Page 5 of Benji

Probably to make sure I didn’t steal anything.

“You had a cut on your head,” he said. “I cleaned it up last night with some antiseptic and put a Band-Aid over it. It didn’t look too deep, thankfully. Do you have a headache?”

I did have a scrape on my elbow. Road rash by the look of it. And my side felt all tight, probably from where I’d hit the asphalt. I had no rips in my jeans, thank fuck. But my knee was sore, and my back. And my head.

“I’m okay,” I replied. I snatched up my phone. “What time is it?”

My phone said it was 7:43 am, and I had a lot of messages from Fitch.

“Oh, I kept the blinds drawn,” Nolan said, bringing me over more toast and juice. “I wasn’t sure if your headache would appreciate the morning sun.”

Peanut butter . . . oh, it was heaven.

The crunchy kind too. My favourite. After one big, mostly respectable bite, and tasting how fucking good it was, I shoved the whole slice into my mouth. “Need tocheck in,” I said with zero manners, as I quickly thumbed out a reply.

I’m okay

“Check in with whom?” Nolan asked cautiously. “I can drive you anywhere you need to go. You’re not stuck here or my prisoner or anything.” He cringed again. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You said no hospitals, which I can respect. Though you should know, in your line of work, you have rights and are due full respect and are entitled to free medical care—” He grimaced again. “Sorry.”

Well, I hadn’t expected all that. Especially the part about rights and respect.

“My line of work?”

He baulked. “Uh, yes. I’ve seen you working on Oxford Street,” he said quickly, putting his hand up. “If I’m wrong, I apologise. I don’t mean to offend or assume.”

He looked so horrified I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not offended, and you’re not wrong. Well, we work Wylde Street, technically, not Oxford. It’s our spot,” I said. I wasn’t offering any explanation on the no-hospital thing. Instead, I showed him my phone screen. “I check in with my friends. We have a rule. We check in with each other. It’s a safety thing.”

He was clearly relieved. “Oh, that’s good. And smart.”

But then my phone vibrated with a call. It was Fitchand we rarely ever called each other, so I answered it straight away. “Hey.”

“Benji, thank fuck,” he said. “Where are you?”

“I um, I’m in Potts Point. Where are you?”

“At home. Look, I’m coming to you. Pin me your location.” It sounded as if he was walking, and he sounded panicked.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s looking for you again. Those two men were asking questions.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, hitting the Band-Aid on my forehead, making me wince. “Yeah. I saw them,” I admitted quietly.

“Did they see you?”

“I... I don’t know. I ran, but I got hit by a car?—”

“You what?!”

He screeched that so loudly, I had to pull the phone away from my ear, and I noticed Nolan cringe. Not at the noise. More at the getting-hit-by-a-car part.

“I’m fine,” I said to both of them. “I slept on his couch, and he just fed me breakfast.”

“I can drive you wherever you need to go,” Nolan said quietly.

“He said he can drive me,” I repeated to Fitch.

“No. You need to not be seen. I’m coming to you. We’ll figure something out. Send me your location.”

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