Free Loving Jay by Renae Kaye Page A

night was through. I looked around and there were a heck of a lot of cars with flashing lights on them and men in uniform. And, of course, the gawkers. I could see two cops cars and a rail transit guard car, all stopped at odd angles with their doors open, as if the men inside had rushed out, too hurried to even close the doors. The stranger who talked to me turned out to be a rail guard, and he just stood next to me, waiting in silence. There were cops talking to commuters, their notebooks and pens out, taking notes.
    “Liam?” Jay’s feeble voice reached me and I looked down at him. His good eye looked unfocused and that worried me. His left eye was swollen so only a small slit remained. The bit I could see was blood filled.
    “Yeah, dude?”
    “Liam, my head hurts.” He sounded confused and dazed.
    “I know, man. Can you hang on just a bit longer? Help is coming.” Reaction had set in and he was beginning to shiver. I rubbed his arm up and down.
    “Don’t leave me, Liam.”
    The ambulance people finally arrived and made their way toward us. One was a woman and she gently touched me. “Hi. I’m Mandy. I’m a paramedic. Can I have a look at your friend?”
    “He’s hurt.” That sounded dumb, even to me. But the flashing lights were beginning to give me a headache. I wasn’t thinking properly.
    Mandy smiled. “I know, love. So just let him go and I can have a look at him. We can take him to the hospital and make him all better, hmm?”
    I loosened my arms around him and she gently took him from me, laying him on the ground and asking him questions. He looked terrible covered in blood.
    The paramedics asked me to step back and give them some room and I was ashamed to admit to them I couldn’t move. “I’ve done something to my leg. It’s all cramped up and killing me. Can you give me a hand to stand?”
    The transit guard helped me to my feet—make that foot. I couldn’t straighten my bad leg so he sat me back down on the curb where I could watch Jay. They checked him out, shining lights in his eyes, placing white squares of gauze on his face to stop the bleeding, checking his blood pressure and all. Then they brought the gurney over and loaded him on. Mandy turned to me while her workmate tucked him in a white blanket and tightened the straps around him. She squatted in front of me.
    “Are you Liam?”
    I nodded. “Is he going to be alright?”
    She smiled gently. “He’ll need some stitches under his eye and he has some bruising to his abdomen. Our biggest worry at the moment is concussion. They’ll run tests on him at the hospital and he’ll probably have to stay overnight, but I’m sure he’ll be fine. He was asking for you, you know.”
    “Can I go with him?”
    “Well, I was coming over here to check you out. Are you hurt?”
    “Old injury. I have two plates and nine screws in my thigh. I’ve just reinjured the muscle around it, I think.”
    Mandy nodded. “Okay, then. How about we help you up and you can take a ride with us and you can get it checked out?”
    So they helped me into the van and I rode with Jay. We rushed toward the city and regretfully reversed the journey we had just endured on the crowded train. Jay seemed really out of it, rambling on about nothing, before he recognized me and profusely apologized for leaving me with the bill at lunch. He seemed to think it had just happened.
    At the hospital we were separated, much to my dismay. Jay was whisked straight inside for tests, and I had to wait in the ER for my turn with my less-urgent injury. I sat next to a woman with a three-day migraine and a man who’d managed to poke a knife through his hand while separating frozen hamburgers. I massaged my thigh and applauded at how joyful my life was turning out to be. Here I was, about six blocks away from my office—back in the city, when all I really wanted was my bed and a good beer.
    The police showed up and I gave them my version of events. They seemed on the up-and-up so