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A siren screamed from the direction of Seventh Avenue. Competing from somewhere… the sidewalk, underneath a parked car… was the intro to “Take On Me”.
Shit, my phone…where is it? With one hand, Ben tugged off his helmet and dropped it on the ground. I need to call Riley. His eyes lingered over his clothes: torn jeans, ripped hoodie…his bracelet, missing. His heart stuttered and began to race. I have to get out of here.
“The police are here.” The concierge from the hotel appeared with a bottle of water and a towel just as Ben crawled to the curb.
Two NYPD officers strolled over. “Second case of dooring today.” The female police officer shook her head at her male partner. She flipped open her notebook and turned to Ben. “Can I have your name, please?”
Do we really have to? My life is scattered across the road and my wrist—fuck! Hugging his stomach, Ben rocked back and forth on the curb, his gaze frantically searching the pavement for his bracelet and now-silent phone. I feel dizzy…“Benjamin Fagan.” Sweat began to soak his t-shirt.
“Can you tell me what happened, Benjamin?”
Ben recounted what he remembered along with the doorman and a few tourists who saw the incident unfold. The reckless car door opener, hyperventilating and fretting over what he thought was an impending heart attack, sat in his car talking to his lawyer on the phone, and was the last to give his side of the accident.
After a twenty-minute wait, paramedics arrived and took Ben’s medical history, his liver donation sparking tons of new questions. They inspected his chest, ribs, and abdomen for injuries, his L-shaped surgical scar still pink. They cleaned cuts on his face, hands, and knees, and placed his broken wrist in a sling that would have to do until he could be transported to a hospital. When they were done, the female officer returned to his side, asking questions about his background and employment.
Ben pawed at his hair. Say as little as possible.
“You’re from England? How long have you been in the States?”
“Since February.”
“So, over ninety days. Do you have a visa?”
Shit. Not a visa that allows me to work as a bike courier. I can’t lie my way out of this one. “It’s an H-2B…I was acting in an indie film but found work in a restaurant and they renewed it.”
“So, you’re an actor and also a waiter?”
Ben nodded, his eyes spotting his broken leather bracelet lying in the bike lane. I need to get that!
The cop eyed a large envelope of legal documents and a flattened box poking out of Ben’s messenger bag in the road. “And a bike courier…?”
Pain seared through Ben’s stomach causing him to reply through gritted teeth. “No, just today. I’m helping a friend.” A sour taste rose in his throat. Ugh. I might throw up.
“Hey, Viv.” The cop’s partner called over from Ben’s broken bike. “Come ’ere.”
She stood up and left Ben’s side.
Can I reach it? Bracing himself on his good hand, Ben stretched his left leg, trying to use his shoe to pull the bracelet closer, but his stomach muscles weren’t happy. He grimaced through the pain and dizziness but kept trying. Fuck it, I gotta crawl over.
“You want that?” The female officer stooped down and picked up the bracelet, handing it to Ben.
“Thanks.” He tucked it safely in his hoodie pocket and glanced away. The sidewalk gawkers had moved on, and the doorman was welcoming high-tipping hotel guests again.
“So.” The male officer returned. “Your bike’s missing its registration decal. I ran its serial number in the system and it’s been reported stolen.”
“Stolen? No, my bike was—” Fuck. Loaned out to another bloke. Ben’s face fell. This isn’t my bike. It’s that random one Hunter built from spare parts…
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fagan, but you’re in possession of stolen property. We’re gonna have to arrest you and take you to the station.”
“But I…I didn’t steal anything! And my wrist—”
“We’ll take you to the hospital first, get that looked at.” He opened up his handcuffs.
That’s gonna hurt like a… Ben’s eyes grew wide.
“Chuck, he’s already in a sling.” The female officer shook her head. “He won’t be trouble.”
Be trouble? No. IN trouble? Definitely. Ben groaned as the cops helped him up to his feet.
