There were still lights on in the beach house as Jake clumsily made his way inside with both Grey and Maddy fussing around him. Hearing the commotion Lori appeared through from the sunroom, cautioning them to be quiet as Becky was asleep.
“What happened?” she exclaimed, the colour draining from her face when she saw the crutches. “Jake?”
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let me sit down and we’ll explain.”
“He’s not fine,” announced Maddy glaring at the injured musician. “He’s been shot!”
“Shot?” echoed Lori, looking from one of them to the other as she tried to make sense of the scene in front of her.
“Maddison,” growled Jake, his patience worn thin, “Let me tell it, please.”
Once he was settled on the couch in the sunroom with his injured leg propped up on a pile of cushions, Jake calmly told Lori about the gig and the shooting incident. In typical Jake fashion, he played down the potential seriousness of it and seemed more annoyed at having to cut the band’s set short than about the injury. As she sat on the couch beside him, Lori held on tightly to his hand, eyes wide in horror at what she was hearing.
“You could’ve been killed,” she said softly when he was finished his account of the evening’s events. “All of you could’ve been killed.”
“Exactly my point!” chipped in Maddy sharply.
“Well, I wasn’t. The police have got the guy. He’s been arrested. It’s dealt with. Done,” dismissed Jake with a yawn. “I’ll be fine in a few days.”
As Lori started to protest, Grey cut in, “Jake’s right. It was a scary gig, but we survived. If one of us had been hit with one of the bottles that were flying around earlier that could’ve been just as serious. We got lucky tonight.”
“I guess,” agreed the girls in unison.
Noticing for the first time that there was no sign of his daughter, Grey asked where she was.
“She was tired, so I put her to bed in the spare room at the end of the hall. She’s fast asleep.”
“Thanks for looking after her, Lori,” said Grey with a smile. “I’d better lift her and get her home.”
“Why don’t you stay too?” she suggested. “It seems a shame to waken her. The other room is made up.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Of course,” insisted Lori, stifling a yawn. “Maddy, what about you? Do you want to stay over?”
“No,” replied the band’s manager, suddenly returning to her usual business like self. Getting to her feet, she added, “I’ll get a cab back to the hotel. I’ve a few calls to make about this fiasco and I need to get hold of Jason to fill him in. I’ll drive back out tomorrow at some point.”
“I’ll call you a cab,” offered Lori, sensing that her friend meant to work through most of the night.
“No need,” said Grey. “I’ll run you back out to the hotel.”
“Thanks,” sighed Maddy, lifting her bag onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys in the morning. Jake, make sure you follow the doctor’s orders.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Grey,” called Lori as the bass player was leaving the room. “Let yourself in when you get back. We’ll probably have gone to bed.”
Nodding, he said, “Sure. See you both for breakfast.”
As they heard the truck’s engine roar into life outside, Lori hugged Jake tightly, tears welling up in her eyes and spilling down her tired cheeks. He reached up and stroked her long blonde hair whispering, “I’m fine, li’l lady. No need for tears.”
“I know,” she sniffed tearfully. “But what if the guy’s aim had been better?”
“Let’s not think about that,” he replied. “It’s only a flesh wound and a small bone chip. I’ll be fine in a day or two.”
She kissed him gently then helped him to his feet. Stifling a giggle, she watched him fumble with the crutches, wobbling on one foot until he found his balance.
“No wonder you fell that day I met you,” he muttered. “How do you drive these fucking things?”
“Takes practice,” she answered. “And trust me, I’ve done my fair share. Go slowly until you find the rhythm.”
“Harrumph,” he grunted as he navigated his way slowly through the house.
♪
Next morning they all slept late, except Becky, who crept through the house to the sunroom to watch cartoons. When Lori entered the kitchen, she could hear the Sponge Bob theme tune filtering through. Having set up the coffee pot, she limped through to the sunroom and found the little girl sitting cross legged on the rug in front of the TV with her American Girl doll sitting beside her.
“Do you want some cereal, young lady?” asked Lori.
“Yes, please. Can I eat it in here, Lori? I won’t spill it. Please!”
“Just this once,” agreed Lori unable to resist the child’s charm. “I’ll bring it through.”
Having sorted out some cereal and a glass of strawberry flavoured milk for her youngest house guest, Lori set about making bacon and French toast for the rest of them. From down the hallway she could hear Grey going into the bathroom and, from further through the house, she thought she heard Jake moving about too. A knock at the back door startled her and she opened it to find Rich and Paul on the back step.
“What’s this? A Silver Lake breakfast meeting?” she joked as they piled into the kitchen.
“We smelled the coffee,” teased Paul.
“Help yourself,” she offered. “There’s some bacon and French toast ready too.”
The two band members didn’t need a second invitation and were both tucking into a full plateful of breakfast when Grey came in. She had just passed him a coffee and a plate of breakfast when the door opened again and Jake hobbled in unsteadily on his crutches.
“Morning,” he said, surprised to find the kitchen full of his friends. “Did I miss the invite to this party?”
“We came by to check if you were ok,” replied Rich, helping himself to more bacon.
“I’ll live,” declared Jake, sitting down and slowly bending his damaged knee. “Hurts like hell right now.”
“Have you taken the pain meds I left out?” asked Lori with concern, pouring him a mug of coffee.
“Yes. They’ve not kicked in yet though.”
“Maddy called me first thing,” announced Rich. “The radio station want us to come in on Monday afternoon to do an interview. If you’re up to it, we could do a couple of acoustic numbers too.”
“Sounds like a plan,” agreed Jake, helping himself to some bacon and French toast from the plate in the middle of the table. “I feel bad that I couldn’t finish the set last night. We let those fans down.”
“Are you for real?” exclaimed Paul. “You got shot!”
“I need to talk to you about that,” began Rich quietly. “I got a call from Linsey.”
The penny suddenly dropping Jake said, “That’s who that kid was! That kid’s Brad Green from school. I knew I’d seen him before.”
Rich nodded, “His mom called Linsey after the police brought him home.”
“Did he say why he did it?” asked Lori looking confused.
“They are still trying to figure it out. Linsey said the woman was distraught about it all.”
“I’ll bet,” said Jake. “Can you get her number for me? I’d like to talk to her.”
“Better than that. There’s a meeting at the school set up for first thing on Monday, if you feel up to it,” explained Rich. “So are you going to take it easy today?”
“Not got much choice,” confessed Jake, stretching his leg out and wincing at the shot of hot pain that the movement triggered.
“Right,” declared Grey, getting to his feet. “We’re leaving you in peace for the day. Paul, call Maddy and tell her to leave these guys be for the day.”
“You don’t have to rush off,” protested Jake as they all got up to leave. “I’m not sick.”
“Grey’s right,” said Rich. “I’ve got your guitar
s in the back of the truck. I’ll bring them in, then I’m out of here.”
After the others left, Lori chased Jake through to the sunroom with strict orders to rest on the couch. Handing him the remote control, she declared she was going to do some work for a couple of hours. From her drawing board in the study, she could see into the sunroom and kept a watchful eye on him as she attempted to focus on the Silver Lake artwork in front of her. She already had the first draft of the album cover completed, but Jason had requested a few additional companion designs for the merchandising. It was the first of these she turned her attention to. Soon Lori was as engrossed in her work as Jake was in watching CSI on TV.
First thing on Monday morning Rich arrived to chauffeur Jake for the day. After faithfully promising Lori that he would take good care of him, they set off. During the drive across town towards the school where they were due to meet Brad and his parents, Jake sat in virtual silence. As he stared out of the truck’s window, he wished Lori were with him instead of Rich. The thought of facing the student who had taken the shot at him filled him with a degree of dread, but both the police and the school principal had requested he attend this informal meeting to discuss the incident in light of the boy’s known anger and behavioural medical issues. His knee was throbbing despite the painkillers he had swallowed before leaving the house. Beside him, he was aware that Rich was saying something, but he wasn’t listening.
“Jake, did you hear me?”
“Sorry,” he apologised. “I was miles away.”
“I was saying not to feel pressured here not to press charges,” repeated Rich. “I know that kid’s got issues, but you could’ve been killed. Any one of us could’ve been killed.”
“I know,” agreed Jake rubbing his knee. “But no one was killed. In the grand scheme of things this is only a minor wound.”
“One that has scarred you for life,” pointed out his friend bluntly. “Plus, there’s the emotional trauma to consider. How are you going to feel the next time we’ve to play live or play at an outdoor festival?”
“Shit scared regardless of whether the kid’s in jail or not.”
“Well, I guess that’s true,” acknowledged Rich turning the truck into the school grounds.
Both of them could see the police car parked outside the front of the building. Deciding this was an exception, Rich pulled into one of the handicapped spaces next to the door, then rushed round to help Jake out of the truck.
“I’m not a fucking invalid,” growled Jake, as his friend fussed over him. “I can manage, thank you.”
“Well, at least let me get the fucking door for you,” retorted Rich, slamming the truck’s door closed.
“Sorry, Rich,” apologised Jake, as he adjusted his balance on the unfamiliar crutches. “I’m all over the place with this.”
“It’s ok, buddy. Sorry for snapping back,” said Rich clapping him on the back. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
When they entered the principal’s office a few minutes later they were greeted warmly by both the principal and the police officers from Milford. The student and his parents had yet to arrive. The principal, Dr Jones, fussed over Jake making sure he was seated comfortably, offering him another chair to rest his injured leg on.
“I’m fine sitting here, thanks,” said Jake calmly, laying his crutches on the floor at his feet. “Just don’t ask me to stand up in a hurry.”
The more senior of the two officers asked how long he expected to be on crutches for.
“About a week, according to the emergency room,” began Jake with a hint of resignation in his voice. “But we’ll see. I’m not very good at driving them.”
“What’s the prognosis on your knee, sir?” asked the other officer.
“There’s a small chip off the bone, but it’s mainly a flesh wound. Now it’s all stitched up it looks quite minor,” replied Jake trying to play the matter down. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door and the school secretary ushering the boy and his parents into the office. After the usual polite introductions they were soon all seated round the principal’s desk, staring at each other, no one sure what to say first. Brad sat with his head bowed, staring at his hands, which were folded in his lap.
“Mr Power,” started the boy’s mother breaking the awkward silence. “I can’t apologise enough for what’s happened. I just don’t know what came over Brad.”
“That’s what we’d all like to know,” muttered Rich sourly under his breath.
“Can I ask a question before we go any further?” asked Jake calmly.
“Of course,” answered Dr Jones. “I think you’re entitled to ask what you want.”
“And this is all informal and off the record?” asked Jake, looking directly at the two police officers for confirmation.
“Yes, it is,” replied the senior officer. “For now.”
“Ok then,” said Jake looking straight at his assailant. “All I want to know is why you took a shot at me?”
A strained silence filled the room. The boy’s father nudged him in an attempt to encourage a reply. Still the boy stared down at his trembling hands.
“Can you all leave us alone for a few minutes?” requested Jake, glancing round. “This is maybe something Brad and I need to discuss privately.”
Reluctantly and after a few expressions of concern, the others stepped outside, leaving Jake alone with the troubled teenager. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty, but Jake guessed this was his best chance of finding out the truth. As the door closed, the boy looked up and stared at Jake.
“Well,” began Jake softly, keeping his tone as calm and warm as he could. “Why, Brad?”
“To balance things,” replied boy still staring straight into Jake’s eyes.
“I don’t follow.”
“Your partner. The artist,” the boy spoke stiltedly. “She limps to the left. You belong as a pair. You were out of balance. Now you’re not.”
“And now I limp to the right?” summarised Jake, following but not comprehending the boy’s flawed logic.
Brad nodded and went back to staring down at his hands, only now he was trembling uncontrollably.
“You realise you could’ve killed me or someone else? Or yourself?”
He nodded, then said, “My dad taught me to shoot when I was younger. I never miss. If I’d wanted to kill you, I’d have aimed higher.”
The confession sent chills rattling down Jake’s spine.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” he admitted with a weak smile. “Why did you feel the need to hurt me at all?”
“I already said. So you balance with the artist. She hurts.”
“Yes, she does,” agreed Jake sadly. “Where did you get the gun from?”
“From my dad’s desk.”
“And it wasn’t locked up?”
The boy shook his head.
Jake sat and watched him for a few moments, thinking through the little the boy had said. Knowing the limited amount he did about Brad’s medical background and, in a warped way, following the logic, he got it. He could actually see how this all came about from the boy’s twisted perspective; could understand how it made sense in Brad’s mind.
“You know it was wrong, don’t you? Illegal. Not to say dangerous,” said Jake.
“Yes, Mr Power, and I’m really truly sorry. Mom explained two hurts, don’t make it last. Don’t make it right.”
“Make what last?” asked Jake somewhat confused.
“The relationship. I know I shouldn’t have done it. Sometimes I don’t think straight like normal people do,” he said, a tear rolling down his pale freckled cheek. “The artist and you belong together. She’s beautiful. I’m sorry I hurt you. Probably hurt her too. Can you forgive me?”
“Actually, I think I can,” said Jake, surprised to hear himself saying the words. “I’m not going to press charges against you. I’m going to ask Dr Jones not to kick
you out of school, but I do expect you to turn up to my classes next semester.”
The boy stared at him wide eyed. “You mean it?”
“Yes, I do,” said Jake smiling at him. “Now I’m going to ask the others to come back in. Are you ok with that?”
“Yes, Mr Power,” replied Brad, roughly wiping away his tears. “And thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
Stiffly Jake got to his feet, fumbled his crutches into position under his arms and limped his way over to the door. When he opened it, he saw the others all sitting in the waiting area. In unison they all looked up as Jake made his way unsteadily over to them.
“I’ve spoken to Brad,” stated Jake calmly but firmly. “I kind of get it now. He’s apologised for the incident and I don’t want to press any charges against him.”
They all stared at him in disbelief, Rich looking particularly surprised by his friend’s statement.
“I’ll leave it up to the rest of you to discuss what, if anything, else needs to be done. I’ve told Brad I expect to see him in class next semester,” continued Jake. “And, Mr Green, I’d strongly advise locking your firearms away in future.”
“Mr Power,” said the police officer. “Can we talk about this please?”
Nodding Jake moved over to the side and spoke quietly to the two officers for a few minutes. The rest of the group could not quite hear what was being said, but from Jake’s facial expression he wasn’t backing down.
“Well, Mr Power,” concluded the senior officer. “I take your point and I think you’re being very generous here. I just hope the boy appreciates it.”
“So do I,” sighed Jake, as the three of them re-joined the group standing anxiously outside the principal’s office. “Rich, are you ready to go?”
“Sure, if you are,” replied his friend. “Dr Jones, I’ll call you later.”
“Jake,” called Dr Jones. “I’ll call you later. Take care of yourself and thank you.”
“Thanks, sir.”
Stronger Within (The Silver Lake Series Book 1) Page 26