Anderson looked down at me and smiled. “Jurnee doesn’t want to go to the doctor.”
“Do you want me to carry her?”
“I’ve got her.”
“She can walk.” I snapped even as tears started to fall down my face. “And who are you?”
“They’re part of my security team. Now, calm down, so I don’t drop you.”
The path opened up to an exit from the park. The man who had run ahead now stood with the door of a taxi open. As we approached, Markus sprinted toward the taxi. Anderson set me on the seat and ran around to the other side to get in.
“The car is back on 7th.” Markus shouted as he slid into the front passenger seat. “Is she okay? Should we go to the hospital?”
“Let’s get her home.”
Markus turned in his seat to look at Anderson, “We’re closer to your place than your parents.”
Anderson nodded. Markus gave the taxi driver the address. I sat up to object, but bumped my foot.
“Ouch!”
“For the love of God, can you just cooperate this one time? We’ll get some ice on it, and we’ll take you home later.”
“Fine.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was being carried into a huge living room with floor to ceiling windows and all-white furniture. Anderson lowered me down on the long couch. Markus came in with an ice pack. He handed it to Anderson and left the room. I tried to remove my shoe, but any touch sent more pain through my ankle.
“Here’s the deal. Your ankle is swelling up. How about I run over to your apartment and grab a few things for you to change into–” Anderson raised his hand for me to wait for him to finish.
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“Why don’t I grab a couple of things for you? You can rest here on the couch and, tomorrow, we’ll take you home.”
“I have to work tomorrow.” I forced my shoe off and rolled up my pant leg to see my ankle was now the size of a softball. “Shit. This looks awful.”
He knelt down, staring at my ankle. “The choice is yours. You rest on this couch, or we leave now for the hospital.”
“Fine. The entry code into the apartment is 1101.”
He stood up with a smile. “1101?”
I nodded. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll be right back.”
“Shit. My phone.” I knew I didn’t have it, but I touched my pockets anyway.
Anderson reached into his back pocket and pulled it out. “You dropped it when you fell. Call me if you need anything. Any requests on what to grab from the apartment?”
“My pajamas are under my pillow and maybe a change of clothes for work tomorrow,” I whispered as the pain increased alongside my embarrassment at the state of the sublet.
“Anything else?”
“Toothbrush. And thank you.” I shifted the ice pack a bit.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m still annoyed about the apartment.”
Anderson laughed as he headed out of the room with Markus. “Of course you are.”
31
Anderson
“You’re such a pussy.” Eric yelled at me as he made his way down the Brooklyn sidewalk to where I leaned against my car.
Jurnee’s sublet was in a nice enough neighborhood for this borough. The row houses were several stories high but narrow in their width. Postage stamp yards were surrounded with wrought iron to protect the trash cans that filled the space. A bodega, a laundry, a bar, and a coffee shop made up the corner of Jurnee’s block.
“Really? That’s how you greet me?”
“Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. It was clear that Eric wasn’t going any further without some explanation. There are just things one knows about friends, and he knew he would enjoy whatever this was.
“Jurnee.”
“No kidding. It hasn’t been anything else since you met her.”
“Coffee?” Gesturing to the coffee shop on the corner, Eric thought about it for a second and motioned to Markus sitting in the driver’s seat. “He’s in the middle of one of his audibles.”
We headed for the entrance. “You were saying something about Jurnee?”
“You know the apartments I asked you to let her look at?”
“The ones that you are going to pay for her to stay in. Yeah.”
“She called your rental office to ask some questions and verify the rent.”
“Two large caramel macchiatos with an extra pump of syrup in one and a black coffee.”
After the cashier finished our sale, Eric and I moved to an exposed brick wall with crates stacked to display bagged coffee in a thrown