The Good Deed ~COMPLETE~

Chapter 39: Sharing Scars

The crowd seemed to be getting antsy. I couldn't blame them; the more time that went by, the more unnerved I became. Where the Hell was Trae and Harvey? I continued to worry. Mostly I worried because; even if one of them was to show up, it would make no difference. I needed both of them to be there.

The longer the crowd waited, the louder they became. I had to do something. I needed to call Harvey to find out where he was. I needed to go look for Trae and make him get on the stage before the seminar was canceled. It was much too noisy with the crowds chatter and the violin music for me to make a phone call from on the catwalk.

I made my way down the steps to the back stage area. There was a dark hallway behind the large curtain that separated me from the crowd. I followed that hall to another hall. I peeked around the corner to make sure it was empty. All was clear and it was quiet enough to make the call. I quickly dial Harvey's number. It began to ring.

He answered. "Hello?"

"Hey? Where the Hell are you?"

"Joe. I'm sorry, but I had a...wardrobe malfunction."

"A what?"

"One of the blood packets exploded all over me...I had to go home and change. I'm about fifteen minutes away."

"Yeah, well, Trae is missing in action, so...I'm not sure what's going to happen."

"I'm sure he'll show up. He's probably just suffering from stage fright."

I knew he was suffering from some form of fright. Gun fright, perhaps? "How about you? You scared?"

"Me? No. I'm ready to get this over with Joe."

"You're a brave man Harvey."

He paused briefly, "...You know, it takes more courage to pull the trigger--"

Suddenly the phone was ripped from my hand. I looked to see a red haired woman. It was the woman that had help Mark get free from his restraints...it was Brandy Page.

She put the phone to her ear, "He'll have to call you back Harvey." She ended the call.

Brandy then pointed her gun at me and ordered, "Walk."

I was lead to a room and forced to enter it. Brandy closed the door behind us. There was a table and two chairs. Again she ordered me, "Sit."

I did, and then she said, "Place your gun on the table."

Again I obeyed. I placed the gun on the table and slid it toward her. "What is this about?"

She smirked as she sat across from me. "I just wanna talk, that's all." She laid her gun on the table as well.

I tried to keep eye contact, but my eyes kept roaming to the hideous scar across her throat. "Talk about what?"

She smiled, knowing I was looking at her scar. "I don't know...we'll see what comes up."

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I sat silently. I kept peeking at her neck. Brandy leaned back in her chair and cocked her head up a little higher, exposing the scar a bit more.  It was like she wanted me to ask about it. She stared at me for a moment.  "First thing's first. I owe you an apology."

That was certainly unexpected. "For what?"

"I'm sorry for approaching you the way I did...pointing my gun at you, bringing you into this room...I should have handled things differently."

I snapped, "Then why didn't you?" It came out sounding somewhat rude, but I didn't really care.  I was over the whole situation...no more Mr. Nice Guy.