Hello everyone I'm back! Sorry for the long delay in updating my story...Real life gets crazy sometimes. I want to thank those who sent me reviews on my last chapter, and thank you to those for following, favorites, or just reading. and thank you to my beta reader for all your help. Here is my new chapter hope you like it. * there's is a warning for rough language, and talk of suicide.
A Brother's Revenge Chapter 24
"Alright, Trevor my man. What game do you want to play?" Joe asked the little boy as they made it to the game area.
Various game booths had been set up which were decorated with white lights that were twinkling in the dusk and contained an assortment of prizes such as stuffed animals, dolls and sports items that were hung around each of the booths. The festive music playing from the speakers made the night perfect.
Joe had stepped off to the side so that he wasn't blocking the walkway thereby allowing people to get by him. He steadied himself with his crutches in order to shift the weight onto his right leg and off of his throbbing left leg. Maybe he should just listen to his brother and take it easy, he thought and then he reconsidered, no way, not yet.
Trevor began looking at each of the games, considering them carefully. On their left was ring-toss, balloon darts, bean bag toss, and that game where you knocked down the bottles. On their right were all sorts of games designed for younger children that he turned his nose up at. No, he wanted to play a big boy's game, because he was a big boy like Joe. He turned his head back to the left, then he saw it, it was the perfect game. His little eyes lit up as a huge smile spread across his face. He pointed and said, "I want to play that one!"
Joe along with Frank, Tony, Chet and Biff looked in the direction where the little boy was pointing until their eyes landed on a game, called, 'TOUCHDOWN TOSS'. It consisted of a cardboard cut-out of a yellow U-shaped goal post and on to the ground was covered with a fake green turf decorated with white duct tape to resemble a football field.
"Alright! Football it is!" Joe cheered, patting the boy's shoulder. "Good choice little buddy! You're a man after my own heart."
"Oh yeah." Biff grinned. "This is my game."
"Yeah, but look at the line." Chet said.
"Oh, Dam—I mean, oh man." Biff started to cursed noting the long line, but stopped when he remembered the little boy who was with them.
Frank grimaced at the long line of people waiting their turn to play the football game. The lines to the other games were just as long. He had also noticed that Joe was wincing in pain again, which meant that his little brother should've listened to him when he told him to take it easy and now, he was overdoing it and needed to get off of his leg.
"It's already 7:45." Frank said, checking the time on his watch, "the fireworks will be starting soon. Callie and Vanessa should be back as well. Plus, Joe, you want to be back in time to meet Vanessa's mother."
"Yeah, we also want to find a good spot to watch the fireworks before they're all taken." Tony added. He also wanted to get his plan in motion. He needed to ask Vanessa for her help in keeping Joe distracted from Frank so Biff could talk to him.
Joe didn't know how much more he could take. He couldn't think about Vanessa and her mother on top of the threat against him and Frank, the fight with his father and wanting so much to clear Frank's name of Jack Hayden's murder. They still had to find Henry and bring him to justice for taking the lives of Phil and Seth Cohen, and for almost taking Frank's life as well. He pushed his anxious thoughts away and instead, he focused all of his attention on Trevor.
Joe still didn't understand why Trevor thought he was some sort of hero, when he knew that he wasn't a hero. Joe had to admit to himself that Trevor was pretty cool for a little kid, and for some reason he felt a connection with him but he wasn't sure why he felt that way. Anyway, if Trevor had his little heart set playing a game with him, well he was going to make sure Trevor had the time of his life, it was the least he could do after scaring him earlier in the evening.
"Alrighty then." Joe said as he smiled at his little friend. "Trevor, we'll play this one. And then it's time to go back for the fireworks. Okay?"
"Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah!" The little boy nodded excitedly.
"Frank, are you guys going to play?" Joe asked, turning to the rest of his friends.
"The game does look like fun." Frank replied with a sigh. "However, little brother, I'm going to have to decline, it's been a while since I've thrown a football around, so I might be a little rusty." Truthfully, he just wasn't in the mood. He was trying hard to keep going, but after the earlier drama with Joe, he was just tired and ready for the day to be over.
"Yeah, I'm gonna to have to say no as well." Chet put in. "I'm still worn out from the tag game with you Trevor. But I'll watch and cheer you guys on from the sidelines."
"That goes for me too." Tony said as he nodded in agreement.
Joe's face fell and he felt horrible. Was he driving his friends away with his actions? All of the bad things going on was his fault, like always. He had heard his brother's voice deflate when he turned down the game and he knew that he was the cause of that. He felt his eyes starting to fill, damn tears! Joe quickly turned his head away blinking back the tears and hoping that it was dark enough that no one would notice.
Noticing that his brother was getting upset Frank put his hand on Joe's shoulder pulling him close to him. "It's okay, Joe. Let the guys have a break. I'm sure Trevor would love to see the pro in action." He looked at the little boy. "Isn't that right buddy?"
"Right," Trevor replied with a smile.
Feeling like a complete idiot for crying and allowing his emotions to take control, Joe quickly wiped the tears away on his sleeve before giving his brother a sour look.
"Ha! You're right Bro to decline, you wouldn't want to go an embarrass yourself. I'd stick to computers; 'cause sports are not your forte." He pulled away from Frank patting his shoulder, "now step aside and let the pro show you how it's done."
"Joe, I think he was referring to me." Biff piped up noting that Joe's mood had suddenly changed as well as Frank's.
"We'll see about that." Joe shot over his shoulder, heading over to the game to get in line with Trevor at his side. "Come on Trevor, you're not going to want to miss this."
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As Joe, Biff and Trevor waited for their turn at the game there was a young man in his early twenties manning the booth. He was dressed like a referee in a black and white striped shirt, with a whistle around his neck and he was in the process of explaining the rules to the family in front of them.
"Touchdown Toss, is a fairly easy game, you get three chances to win. " He picked up one of the three footballs sitting on a table in front of him. "Basically, you have to stand behind a white line that's marked on the ground. There's actually two white lines, the first one is for those under 12, while the second line is for everyone else." He pointed to the white lines a couple feet from the game. "You are given three chances to toss the football through the yellow post to score a Touchdown, to win a prize."
Joe instantly recognized the family as the one he had seen sailing across the water in their boat, while he stood up on the railing wishing that that family was his happy family as he was about to...let the darkness take him...stop it! He couldn't take his eyes off of them and he stared at them standing in line all laughing, smiling and having fun. The young boys along with their mother cheered in delight as they watched their father toss the football for the third time over the goal post.
"Dad...I want that football!" the eleven-year-old excitedly pointed at an orange and blue Nerf football the was hanging from a peg board in the back of the booth.
"Here you go, Sport." The young referee said as he handed the football to the young boy.
"Thank you!" The boy exclaimed jumping up and down while gripping the football tightly in his hands. He turned to his father. "Thank you, Dad!"
"You're welcome, Son." the father replied smiling. The mother kissed him on the cheek, as he put his arms proudly around both of his sons. The other son beaming up at his father while holding a football in his hand that his father had already won for him.
Watching the scene in front of him made Joe feel sick to his stomach and he could feel himself start to spiral, he couldn't watch it anymore and was almost ready to bolt when Trevor grabbed his arm. "Come on Joe! It's our turn! Let's play!" Grateful for the interruption he pushed his negative thoughts away.
"Alright, Buddy, let's do this." Joe said with a forced smile. This is all about Trevor, he thought, focus on him and have fun. And with that the three began playing the game...
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While watching the game Frank took that as his opportunity to vent his frustrations to Tony and Chet on the latest news. "My time is running out, or at least that's what it feels like anyway. If we don't find Hayden's real killer soon, I'm going to go to jail. That can't happen. There's so much that I still want to do! I've got Princeton to think about. There are so many people who are counting on me! My parents, and I can't leave Callie, I love her and we're planning a future together. Not to mention that I made a vow to Phil and Seth that Joe and I would find Henry and bring him to justice for taking their lives."
Chet and Tony listened to Frank vent and grew quiet thinking of their friends. They wished so much that they were still here with them, celebrating the 4th of July holiday with them. They were both angry and saddened that Henry had taken their friends from them.
Frank glanced over at his brother, "I can't leave Joe, not now. He needs me and I can feel that something's wrong, seriously wrong." He began rubbing his chest willing the ache to go away. "I just wish he'd talk to me."
Chet and Tony exchanged concerned looks with each other. They noticed that Frank was rubbing his chest and they were getting concerned with how the stress was affecting his heart. They weren't sure how he'd take the news about Joe's suicide attempt. They thought about telling Frank themselves, but Biff had wanted to be the one to talk to him so they said nothing and just listened, letting Frank continue to vent knowing he needed to.
As Frank talked he quickly began filling them in on 'Jim', the gray-haired man he had seen earlier who fit Linsky's description, then ended with the police officer destroying the disc and later found dead in his apartment, explaining that that was all he could tell them because everything else was classified because of the ongoing investigation. He added with a heavy sigh, "Luckily Dad has a copy which is literally the only evidence we have left in identifying the dark-haired figure." Frank did admit to his friends that he agreed with Joe, and that he wasn't so sure he wanted his father to just turn the copy of the disc over to the chief. "And I think, Bruce Linsky may be the key to finding Hayden's real killer."
"Frank, I agree with your dad and Joe. I mean if we both saw the same guy. You're not paranoid at all." Tony commented as he took his eyes off his friends playing their game.
"Thanks Tony, that does make me feel a little better." Frank replied. "Now we just have to prove it." He closed his eyes trying to picture the man he saw sweeping up the ground. He had only seen his face for a second, before running into Pete and then ran in the bathroom to check on Joe. He opened his eyes as the man's face vanished.
"Tony, you didn't happen to notice anything weird about the man's face?"
"Something weird? No, I don't think so." Tony said, as he scratched the side of his face and thought of Frank's question. "Well, no, I take that back. There was something."
"Really, what was it?" Frank asked trying to hold down his excitement.
"When I brought them their food, the woman never said a word not so much as a thank you. She kept her head down and started eating her food." he nodded as the man's face began crystalizing his head. "However, the man grunted out a thank you and I could have sworn he winced slightly like his face hurt when he gave me a kind of half-smile. I thought the guy had a medical condition, like maybe he had a stroke and it affected his face or something? I just know that they were both acting strange."
"Maybe..." Frank said slowly, "What if he was wearing a mask of some sort? The woman as well. Like a prosthetic mask?"
"Isn't that a little farfetched?" Chet asked, scrunching up his nose. His attention was now off the game in front of him, and on to the older Hardy brother. "Maybe they were just trying to stay low-key and eat their meal, so they wouldn't be noticed and could skip out on the check."
"That could be too. The low-key part would make sense," Frank nodded, "in not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Linksy especially, since he's the lead suspect in the vandalism case of Callie's car. It was his fingerprints that were found on the black spray can that was used to write the threatening message against Joe and I."
"And you still don't know if Linsky and his wife have some sort of connection to Hayden?"
"No, we don't. That's still a mystery."
"Well, obviously Linsky and his wife are hard up for money. They skipped out on paying for their meal, they didn't show up in court for unpaid parking tickets, and they left their apartment in the middle of the night because they were about to be evicted." Tony said, ticking the points off on his hand. "What if they crossed paths with Ryan Hayden at some point, and he paid them to vandalize Callie's car and spray paint that message on her windshield? One of them could've also put that flyer with the message on Vanessa's Jeep. Maybe Ryan helped them disappear for doing a few favors for him? They could be the ones been stalking you."
"That's a good theory Tony." Frank thinking out loud as he began processing what Tony had said. "Maybe they are hiding in plain sight."
"Then I guess maybe your prosthetic mask theory may not be so farfetched after all, Frank." Chet commented. He thought back to Frank's comment and had to agree, it did make sense.
Frank nodded, "Joe brought up a point to Dad and I earlier about the possibility that they both could be here using fake names and disguises, and I have to say that I am leaning towards that idea myself."
"And you think this 'Jim' person might be Linsky?" Chet asked.
"I do." Frank agreed.
"What about the woman? What did you say her name was again?"
"Marge Linsky."
"And no one's seen any sign of her either?"
"I don't believe so," Frank shook his head. "But that doesn't mean she's not around here somewhere."
"So, I guess the question is if Marge Linsky is wearing a disguise, then who is she?"
"Good question, Chet." Frank said. "Keep your eyes peeled for her and if we find her maybe she'll lead us to, 'Jim.'"
"Well hopefully your dad will be able to get a list from Chief Collig of employees here at the pier." Tony chimed in, "And there will be a 'Jim' on it."
Frank sighed, "I really hope so too. Because if they are here that means that Ryan Hayden could be here as well, ready to carry out his threat." He cast his eyes back to where Joe and Biff playing their game with Trevor cheering them on. "I think we better start wrapping things up and get Trevor back to his parents. just in case something happens."
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Joe kept his feet behind the second white line as he launched his football into the air and it flew right over the cardboard cut-out of the yellow goal post and on to the ground. " TOUCHDOWN!" He cheered pumping a fist in the air and ignoring the pain shooting up his leg.
"Yay! Go Joe!" Trevor cheered.
Then it was Biff's turn. He launched his football into the air, however, he grimaced when his ball bounced off of the side of the goal post and onto the ground. "Oh, come on!"
Joe whirled around to the sour face of his muscular friend with his arms folded to his chest and crowed. "In your face Hooper! I believe that's the third time that I beat you! That's three...count them, 1,2,3." He counted off on his fingers while Trevor giggled as he watched them.
Biff stuck his tongue out to Joe in response while he inwardly cheered for him. He really didn't mind losing a game to Joe for the third time, for one he felt his best friend needed this win, something positive to feel good about. And two Joe was back acting like himself and not mad at him, at least for the moment. That was a good sign to Biff. Deep down he was still worried that his best friend might try to take his life again.
"Very good, Hardy, you can count," Biff teased patting Joe on the back. "Would you like me to go get you a cookie?"
"Ha, Ha, very funny. Maybe later, " Joe laughed mockingly planting his hands on his hips. "Right now, I'm basking in my victory. I beat you!"
When he didn't hear cheering from his brother and friends, Joe glanced up to see Frank standing off to the side with Chet and Tony in a full conversation. Oh no. What are they saying? There's no way Chet and Tony know. Unless they do because Biff told them. Joe's stomach began churning, and he felt his anxiety start to rise. Frank appeared to be upset as he was talking to them. Oh no! He's rubbing his chest! He knows! He's going to wait for the perfect time to take me aside, and say, 'Little brother, we need to talk.' that's how Frank always confronts me. He'll say something like, 'You were going to jump off the pier! What's wrong with you! how could you think of leaving me like that! I will never forgive you!' Joe couldn't bear to think of the disappointment on his brother's face. It will be too much for him. His heart will give out from the stress. It'll stop! He'll be dead. It will be my fault! It's always my fault! Calm down Joe told himself. Maybe he doesn't know. He had to calm down, or Frank would sense something was wrong. He had to stop the conversation.
"Hey, Joe." Biff noticed that Joe was looking at his brother and breathing heavily as if he was on the verge of a panic attack. "Are you alright?"
"Oh yeah, yeah." Joe brushing his thoughts away and turned his attention to his little friend. "Okay, Trevor my man, pick out a prize."
"I want the red one!" Trevor cheered pointing at the red and blue Nerf football.
"Here you go buddy!" The young referee cheered, handed the ball to the boy before scooping up the footballs off of the ground.
"Thanks, Joe!" Trevor exclaimed jumping down on his feet while hugging tightly his prize from his hero.
"You're welcome, buddy!" Joe replied, teasing Biff as they headed back to where the others stood. " I thought football was supposed to be your game."
Biff shrugged. "Yeah well, I'm still tired out from playing Gotcha with Trevor."
"Okay let's play something else. Maybe you can actually beat me this time." Joe said.
"You need to take it easy, little brother. It's getting late and we should be getting back to the picnic area so we don't miss the fireworks" Frank replied, noticing his brother wincing in pain as he made his way up to him. He looked at all the people around them he couldn't shake the paranoid feeling that someone was watching them, or more precisely watching him and Joe. He lowered his voice and continued, "not to mention we can't take a chance of something happening to Trevor because of the threat."
"Yeah, you're right. We don't want Trevor getting hurt." Joe replied. It would be my fault. He shook his dark thoughts away, and huffed out. "I'll take it easy, Bro."
"Wait! We can't go yet. I didn't get my turn." Trevor spoke up.
"Oh, that's right. Trevor hasn't had his turn." Joe added quickly to avoid in having a confrontation with Frank about his 'secret.' That is if he knows.
"Yeah! Yeah! I want my turn. Please..." the little boy looked right at the older Hardy boy with pleading eyes.
Frank shook his head in defeat and said with a sigh, "Alright Trevor can take his turn. Then we really have to go." Why did he suddenly sound like a parent?
"Yay! Yay!" The little boy exclaimed with excitement. "Will you hold my football, Frank?"
"Sure." Frank replied holding the ball for the boy.
"Here you go, buddy." the young referee manning the game handed the little boy a football. "Now remember you have to stand behind the first line. Then toss the football through the yellow U-shaped post to score a Touchdown, to win a prize. You get three chances."
Little Trevor stepped up to the first line holding the football, then he looked back at the second line and frowned.
"What's the matter, Trevor?" Joe asked noting the frown on his little friend's face.
"This line is for little kids." Trevor said, pointing at the line on the ground at his feet.
"Yeah. That's for the little kids." Joe replied. Frank was curious as to what was troubling the little boy.
Trevor looks up at Joe then scuffled the ground with his shoe as he stood in front of the referee. "Can, I to go to the second line?" He asked.
"Well, that's for the bigger kids, because its farther away." The referee answered. "The first line is for little kids like you. It will make it a lot easier for you to throw the ball through the post."
"But I'm a big kid, like Joe. Please, can I?" The little boy pleaded.
" I..." The man stuttered as he looked at Joe, Frank and the guys for guidance for what to say. 'What do you think?"
"I say let him give it a try. What harm would it do?" Joe said shrugging, he turned to his brother. "What do you think Frank?"
Frank looked at the scrawny but wiry, barely four-foot-tall, fifty-pound seven-year-old little boy. The kid was small for his age. He then looked up at the cardboard cut-out of the yellow U-shaped goal post, it was a little taller than him, the first white line would make it a lot easier for Trevor to throw the ball over the post. He remembered his parents saying a few times that Joe was small for his age when he was around Trevor's age. But then Joe had hit a growth spurt the following year and was now seventeen, 6 feet tall and muscular. Trevor's parents were both tall and Frank had a feeling Trevor just hadn't hit a growth spurt yet. He did vividly remember how upset Joe would get when someone told him he was 'too little' to play a game or being denied a ride at an amusement park because he didn't meet the height requirement. That made Joe all the more determined to prove them wrong, that he was 'not too little to do something'. Joe would never take the easy way out, because he liked doing things the hard way. That had always been a part of who Joe was. Oh! It suddenly hit Frank as to what was troubling the little boy. Of course, Trevor was mimicking Joe. He didn't want to play a little kid's game. He was a big kid like Joe. His hero.
"I'd say let Trevor give it a try." He finally replied.
'Yeah, if Trevor wants to try it," Tony said, "then let the kid try."
"Like Joe said," Chet replied, "What harm would it do?"
"Go for it, little dude." Biff said.
"Well alright." The referee shrugged. "Give it your best shot kiddo."
With that Trevor smiled and stepped back to the second white line. With the ball in his right hand he threw it into the air, however, it barely made it to the goal post when it landed. "Oooh!" He frowned.
"That's a good try, Trevor." Joe said. "Try again. Just do your best, and have fun with it."
"Yeah, you got two more tries." Frank encouraged. "You can do it."
Biff, Chet and Tony all threw in their encouragement to the little boy too.
Little Trevor stepped back to the second white line. He threw the football through the air a second time, this time it hit the bottom of the post and onto the ground. As the ball landed he started to tear up.
Joe's heart broke seeing the tears start to run down the little boy's face. "Alright Trevor, you almost got it that time. You've got one more try. You can do this."
"But I can't do it. I'm not big like you." Trevor said, sniffing back his tears. "I'm too little."
"Someday you'll be big like me. Right now, though, just enjoy being a kid and have fun. However, you're not too little to throw that ball over the post. You can do this. Here I'll show you." He turned to the referee. "Will you hand me a football, please?"
The referee nodded and handed Joe a football. Frank and the guys watched Joe expectantly with Trevor.
With the football in hand Joe leaned down to Trevor's level while ignoring the pain that was shooting up his leg. Frank fought the urge to say something to his brother but stayed closed by him not wanting to disrupt Joe's demonstration to the little boy.
"First off, you want to have a good grip on the ball. Hold onto one of the ends of the football, not in the middle." Joe began to explain, "You seem to be right-handed, so," He handed the football to Trevor. "Hold up your right hand and make the letter 'C' with your thumb and index finger around the end of the football, in front of the laces."
Trevor held the football with his little right hand just as Joe instructed.
"Good job!" Joe praised him. "Okay now. Your pinky finger should be somewhere just below the laces a bit spread out from your ring finger. When you are gripping the ball there should be space between your palm and the ball and you should always grip it with your fingers, never the palm of your hand."
Trevor again did as Joe instructed. "Yep. Just like that," Joe acknowledged, pushing back the pain in his leg from crouching. This was about Trevor not him. Focus on Trevor.
Trevor did as Joe instructed; he stepped back to the second white line, with his feet in the position Joe told him, spread out with the left foot in front of the right foot out a little more than the width of his shoulders and with his weight on the balls of his feet. "That stance will give you a good balance when you throw the ball. It should be pointed toward your target which is the Yellow post. As you start your throw your weight should be on your back foot. During your throw your weight will transfer to your front foot. This will give you power and accuracy. Now when you're ready to throw the ball hold it high, at about shoulder level."
The little boy released the football when his elbow was fully extended. With his shoulder pointing at the yellow U-shaped goal post and the back of his little foot lifted off the ground as he stepped toward his target.
Joe straightened back up with a slight grunt of pain from his leg. He watched in awe with Frank, Chet, Biff, and Tony as the little boy threw his football into the air and right the over the cardboard cut-out of the yellow goal post and on to the ground.
Frank, Chet Biff, and Tony began clapping and cheering, congratulating the little boy while the crowd around them waiting in line began whooping and hollering and exploded in cheers!
"TOUCHDOWN! Joe cheered. "Way to go Trevor!" He couldn't help but smile at the little boy's victory. It was a good feeling. Joe hoped that his happy feeling wouldn't go away.
Frank smiled as he cheered and clapped, for Trevor. He also was proud of his little brother at what he had done for Trevor.
"Yay! Yeah! I did it!" Little Trevor exclaimed. He was so proud of himself.
"Congratulations, buddy!" The young referee. "Pick another prize."
"I want that one!" Little Trevor cheered pointing at the matching red and blue Nerf football. He handed the football to the young boy.
The little boy held the football tightly in his hands. Caught up in the all of the excitement and forgetting about his leg, Joe scooped up Trevor, hoisting him up over his shoulders. "Yahoo! Ladies and gentlemen... give it up for my main man... Way to go Trevor!"
"Yahoo!" A group of girls' voices called out from behind them.
Joe turned around to see it was Vanessa, coming up to them along with Callie, Lizzy, Brenda, and Marcy.
"Vanessa." Joe gasped. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves all the while praying he didn't make a fool of himself in from of Vanessa. All at once pain shot up his leg and it started to buckle underneath him causing him to stumble forward, and he could feel Trevor begin to slip off his shoulders.
"Grab him! Somebody, grab him!" He cried out as his leg gave way.
Frank sprang into action and caught Trevor before he fell and quickly handed him off to Biff. He whirled around to Joe and caught him before he hit the ground. "Joe, I got you. are you alright?"
Joe grabbed his chest, gasping for air. "Yeah...I'm fine...I just over did it... I-Is Trevor o-kay. Did I... hurt him?" He grabs on to the counter for support, looking around franticly for Trevor.
When Frank didn't answer him right away, Joe began to panic. "Frank, answer me! Did I... hurt him?"
"No, I promise you. He's fine. Look for yourself." Frank said pointing.
Joe took a deep breath and finally forced himself to look down to see his little friend standing with Biff. Oh, thank God, he thought. True to Frank's word, Trevor was fine. He was looking at Joe with concern in his eyes, but other than that he wasn't physically hurt. He lowered his voice so only his brother could hear, "Frank, I... don't want Trevor to see me... like this. Will you...um..."
Frank nodded his understanding, "Guys, would you mind taking Trevor back to his parents?" He asked, kneeling down to talk to Trevor. "You're okay, buddy. Joe's okay too, his leg is just hurting him right now. Everything's okay." he said as calmly as he could muster to the little boy and then handed him the other football that Joe had won for him. "Why don't you go show your parents the prizes that you won." He looks at Chet and Tony who were also concerned. "You guys go with him, please. I can handle Joe. Tell my mom we'll be there shortly."
Tony, Chet and Biff exchanged looks with each other. They needed to make sure that Frank knew the truth about Joe. With that the guys reluctantly nodded their agreement and started to usher everyone back to the picnic area. Callie and Vanessa looked at each other and decided to stay behind with the brothers.
Frank stood up and turned his attention back to his brother. "Joe, look at me." He said firmly, keeping a steady hand on his brother's trembling shoulder. "Take slow, even breaths. Calm down. You need to sit down. We need to check out your leg."
Joe did as his brother instructed all the while listening to his calm voice. How am I ever going to make it in this world without him. He could lose Frank. He couldn't...he instinctively threw his arms around Frank pulling him into a tight hug. The move took Frank by surprise. Before he could say anything, Joe started whimpering out, "I'm sorry. I'm no good. I didn't mean to hurt anyone... I'm going to make things better you'll see."
Frank pulled Joe back at arm's length. "Joe, what does that mean? I wish you would please talk to me. Please."
No, he almost let his secret slip out, Frank can't know. Joe quickly pulled away from his brother. "I don't know what you mean. My leg was hurting...you were right, I should've listened to you to take it easy. I've learned my lesson. I'm fine now. The pain is better. "
Vanessa asked with concern in her voice. "Joe, Are you okay? I'm sorry if we startled you."
"Don't worry babe, I just stepped wrong." Joe took a deep breath and looked at his blond beautiful angel. He didn't have the right to be calling her his angel, she wasn't actually 'his anything', to call her his girlfriend didn't seem right, this was supposed to be their first date, which could end up being their last. "Hey it's almost time for fireworks. Let's go find us a good spot before they're all taken. And I can't wait to meet your mother."
"Joe, will you stop avoiding the issue and talk to me!" Frank exclaimed in frustration.
Joe reached for his crutches which were leaning up against the booth, and thanked the confused referee manning the game booth for his time. As much as it pained him to do this, he started to walk away without responding to his brother, with Vanessa following close at his side. Vanessa glanced at Frank and gave him a reassuring look, trying to tell him that she would keep a close eye on Joe because she was concerned about what was happening with Joe herself.
Callie couldn't help but notice both the troubled look on her fiancé's face and that he was rubbing his chest. She could tell something was very wrong. What's going on? What has Joe done to upset Frank this time? She wondered. Stop it, stop thinking that way about Joe. she berated herself. She needed to talk to him and make things right. She quickly went to Frank's side taking his hand in hers, as they caught up to Joe and Vanessa and the four of them headed back to the picnic area. It was time for the fireworks.
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Unbeknownst to Hardy brothers just a few feet away a dark-haired figure was lurking be hide one of the game booths watching the scene play out in front of him.
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Henry Jacobs was deep in thought as he strolled up to a dark van hidden by a cluster of trees on the far side of the Bayport Pier where no one would be able to find it. They had made sure to stay clear of the Bayport police officers who were out patrolling around the area. It's not like anyone would notice anyway. They're all too wrapped up in having fun and enjoying the holiday with their picnics and games, and soon the fireworks.
However, he had been closely watching Frank Hardy and his family and friends for most of the night, and they didn't seem to be having any fun at all. It seemed to him like they were having a bit of an issue with Joe. It had shocked him to the core when he had spied Joe earlier, standing on the railing of the pier as if he was about to jump, looking really upset. Then he had seen that lame brain jock Biff Hooper, a friend of Joe's, manage to talk him down and then his father Fenton Hardy had come along. Biff had left Joe alone talking to his father, and then he saw the argument between Joe and his father and although he couldn't make out what they were saying, he could tell by their angry demeanor that things were not good between them. If it had been him who had talked Joe off of the rail he would have never allowed Fenton to be alone with him.
Later on, he had watched from a distance and focused on Joe sitting at the picnic area. He had a little kid between him and his brother and he was surrounded with his friends and family but once again, it seemed they were all angry and yelling at Joe. He then saw Joe run off as fast as his crutches could take him with Frank quickly following him, it had looked as if Joe was about to be sick. He thought that something must be seriously wrong with Joe, something really bad. Then at the game area it looked like Joe was having some sort of attack and that he was in pain. What the hell was that all about!?
Poor Joe. He looked so miserable like he didn't have a friend in the world. Who could blame him with everyone ganging up on him like that? Some big brother, and protector you are, Frank, you're doing a lousy job of looking out for him. Once you're gone Frank...I will get Joe back. He needs me. I'm his real true friend and soon brother, Henry thought. To hell with your plan Uncle Ryan, I have a plan of my own! If he only knew the truth of who was really calling the shots... if only he knew that I'm no longer his stupid little shit nephew, if he only knew he doing exactly what I want him to do... kill Frank Hardy. However, there's one part of 'his plan' that cannot happen. I can't lose Joe. I need to protect Joe from Uncle Ryan, I didn't mean to do all those bad things; all I need is a chance to be alone with Joe to talk to him and make him understand and he will in time. It's not my fault people make me mad. People like Jack who beat the shit out of me and have bullied me around my whole life. People like Frank Hardy who had done nothing but spread lies about me and turn people against me. People like those complete morons Chet Morton, Biff Hooper, Tony Prito, and that Callie Shaw who I thought were my friends. Friends who I thought I could trust...but no... lies! All lies! People like that loser Phil Cohen and his pathetic cousin Seth...they had to die. They were standing in my way of getting what I want!
I'm not crazy... I'm not like Jack! Damn you Frank Hardy for turning Joe against me! I hope you rot in prison...or better yet in hell right where I sent Jack! And who the hell was that blond chick I saw Joe with earlier...she had better not come between me and Joe. if she does...she'll regret it. But first I need to focus on taking care of some loose ends to complete my plan. For that I'll need a little help. Henry took off his red cap and ran a hand through his dark hair, before placing the cap back on his head. Then he pounded on the side door of the van with his fist.
"Who the hell is it!" A voice roared from inside.
"It's me, Henry."
Just then, the side-door slid open, revealing a very pissed off Picasso. The man's dark hair was slicked back into a ponytail as usual and he was dressed like normal in his dark jeans and t-shirt with a leather jacket over it and black leather gloves.
"What's the big idea pounding on the door like that, you little shit! Don't you know what I have in here! Are you trying to blow us both up? I ought 'a pound you into the ground!"
"Whatever. I need your help." Henry replied unfazed by Picasso's threat.
The man narrowed his eyes at Henry, and growled through clenched teeth, "I'm taking a breather. I just finished setting up one of my masterpieces, for the fireworks show. Now I'm waiting for your uncle, I have something for him. He's looking for you, by the way, and just so you know he's mad as hell."
Henry said shrugging his shoulders. "My uncle can piss off for all I care."
"You think you're a big shot huh, you're what eighteen?"
"That's right, I answer to no one, but me."
Picasso rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance. "What do ya want?"
"Actually, two things." Henry replied. "First, I need you to get me a gun."
"What the hell for? And what makes you think I can get you a damn gun?"
Henry said sarcastically, "Well, if you're the kind of guy who can get his hands on the material to build two bombs, something tells me you can get me a gun. And as for why I need it, I'm not going to tell you, because it's none of your business."
Picasso narrowed his eyes at him. "Then no dice."
"I need a gun." Henry pushed.
"Do you think I was born yesterday! I ain't given a crazy ass kid like you a gun! At least not without a valid reason!"
"And I said I'm not going to tell you." Henry shot back with an edge to his voice. He pressed on, "Now the second thing I want is for you to make sure Joe Hardy doesn't get hurt or killed once we kidnap him and take him to our location."
Picasso's pissed expression softened as a smirk spread across his face. "Oh, I get it, you wanna protect your blond lover boy." He remarked shaking his head as he hopped out of the van. "I gotta say I'm looking forward to meeting your Prince Charming face to face so that way I can see what the fuss is all about. I didn't get a good look at him when I caught a glimpse of him and his long-legged blond beauty earlier from a distance, but he must be quite the stud if he can get a babe like that and you all hot and bothered. That being said, personally I'd prefer to have a piece of his long-legged beauty."
"Shut up! It's not like that!" Henry exploded. He was red-faced and angry, with his fists clenched at his sides while taking menacing steps towards Picasso.
"Kid, you better back the hell up and get yourself under control 'cause you have no idea who the fuck you're messing with." Picasso spat venomously. At Henry's reaction his eyes had immediately darkened, and his entire body had taken on an aggressive stance.
At Picasso's sharp tone, Henry stopped in his tracks and said nothing, breathing heavily, with his fists remaining clutched at his sides and his anger filled eyes never leaving the man.
"That's more like it. Look, kid, I don't give a shit about your love life or whatever it is you're calling it." He continued keeping his voice steady. "A gun won't make a bit of a difference. Once we get the Hardy kid to our location your uncle's gonna blow him and his brother up into a million pieces."
"I don't care if Frank gets blown up!" Henry growled. "He deserves to die just like Jack. I just need you to make sure that Joe remains unharmed. Got it?"
Picasso raised an eyebrow causing his forehead to wrinkle. He looked at Henry. Something about the kid's statement grabbed his attention. "You don't say. So, this Frank Hardy must've really hated dear Ol' Jackie boy, huh?"
"Yeah, he did." Henry said seething, his angry eyes shifted away from Picasso and off to the side and into the dark woods as if looking at an invisible person. "Jack beat the shit out of him every day of his life."
"Damn. that's some crazy shit." Picasso said pretending to sound sympathetic while fishing for a confession. Come on kid give me more. "Well, I reckon that would give Frank Hardy a good enough reason to put a damn bullet in Jackie boy's brain."
"Yup. He stood right in front of him early that Monday morning on that deserted road. He stared right into Jack's surprised face, lifted his gun and shot him right between the eyes." Henry stated coldly.
"Now, how the hell would you know that? Unless you were there." Picasso asked as he smiled slyly. Damn, Got you now kid.
Henry shook his head and snapped out of his thoughts, he looked at Picasso realizing he let his secret slip out. "I don't know what you're talking about." He said quickly backtracking. "Frank killed Jack!" He looked around quickly making sure no one was around to hear all of their shouting and carrying on, thankfully it was dark enough and they were alone.
"Sure kid, if you say so." Picasso slowly nodded. "You know you're beginning to sound a lot like your old man. Still a little green behind the ears, but you show potential."
Ignoring the comments, Henry demanded. "Are you gonna to help me or not?"
Picasso pursed his lips together and took a deep breath and let it out. He relaxed his posture and leaned up against the van. "What's in it for me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I have only one rule. I never agree to do a job, unless I know I'm getting something in return. The bigger the job is, the more it's going to cost you. You need drugs, you tell me what you want and I'll get it. You want me to take someone out for you, I'll see that it gets done. You want me to build a damn bomb for you, I'll do that too. The bottom line is, I don't work for free. Just ask your uncle, I'm rolling in some serious dough thanks to him."
Henry frowned and replied worriedly. "I don't have any money."
"That's a damn shame. I guess you don't need my services that bad?"
"B-but I do."
"Well, then you better think of something pretty damn quick. You're a big ass man, right? You answer to no one, but yourself, as you said. If you're gonna live a life outside of the law then you have to learn to think on your feet."
"I don't have anything to give you!" Henry growled throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration.
"Ah hell," Picasso slowly shook his head. He scratched his chin and sighed wearily, "Tell, you what I'm gonna do. Now I don't normally give out free advice, but considering you're Jack Hayden's boy and I do owe him a favor I'll give ya some. Your uncle Ryan is doing an 'okay job' in this business, but he's getting there, your old man was bringing him along nicely until his demise. Now he's gonna have a hell of a time with you. However, I've been in this business a lot longer than both of them, so I know the do's and don'ts, if you will, on how to survive. So, listen up to what I'm about to tell you, because it's one time only."
Henry just nodded urging the Artist to continue.
"You always want to have a plan 'C' and 'D', up your sleeve for when plans 'A' and 'B' go to shit. You need to stay ahead of the game, cause, you don't want the boys in blue on your trail. And don't forget your boy, the one you're trying to get back into their good graces, is a Hardy. He's the son of a detective, an ace one at that. If his father gets a whiff of the 'current situation' you're in kid, he won't stop at anything to get your ass behind bars. You might want to consider changing your name, 'Henry' just doesn't cut it. You've done an 'okay job' of changing your appearance, but you can do a hell of a lot better. I can spot a bad dye job a mile away, and I can see the roots of your red hair poking through your dark hair. I'd also advise you to find an ally, someone that you know in the business to show you the ropes. If not your uncle, then I guess I could be that for you, that is, if you want."
"Remember, I know your secret." Picasso said casually walking up to Henry. "I've gotta strong feeling that your uncle is in the dark about it as well. Which would mean you would lose your lover boy. Frank Hardy would be in the clear and you would be locked up for the rest of your life. I can tell you that there some crazy shit that goes on in prison. Things that would make your skin crawl." He grabbed the front of Henry's shirt, knocking the red cap off his head and pulling him close to his face meeting him at eye level. "Looking at your baby face, they will eat you alive."
He released Henry and stepped back a few steps and said coldly. "You've already proven that you're willing to do what needs to be done to get what you want. So, make me an offer kid, and it better be a damn good one."
Henry swallowed a lump in his throat as he straightened out his shirt. He couldn't let his secret come out. He was so close to getting everything he wanted. Frank Hardy had to go to prison, or better yet die. All he needed was a gun to complete his plan. It had to work. He couldn't lose Joe. He had to get him back in his life and he vowed to do everything he could to make that happen.
"This stays between the two of us. Uncle Ryan and Carolyn can't know about this, right?" Henry said.
"That's right. My lips are sealed." Picasso responded, seeing that he had Henry on the hook.
Henry began thinking quickly about what he could offer Picasso. It has to be something good. Something that he wanted. What did he want? Suddenly his eyes widened, "oh, wait...wait! I got it!" He exclaimed as a dark thought entered his mind. He snatched the cap up off of the ground and put it back on his head. "How about instead of something, I get you someone? Like that beauty you saw with Joe."
Picasso cocked an eyebrow again as Henry continues to explain, "you said you'd like a piece of her, right? If I get her for you, will you get me the gun and protect Joe? Would that work?"
An evil grin spread across the Artist's face. "Hot damn!" He laughed clapping his hands together, "I knew you had it in ya kid, or should I just call ya Jack Jr. the man." He extended his hand out to Henry and said without hesitation, "You got yourself a deal." The two shook hands in agreement and then silence began to stretch between them.
"What the hell's going on here!" Carolyn said angrily breaking the silence as she came up to them. "I left to go get rid of the bodies of the three crew members we killed and I come back to find you two standing around like there's nothing to do! Ryan's on his way. He said it's time for us to get to our places."
"Here put these on." She pulled two blue polo shirts with the Bayport pier logo in red print on the front out of her shoulder bag and threw one to Henry and other to Picasso. Henry noticed that she already had one on herself. "Oh, and he also said that we need to watch our asses, apparently Ryan nearly got himself caught by Frank Hardy..."
'How the hell did the idiot let that happen?" Picasso cursed heatedly.
"Ryan wouldn't say. Henry, get your shirt on." Carolyn demanded noting he had not done as she had ordered.
"No!" Henry shouted wadding the shirt up into a ball and throwing it on the ground. "Uncle Ryan that stupid son of a b...!" His rant was suddenly cut off by someone grabbing him roughly by the arm whirling him around until he found himself face to face with Ryan.
"What was that, you little shit?" He snarled before throwing his nephew to the ground like a ragdoll next to the shirt that he had thrown. "I'll deal with your ass later! Now put on the damn shirt!"
Henry had landed on the ground hard with a loud oomph! He slowly sat up breathing heavily while grabbing his shirt to pull it on. He got up off the ground while thinking to himself and glaring at his uncle. Oh yes, I'll deal with you later.
Letting out a deep sigh, Ryan turned his attention to Carolyn and Picasso. "Are you two all set?"
"You bet. I'm so ready to get this done. I want the hell out of this town." Carolyn replied pulling a curly gray wig out of her shoulder bag and started putting it on over her dark hair.
"Hell yeah, Ryan baby. Everything's ready." Picasso replied. "The part of the boardwalk looking over the water, adjacent to the sandy area where they will be setting off the fireworks is rigged to blow. There will be panic all along the pier.
"Good, and Picasso, for the last time stop calling me baby! Now let me see the damn phone."
"Whatever you say, Ryan." Picasso said mockingly. "And since I did such a hell of a job rigging up my masterpiece. I'll give you the honors, cause, I know how much you get a kick out of blowing things up."
He went over to his van and open the passenger side door and threw the shirt he had been given on the seat. Next, he reached over to open the glove compartment and pulled out a burner phone and handed it to Ryan, "Everything is programmed in. When the time comes for the grand finale during the fireworks show, all you have to do is hit, 'Send'. All that is left to do is to make sure the Hardy's are where you want them."
"I do love blowing things up." Ryan smirked, his eyes flashing with delight at the phone in his hand. "This is all for Jack. I won't let him down. His death will be avenged. Once we have Joe, we can proceed with the next phase of my plan to get Frank and then he can watch me kill his little brother, before I kill him!"
"Oh, I gotta feeling; we're all gonna get what's coming to us." Picasso said as he smirked, glancing down at Henry, who was still glaring at the younger Hayden brother as he pulled the shirt down over his head. "Now let's go get us a Hardy boy."