The Book of Fate

31

Ahhh!” The Roman roared as Benjamin used sterilized scissors to cut the dead gray skin from the edges of the wound in his palm. “That hurts!”

“Good — that’s a sign of no nerve damage,” Benjamin said dryly in the small basement office his ex-wife used to use for her electrolysis practice. The Roman sat on a modern leather sofa; Benjamin swiveled slightly on a stainless-steel rolling chair. “Hold still,” he added. Pressing his thumb in The Roman’s palm and his fingers on the back of The Roman’s hand, Benjamin squeezed tightly on the wound. This time, The Roman was ready. He didn’t scream at all.

“No bony tenderness or instability… though I still think you should have it X-rayed to be sure.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I could tell that by the way you passed out in the doorway. Just a picture of health.” Unbending a paperclip, Benjamin twisted the metal until the two tips of the clip were almost touching, barely half a centimeter apart. “Do me a favor and close your eyes.” As the Roman obliged, Benjamin lightly pressed the tips of the paperclip against the side of The Roman’s thumb. “How many points do you feel?”

“Two,” The Roman said.

“Good.” Finger by finger, Benjamin repeated the question, then wrapped The Roman’s hand in fresh gauze. Eventually working down to The Roman’s bloodied foot, he tweezed pieces of sock and shards of shoelace from the wound and applied the same paperclip test to each toe. “How many now?”

“One.”

“Good. Y’know, it’s a miracle you didn’t fracture any tarsal bones.”

“Yeah, God’s on my side,” The Roman said, wiggling his fingers and tapping the gauze bandage on his palm. The blood was gone, but the pain was still there. Nico would pay for that one.

“Just keep it clean and elevated,” Benjamin said as he eventually wrapped The Roman’s foot.

“So I’m okay to fly?”

“Fly? No… forget it. This is rest time. Understand? Take it easy for a few days.”

The Roman stayed silent, leaning down and carefully sliding his foot into the shoes Benjamin had brought from upstairs.

“Did you hear what I said?” Benjamin asked. “This isn’t the time to run around.”

“Just do me a favor and call in those prescriptions,” The Roman said, fighting the urge to limp as he headed for the door. “I’ll call you later.” Without looking back, he stepped outside and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

Ten digits later, a female voice answered, “Travel Office, how can I assist you?”

“I’m trying to make a reservation,” The Roman said, walking out into the darkness as a gust of Virginia chill tried to blow him sideways. “I need the next flight you have for Palm Beach.”