Sk8er Boi: A Duncney Drama

The End

Courtney cries into her hands, which are sticky from the pitcher of beer she downed earlier.  "No, it's not your fault.  I was actually fine.  I mean, sure, it was a little weird, but it was fine."  She combs her hands through her cropped brown hair, feeling the stringy strands molded together by beads of sweat.  Her onyx eyes meet Bridgette's hazel ones.  "It wasn't until that song..."

Brody brushes the shaved side of his head.  "Yeah, it was an odd choice for a punk concert."

"Seriously, dude, it was like he intentionally sang it for you or something," agrees Geoff.  He shifts on his feet and crosses his arms. 

Bridgette gives him a pointed look before wrapping her arm around Courtney.  The heave of her friend's breaths is shaky and inconsistent.  Bridgette squeezes her tighter.  "Maybe it was just a coincidence.  It's a popular song."

"Was a popular song," Geoff mutters.

Courtney lets out a shaky breath and leans into Bridgette.  "What if I don't want it to be a coincidence?"

~

"You said they had pit tickets?" The head of security detail for the concert venue, Officer Hatchet, asks, his pace quickened to match that of the frantic punk star. 

"Yeah, they were just a few rows back on the..." Duncan pauses to switch the directions around in his mind.  "...the left side, yes, on the left side."

Officer Hatchet catches Duncan by the shoulder. "This way, son. Assuming they haven't left yet, this is the exit they'd most likely use."

"Thank you."

~

While Bridgette's still comforting Courtney on the floor, Brody nudges Geoff. Hard.

"Bro, what the hell?" Geoff accuses in a hush, trying to give the girls their "privacy" still.

Brody nods towards the hallway extending from Geoff's right side. The man turns to look in that direction when he sees a burly black man in a security polo and slacks chasing after a black-denim-and-leather-clad young man with eyeliner streaking down his face and sweaty bands of black and green hair sticking to his forehead.  The pair are racing right towards them.

Geoff moves to form a wall in front of Courtney, and Brody follows suit.

They're just in time, too, as Duncan skids to a stop just a couple feet in front of them. His Converse squeak against the venue floor. Much like Geoff and Brody, Officer Hatchet forms his own blockade around Duncan. This group might be safe, but the general public could lose their shit upon seeing a celebrity in such close proximity.

"Woah there, dude, I don't know if this is a good idea," warns Geoff, putting his hands up. The gesture holds Duncan back, even if there's no physical contact.

"Let me talk to her, Geoff. I need to talk to her," Duncan pleads with the man. "C'mon, Geoff, you were my best friend."

Just then, Courtney looks at Bridgette with her tear-stained eyes. She knows that voice. It may have been ages since she heard that ruggedly smooth angst-ridden voice, but she could recall it from anywhere. The last time she heard that voice, especially sounding like that, was in her childhood bedroom all those years ago.

Courtney can barely choke out, "Duncan?"

"Courtney?"

At the pair's acknowledgment, Geoff moves slightly out of the way, letting Duncan through.

He stops right in front of Courtney and Bridgette on the ground. Unlike her husband, Bridgette doesn't move a muscle. With the two of them looking at each other like a deer caught in the other's headlights, she chooses not to leave her best friend's side. Who knows what could happen?