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My chest collapses. Then the cop pries me off the floor by the wrists, pulling me to my feet. I stand and shout to Farrow, “She said she hit her head.”
“On what?” He drops the trauma bag and assesses Luna.
“Concrete. The ground. She fell.” The cop is pushing me towards the door. “Check her ribs!” It’s all I can release before the cop carts me outside.
Holy fuckingshit.Flashbulbs of cameras glare in the night. Police aren’t the only ones on this skinny South Philly residential street. Paparazzi have arrived, and as soon as they see me, they go nuts in my face.
“Paul Donnelly!”
“Why are you being arrested?!”
“Are you behind the attack of Lily Calloway?!”
No.
No.
I stare hauntedly ahead, almost numb. Cold barely bites at my flesh, still only wearing a stranger’s boxer-briefs.
“Where are your clothes?!”
“Get a shot of his tattoos! The one of Satan on his back!”
“What’d you do to Lily Calloway?!”
It wasn’t me.
Defenses ring in my ears, but I know not to say anything.
Squinting against more camera flashes, I spot Joana’s car on the curb. Nearby, Oscar is talking heatedly in his phone, and once he sees me, his lips stop moving.
The world stills.
Bet this wasn’t on his Bingo card.Watch Donnelly get arrested for his family.If there was a time my friends thought I’d go to jail, it’d be for pissing outside after a night at the bars. It’d be for streaking on a college campus. It’d be for defending one of them at a club and getting in a fucking brawl.
It’d never be for my family.
It’d never be for this.
Truth is, I’ve never been arrested. My rap sheet is squeaky clean, thanks to my cockroach tendencies and a whole lotta luck.
Guess that’s changing.
Oscar steps forward, then halts, looking tormented. He can’t help me.It’s alright, I wish I could tell him.I was always going to survive.I’m not the one he should be worrying about.
Luna is still inside, and the only thing keeping me calm is the fact that Farrow is with her.
“Get in.” The cop pushes my head down while I duck into the police car.
“DONNELLY!” paparazzi shout over and over.
He slams the door, drowning out the mayhem.
Arms imprisoned behind my back, I cast short glances at the window, hoping to see Luna come out with Farrow. Every time I look outside, flashes ignite and I can’t see shit. I can’t even contemplate what kind of photos they’re capturing of me or what’ll hit the internet.
I don’t even care.
An older cop with a grayed mustache slides into the driver’s seat. He shuts out the chaos, and the car is hushed again. He taps on the screen near the steering wheel. “Sorry about the cuffs. We have to treat you like the others.” His brown eyes meet mine through the rearview mirror. “We can’t let anyone know you’re the informant. You understand?”
