A Rush Of Blood To The Head-set (Part Two)

‘Why would we want those little things, Dylan? They make you look like a gay receptionist.’

It was clear Steve wasn’t impressed with the headsets the other trolley pushers were wearing. But that maybe was due to his age; people over forty tend to be wary of hi-tech stuff like that. They put on their reading glasses and wince at it, like they have a bad taste in their mouth. It’s just their generation. But thinking about it, I knew Steve was just worried about looking like a gay receptionist.

‘I think they’re cool.’ I defended them. ‘They look quite space age.’

‘What like on Star Trek?’

‘Yeah.’

‘…Are they silver?’

‘Of course.’

Steve tilted his head to show he was contemplating the thought of wearing a head set. But I don’t think he would suit one. Some people don’t suit headwear. A mate of mine can’t wear caps. It’s not a phobia or anything; he just has a large head. One Size Fits All is a lie, in his opinion.

‘We used to wear headsets on the rock circuits, but they were much bigger. Cost more too.

‘Sure…so you won’t wear these.’

‘Am I a gay receptionist?’

I looked him up and down.

‘You don’t look like one.’ I replied.

‘OK, then.’

‘Maybe one who’s let himself go?’

Steve gave me the angry face, which made me swiftly walk away to my zone. The rain had stopped and a remains of a rainbow was still gleaming over the supermarket. I got a few trolleys together when I heard an ‘Oi!’ coming from the D.I.Y shop. It was Jerry; his hair still slicked back and glistening in the sun. He was walking quite quickly over to me, which make me a little wary of him.

‘What’ve you done with my heat set, mate?’

The ‘mate’ was somewhere in between ‘you’re-not-my-fucking-mate’ and ‘you’re-a-stranger-but-you’re-a-potential-mate’. So I thought for a second before I spoke.

‘I give it to Brian.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Yes…yes I did.’ I stared at him.

‘He said you had it. You walked off with it.’

‘No, I gave it to Brian. He said he’d give it to you when you come out.’

‘He hasn’t got it.’

You should never trust the homeless, or the previously homeless. Why would Brian say that? I did find it a little suspicious when he quickly stuffed the head set into his pocket yesterday. At first I thought it was due to the rain, but obviously, I was wrong. Those headsets looked pretty expensive. Brian has been cashing in on them. Ten minutes later I was in the manager’s office. Not my manager’s office, Jerry’s manager’s office.

‘Dylan, I’ve heard a lot about you. Do sit.’

The manager’s office was a lot smaller than I imagined it would be. And poorly lit, too. Making it a perfect destination for a questioning.

‘Jerry tells me we’re missing a head set.’

‘I heard.’

‘Do you know anything?’

I turned around in my seat. Jerry was stood behind me, with his hands behind his back, guarding the door with his body.

‘I gave it to Brian. Do you know Brian?’

Of course he knew Brian. He employed the man. Idiot.

‘Yes, I know Brian.’

‘Brummy lad…used to be a tramp.’

‘I know Brian.’ He said.

‘Just making sure.’ 

‘Jerry tells me that Brian said you kept it, and walked away with it.’

‘No. It’s your property. I gave it to Brian.'

I started to sweat a bit, realizing this would be a very circular argument. Also, this manager hadn’t introduced himself to me, yet. No time for pleasantries. He was quite heavy set, like he'd been sown into his shirt and tie that morning, with a thick northern accent.

‘Jerry tells me you liked the head set, though.’

Jesus, Jerry told him a lot. It’s surprising these people get stuff done.

‘Yes. I like them. I’m trying to get some for us. But I would never steal yours.’

‘What did you like about them, Dylan?’ He leaned in to me.

‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged.

‘Come on.’ He smiled.

‘Well, they were shiny.’

‘Yeah…’ He leaned back again.

‘Very high tech. Clear reception.’

‘Yeah, now can you understand why we think you took it?’

‘No…’ I thought about it. ‘Well, yes. But I didn’t take it.’

‘Jerry tells me…’

‘Oh fuck off with what Jerry tells you!’

I stood up quickly, which startled Jerry, making him jump out of the way of the door. That was lucky, because if he hadn’t have moved I’d have probably just sat back down again.

‘Why don’t you ask Brian where the head set is?’ I said, whilst in the doorway. ‘He wanted it because his was in the repair shop!’

‘Repair shop?’ The manager asked.

‘Repair shop?’ Jerry asked.

Brilliant. There was no repair shop. Why did I believe that a silver headset had it’s own special repair shop? I bet they don’t get much custom, like that watch repair shop in the indoor market. It’s just a bloke in a little hutch, reading the paper. I bet he only gets three customers a week. I stormed out and over to Steve. If there was one person who would love to hear me slag off Brian, it was him.

‘What an arsehole!’ I shouted.

‘I’ve told you, Dylan. I would look like a gay recep…’

‘No, not you! Brian.’

‘Oh yeah. What an arsehole.’

‘He’s stolen the headsets. And they’re blaming it on me!’

I violently pointed at the D.I.Y shop. Suddenly there was a dark shadow cast over it. I can’t believe they would accuse me of stealing. Look in the ex-tramps pockets before the 23-year-old graduate's, that’s what I say! I had to sort this out.

‘Danny?’

I popped my head round the security office. I hate going in there, the hum of the monitors, the stifling heat of the machines. And Danny. A couple of years younger than me and he walks about the place like he owns it. We all know he still needs help using his clocking in card. His Mum’s the receptionist so she always helps him. Probably helped him get the job, too.

‘Busy, Dylan.’

‘How did you know it was me? You’re not looking at me.’

‘Cameras, Dylan.’ He tapped his pen on the monitors. ‘They see all.’

‘Fair enough. I need a bit of footage. Yesterday. Around three. On the car park.’

I rolled a chair up next to him.

‘I told you. Busy.’

‘With what?’ I asked.

‘College coursework. English Lit. We're doing Othello.’

‘Shouldn’t you be doing that at home?’

‘No.’

‘OK, fair enough. I guess I’ll do it myself.’

I rolled behind him and grabbed the mouse of the computer, making him jump backwards and grab it off me.

‘Fine! Fine! I’ll do it!’

After twenty stifling minutes of scrolling, fast forwarding, typing and rewinding, Danny pressed play on the screen, revealing a high angled shot of Brian and me, chatting by a car. I had the silver headset on and I looked great, naturally. The footage rolled on to show Brain taking it off my head and stuffing it into his pocket. Then we both walked off different directions.

‘That’s the one! Put it on a DVD for me.’

The disc whizzed and hummed in the machine, a few moments later the disc ejected with a whir. Danny was soon writing on it with a marker pen and waving it dry.

‘OK, thank you. I’ll show that to the manager.’

‘What manager?’ Danny asked.

‘The D.I.Y manager.’

‘Oh, no. It’s my property. It’s part of my investigation.’

No, it’s wasn’t! It was 100 percent my investigation! I don’t remember Danny getting involved until I tapped on his door! The thought of Brian was in my mind. There he was, in a bathtub for of fifty-pound notes, from the headsets he’d sold on. He was a homeless first, and then a thief. I thought it was the other way around!

‘It’s me who’s involved in this, Danny.’

‘And me.’

‘You’re only involved because I interrupted you from your coursework!’

‘The investigation is now in my hands. You can't go showing it to random managers!’

'He's not a random manager. Don't say random, he wasn't picked out of thin air! He's the manager of the D.I.Y shop.'

'What's his name?' He asked.

Shit. Why didn't he tell me his name? Oh, that's right; No time for pleasantries. I knew if I left it with Danny it wouldn’t go anywhere. I know how these things work. They get left in envelopes, files and folders in their computers, and left as neglected, ‘not-really-important’ files. It was important. Someone was accusing me of stealing. Danny turned his back on me and went back to his coursework, leaving the disc beside him in a plastic cover. For a security officer he wasn't very secure, leaving me to quickly swoop the disc off the table and pop it into my pocket.

I walked back into the supermarket, clutching the disc in my pocket. My evidence. My freedom. But the sight of Sharon walking towards me soon knocked the proud smile off my face. Her flame read hair scraped back and a pale white face. Her dark eyes where on me.

‘Afternoon, Dylan.’

‘Aftern…aft…yeah.’ I nodded nervously.

Why was I so nervous? It was my property, as I said. My evidence.

‘What’s that?’ She pointed at my pocket.

My eyes narrowed as I looked at her. X-Ray vision? I know she was a powerful woman but that was stretching it. I realised I was clutching the disc a bit too hard, making my hand bulge. I grabbed the disc in my pocket and pushed it together hard, making it snap. I don't think Sharon heard it, she was focussing all of her energy on staring at me.

‘Nothing.’ I said quickly.

That didn’t help. Sharon tilted her head, which somehow, automatically made me pull it out of my pocket.

‘It’s just my broken disc. It's been broken.’ 
'Is it your disc?'
'Well, technically it's Danny's, but...'

‘Dylan, discs for evidence are strictly Security property. For their investigations.’

‘I heard.’

'Why is it broken in half? I've just had a phone call from Shaun next door. Apparently this isn't the first time you've stolen something.’

Shaun. That was his name, was it? Brilliant. I followed Sharon into the security office.

'Danny, how are you?'

'Good, good. Just finishing a security report.'

If a security report involved the work of William Shakespeare.

'I've got an investigation for you, involving this one.' Sharon nodded at me. 'Apparently some head sets have gone missing from next door.'

'I heard.' Danny said smugly.

'Yes, they were.' I said. 'The culprit is on the disc. Or was on that disc.'

'Is this true, Danny?' Sharon asked.

Danny held out his bottom lip and glared at the broken disc.

'No, never seen that in my life.'  He said calmly.
'Danny, come on.' I tilted my head.
'What?'
'Show her the footage.'
'What footage?'
'The footage of me not stealing things.'
'Oh, you've lost me now, Dylan. As I've said before, if things leave this office, then i'm not involved.' He smiled.

Fucking brilliant. The innocent man is charged. Thanks to taking my property. My evidence…. My FREEDOM! So that led to an investigation. Held by Danny and the rest of the security team, with interviews asking me if I’ve stolen things in the past.

I don’t want the headsets anymore. They cause too much trouble.