The day of the show arrived. The afternoon at the hospital did them good, and helped to lift their spirits and determination. Many of the children they met would benefit from the money they would raise and donate from the concert. This benefit show, for which they were not getting paid, would be one of the best they had ever done. They prepared carefully, making sure everything was perfect, including clothes and transitions between songs. Maurice talked to the bass player, promising a bonus if he performed well. He didn't know what else to do.
The show went well until the second to the last song, "The Right Stuff (You got it)". They stood motionless, in a staggered line across the stage with Jordan in the center, when a gunshot sliced through the music and the screams. Everything went silent as Jordan flew backwards, hit the raised portion of the stage, and collapsed in a heap. Then the screams changed. The other four and the band dove for the stage as the security converged on the gunman and someone called the ambulance. Jonathan crawled over to Jordan, trying to find out if he were alive. He looked broken, and Jonathan's heart nearly stopped. He didn't even notice as Jordan's blood stained one of his favorite jackets. He didn't dare move him, but he tried to find a pulse, feel breath, anything. He didn't notice anything around him until someone roughly pulled him out of the way and off the stage. Within moments, the medics had rushed Jordan out, and security began to clear the auditorium of the crowd, who all seemed unwilling to go anywhere until they had learned Jordan's condition. The band followed the group, Samantha letting the drummer pull her off so she wouldn't see the large pool of blood that had to be where Jordan had fallen.
Backstage was in chaos. Joe huddled in a corner of one couch, tears streaming down his face. Jon sat next to him, eyes staring but not seeing anything. His hand gripped his jacket, not noticing the blood on it. Donnie also sat close, dazed, staring at nothing in particular. Danny sat on the couch across the narrow room and held a sobbing Samantha, crying himself. Peter directed Jon to call his mother, then turned to the police, who entered with the gunman. He looked vaguely familiar to Jon as he headed for the phone, but he couldn't place the man. He shrugged lifelessly and kept walking towards the phone. He didn't even see the hand that came out of no where and grabbed his arm, swinging him around.
"I only did what was right," the man growled. "After what he did to Theresa. I hope he's dead." Jonathan stared at him in incomprehension, their eyes locked. "He deserves whatever hell he goes to. I only wish I knew for sure that he'd died. Maybe he'll suffer first. That's only fair." The increasing pressure on his arm brought Jonathan out of his daze, and he stepped back, but couldn't get free. He recognized the man now; he'd seen him only once, at Theresa's funeral, walking over to where he and Jordan had been talking with his wife.
"Jordan didn't do anything to Theresa. She was his friend." He sounded much younger than his years.
"Fooled you, too, did he? Well, he had all of us snowed. But we know better, now. Yes, we do." His eyes hardened. "Stay away from my family." Jonathan pulled back harder, then the guards pulled the man off, cackling and giggling hysterically. Jonathan watched him go, absently rubbing his arm, until the man was out of sight. Then he turned and went to make his phone call. He'd reached for the phone when he noticed the blood on his hand. He stared, then brushed his hand ineffectually on his pants and lifted the receiver.
"Mum?" Jon asked as soon as she answered the phone.
"What? Jonathan?"
"Yeah. Listen. Jordan was shot about five minutes ago, and he's at Boston General, I think Peter said," Jon said. He wouldn't let himself think, or wonder how his brother was doing; no one liked insane people. For the same reason, he refused to think of the conversation he'd just had.
"Shot?!" he heard his mother's anguished voice.
"Yeah. I think they got the guy, I ain't sure."
"Are you okay?" she asked. He could hear her crying.
"Yeah. He only got one shot, and it was for Jordan." He swallowed to keep his composure.
"Jonathan! Let's go!" he heard, and sighed.
"I gotta go. Go see how he's doing. Good bye, mum," he said.
"Good-bye," she said absently, her mind already on her youngest son. Jonathan hung up and returned to his friends. Peter made him take off his jacket and shirt, which he discovered was also bloody, and then gave him a clean shirt.
"The police want to be able to find you all in the morning, so you're staying in a hotel tonight. I'll tell your parents," Peter informed them. They all nodded and helped each other to the bus. He saw them into rooms, then headed for the hospital.
The next morning, after they had been interrogated, the police allowed them to go home. Jon's sister, Sarah, arrived first, eyes red from crying. Jon made her get out so he could drive; she didn't seem to be in any condition to do so. He held her a minute as she began crying again, then had her get in the car and they left.
Samantha's ride arrived last. Her roommate, JJ Brogan, with mousy brown hair and brown eyes in a petite face, drove up in a maroon Olds Cutlass Sierra. Samantha stood next to Danny, who had an arm around her shoulders. His family waited in the car a little ways off.
"Thanks for waiting with me, Danny," Samantha said softly, gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek, then grabbed her bag and got in JJ's car as Danny got in the other car.
"Sam, what's wrong?" JJ asked, catching sight of her friend's tear stained face.
"Home," Sam instructed through clenched teeth. "I don't wanna start cryin' yet." JJ, really worried, sped home. They arrived at the apartment house, and Sam led the way up the stairs from the garage to their first floor apartment. She went right into her room and began to unpack the clothes she'd taken from home for the concert. JJ sat on the bed behind her and waited.
She didn't have long to wait, for there wasn't much. Sam came to the shirt she had swiped from Jordan during the last tour, the last thing in her bag, and burst into tears. JJ pulled her close and let her cry on her shoulder, taking the large, white, button up men's shirt and setting it out of Sam's reach. After a few minutes, Sam took a deep breath.
"Want to talk about it?" JJ asked.
"Sure." Sam sat up and wiped her eyes, then laughed weakly as JJ looked at her soaking shoulder and smiled wanly. "Last night was that benefit concert I told you about. We were almost finished - there was only one and a half songs left! - and some jerk shot my cousin." She began crying again. "Apparently, it was the father of someone Jordan knew, a girl who committed suicide earlier." She took a deep breath. "I don't even know if Jordan's alive, Jonathan's a zombie..." She looked helplessly at her friend, who stared back, confused.
"The concert for the hospital?" JJ asked. "Who was it?"
"New Kids on the Block." Even now, after a tiring nine month tour, the name sent shivers up her spine.
"Who was with you when I picked you up?" JJ suddenly changed the subject.
"Danny? One of the New Kids."
"I know that," JJ scoffed. "Everyone knows them. He likes you, though."
"Yes, he does," Sam said, smiling a small smile. "He's a good friend."
"Yeah, and I bet he wishes for more. He's in love with you," JJ said, laughing slightly.
"Danny!?" Sam asked, incredulous.
"You should have seen the look on his face when you kissed him," she teased.
"Only in my dreams," Sam said wistfully.
"It's more likely than you think. You ought to tell him, or something. Then you won't drive me crazy," JJ teased, glad to have distracted her. She nudged the shirt farther behind her.
Go on to Next Chapter | Grounds for Vengeance
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