Bee sting to the neck. Slap it away.
Red on his fingers reminds him of finger paint.
Legs stop working and his body slides down the side of the car.
He hears Mike calling his name, but can't answer.
Red and gray invade his vision.
Mikey is on the way. Help is on the way.
***
"So, which Bond girl was the hottest from Golden Eye?
A head poked around the corner of Michael Vaughn's new cubicle. "My vote is for Xenia Onatopp, although she technically wasn't the Bond girl in the film. However, if you look at all the Bond films, Ursula Andress is by far the finest. I'm Eric Weiss. And if were going to have cubes next to each other, I need to find out where you stand on this very important topic. "
"Ursula Andres is, without a doubt, the best Bond Girl. No contest. Michael Vaughn." The customary handshake was exchanged after Eric detangled his fingers from the string of his yo-yo.
"Just learning this," Eric held up the yo-yo. "Figured I needed to find something to occupy my time between reviewing surveillance tapes. I'll have it mastered in no time."
Michael's eyebrows raised and he seriously doubted that the yo-yo would be around much longer. "You know where to get coffee around here, because I could seriously use a jolt? Jet lag and all. Just moved from the Washington bureau."
"Washington, really. What'd you work on there?" With a nod of the head the two of them started through the cube maze in search of coffee.
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
"Funny Michael, funny. Just so you know, I'm the funny one in the office. Won't have anyone usurping my title here."
"No problem. No one gets my jokes anyways."
Eric stopped several times along the route to introduce his new friend to several co-workers. Of course, Eric knew all the women's names by heart. The men, he had to sneak a peak to the nameplate on the outside of their cubes.
"Now that we've discerned your taste in Bond women, who was the best Bond? And if you say Timothy Dalton, I will never be your friend."
"No contest on that one. Connery, Sean Connery."
"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Eric clapped his hand on Michael's shoulder as they turned into the coffee room.
***
"Je t'aime. Je vous telephonerai dimanche. Au revior." 1 With that, Michael hung up the phone.
"Oh man, this is just my luck." Dark curly hair and dark eyes poked over the cube wall that separates their desks. "My new best friend speaks French. I'm never going to beat that when we're out cruising chicks together. They just love for a guy to talk to them in French." He shook his head muttering to himself. "Hey man, care to teach me a few lines that will help with the honeys?"
Michael just laughed and shook his head. "Sure man, whatever."
"So is she hot?"
Michael looked perplexed at the question.
Eric pointed to the phone, "The honey you just hung up with? Is she smoking? Cause you shouldn't be wasting your good stuff on just anyone?"
"Only you would ask if my mother's hot! You'd go after anything in a skirt."
"Well is she, because I may need my own Mrs. Robinson?" Eric's head disappeared back behind the cube wall as a wad of paper flew toward him.
"Stay away from my mother, my aunt and my 80 year old grandmother, you horn-dog."
"You take all the fun out of my life, you know. Just the biggest party pooper. Geez, no fun what so ever." A wad of paper flew of the cube wall and landed squarely in the middle of the papers on Michael's desk.
***
They walked into the packed arena just as the national anthem finished. Beers in hand, they navigated to their seats as the Kings took the ice. Ice chips and blood flew as the game proceeded to the end of the second period. Goal by the Kings put the score to 1 – 0.
"Hey Mikey," He yelled over the roar of the crowd, as the Kings goalie slapped the puck away. "You need another beer?" Michael was so intent on the game the question went unnoticed.
"Hey Mikey?" Eric reached out to shake his friend's shoulder.
The scene faded from a crowed hockey game to blinding light and into the stark whiteness of a hospital room.
"Hey Mikey." And his best friend turned away from the dark window towards his bed. A smile crept onto Michael's lips and it appeared as the weight of the world lifted from his slumping shoulders.
"Got enough beauty sleep, Weiss? Cuz I think you still need another few days." Vaughn moved to the side of the bed and sat down in the chair he had occupied for the better part of two days.
"Did we get it?" The question was barely above a whisper, but had all the force of a megaphone.
"No man, someone beat us to the punch." Vaughn gave a small shrug of the shoulders and the wrinkles returned to his forehead.
"Shit, somebody still working on it?" The words were becoming forceful. Eric wanted to make sure that the company wasn't letting the Bible slip out of their hands so easily.
"Yeah. The best." Vaughn couldn't make eye contact. He and Eric had already had too many discussions about that subject.
"Sydney."
"Yeah. Sydney," with a small nod of Vaughn's head.
Eric turned away from his friend and the conversation hung in the air. He wasn't sure how he felt about Sydney's return to Golden Child status. A thousand and one things, to be exact. She had come between he and his best friend. He should hate her really, but his friend loved her. That much was evident. So for now, he had to give her, and him, the benefit of the doubt.
Michael started shifting in his seat, not sure how to read the pregnant pause. "Sorry man, I didn't mean to wear you out, just glad to see you awake." Vaughn slipped toward the door, knowing that the subject of Sydney was best left for another day. It was too complicated and too emotional for now. "Just get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" Vaughn was half out the door before Eric could respond.
"Thanks Mikey for saving me." He wanted to say more, but so much more that the words wouldn't come.
"No problem buddy, just get better soon. The office is lonely with out ya." Vaughn gave a small wave and headed out the door.
"Yeah. Just be careful buddy," he whispered to the closed door.
***
1 Translation: "I love you Mom. I will call (telephone) you on Sunday. Good-bye."