Day 13 - Only Laugh - Chapter 13 (1,301 words)

©Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 13

The music was loud and aggressive, they could feel it from outside the bar, like a wave of pressured air. The street lights and neon splashes added a surreality to the place that made it look like the set of a film, not a place that existed in our world. It did exist, and here it was welcoming and yet inhospitable at the same time. The right kind of people were welcome but even then they were held at arm's length until they were truly part of the scenery. Even them a hairsbreadth stood between familial bonds and aggressive action.

“This is the place. Are you sure about this?” Tony got out of the car, wondering how long he would last here.

John was quite sure, so sure he was not even going to get out of the car. He nodded furiously and looked at his watch and his phone. “How long before I call the cops?”

“Oh, there's no need for that, I'm sure it'll be fine.” Tony looked about the parking lot, scanning for vehicles out of place. “How many did we get?”

“Two maybe three that sounded definite, a couple more interested but did not officially confirm. Any more than that and the balance of the room will change. And some...” John sighed and looked at Tony when he said this, not the bar, “... will take one look and not go in. If they are even part way sane.”

Tony nodded and grinned back at his assistant, his enabler. “Perfect. Perfect.”

“They've all signed waivers before we gave them the equipment.” But Tony was no longer interested, he was rubbing his hands together and jumping up and down on the spot.

“It's like going on stage. I'm excited. You sure you don't want to come in?”

“After last time? I don't think so, and I don't think...” He didn't finish the sentence, mostly because it would have pointless, but also because he could not argue with fate. He had not believed in fate until now, but this made no other sense at all. If not fate then why?

“Okay. I'm going in then.”

Less than an hour later John's phone rang and got several txt messages all at once. He read a couple and swore to himself before answering the phone call.

He got to the bar and a crowd of people were gathered around Tony, who was bleeding noticeably from the head and his shirt was soaked and cut. There were two men shouting and trying to get past a very large man, who was not having a bar of that. Several others were standing behind him and filming all of it on cell phones or small video cameras. They seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely.

On the face of it it looked like it could be resolved with a cash payment. He hoped he had enough.

“Gentlemen, I am here on behalf of my employer, could I have a quick word please?” He steeled his voice, enough he hoped and tried to hide the shaking sensation in his legs. He had a folder and a bunch of papers, he pulled them out and took two sets of forms out and looked the men up and down. One of them was red-faced and shaking with unchecked violence. John skipped him and went to his buddy who looked more in control and suspicious of the man with paperwork and a very expensive car. “Hi, look this is an opportunity for you to make some money here. This is not what it looks like, it's...” he was interrupted by the man's enraged friend.

“It looks like your employer wants to get his fucking head kicked in!” He barrelled forward and straight onto the outstretched palm of the bouncer. That simple immovable object stopped him short and bled some of the rage out in cool objective appraisal of the man he would have to, and in most estimations be unlikely to, get through to dole out the beating he so wanted to give.

“Well, maybe it is what it looks like then. However you and your rather large friend here can get into an confrontation, or you can get into a contract and make some money.” John patted his breast pocket as if it were made of said money. The man's calmer friend pulled his shoulder back, but there was still some anger as he shrugged the gesture away. More insistent the friend yanked back on him and it threw him back focussing the anger on the new confrontation, but seeing the look in his friends eyes drained more of the rage away.

“What?” He almost sighed it, seeing no outlet for violence being offered, no answer to the call he felt inside.

“Well, let's talk shall we?”

Tony was panting and kneeling down on the ground, spitting a few drops of blood-bubbles from his mouth and looking about the parking lot. One of the people filming had gotten very close and put the camera down to talk to him.

“Hi Tony, I'm a huge fan, this is just fantastic man. I mean really, how do you do it?” The fan was shaking in excitement and gleeful at being part of whatever this was.

“I don't know man, I really don't” He reached out and grasped his hand, shaking it before pulling hard to leverage himself up to his feet, standing unsteady but upright none the less.

“You ok dude?” The Bouncer had a big grin on his face, he had recognised him inside already and figured out when to intervene and when to let it go.

“Thank you yes, and thanks for … well thanks.”

It had been the Bouncer who had called John from Tony's cell phone. He had stepped in when the two guys had tried to pull him out the door and into the parking lot for some personal and private conversation. Not before one of them, the blinder of the two, had smashed a glass into Tony's back, cutting a slash through his shirt and opening the would that reddened Tony's shoulders and jacket.

He had stopped any more happening, but did nothing to break the crowd away. He didn't really know what was going on, but figured it was part of the act. Just the poor saps who had too much testosterone and too little patience for a man poking at them were unaware.

John was clueing them in on who Tony was, and what it meant for them financially if they signed the contracts. Also what it meant if they did not.

Assault charges, a day in court or a couple of thousand dollars apiece. It was an easy question to answer.

John bundled Tony onto the backseat of the car and let him lie face down so there was no pressure on the wound, it had stopped bleeding badly and was quite shallow, but would need a couple of stitches and cleaning to let it heal properly.

“Take me home John.”

“We should probably go to a hospital.”

“No, no need for that. Just stitch me up again. Clean me up. Stitch me up. Set me up again.”

John closed the car door and collected the cameras, media cards or links from the people who had volunteered to be in the room and get the various angles on camera. All in all the night cost a little over five grand to “participants” and a bonus to the bouncer was declined, in exchange for a premium entry to the next gig. “If he lives that long.” The man had joked, and while they both laughed at that only one of them felt it.