Darla ran up to her father and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you!” she yelled, barely able to contain her excitement.
“My pleasure, sweetie,” Bill said. “I know you wanted to see this band perform live, so I got tickets for you and your mother, who will go with you to the arena tonight.”
A few hours later, Bill’s son got an alert on his iPhone. He read it, ran into the den, and handed it to his father. “Oh my God!” Bill screamed when he read about the mass shooting currently underway at the arena.
Written for this week’s 100 Word Wednesday prompt from Bikurgurl.
Yes, I know it’s Monday and I’m just getting to posting my Sunday Photo Fiction prompt response. But, you know, sometimes life interrupts the blogging rhythm, especially when family makes certain demands for one’s attention on a summer Sunday.
So, yes, a day late, but better late than never, right?
Bobby’s father handed him a hundred bucks. “Take your brother into New York City. And here are two tickets for tonight’s Britney Spears concert at Radio City Music Hall. I know you two are having a hard time dealing with your mother’s and my divorce,” he told Bobby. “So you guys go enjoy yourselves for a change. You like Britney Spears, don’t you? All you kids like her, right?”
“Yeah, Dad, sure. Thanks,” Bobby said with a little less enthusiasm than his father expected.
“The hundred bucks should cover the train fare and something to eat for dinner for the two of you,” he said. “Have fun and take good care of your brother.”
At about 11 pm that night, the insistent ringing of Harvey’s cellphone woke him up. “Yeah?” Harvey said.
“Dad,” Bobby said. “Can you come get us?” I don’t have enough cash left for the train fare home.”
“Give me your address,” Harvey said. “I’ll call and have an Uber come pick you up and bring you home.”
“Never mind,” Bobby said. “I’ll call Mom. She’s staying over at her new boyfriend’s place and he lives in the city.”
Jenny was so excited. It was her very first live concert. Of course, she would rather have been there with her friends, but she was only twelve and she thought it was cool of her parents to take her to see her favorite band perform.
She couldn’t wait to get to school the next day and tell all of her friends that she went to the concert. It was all they’d been talking about since the concert had been announced a few weeks earlier. Everyone wanted to go. They’d all be so jealous of her that she actually went.
The band sounded great, even better than on their recordings. It was everything she had expected and more. The pyrotechnics were awesome, the fans were going nuts, and the air in the packed arena was filled with the aroma of pot. Was it her excitement that made her feel the way she was feeling, or was she getting a contact high? Didn’t matter. This was the best night of her life.
But that was before the massive explosion at the back of the arena.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner from Roger Shipp. Photo credit: Jack Gittoes pexels-photo-761543 Concert.