Meeting the Jokers

Part 24

Sal stormed in. Red with rage. He didn't face the fans, just kept his stare fixed on Murr.

"Get over here," Sal ordered, whisking Murr away into a staff room. He didn't bother checking if anyone was in there. Sals forcefulness made Murr gulp and put on a brave face in front of the fans- who were filming each passing second.

Sal didn't look back before he left the room. Not at me, not at Murr.

Waiting anxiously, I watched the audience gather. They were being cornered by the receptionists and nurses but they weren't able to hold them back. There were so many people gossiping.

'Q's died' 'Murr and Sal are in love' 'that girl over there is dating Murr' 'that's the girl from the show.'

I dodged the glares thrown my way like a dodgeball and angled my face from the cameras. I was not getting in between this.

Minutes passed. The audience had grown like a sunflower- large and still growing.

'Sal's still in there with Murr, is Sal ok?' I texted Joe, but no response immediately.

"She's texting Joe Gatto!" One girl cried; pointing her finger in my direction. My face went bright red before I realised to hide my phone. Now the press were here, big cameras aimed at the door Sal threw Murr into- they couldn't even leave now.

'The press are here! What are we gonna do?' I texted Joe again.

He had read it.

Typing.

'I'll text him. He can't get out. Not now.'

I took a breather.

"It's not that Joe," I snapped quietly, but their eyes didn't leave me.

"What's happening?!" The girls around me yelled, screaming into my ear for answers. Some were taller than me, shoving me backwards in the crowd.

I couldn't escape.

My phone buzzed. But I couldn't reach it. I panicked.

"Get off," I mustered up, trying to get them away.

I was unwanted. If I didn't tell them what they wanted to know, they threw me to the back. But I was trapped in the middle of 300 angry fans.

Pushing and shoving. Elbowing and hitting. Kicking my feet, pushing me down. I was on the floor.

I was constantly pushed from one side or another, whether they were conscious of it or not. I was completely closed in.

I snatched my phone from my pocket.

'Help.'

That was all I could write.

It sent to Sal. I couldn't possibly change it when my eyes are blurry from tears.

Help. Help me. Get me out of here.

A door slammed. The fans jumped, pushed forward, discarding me by the wall. Squashed. Drowned.

The talk got louder. Squeals.

They had left the room.

"Move," Sal ordered. To the fans. The crowd split. An aisle was formed- a runway for Sal.

It led to me.

Sal barged through the crowd, his face still angry. He held his hand out. I grabbed it. I got up. I ran. Red faced back to Q's room.

Sal was on the look out for anyone following, but enough employees were downstairs now.

"Thank you," I thanked Sal, giving him a smile.

He kept his face on the hallway, "we've been found out."

"You're not blaming me are you?" I asked.

"Not exactly," he said, "I'm blaming the d*** that told everyone."

"Hey, our name would look better with some publicity," Murr snapped back, his eyebrows formed a straight line.

"Not when it's our best friend! I can't believe you did that." And then Sal swore repetitively, portraying his anger. His fury.

Then he slapped the wall, making me and Murr jump from fright.

"Sal calm down," I said, "he'll get enough crap from the producers."

"Well I want him to hear it from me first," he replied coldly, "why do you even call Q your friend, huh James? You've never been his friend. Or mine, have you?"

"Just because you and Q we're close doesn't mean..." Murr said defensible.

"Don't you dare," Sal stopped and pointed his finger right at Murrs chest, "turn this on me. I'm not the one who ruined our career."

Murr refused to go on, and went up the elevator, beating us to Q's room. Me and Sal didn't speak a word.

Inside Q's room were 3 producers all sat around; handling important information on their phones. Calming the press, calling Q's family. One of them was calling the hotel.

We were going.

"Alright guys," Casey said, clapping his hands together, "we're off too a hotel. The doctors have promised they are going to take good care of him until the morning. We'll come back, I promise."

"We're going?" Sal said, looking around, "I can't leave Q. What is he wakes up?" He panicked. I tried to calm him down. It seemed impossible.

"Sal, he won't. He won't wake up."

"He will soon. Why not tonight?" He shot back.

I took a sigh of disbelief. We needed to leave. Now.

"Sal, we have to go," I tugged at his arm, but he stayed in place like a statue.

"Come on, dude," Casey came over, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"I can't leave Q. I have to stay here."

"Fine."

And we left.

The hotel was a 10 minute drive from the hospital. We were awestruck when we drove to the building. Big glass panes over looked fields of green.

"It's beautiful," Joe said to me. He hasn't said a word for Murr who was sat in the other car.

We entered and received our keys.

By midnight, I had done a livestream with Joe pretending everything is ok and we watched a Christmas film. So much for upcoming holiday spirit. Snakes and ladders just couldn't lift our spirits.

But 12 o'clock hit us with news.

It was Sal.

It was urgent.