It definitely begins with a T, I know that much. Terry? No, he doesn't look like a Terry. Terry's are builders. Or big bulldogs or something. No, he's definitely not a Terry. Tony? No. Timmy? Oh, I hope not.
I walked slowly to Sharon's office, hoping that my pace would calm down my thoughts. Making them clear and rational. I felt offended for him. My old primary school friend. So many memories. So many...Tobias? No, I think not. Sharon's door was open, almost silently inviting me in to take a seat. She had her back turned to me, peering out of her huge glass window.
'Afternoon, Sharon.'
She turned around, holding the smoke in her lungs from one of her long cigarettes. Gazing at me as she slowly let it out.
'Dylan, are you aware of recent...events in this company.'
'No...'
'Recent...sackings.'
Sackings? I'm getting the sack? I'm being sacked? Where did 'sack' come from anyway?
'No, I don't...'
'We've had to let a few people go, Dylan.' She sat down. 'For drug dealing on the premises.'
'Oh...'
It sounds like a silly reply, but that was natural. I had no idea, of course. We've not heard of any drugs on the car park. Apart from that time Steve was offered some by a young lad. Steve didn't even know what the drug was.
'Who was that you were just talking to?' She nodded towards the window.
Straight away I knew what she was trying to get at. Me and a 'stranger', meeting up in a car park. I can see how it would seem that way. In a way he is a stranger. I don't know proper stranger's names either.
'Oh, no. Sharon...that was an old school friend of mine.' I laughed quickly, my throat cracking.
'Really? Didn't seem like much of friend to me. It was very...brief.'
People always have the upper hand when they leave long pauses before words. Like baddies in Bond films. I can do that.
'He had to go, he was late for a... barbecue.'
That just sounded like I was making it up.
'What's his name?'
Shit. Shitting shit shitter. Terry. Tony. Timmy. No, not Timmy.
'Tony.' I said.
'Tony?'
'Yes. We are going to have a bit of a catch up. He give me his number.'
'Ring him.'
I paused. Letting the two words seep into my brain.
'Ring him?'
'Yes. Now.'
'OK.'
I dove into my pocket and figited about, digging my phone out. I went into my phone book and pressed the little green button. My phone was ringing someone called 'Primary School.'
'Hello?'
'Hi...'
Shit, what did I say his name was?
'Timmy.'
'...I think you're got the wrong number, pal.'
'What's he saying?' Sharon blurted.
I shrugged. Sharon told me to put it on to speaker phone mode.
'Mate. It's me...Dylan.'
'Dylan?' The voice rattled.
'Yeah...'
Suddenly I realised there was no conversation to be had.
'So...you alright?'
'Dylan, give me the phone.' Sharon snatched it off me. 'Who's this?' Putting the phone close to her face.
'...Well, surely my old mate Dylan can tell you that.'
Sharon looked up at me. And I'm sure if my old friend was in the room he'd be looking at me to.
'OK, it's either Tony or Terry?'
'Terry?' Sharon squawked. 'He's not a builder, is he?'
'No, I'm not.' The voice from the phone rattled again.
I snatched the phone back from Sharon and began my apology.
'Look, I'm sorry mate. I'm terrible with remembering names. I know we've been through a lot but I just can't Thomas!, it's Thomas! Thomas, you're name's Thomas, isn't it?'
Sharon glared at me through the silence. We both listened to the phone click as he ended our conversation. I got chucked out of Sharon's office and ten minutes later I got a text message.
'It's Richard, dick head.'
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