by Paul Cude
* * *
At the sports club, the evening's festivities were just kicking off. Outside, a third of the massive car park had been cordoned off for numerous attractions that had just finished setting up. Small fairground rides stood alongside candyfloss stalls, hook a duck booths, tombolas and all sorts of heavenly food outlets from hot dogs to hog roasts.
In the bar, the atmosphere had been fantastic all afternoon, maybe something to do with the fact that every home side in each sport had all been victorious. Some of the sports players from various sections still remained, propping up the bar, watching the football results. Most, however, had gone home to pick up the rest of their family. They were only now returning for the fireworks. Tank stood at the bar with Richie, mobile phone held firmly to his ear. After a few moments, he returned the phone to his right pocket and turned to his friend, a worried expression on his face.
"Still no response. All I get is his answer phone and I've left about a dozen messages already."
Richie leaned in close to her friend, primarily to make sure they couldn't be overheard.
"I've left messages as well. I'd like to think he's just sulking, but I have to say I'm really not sure now. It's so out of character for him to miss a hockey match, unheard of in fact. And I think however much he's sulking, I'm pretty sure he'd have the decency to phone that captain guy... Andy, and let him know he couldn't make it, even if he had to lie and say he was ill or something."
Tank nodded in agreement, whilst taking a giant slurp of his drink.
"I went round to his house on the way here today," ventured the strapping rugby player, "but nobody was there. There was no sign of his car. I just thought he'd left early to go to the hockey and that we'd meet up here after our matches. But since you told me about him being sacked and escorted off the premises yesterday, I'm not sure what the hell is going on."
Placing her empty glass softly onto one of the cardboard beer mats, the lacrosse playing dragon considered her friend's words.
"I only found out this morning when I ran into one of my training staff in town," whispered Richie, waving past Tank to one of her lacrosse teammates who had just come in with her husband and two children, both of whom were carrying the biggest sticks of pink and blue candy floss she'd ever seen. "I've been away at the Guildford site doing some in house training for two days. Apparently it was the talk of the entire complex yesterday. I'm staggered, and more than a little gutted that I wasn't there. You can be damn sure things would have played out differently had I been."
Tank shook his head, taking the final swig of his drink. He bent down low and put his head beside Richie's.
"I've even searched for him telepathically," he murmured, "using one of Gee Tee's old mantras that can treble the normal range, but still no luck. I don't know what else to do at the moment, Rich. There's still time for him to turn up tonight. Maybe you're right and he's just sulking. Wouldn't be too much of a surprise, would it?"
The two friends parted heads and nodded at each other, before looking down at their empty glasses.
"More?" enquired Tank, raising his empty glass.
"Ohh, go on then," said Richie, rolling her eyes. As Tank caught the eye of one of the bar staff, the two friends laughed, hoping that Peter would at any second walk through the door and complete their evening by coming to watch the much hyped fireworks display.
