May The Best Man Win (Part One)

Steve had arrived into work with a shiner of a black eye, and thanks to his new haircut and round head, it seemed to somehow emphasise it, making it look like a bruise on a giant melon. I didn't say that to his face, of course, he seemed hurt enough.

'Shut it, you.' He greeted me.

'I didn't say anything.'

'You're saying everything.'

He was right, I was. I was saying he looked ridiculous and hilarious at the same time, which made me pull an odd face. Turns out he got the black eye shifting his Christmas tree and one of the branches poked him.

'Mary just stood there, laughing. Should have done it on my own.' He scowled.

'You could say, twos company, tree's a crowd.' I gleamed.

I bloody love puns.

'Shut it, you. Where's Alex?'

'Ill.'

'Ill?'

Steve can't understand why people don’t work when they're ill. Completely hypocritical, because he takes sick days like the best of them, and for the littlest of things. Last week he didn't come in because he thought he'd outgrown his shoes, turned out Mary used them to stash her Christmas box of Jaffa cakes.

'Its the old ten-pound-note theory, isn't it?' Steve said. 'If you're well enough to get out of bed and pick up a ten pound note, you're well enough to work.'

And of course, I use these times to take the piss.

'What if you just stick your foot out and stamp on it?'

'Eh?'

'Or roll out of bed and it sticks to your forehead?'

'Shut it, you.'

I left it there. The redness from his eye was spreading around his face. He made me follow him upstairs to the offices and find Darren.

'He's not in today, Steven.' Sharon said, not looking up from her desk.

'Jesus, is everybody ill?' Steve turned to me.

'I'm sorry?' Sharon asked.

'Nothing. Alex is ill. We need someone outside with us, Sharon.'

'Steve. You look different.' She said, finally looking up at us.

'Had my haircut. Alex is ill.'

'And the eye?'

'Got poked with a Christmas tree. Alex is ill.'

'Ill? Ten-pound-note ill?'

Where did this expression come from? I'd only heard it a minute ago and suddenly it's everywhere, like the Justin Bieber lad. I don't know who he is or what he does, but he looks like a smug college student with an erection.

'Seems like it.' Steve tilted his head.

'Hmmm...'

'We could go and...check on him.' Steve said, his eyes lighting up.

Steve sounded like a Mafia hit man, attempting to be needlessly ambiguous. We could...take care of him. Normally when people say that, they end up removing somebody's kneecaps. That doesn't sound like taking care of someone. Sharon is a tightly wound business woman, so surely she would send us back outside and tell us to get on with our work. You'd think, wouldn't you?

'Yes. Go and check on him.'

'We know where he lives.' Steve smiled.

'Good.'

This sounds like an assassination, doesn't it? When really it's another attempt by Steve to not work. Of course, I'd ignore him and get back to work. You'd think that, wouldn't you?

'Now we have to be careful, Steve. Last time we got the wrong house, remember?' I warned him as we walked out and behind the store.

'Oh, I remember. But I know where it is this time.'

'How?' I asked.

'Went to a dinner party last week. Me and Mary.'

'Where was I?'

'Couples only, Dylan.'

I don't know why, but I was a little offended. I may not fully like these people but I'd expect to be at least asked to eat food with them.

'Did you have fun?' I asked.

'Fran kicked me out.'

'Did you put Metallica on and dance again?'

Steve scrunched up his nose and kept walking.

'That girl's got no taste is music.'

We found the flat. It was on the first floor of a grey multi-story building. You could tell it hadn't been painted for a while and bits of graffiti still donned the walls on the sides. The main entrance door was open wide and as we stepped in, it had that aged library smell. Steve rang the bell and looked at me.

'What if he's actually ill?' I asked.

Steve shrugged and looked as if he was about to say something, but was cut off by the door opening. Alex looked shocked as his eyes met ours. Dressed in a casual checked shirt and jeans, he didn't look particularly ill.

'Alex.' Steve said plainly.

'Steve. Dylan.' Alex looked wary.

All words of standard greeting go out the window in situations like these.

'You don't look ill.' Steve cut to the chase.

'Well, I am.'

'Ten-pound-note ill?'

'What?'

See! I knew not everyone had heard of that!

'You're dressed. Up and about.'

'Makes me feel better. You look different, Steve.'

'Had a haircut.' He shrugged.

'And the eye?'

'Got poked by a Christmas tree.'

Fran shouted from behind Alex, asking who was at the door.

'It's just...Steve and Dylan.'

An audible sigh rang out from Fran.

'Shouldn't they be working?' She asked.

'Shouldn't you be?' Steve asked Alex.

'Guys, guys.'

Alex shut the door behind him and ushered us backwards.

'I'm a bit busy. We're sorting out wedding stuff.'

'Couldn't you do it at the weekend?'

Fran opened the door and manoeuvred her and her chair to get past it.

'Steve. You look different.'

'Haircut! Alex, why aren't you in work?' Steve's face went red.

'I've told you...'

'And the eye?'

'CHRISTMAS TREE!'

'He's told you! He's ill. Ten-pound-note ill!' Fran shot a look at Steve.

'Where did that expression come from?' I asked.

No-one answered my question. Alex asked Fran to go back into the flat and told her he'd be back in a minute.

'Lads. Our wedding is in a few months and there's a lot we need to decide. One thing were just figuring out...my best man.'

'Aren't you having Duncan as your best man?' I asked.

'Well, he used his only phone call yesterday from the police station to ring me. I'm not holding out much hope that he'll be around in may. So Fran has crossed him off the list. Now the list only has two names on it.'

Me and Steve moved our heads back in unison. Then we looked at each other in unison and even grinned a little bit, again in unison.

'Sorry we disturbed you.' Steve smiled.

'Yeah, we apologise. Enjoy your day.' I said.

'When will you decide?' Steve tilted his head.

'As soon as possible.' Alex said, shutting the door on us.

As soon as possible. We get to find out who's the best man, the better man, as soon as possible.

End of part one.