pre-et je veux ta revanche. Rosie's mother passes away during the year he takes the Bar Exam, and Frankie is there to care for him.
Prompt: Frankie giving/receiving affection from Rosie.
Can be read either Rosie x Frankie or Rosie && Frankie.
"I brought sustenance," Frankie said, hoping that Rosie would get the Elle Woods reference.
Rosie was wearing his embroidered, checkered sleeping robe. And he, in fact, did not get it. Or, maybe he did and it was because he was still grieving.
Yawning, all bleary-eyed, he let Frankie through the door.
"Where were you?"
"Studying. Just finished my exam outline, spammed a whole bunch of multiple choice," Frankie said, setting bags of food on the dining table, and turned the tap on in the kitchen sink. "Eleanor won't be home tonight, so should we put on a movie or something."
Rosie hummed in agreement and opened one of the bags and started munching on some Chips Ahoy.
"There was this guy at the library who was scratching his head, he asked me for a spare pen, and he was scratching his head with it as—" Frankie stopped himself. "It's gross."
"You don't carry spare pens," Rosie said.
"It was my two-hundred-dollar fountain pen, okay?" Frankie dried his hands on a tea cloth. "I was stupid, I'm never doing that again. At least he didn't damage the nib. I put it in a spare plastic bag and it'll probably be in quarantine for two weeks."
"It will dry up."
"True," Frankie said. He bit down on a floret of broccoli in his tuna salad. "Did you get any work done?"
"No." He fiddled with his hands. "I think I'll take it easy for now."
"You should eat more. I bought exactly one onigiri, some seaweed salad," he trailed off. "Here, have the poke ball."
"Poke ball?" It set Rosie off a fit of laughter. "Are you sure you haven't left out an accent mark somewhere? Where's the Pokémon?"
Eyebrows furrowed, Frankie stared at him in mock disbelief.
"I cannot believe you would make fun of me like that," he deadpanned. "It is very mean, Mister Robes."
"Whatever you say," Rosie opened the lid, "I'm listening."
"What? Like, 'BarBri'? 'Subject-matter jurisdiction'? 'Habeas corpus'? 'Common-law marriage'?" Frankie holding the one-gallon jug with one hand, tipped water into his mouth. "Wow, even I'm surprised by how Legally-Rotted I am."
Rosie, reaching over the glass table and almost having knocked over just about everything else on it, tapped Frankie's nose.
"Congrats, you almost missed."
"Oh, shut up already, you little rascal," Rosie joked.
"Then why would you touch my nose? 'Boop my snoot', if you will? If not for the purposes of confirming how cute I am, what were your intentions, then," he said, even doing a little bow waving his hand three times, "your Robe-al Majesty?"
"There isn't anything I can say, my Robe-al subject," Rosie said. "If after our… overindulgence in fresh sustenance, you are to stay overnight. Would you agree?"
Frankie shrugged. "Sure."
"How did you break character this quick?"
"It's only one of the most secretive and unspoken rules of play, Rosie-Mosie. You can do whatever you want. Play is therapeutic. Play is healing," he touched his chin like he was a philosopher, "wait, they're synonyms, aren't they?"
Rosie sucked in a breath. "Ooh, jeez, you're a mess."
"We're all messes," Frankie said. "The only difference is that one mess is subjectively more tidy than the other. Organized chaos, basically."
It was his turn to say it this time. "Sure."
Frankie threw away the trash and placed the leftovers in the fridge, while Rosie cleaned the table with a damp cloth. Living with Rosie during law school helped him gain independence. He did these tasks at home, it wasn't like his parents would take over when he tried to do chores, but he didn't feel as if he was being looked down on or babied or ever felt unequal.
"What are we going to do tomorrow?" Rosie asked.
"I'm probably going to buy some blueberries and make some muffins for the weekend."
"Muffins? Have you ever made them before?"
"No," he replied. "But I think now is the perfect time. You're my taste-tester, so if it does come out absolutely disgusting, you're gonna have to eat it anyway."
"Sometimes, I wish I could get a better friend," Rosie sighed.
"Sometimes, I wish I could hire a professional taste-tester, but I have no money, even though my parents paid for my law school fees. Wait a second," he added, "I'm wrong. I do make money tutoring. Oops, sorry."
"Then why don't you hire a professional taste-tester?"
"Then why don't you get a better friend?"
"Touché."
"Does anyone ever use touché these days?"
Rosie smiled widely. "You sound like an old, disgruntled Boomer."
"Hey, out of respect for people who are actually named 'Boomer', you need to be stopped."
"How are you going to stop me?" He even blew raspberries for a good measure.
"Firstly," Frankie threw a leg over Rosie's legs and fastened his arms around Rosie's waist, "I'll do this, and this."
"Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!"
He tucked his nose under Rosie's jaw. "Just go to sleep."
Since there is a huge cast in the story I wanted to give you some visuals. I want to thank everyone who’s been supporting my work(s) and I hope you guys like this.
Prosecutor Sergeant Park Jimin - main lead
Originally from Busan, when he was young he lost his brother and felt very guilty for it for many years. He lived with his dad when his parents separated and lived in the slums/docks of Busan. Graduated from the academy with top honors.
Prosecutor Captain Jeon Jungkook - main lead
His father died from cancer leaving them in debt because of medical bills. His mother is very protective of him, but had to work many jobs. Jungkook is a genius and became a SPO officers right after high school. He’s best friend was killed.
Prosecutor Chief Kim Namjoon -
Is the son of a crime boss, and he snitched on the organization bringing them down at a very early age. He worked for Sejin and Bang and together they saved the SPO office from corruption from within.
Prosecutor Lieutenant Kim Seokjin -
Is the son of a wealthy family and they want him to get married. He wants to be successful in the world and not be dictated by his looks but his achievements.
Prosecutor Lieutenant Jung Hoseok -
Very easy going until he gets angry. He is the youngest in his family, but his family lost all of their wealth by paying gambling debts of his father they lost everything. He likes to drive his motorcycle and races (legally) with other people.
Prosecutor Captain Min Yoongi -
He is very hard working and fought tooth and nail to get there. He was very disillusioned with the corruption of the SPO and because of Namjoon he now goes and tries teaching different methods across the country on how to deal with criminals.
Doctor Kim Taehyung - forensic pathologist
Son of a farmer and very poor. He was raised by his grandparents and they sent him to medical school. He graduated quickly and is a pathologist (which means he doesn’t have to take the extra years to do practice).
Prosecutor Lieutenant Kim Yugyeom - (Kim Yugyeom -- GOT7) Jungkook’s best friend. He was killed and found at the Han river.
Lee Jieun - (Lee Jieun -- IU) Jungkook’s ex and Yugyeom’s girlfriend. She runs an art studio.
Summary: The train line Frankie Zhang was on that morning to work had stopped because an incident had occurred two stations ahead. Frankie attempts to find his footing at work, but can only maintain a desperate attempt to grasp onto whatever instincts he has left.
Click to return to the 'Story Page' to select another chapter.
Click to read the next chapter.
When Life Gives You Lemons
Pancakes, fruit salad, blueberry muffins.
That would have been Frankie and Ron's routine for the past six months. Pancakes on Mondays, fruit salad in between (because it was quick to make), and blueberry muffins on the weekends that Frankie baked Friday night. And Friday night happened to be 'Film Night'. He couldn't find a better word, 'flicks'?
A year ago, Frankie had failed his first Bar exam. He was sitting in a corner of the Law Library, seemingly stuck on a problem. A highlighter stabbing the corner of his mouth. Documents and reference books with bookmarks and page flags spread all over the desk. It was messy. Frankie never intended on saying that it was a controlled mess—it was not and not Instagram-worthy. The only people that followed him were mostly people back in high school that went on to do better things later in life than studying.
Nobody else was studying because there was an alumni event, and he just wanted some peace and quiet when his friends were going to have their own careers without him. Frankie had accepted failure to be a part of his life, but there was a special kind of disappointment when you never even got to try before you get taken down.
That being said, even if he had passed the Bar, he would have taken a gap year, if it existed, because he had no idea what he even wanted out of a career in law. Being a summer associate in 1L was… fun. Corporate wasn't what he wanted.
And even though Ron had saw Frankie hammering out essays while he was mumbling ten times as fast as he was writing, he actually didn't think Frankie was crazy. Indeed, he had approached him with small talk, something like 'You must be busy. Are you a 3L?' Frankie giggled and covered his mouth like a schoolgirl. He had watched recordings of Ron's moot court, kind of had a parasocial-type crush on him and THAT was the first thing he chose to tell someone he had a crush on. Like a delighted, overly joyous fan that told his favorite celebrity that 'Hey, I watch your music videos! I love you so much! Please sign my autograph!' It was a complete mystery how a blushing, bright-red Ron would have found it enamoring.
Oh, God, that was his train of thought? Frankie was twenty-two. Was there a maturity gap between him and Ron? Yes, Ron was twenty-nine. And Frankie intended to keep what he was going to do that morning a secret… until Ron found out that Frankie would be going on the same train, same time, same commute, same (type of) OMNY card that the city was starting to use. Bye-bye, Metrocard.
So, Frankie wasn't sure about breakfast that morning. And he can't remember how to tie a tie. Watching a YouTube video on 'how to tie a tie' at five in the morning would be utterly humiliating. He pressed his thumb to the biometric lock screen and opened up the app anyway.
The light from the phone woke Ron up.
“Why don’t you come back to bed, sweet?” Ron asked, leaning back with his hands behind his arms.
Frankie returned to the sage green sheets, placing a kiss on his lover’s head, and winked. “I’ve come back to bed for many nights, Ron. Almost,” with an index finger, he traced from Ron’s Adam’s apple to his lightly stubbled chin, “too many. But today’s a special day.”
“How so?”
Frankie could no longer multitask. He just could not overlap the skinny end over the fat end. Or was it the other way around? Help! “Oh,” a mix of dejectedness and anger as he tugged on both ends uselessly, “I can’t believe I don’t remember how to do this.”
Ron climbed over to the edge of the bed and straddled Frankie, his naked torso completely adhering to Frankie’s back. He pulled on the much shorter, thicker end compared to the thinner end. “Make sure the thinner end is about one inch from your nipple. Then, put the thicker end on top, around the left side, and into the triangle.”
“Okay, you’ve lost me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll do this as many times as you need to.” A quality he had always liked from Ron was that he would never try to explain a thing to the point that you understood more at the beginning. “Or just don’t change ties and keep it like this for the rest of your life,” he teased.
“I don’t understand the point of cleaning up, cutting my hair, and doing all of this, to be honest,” Frankie said, touching his mushroom-shaped hair. “Too much work.”
“Then why did you pick a job that require you to wear suits?”
He defended himself, saying, “I just want to make a good impression on my first day at the DA’s office. I’ve heard Sobel likes to be mean to the younger ADAs.”
Ron went quiet and his body stiffened. “You got the job?”
“What?” Frankie laughed, poking his lover’s side. “You haven’t broken any laws, have you, honey? Have you?” He poked him again. “Have you?”
“Your hands—clasp them together.” And as soon as Frankie did so, Ron took his hands and slammed him back into bed. "If I broke any laws,” Ron gently mouthed his ear, whispering, “I think you would know. Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you got the offer? You…”
“What, if it were you, you would have told me out of the goodness of your own heart?” Frankie challenged. No, even when his clothes were carefully taken apart like all rational thought suppressed, Ron did not affect him at all. He wasn’t giving in yet.
“You know, I should leave your shirt like this. Unbuttoned. The tie around your neck for me to grab. Thoroughly debauched and desperate. And all of this is for me to take, all for me to give back,” Ron said. “The collar will never be able to cover all the hickeys on your neck. Everyone will see just how much you need me. They’ll never know how much I need you.”
Frankie’s ears were his weakest place on his body, and he couldn't help but give into every single movement that Ron had demanded. It was only five in the morning. He could spare another hour, maybe two.
“When I’m with you,” Ron started, but he went back to whispering sweet nothings in Frankie’s ear, instigating the rhythmic push and pull that was just like every night after their first time together. “Look at you, all ready for me. I bet you can’t even remember your own name after this.”
Frankie nodded, his muscles working overtime to compensate for deep breaths. Something about it, maybe the way it rippled across his back, was so beautiful that deserved Ron’s kisses. As a reward for being so loving with him, Frankie massaged the back of Ron’s neck, feeling the taut muscles and shivers in his fingers. Low groans seeping out of Ron, his response to the overwhelming heat was immediate; he set an impossible, punishing pace that soon got them to the climax. Yet, Frankie kept his hand there, wanting to take away as much pain as he could.
“Please,” he begged, not even knowing what he wanted to say. “Please!”
“I love you." Ron mumbled absolute nonsense into Frankie. “I love you so much. You don’t need to love me back. I love you, the way you taste, the way you don’t give up, and you’re so, so beautiful.”
"Wouldn't it be kind of mean to say 'I don't love you' after we've been having sex for the past two months?" Frankie asked. "Wait, no, that doesn't track."
Ron would tell Frankie that he was the only thing in the world worth his attention and touch. That he wanted Frankie to understand just how much love he had for him as he buried himself inside like a man starved. He wanted to prove to Ron that he could love him. He loved him.
Frankie flipped Ron over, lightly holding his wrists, and pulled him in for a chaste kiss. “Should have eggs for a change.”
“You’re talking about breakfast now?”
“I’m hungry.”
…
It was 7:13am. They were on the 7 to Manhattan. Frankie was standing up. Ron was sitting down.
Whenever the train jerked, Frankie found himself needing to change the way he stood, which put a lot of weight onto his calves. He needed better shoes; he could’ve also found a better person to sleep with. However, a compromise with one of the above would be more kind to the person that was unhelpfully smirking at Frankie, his gaze concentrated on his reddened wrists partially covered by the sleeves of his blazer.
At least it wasn’t yet hot; summer in August was not kind on Frankie’s overactive sweat glands. Winter was much better, even though he had nosebleeds because the air was so dry. Snow, yes.
Ron.
How kind of Ron to casually place a foot in between his legs, and then looking away, pretending he didn’t know what he was doing. Could he have been any less obvious? Frankie could feel the heat creeping up from the inside of his heart to his cheeks and his neck. The aunties, probably on their way from the local grocer’s, were going to see this and comment on how this white person was being weird and perverse. Not like Frankie was any better, either. Another part of his much more logical side told him that no aunty was going to Manhattan right after shopping at seven in the morning. Why was he so worried? No idea. He even had half the heart to marry the guy.
The person sitting next to Ron made eye contact with Frankie and left the seat when the carriage stopped at the next station. Frankie had to oblige, and so he sat on the seat, pretending that he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He was not sensitive. He could do this. Oh, God, Ron was putting an arm on the dirty, absolutely filthy windowsill. Even if it appeared clean, it was an illusion that was not to be trusted. Once, a nasty cockroach had wriggled and crawled its way across the window and down the railing and across the floor. No, no, no.
Frankie removed Ron’s sleeve and promptly placed it on his own thigh. Shiiiiit. What on earth was he doing? No, this is the exact opposite of a slow and easygoing morning. He regretted being a Gemini.
“You know,” Ron leaned in closer, “we can always call a sick day and go back to mine.”
Preferring not to answer, Frankie picked up a random children’s novel left on the seat and covered his face with it. It was in German. Luckily, he knew his mother’s first language since infancy, and it was interesting enough to keep his attention away from whatever Ron was trying to rub in his pants.
“Would you please stop?” He asked, still reading the book.
The hand stopped rubbing. Yet, he could still feel Ron, so desperately wanting to be a part of every second of his life, staring through the fresh ink on the thin pieces of paper. “Three stops left,” Ron reminded.
“Understood.”
It wasn’t like Frankie didn’t look at Ron, whose sole focus seemed to be studying his side profile as he read. His face was one of the things he was most insecure about, but it seemed that Ron liked him however he looked. Which meant that he had a lot of un-learning to do.
The train stopped right on the bridge, but they had yet to reach their destination.
…
Eddie was in the wrong office that morning. But, it was too late to correct himself. He took the morning papers from Andy and skimmed through some headlines. Pottery classes in the afternoon for young children, a local politician arrested for corruption.
Not much shocked him these days.
He checked the wall clock while waiting for Eleanor, just one of the many ADAs he worked for, to update him on the new guy. Apparently, they were friends since law school, and she'd never known him to be anything less than punctual.
She was pacing just outside, waiting for her friend to pick up the phone.
Andy sipped his coffee, ever composed. It was the usual creamer and no sugar.
"It was good while it lasted," he said sincerely. "I just hope your new owner will take good care of you.”
Eddie did not have the energy to do anything else but to raise an eyebrow and give Andy a weird look.
“It’s not like the world is ending, Andy. We’ll still see each other—even if the new ADA is late by," he checked his watch, "two hours.”
"He just got back to me," Eleanor said. "He said there's something happening at the station ahead, so MTA made everyone deboard the train. Eddie, I'm going to Google it, or something, and see what's with the hold up."
"That's alright, Eleanor. Take your time."
“Sure.” Andy quipped, “Hey, you Geminis are all about a slow and easygoing morning these days. I bet the new guy’s a Gemini, too.”
“Okay, enough with the horoscopes, Skip.”
“There’s been a shooting.” Eleanor showed Andy her tablet. “It’s all over the news right now.”
He peered at the screen, reading, “7 train subway service suspended after shooting. Five dead.”
“I’ll turn on the TV,” Eddie said, reaching for the remote.
Eleanor was right. Every news outlet was on it, nonstop. The monitor flickered with reporters and correspondents in front of the camera as Eddie switched channels. Suspect caught on the scene. Over twenty injured.
“HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN TO WORK BEFORE!?” Sobel yelled from next door. He berated a man that looked more like a teenager, with his baby face and his neck tucked into his shirt. “YOU DO NOT COME TO WORK LATE FOR TWO HOURS. TWO. FUCKING. HOURS.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sobel- Esquire… Counsellor—”
“Mr. Sobel is fine.”
“I was on the 7 Train this morning,” he said, “and there was something going on at the station in front of us. The train stopped for about an hour—it was hectic with passengers yelling and shouting to leave. Police and MTA staff boarded the train, told us to leave, and didn’t tell us anything. I really tried my best to come early.”
Eddie wanted to give Sobel a piece of his mind, but Andy dragged him by the sleeve, as if saying, 'Watch the show.'
"Andy-!"
He grit his teeth as he watched Andy, somewhat entertained looking at Ron protecting Fanshun, as he stuck a pen to a corner of his mouth and let his teeth gnaw at the cheek on the inside.
“Do you have a gaydar, Hillbilly?”
“What?”
“Alright, Sobel,” Erin Reagan cut in, “I get that you prefer punctuality, but you don’t yell at people. Especially when they’ve been through something distressing.”
Sobel was sufficiently distracted, saying something as he walked off, still grumbling. Whatever he said was overheard by Leckie and Webster because they both saw red. Lipton stepped in just in time, holding them back with a glare.
Ron gently led the new ADA to Andy’s office, keeping his hand on the guy's lower back at all times as he closed the door.
“Oh, I… I see it now,” Eddie replied at last, picking up what Andy said earlier.
“Wait, you can understand all of that after he just said a few words?” Eleanor asked.
Eddie wanted to make sure that the office was at least a little bit less overwhelming for Fanshun. He switched off the TV and the LED ceiling lights, leaving only the warm desk lamps glowing across the office.
He scratched his neck.
“It’s a bit hard to explain."
Relationships and things like that just came to him naturally. But, of course, nobody else needed to know about how he really felt on the inside. Andy, for example, would never notice him as anything more than a reliable paralegal. Unlike a Disney wish, Eddie knew better than to dream for something that usually never came true.
Then, she was too preoccupied helping Fanshun, who was overwhelmed and in shock. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m alright, Ellie, I just need a minute.” The ADA’s breathing was more evened out than when he first came in, focused on coping techniques. “Mr. Speirs, you should get back to your work. I would hate to interrupt you.”
As it turned out, his words were final. Speirs gave him a small nod and left the room. Eleanor ushered Frankie into a comfy armchair couch that Eddie had picked out.
“I’m Frankie. Nice to meet you all.”
“Eddie, your paralegal,” he said.
Frankie shook his hand firmly, and that was the end of it.
The ADA position in New York City was a coveted one. Do well in the role for about two or three years, and they could expect an offer from a law firm or some kind of mobility in their career. But, the workload was massive that overnight shifts were commonplace. Turnover was just as high as mountains of paperwork on an ADA's desk.
Eddie had no idea what kind of lawyer Frankie would be. That said, he didn't care, either. Getting through the day was the top priority.
“This is your desk,” Eddie pointed at a small nook currently occupied by another junior ADA. “This is Stevie Deveaux. You’re going to share this space with him and Eleanor Oishi. You three make up Trial Division 4, headed by Richard Winters.”
“What’s Winters like?” Frankie asked.
“Nothing like Sobel, that’s for sure.” Stevie, realizing what he had just said, explained, “Sorry. We all saw the dressing down Sobel gave you. I guess because he’s been here for quite some time, he feels the right to tell people what to do; I’m not saying that it isn’t his job responsibility.”
“It’s fine. I just have a shitty boss, nothing too much.” Frankie shushed them. “Don’t tell him I said that, ever.”
“We won’t,” Eddie confirmed. “Now, we’ve got a lot to get through, so let’s get started with your first few cases.”
He set several heavy and thick binders on the desk, careful not to smack the keyboard.
Frankie, however, was not fazed.
“I have my email and password, so I should be set with the login process,” Frankie said, accessing the management system. “Hold on a second,” he pointed at the monitor, “I’ve logged in!”
“For a twenty-something, you sure are bad with technology,” Eddie commented.
“Twenty-two,” Frankie said quietly as he skimmed the case brief at the top. “Uh, this should be a vehicular homicide. I thought we were handling Class D at most.”
“No can do, just deal with what you’ve got, buddy.”
“Not your ‘buddy’ either,” he remarked. “Give me 15 minutes to go through all of these binders, and then we’ll visit Mrs. Maria Aquende. Do what you want in the meantime.”
Eddie couldn't help but find this situation a little bit funny. He managed to survive an entire war, but he still got surprised by how Frankie was able to jump back in just a few minutes.
…
Eddie and Frankie were at the interview room at the remand center. The room had a sort of damp smell to it, like the place hadn't been used for quite some time. Frankie flipped through the binder as he reviewed the facts one more time.
“Would you tell me your name?” Frankie asked.
“Maria Aquende.”
The woman who appeared in front of them looked depleted. Dark circles under her eyes, shoulder slumped, eyes fixed to her cuffed hands. The public defender, Rosie Rosenthal, sat silently at her side.
“On July 31st, 2025, Thursday, at 12:21pm, you received a call from the school nurse. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“The nurse told you that your daughter, Elizabeth, was sick, correct?”
“Yes.”
Frankie looked up from his notes. “What happened after you received the call?”
“I was still at work and couldn’t leave. I told my boss that I couldn’t work a complete day, and she gave me a few more tasks to complete. I took too long and only finished at 2pm.”
“So, when was it that you actually left your workplace, a fashion company called,” he read from the binder, “‘Newtex’?”
“Around 2:15.”
“When did you pick up your daughter?”
She needed to think for a moment, and said, “Around 2:47, because that’s when I signed the visitor log.”
“Okay, what do you remember when you left the school?”
“I wanted to stop quickly because Elizabeth was throwing up in her vomit bag and she told me it was filling up, but there wasn’t a place to stop. That’s when a child suddenly came out from behind a parked car and I hit her.”
Frankie flipped through the pages frantically to the diagram of the car’s movements. “You were about to merge onto Horace Boulevard when you hit Alice Pampani, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“So, please help us understand your perspective here,” Frankie said. “Are you saying Alice Pampani suddenly appeared from… behind a car, that’s when you hit her?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t in the binder. Just a rough outline of the events and testimony from the arresting officers. Eddie didn’t have the time to go through the witness testimony yet, but the defendant was saying the truth.
“I understand. Thank you for your time,” Frankie said.
After they left the holding facility at the courthouse, they decided to get some fries from a food truck for lunch.
“Ron does tell me not to get things that are too sweet, salty, or oily, but—” Frankie covered his mouth.
Eddie, pretending that Frankie didn’t say a word, told him, “Today’s an exception. You did really well for a first day. You deserve a treat.”
With a devious smile, Frankie snuck a fresh sweet potato fry in his mouth. He loved the red-orange sweet potatoes, but he preferred the purple sweet potatoes with a light-yellow color on the inside that he could get from H-Mart.
“According to the school nurse,” Frankie said, “Elizabeth Aquende wasn’t the only child that got sick. I checked the school website; apparently, the lettuce at the salad bar was recalled for E. coli. The whole cafeteria has been closed this week for public health inspection.”
“E. coli?” Eddie said, “No wonder. There was camera footage of Alice, clutching her stomach, her balance all weird.”
“Is there footage when Alice was hit by the car?”
“No, I don’t think so. There’s no cameras where the road merges.”
“Dashcams?” Frankie offered. “From a nearby bus or a car. Anything.”
“That would be like trying to find the needle in a haystack,” Eddie warned. “You might not want to do that.”
Frankie walked around someone picking up a dropped lid as he and Eddie crossed the road. He decided. “We should go to the crash scene.”
[CHAPTER END]
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