Mr Hardbeck’s super secret stag do, part one
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Mr Hardbeck’s super secret stag do, part one
‘Things I am not doing. Not doing. Are you listening, Alo?’
Alo is typing Barney knows what into Google on Nick’s phone. Rich is not allowed to see, and it’s driving him mad.
‘ALO?’ Rich picks up a pillow and hurls it towards Alo. His aim is true; it hits him in the face.
The ginger king looks gently confused as he picks up the object that has landed in his lap, and puts it to one side. ‘What, Rich? I’m trying to plan your fucking stag party.’
‘And I’m trying to give you a list of things I am absolutely not doing, so that you don’t plan anything I will point-blank refuse to do on the night.’
Alo puts the phone down. ‘Okay, go on. Tell me then.’
‘Number one,’ Rich says, leaning back on the bed, kicking his boots against the headboard, ‘I am not going to any mainstream clubs full of shit music and orange people.’
‘I do know you, Rich,’ Alo says, and glances at the phone longingly. ‘Is this list going to be full of obvious shit?’
‘Number two, I am not having sex with a prostitute. Not that you would be able to pay for one, anyway. Number three, I am not having any lap dances.’
‘Oh, you’re so gay, Rich,’ Alo says. He’d never actually considered taking Rich to a strip club, not after Franky came up with her perfect idea, anyway.
‘I don’t know if you realised, but I’m getting married to a woman. It’s not a civil partnership, Alo, although I’m sure you’ve been wanting to ask me for a long time.’
‘Haha,’ Alo says. ‘Carry on, hurry up.’
‘Number four, I am not being chained to anything and abandoned.’
‘It’s a stag night, Rich!’ Alo really is hoping to leave Rich stuck somewhere, at least for a little while. Punishment for pretending he wasn’t going to be the best man.
‘If we see Rider, we can chain him to a lamp post; I’ve no problem with that.’
‘Cool. I don’t think we will see Rider though.’ Alo can’t wait anymore, and he grabs the phone.
Rich raises his eyebrows, feeling more and more desperate to find out what Alo has planned. He’s on the verge of snatching that phone. Or just organising his own stag night.
Matty does not want to go out.
‘Do I look alright?’ Nick walks into the room, and Matty glances at his outfit, trying not to laugh. Nick looks so eager.
Matty smiles. ‘Yeah, you look great. I’m sure all...the girls…at the club…will go wild for it.’
‘I don’t look like a poser?’
He looks like a poser. ‘No, Nick. You look fine. Totally natural.’
‘I don’t need more eyeliner?’ Nick is so enthusiastic, Matty feels forced to go along with it. Even though he’d rather stay at home, work on his music - oh who was he kidding? All he wanted to do was mope about Liv and Franky, Franky and Liv. He could call Liv, but he couldn’t call Franky, unless he withheld his number, and didn’t speak. And that was a bit too creepy, even for him. Franky, and Liv.
‘Do you think Franky will be there?’ Nick asks.
‘Why would Franky be there, Nick? She’s a girl. This is a stag night.’
‘Yeah, good point.’ Nick’s face falls for a moment, before he picks up his enthusiasm again. He doesn’t really know how to talk to Matty, how to look after him. He’s sure there’s something Matty wants to talk about, something to do with Franky and Liv, or Liv and Franky. What one comes first, which is his priority, Nick has no idea, as Matty will do nothing but sulk about it. In the end all he can do is ask ‘Are you getting dressed, bro, or what?’
There is a knock on the outside of the van. Nick looks around, at Alo holding his phone, and Matty sitting on the floor, trying to roll up the bottom of the jeans he is wearing.
‘Who’s that?’ Nick says, to the group. Matty shrugs. Alo doesn’t look up. Nick stands by the door. ‘Rich? Grace?’
‘It’s me!’
Nick breathes a sigh of relief and opens the door. ‘What are you doing here, Franky?’ Nick says. ‘You’re a girl.’ Matty looks up, his mouth falling open. Liv will kill him, he thinks.
Franky ignores that comment, and tries to look as if she is ignoring Matty. ‘I’m the mastermind of this whole enterprise. Are we ready, Alo?’
Alo finally puts down Nick’s phone. ‘Franky, man! You look fantastic!’ Franky beams with pride. ‘Right. We’re ready. I’m going to call Rich.’
Rich is sitting in front of the mirror, moving his hair around. He just can’t imagine how it’s going to work. He likes his hair. But, as Alo says…
The phone rings. ‘Alo! Where the fuck are you?’ Rich stands up, grabs his jacket. He’s already got his boots on. He’s been waiting all day to find out where they are going. Please, gods of metal, don’t let it be shit. Don’t let it be shit.
‘In the van, outside your house.’
‘I’m not having my stag party inside your van, Alo.’
‘You’re not. Don’t worry. Come join us.’
‘I’m not going to the farm either.’ He hangs up, takes one last look at his hair in the mirror, and goes downstairs. He passes the living room. ‘Bye, Kevin!’
Kevin leans around the doorframe. ‘Have a nice time, I-‘
‘Love you too, Dad.’
Rich closes the front door, and marches up the path, to the van. He can’t see Alo at the front. He knocks on the door, but he is pulled inside before he can get a proper look at anyone.
Standing on the inside, he looks them all up and down. It’s amazing. It’s hilarious. And maybe a little bit offensive, but he’ll let that one slide, as they will probably not be going to a stupid foam party after all.
They are all dressed as him. Like him. They are all variations on the theme of ‘metalhead’, but each of them is wearing a long brown wig. Oddly, Nick is the most convincing, though he needs to grin a little less madly. Matty’s trousers are way too long. Alo is wearing some kind of floral shirt under his black t-shirt, and the dog-bone as usual. Franky looks like herself, with longer hair, a key chain, and a leather jacket that Rich outgrew last year.
‘Fucking hell,’ Rich says. ‘You wankers.’
Alo laughs. ‘Let’s go rock out!’
They all raise devil’s horns in the air, and Alo jumps into the driving seat.
Five lines from part 2
‘I’ve always wanted to go there, but-’
‘I’m not the wench’
‘Pushing up the ante, I know you've got to see me, read 'em and weep, the dead man's hand again…’
‘I haven’t really got any drugs.’
‘What are you doing here? Are we even really friends?’