Luck & Intuition

IT WAS BURNING; the liquid was as it slid down the throat of the newly eighteen year old. It was fine at first, he didn’t mind, but as the drinks kept flowing around the more annoying and discouraged he got. Every inch of the house was crowded with vaguely familiar faces, yet somehow it seemed empty as well. Hell, Nick didn’t want to be there he only came because Joe wanted to get in with the sexiest chick at the party. The brothers weren’t even invited to begin with but as Joe would always tell his younger brother, “Now the party don’t start till I walk in.” And he was right, that’s when all the dirty dancing and the body shots began. It was like an all access pass to behind the scenes of Jersey Shore.

The curly haired boy set down his red cup onto of a pumping speaker. It was time to leave, he couldn’t stand this place. Perhaps he was just irritated with the summer heart, no, that couldn’t be it. It was plain and simple that he’d rather be at some attempting to write a new song. His brown eyes focused on the front door; it was his number one target to get the hell out of there without anyone putting off his exit.

“You look miserable.” Nick’s head snapped towards the voice. He was shell-shocked with his lips parting slowing and his eyes reading like a scanner. He had realized that he had not inched from his spot next to the speaker. “Do you want to get out?”

Her lips were moist as a smile curled up, as forming faint dimples. Her laugh was apparent as Nick stood with silent replies. The next thing he knew, Nick’s skin prickled with the humidity hitting him like a snowball. Digging through his pocket, he retrieved his keys as the two teenagers approach his rusty Datsun 510. He could hear the female’s soft giggle as she took in the old blue paint job that was wearing off. Nick chuckled along with her, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“That party was empty.”

“Yeah.” Nick agreed. The engine roared to life. If you close your eyes you’d think the car was a Corvette. “A whole house full of people, but empty indeed.”

The route Nick was taking was familiar to the both of them. The beach; it seemed like the right place to be, the right place to go after leaving a supposedly empty party. The female, who Nick found amusing that she did not introduce herself, hurried out of the parked car and down towards the shore. Her flip flops were kicked high into the setting sky – a mix of pink, red, yellow and orange filled the Jonas’ eyes like cotton candy. His vans slid down the sand mound with the wind dancing through his dark clothes.

He stood a distance, a perfect distance as he watched the girl prance along the shoreline. Unordinary was the first impression that climbed into this mind; unordinary and surprising beautiful. This girl was no model, no singer, no actress – she was normal, finally.

“What’s your name?” Nick beckoned her towards him. “What’s your name?”

“Storm.” Flawless, her smile was simply flawless and extraordinary. “Storm Collins. Now, now, don’t bother introducing yourself to me Nick Jonas. I know who you are.” Nick’s eyebrows raised in suspicion. Was she a fan? “Don’t play surprised with me, Hot Shot. I believe that at least thirty-three percent of the girl population in America alone wants to jump your bones. Of course, the other sixty-six percent is split between your two older brothers.”

Nick laughed and smirked, lower his head. He gently kicked a stone. “Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t want to jump my—our—bones? We’re irresistible.”

“Believe it or not, Hot Shot, not to everyone.”

Nick placed his hand over his heart, clenching his shirt and wobbling his knees. “Say it ain’t so!” Storm laughed loudly, bending over and placing her hands onto her own knees. He loved it, he loved making someone (especially a beautiful girl) laugh. A sudden rush of confidence and excitement flowed throughout his veins twice over.

“What are you staring at?” It was a common cliché question when a man stares at a woman without noticing he is doing so. It was something that every girl wanted a guy to do, to look at them and just smile widely with no specific reason or sometimes even a reason.

“Your smile, it’s like seeing the sun on a rainy day.” Nick mentally yet physically slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead. “That was probably the cheesiest thing I have ever said to a girl in my life.”

Smiled. She smiled, her smile – Oh God, it was killing Nick inside.

“You know, I think when a guy says something cheesy that it’s from the heart. It’s the brutal truth.”

“Even if it is completely lame?” Nick’s face twisted as he asked her. She nodded. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for future references.”

Storm snickers as her tiny toes dug into the sand. “For Mi—“ Nick raised his hand to stop her promptly, with the bonus of a horrified look on her face. “The Diva isn’t in your life anymore?”

“She hasn’t been for a while.” Nick replied with a hint of a bitter tone. He shoved his hands into the tight pockets and walked in a small radius. “It was love but she wasn’t the one, you know?” Storm nodded quietly waiting to hear if he was going to elaborate of their misfortune which she didn’t exactly care about. “We were young, and times were easy. But I could see it’s not the same.”

“Whoa!” Storm raised her hands in the air. “If you dare to quote that ridiculous song you wrote with her, I will take your car run you over three times and drive away with it.” Her voice was icy with serious scribbled all over it. Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t let this cute, innocent face fool you, Hot Shot. I’m dead serious.”

“Oh, trust me, I believe you one billion per cent. But you know how it is for musicians like me – the music just comes to us, like,” Nick snapped his fingers, “That.”

“Hm, remind me never to get involved with a rockstar.”

“What if he is handsome?”

Storm tilted her head up at Nick. Her eyes squinted as the sun shone behind him brightly making it seem like Nick was a glowing candle. “Define handsome for me.”

“Let’s see.” Nick tipped his head in order to appear like this was a difficult question. “Dark curly hair, with a slight pale complexion but can tan easily. He typically wears a Yankees hat, you know, it’s his favourite baseball team but he wants to play for the Texas Rangers someday.”

“Was this handsome man born in Texas?”

“Dallas to be precise, however, he hardly smiles; it’s more of this mysterious smirks he plays at which tends to make the female popular swoon over every now and then. Some might even say that he’s shy when in fact he likes to observe before he acts.”

The corner of Storm’s lips twitched. “He sounds very intriguing, really. I am amused by this mysterious side of this man. Is he trying to figure out who he is?”

“I believe he knows who he is; the problem is that everyone else needs to see who he is too. And it’s hard for him to express other then writing songs and singing them on stage with his two older brothers.”

“I’m sure he’ll know how to one day.”

Soft finger tips grazed along Nick’s forearm sending an instant wave of an icy sensation all around his body. His vision started to blur, soon the teenager found himself to be weak and gasping for breath. Storm stood in front of him with a broad complexion. Nick’s knees began to buckle causing him to crash down onto the sand.

“Storm!” The boy called out. “Storm something—“

What seemed to be pixels of a photograph or a video raced across his vision in circles. Not more than two seconds later, Nick Jonas shivered at a chilly breeze sweeping across his body. The street was damp and as the boy breathed out he could see his breath. Still clenching onto his chest, the familiar sound of police cars and ambulances whizzed around him. He could make out in the distance that there was some type of commotion going on but he couldn’t identify what it was exactly.

“Fuck.” Nick wheezed out in pain and removed his hand to see dots of blood. “What the...?”

“Nick!” A screeching, tortured soul cried out. Nick snapped his head and stumbled to stand up. He proceeded to stagger his way over to the commotion while being shoved to the side by paramedics. “Oh God!”

Nick corrected his vision by squinting to see the well-known figure. “Storm? St-Storm!” His feet stamped against the pavement towards his significant other. “Storm! What’s wrong? What’s—“ Nick stopped seeing the blood stains on Storm’s hands and tears flowing down her cheeks like a river. “Storm, baby, talk to me.”

The female kept sobbing, pulling out her cell phone and dialling a number quickly. Her speech was impaired as she talked into the device. Nick wondered why she wasn’t responding, why she was looking through him like he was transparent.

“He’s going to the hospital. Oh God!” Storm cried louder than before.

“Who’s going to the hospital?” The phone dropped from her hand, smashing into tiny pieces from the concrete. No response, Storm just stared through Nick. Nick sighed in frustration and followed Storm’s eyes to the stretcher behind him.

His eyebrows shot up towards his hairline and his eyes were as big as and owl’s. There he lied on the stretcher strapped down with a horrifying neck brace and his shirt ripped off; blood oozing from the middle of his chest and hole so deep that it was possible to see the padding underneath him. Nick gripped his chest again in pain, wincing.

“Storm, what the hell happened to me?” Nick turned around to see bright lights and white walls surrounding him. The setting had changed to a hallway in a hospital. Nurses and doctors scurried past him quickly, tending to patients in every room. Nick guessed that he was in the ER.

“Thank you.” Nick whipped his head around to the familiar voice; the voice of his sister-in-law. At the far end of the hall was a waiting room, or what looked to be rows of chairs and a buzzing that a television was on low volume.

Joe and Taylor stood at the end of the hallway, Joe handed her a glass bottle of iced tea. “I’m scared.” Joe said with the tone of admittance. Nick stood beside them to make a triangle shape to him.

“As am I. “Taylor nodded.

“I keep asking myself: Why him? Why did it have to be Nick?”

“You couldn’t have prevented, Joe.”

Nick looked from the both of them as they said nothing. “Can someone please say what the hell happened to me? Oh wait; I’m supposedly a ghost right now, so you two idiots can’t hear what the fuck I’m saying!”

“Excuse me, Mr Jonas.” Joe turned around and glanced up at the taller policeman. “We need to ask you a few questions about the shooting, if that is alright with you.”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Joe excused himself from Taylor’s presences and followed the officer.

“There was a shooting? I got shot didn’t I, Joe? Didn’t I?” Nick tagged along his brother’s side.

The officer stopped at an explicit spot behind a wall. “I understand that you and the rest of your family have been through the procedure, however, do you know anyone that could have caused this?”

“Do I know anyone that could have caused this? Officer, I don’t mean to be rude but there are tons of criminals out there in the world and you’re asking me if I have a fucking clue as to who did this?”

“Mr Jonas—“

“I don’t have a clue. My brother got shot, he’s lying in a hospital bed with blood trickling out of him, the paparazzi wants a piece of all of us—they want a piece of Nick! You don’t understand, if I lose my brother I lose myself.”

Tears were forming on the brims of Joe’s eyes. Nick frowned watching his brother explode with mixed emotions about the situation.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Joe.” Nick said, although, a pointless remark. He decided on wandering away from the two men and strolled back down the hallway he was in. Nick knew that he—his body, had to be in one of the rooms. The scent of floral, yet edgy substance stung his nostrils. It was familiar and divine. He knew it very well, too. He followed it leading him to the last door on the right.

The room was quiet and dim. The television was flicked to ESPN, just how he’d always want it to be at home for sports highlights. Along the ledges of the window were flowers, cards, and stuffed animals. Nick picked up what looked like to be a homemade card. There was a crayon picture of Nick and a shorter, younger resembles. Inside written was a get well card with Love, Frankie. Nick smiled and set down the card.

Facing something you don’t want to face is a challenge, but in order to complete the challenge you first have to face it.

The white sheets on the bed were neat and clean to perfection. The IV drips were consistent. Staring at a damaged body can cause serious impact on the viewer, even when the viewer is you. Nick gazed at his broken body on the bed, realizing that what Joe said about the blood seeping through his bandages had been true. Nick was not impressed with his curls in disarray but he could tell that someone must have tried to fix the problem. His eyes were closed with dark circles underneath and his chest pumped easily.

Nick’s mouth parted as he saw a female huddled close to his limp body on the bed make for one. He saw his arm was placed around her, making her feel safe and secure. Her hair was messy and across her face but she looked to be at peace with everything. Nick walked around the bed to the side of the girl and sat in the free chair.

He sighed. “Storm...” His eyes averted to the side table to see a picture of him and his girlfriend with smiles and Burger King crowns placed upon their heads. Nick smirked and held the picture frame in his hand. “This was my horrible idea for a second date, I just got finished playing a show. You loved it, though.” Storm’s tossed a little, repositioning her head on his shoulder. Nick gazed at his own ‘ghostly’ shoulder, feeling a tingle.

“I don’t want to leave you. I never want to leave you. I love you. You don’t,” He breathed out. “You don’t know how much of an impact you’ve made on me, Storm. Everything I do I question as to What Would Storm Do? What would benefit me and my future with you? To think that a Dallas-Jersey boy like me would fall in love was nonsense. I was in Broadway productions... I was a teacup, for fuck sakes.” He chuckled and trailed off into inner thoughts. “A beautiful teacup as you would say.”

Nick leaned forward and intertwined his faint fingers with Storm’s, electricity ran through his veins. He squeezed her hand and held on tight as if he was on a rollercoaster. “It feels like the tables have turned and I’m wishing for you to get better. I can read you like a book and you’ve been suffering. You should not suffer; do you want to know why? “

“Why?” Echoed in his mind as if Storm answered.

“Because I’m here, I’m alive.”

Nick jolted suddenly, his head pounding and his heart racing. His eyes hurt as he rolled them from side to side. His chapped lips parted and he could hear his heavy breathing. He winced, feeling a needle in the vein of his right arm. The smell of the perfume was toxic but brought him to life once again—in the flesh for all to see. He slowly moved his right arm to brush away the strands of hair away from the beautiful girl’s face.

“St... Orm.” Nick choked and winced and shut his eyes tightly. Storm stirred slightly but didn’t budge. He tapped the palm of her hand three times: this was always their indication that something was important while they were sleeping. Her eyes began to shift under her lids and soon enough they fluttered open. “Baby...”

Storm shot up into a sitting position, her eyes quickly releasing the salt liquid. “Oh, thank God!” She covered her mouth to contain her sobs. “I was afraid... I was so terrified—Nick.” Storm buried her face into his shoulder pocket and let the sobs finally erupt from her completely. Nick shifted the best he could to hold his precious lady in his arms.

“I know, I know.” He murmured softly through her tangled hair and kissed the side of her head. “I’m here now, you’re safe. I promise.”

Storm moved from her position and placed her trembling lips onto his chapped ones. “I’m so sorry... so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? This isn’t your fault and do not dare to contradict me, Storm. This is not your fault, understand?” She looked away. “Understand?” Nick pressed.

“Yes.” Her voice was hollow as Storm looked at him through dazed vision. Using his thumb, Nick wiped away the tears underneath her eyes and along her cheeks. “I’m a mess.”

“Yes, but you’re a beautiful mess.”

She giggled and wiped her face with the sleeve of what looked to be like his old hoodie. “Always.”

“Forever.”