Read Online Fry Me a Liver by Delia Rosen - Free Book Online Page B

defiantly—stupidly, too, since my head was still mushy. When my feet touched asphalt, I made them stay there, rigid, like I was a modern-day golem.
    A medical technician came around and looked me in my defiant little punim . “Ma’am, we need to check—”
    â€œI wasn’t injured,” I said firmly.
    â€œYou were. There’s blood all over your hands and legs,” the technician said, and began to cut holes in my pants.
    I let her as I looked around. “Where’s my friend? The blond woman?”
    She didn’t answer. I winced as she put some kind of ointment on my knees. My roving eyes settled on a gurney sitting beside an ambulance. I saw a hint of platinum-colored hair poking out from the top of a clutch of medics.
    A.J.’s hair.
    The medics were working fast, chirping instructions and information back and forth. Behind them, at a distance, I saw Luke standing and staring, Dani sobbing under his arm. He must have just been brought from the pit; Dani must have seen a newsflash or someone must have tweeted and she biked over to the deli. Raylene and Newt were behind them, hugging each other. I didn’t see Benjamin but I assumed he was with his girlfriend. Or maybe Candy was with him, making sure he sent the video to her station. I looked back just in time to see Thomasina being raised into an ambulance.
    That was all the motivation I needed to get myself in motion. The medic had finished patching my knees and hands and was dutifully taking my blood pressure. I tore at the Velcro armband and, ignoring her shouts, stumbled toward my staff on uncertain legs and hot, angry knees. Raylene saw me and started to cry. She extended her hands toward me, her fingers wriggling like hungry little birds, and threw her arms around my neck. I let her take some of my weight and grabbed her shoulders and the others joined in. It was a strong, much needed group hug.
    â€œOur girls are going to be all right,” I whispered hopefully. “They have to be.”
    â€œLife doesn’t run on wishes,” said Raylene, the pragmatist.
    â€œNo, but trust me on this: negativity makes things worse.”
    Raylene considered that, then nodded. “I’m going to the hospital to be with Thom. Then I have to get home—of all the days for my mother to be coming to town.”
    â€œYou do what you can.”
    â€œI’m going to call A.J. Two,” Newt said. “Is that okay?”
    â€œSure,” I told him. “Absolutely.”
    Newt still seemed a little “off,” understandably. Having something to do would be good for him.
    We held the hug until I heard a familiar voice call to me. I turned and saw Detective Bean. Beyond her I saw the distinctive white truck, with a horizontal blue band fringed with gold, belonging to the Metro Police Bomb Squad. The young African American woman had spotted me and was walking over briskly. The staff dispersed as the detective put a hand on my right arm.
    â€œI’m glad you’re all right,” she said.
    â€œPhysically, yeah,” I said. “I can even hear now.”
    â€œI’m sorry about your waitperson. Does she have a family, someone you’d like me to call?”
    â€œWhy, is there news?” I asked anxiously.
    â€œNo, no, I just thought.”
    â€œWe’ve got that covered, thanks,” I said.
    That had scared me and I felt a little weak. Bean grasped my arms, steadied me. I was okay, but by the time I breathed again, tears were running down from the sides of my eyes. It wasn’t until my skin felt fresh and clean where the tears ran that I realized I was probably covered with grit.
    â€œWhy don’t you sit?” Bean asked.
    â€œBecause then I will lose it,” I said.
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œAll those things down there . . . ,” I said absently.
    â€œWhat things?”
    â€œThe utensils that had been so useful just moments before . . .