Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click here
Richey’s contribution was minimal, the audience determined to out-sing its idol and succeeding.
Eager to get backstage to join the others, Matt relinquished the prime pitch, heading quickly downstairs and firing off a quick text to Nick. At the exit he saw Dave Donnelly, making to leave, a song that sounded like obscure LP track ‘Big Reward’, filtering through the air. Its sentiments were not lost:
‘I may be small but one day I’ll be big,
I may be down but one day I’ll arise,
You ignore me at your peril,
I’m coming back and looking to the skies.’
Face to face with his nemesis and with Richey’s voice taunting from the stage, Donnelly nodded sagely, as if accepting defeat. Unexpectedly, however, the older man jinked, landing a punch above Matt’s eye before sweeping outside with a shrug. Matt fell with a thud, the weary tones of ‘No Place To Hide’ that signalled the end, blurring in his brain. Still out three minutes later, he didn’t hear the excited shouts of the first to depart.
A couple of minutes later Nick appeared, drawn to the circle of people leaning over the prone body. ‘Is he breathing? Did anyone see what happened?’ the words rang out.
Amid a blaze of blue and a swirl of sirens Matt was hurriedly conveyed into the ambulance, Nick at his side. Still pumped up from the gig, he wasn’t really aware of what was happening. One thing was for sure: Matt looked in a bad way.
Sat in the waiting room, his brain abuzz, Nick’s phone rang. Guiltily observing hospital protocol, he chose to ignore it, the worst of his concerns having been laid to rest earlier. Indeed, after the explosion, he’d been in contact with Jan and Debra, offering assurances of his wellbeing, followed by a call to son Joe. That had set off the chain of events that had just come to fruition with the gig.
Heading outside, he checked the messages: one was from son Joe, asking where the hell he was, the other from Pete. Texting back the news of Matt’s hospitalisation he climbed into the rear of the Zafira, falling into an instant deep sleep.
- COMMENTS
