Page 3 of Benji

Scrambling and shaking, I got out of my car to find a guy lying on the road. He had curly black hair and black jeans, a green T-shirt. He rolled onto his side and blood ran down the side of his face as he tried to push himself up.

“Holy shit,” I said. “Are you okay?” I went to him, putting my hands on him. “Stay still. I need to call an ambulance.”

Dark and fearful eyes met mine. “No! No ambulance! No ambulance, please...”

The panic in his eyes, the fear; it frightened me. “But?—”

“No hospital. Please. Need to leave. Before they find me. Please, please.”

Then he slumped back to the road, his fist still clutching my jacket.

So, panicked, and before any onlookers could intervene, I did the second stupidest thing I could ever do.

I put him in my car and took him back to my place.

TWO

BENJI SMITH

I woke up feeling achy,stiff, and sore all over. Not the first time, either. But as I cracked my eyelids open, expecting to see the light in my dingy room, I realised I had no idea where I was. Or what time it was, or how I got here.

Whereverherewas.

The room was big and dark. Expensive.

Dread snapped me awake and I jolted up, pain slicing through me.

“Stay there,” a smooth voice said. “You’re okay.”

A man was kneeling in front of me then. Sandy hair, soft hazel eyes. Mid-thirties, at a guess. Stubble, strong jaw, concerned, exhausted. He looked somewhat familiar, but then again, a lot of faces looked familiar to me. He put his hand to my shoulder, barely touching me before he pulled it back, unsure if he should touch me.

“How are you feeling?”

I squinted my eyes shut, trying to remember...

Seeing two familiar faces on the street, certain they’d seen me. Certain they’d catch me... I remember running... I remember car headlights...

Shit.

I took stock of my body. I was still fully dressed—no sex, then—with a blanket pulled up to my waist.

“Where am I?”

“You’re at my place,” he said. “In Potts Point. My name is Nolan. You ran out in front of my car. I hit you...” His eyes flinched. “You have some cuts and scrapes. You asked me not to take you to hospital. I’m so sorry. Do you have pain anywhere?”

I tried to think. “Uh. Kinda.”

The truth was, I did hurt. I hurt everywhere. From being strung too tight, always looking over my shoulder. From sleeping with one eye open for two years.

“I’m fine.” I tried to get up again, but my body protested. As did Nolan.

“Please stay still. You’re welcome to rest some more,” he said. Then he gestured to the coffee table where there was a glass of water and a sleeve of pills. “I have some ibuprofen, but I didn’t know if you have any allergies, or... and I thought maybe you should eat something before you take anything. Would you like some toast? I can make some toast. And coffee? Juice?”

Toast, coffee, and juice.

Mm, food.

My stomach wouldn’t let me say no. These last few yearshadn’t been easy, and I’d learned early on to let go of my pride and accept any offer of food.

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