The patrons of the club grumble loudly and mingle around. The bar area has cleaned out a bit as the audience attempts to figure what happened and whether or not they will even have a show now.
Ricky slumps over the bar, seated on a stool. He has a drink in front of him but doesn’t seem interested. Detective Morris, his back to the bar, questions Ricky.
“What can you tell me about Michael?” Morris begins.
Ricky laughs, more to himself than anyone else. “Before tonight? Good guy, little weird. Real private.”
“And after tonight?”
Ricky shakes his head, truly upset. He downs his drink before answering.
“Man, I don’t know if it’s the Orzo shit or nerves or what, but he is a freaking basket case right now.”
“Do you think he could murder someone?”
Ricky doesn’t answer right away. He signals the bartender, two fingers held high. The bartender nods and slides a double shot of bourbon in front of the guitarist.
Morris waits patiently for Ricky to slug back the booze. He had done this once or twice before.
“Right now, I don’t know,” Ricky managed to get out after recovering from the shot.
Ricky looks to the bartender to order another. Morris catches his arm before it gets too high, he’d done this once or twice before too.
“Sorry, kid, but you’re going to help me find your friend.”
Ricky’s arm still in his hand, Morris stands and pulls the rocker away from the bar.
Mona bursts out of the stage door and into the alley. She is panicked, worried, and afraid not only for the present, but the future. She screams out “Michael!” before noticing the alleyway in total. Mona stops for a moment and looks around. The alleyway is still filled the remnants of the clown’s antics. The half-light spilling from the alley entrance gives enough to show Mona just how awful the night was beginning to become.
“Oh my God.”
Frozen, shocked by the carnage, Mona can only stare in disbelief.
Slowly, Michael stands up from behind one of the garbage cans.
“Mona.”
Mona turns to Michael, her eyes wide in fear and shock. Michael moves toward her and she backs away toward the stage door.
“What have you done?” she asks.
Michael sobs. He moves closer with his hand extended.
Mona backs up again, pressing herself against the stage door.
“Mona. Help.”
Mona looks toward the collection of corpses and grue. She is transfixed by it and just shakes her head trying to lose the image.
“What have you done?”
Michael moves faster, desperately trying to grab her. Show her, somehow, that it wasn’t him. “Please…”
Mona scrambles against the alley door, struggling to find the handle. She opens it, taking one last look at Michael and ducks inside.
The door shuts.
Michael stares at the door. He moves toward it.
A loud noise, a crack like a gunshot or a backfire from a car, reverberates down the alley. Michael starts, startled. He looks at the door, then down the alley. He looks back and forth over and over again. The life he wants versus the life he thinks he deserves.
Michael slowly turns and moves toward the garbage can he was huddling behind when Mona found him. His body wracked with heavy, heartbreaking sobs, slides to the ground.
“What have I done?”