five week month laying before him, but also the pap brigade trying to get a picture of the Asda label on his suit so they could claim exclusivity to his pikeyness. The lift doors opened into his office and he took in the usual bodies sat in the support cubicle. Pete already had his headphones on and was head banging softly to some grotesque heavy metal nonsense. Barry was eating a family-sized pack of quavers. And Adam. Why was Adam there ? Adam shouldn’t be there yet. Adam got in an hour later at ten. There was nothing that would induce Adam to get out of bed any earlier on any day particularly a Monday. Adam was Simon’s boss. Adam ran the helpdesk that Simon worked at. Adam in at 9am meant trouble. “Alright all.” Simon dumped his Ipod on his desk along with phone and backpack and other extraneous crap that needed dumping. Barry smiled up at him “My dear Mr Peters, how are you sir ? Has the weekend treated your exalted greatness well ?” Simon took the effusive greeting at face value. Barry was overweight and insecure and veiled it in sarcasm. Simon found the best response was to ignore it and after a while the veil fell away and he was a normal human being. Adam had said nothing at all yet. Simon eyed him as he answered Barry. “Yeah, bloody rubbish as it goes Bazzington. Binned by Kirsty.” He saw Adam twitch at that. What did Adam care, this was odd. “Ooo Shame. She looked good in a bra.” Simon glared at him but Barry smiled sweetly back. Maybe it wasn’t a veil and he was just a git “You alright there Adam ? What brings you in so bright and early ?” “Morning Simon.” Still he wouldn’t make eye contact with Simon. What the hell had he done. What the hell hadn’t he done ? He’d cleaned everything up on Friday. All outstanding calls closed. He’d even filled in his timesheet. He sat down and switched on his PC. He waded through his personal email. Loans, drugs, offers to make bits of him bigger than they currently were. Did anyone answer yes to these ? He logged into business email and there it was. In between the three calls from the post room complaining of a jammed scanner and a lady who’d got a fingernail trapped under the Escape key, was a meeting request from Adam for 930 this morning. “What do you want to see me about mate ? My tea-making not up to scratch ?” The attempt at humour failed. Adam stared more intently from under his basketball sized afro at his monitor and blushed slighty. “I think it’s best we discuss it in the meeting room. I’ll see you in ten minutes.” Adam walked purposefully off. “I’ve got tongue in my sandwiches today” beamed Barry. Simon could barely manage a smile. Adam was sitting down. He had a yellow T-shirt that stretched over a significant real-ale beer gut. For reasons unknown he’d grown his wiry blonde hair into a vast afro. He stared intently at a paper in his hand. “Sit down Si”, Adam could not make eye-contact. Simon sat, this wasn’t going to be a bonus. “So, is this a bonus ?”. Simon was desperate to lighten the mood. Adam made a noise. A laugh so polite and small that it could have been a hiccup. “Simon. Mate. I think we’ve got a few issues that we need to discuss here.” He paused for Simon to take this in. Simon didn’t understand. Was he meant to say something here ? He didn’t know what the damn issues were. He’d got that this was bad news. Simon decided he didn’t want to make Adam comfortable delivering said bad news so he said nothing and stared at Adam in a manner he hoped conveyed diffidence vaguely mixed with contempt. He started to go a bit cross eyed so he stopped. “Well, it’s not so much your work of late, it’s just that your attitude has changed recently.” Simon snorted, he creased his forehead. “Hang on Ad. My attitude? If my work’s fine then what does my attitude matter? And anyway, my attitude hasn’t changed.” Adam frowned and shook his head meaningfully. “See, Simon this is exactly what I mean.” Simon could feel his eyes watering, his eyes always watered in confrontations. “Well what do you expect Ad ? It’s nine-thirty on a Monday morning, I’m clearly in for some manner of bollocking. What do you expect, a chorus of Zip-a-dee-doo-dah ?” He was starting to get aggressive so Adam wouldn’t think he was crying. “Simon, I’m going to need you to calm down. The problem is that over the past few months some feel that you are not taking your career and job as seriously as some feel you should.” “Hang on, ‘Some’ who is ‘Some’ is it you ?” “No, it’s not me so much as-“ “Well defend me then. If you’re my manager and you don’t have a problem then surely you should be defending me?” “Well, now. That’s not really my job there Simon. Frankly, it’s not me we need to talk about either. Security have been on to me” He meaningfully placed a folder on the desk. “This file contains details of six separate occasions where unsanctioned persons have entered erm, into the building.” “So shouldn’t you be talking to Security. Jesus, I came in one day last week and Mort had his headphones on, his eyes shut and was air-conducting. The Taliban could have overthrown the Accounts department and he wouldn’t have noticed. ” “Well, notwithstanding Mort. It’s you these photographers are after isn’t it ?” Silence. Bloody paps. Adam went on. “Two weeks ago the Mirror ran a picture of the CEO’s wife in…um, an unprepared state.” Simon had slumped down in his chair and was having a full-on sulk but he couldn’t help smiling. Was it his fault that Mrs Daxington wore a wig and an industrial corset? “Now Simon, this simply can’t go on.” Whoa, hang on. He sat up sharply. Where’s this going? That sounded very bad. “Look Adam, I know the newspapers are a pain, but I can’t control them. It’s a free press, y’know, one of the things that make this country great and all that” “I understand that Simon, but couple the photographers with your lax attitude of late and we have a perception problem. You see, your appearance in the papers week in week out constitutes gross misconduct. No way. They were trying to get rid of him? This was outrageous. His hands shot in the air. “Gross misconduct? Gross miss-bloody-conduct? What would I get for being mugged? Breach of dress-code? Look cut to the chase Adam, what are you saying here ?” “We’re going to offer you redundancy…well, that is - you’re going to be made redundant.” Simon stood up. “Look Si, it could be worse, we’re not firing you. You’ll get a great reference. I’ll see to it.” “Oh, you’ll see to it. Well you big hero. You can just see to that can you? You’ll use all your power and your influence and you’ll score me a reference. Wow mate, that’s just brilliant” “I hoped we could be friends” “Hell yeah Adam, I’ll use my redundancy to buy you a pizza. ‘Friends’, you don’t know the meaning of the word” “I think you need to cool off Simon, you brought this on yourself, I didn’t do anything did I ?” “Right, spoken like a true middle manager. Look, I can’t be arsed with this, I’ll get back to my desk. “It won’t be necessary to work your notice Simon, you can leave now.” Simon stared at him trying to find a dramatic exit line. Then he left.
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