Paybacks
Chapter 33
*****
Bosco had to stop and catch his breath three times as he made his way through the apartment building, and out to his car. Each time he cursed his body for being so weak, and he cursed Skaget for being such a bastard.
When he finally made it to the 1973 Ford Mustang Mach I that he cherished so much he unlocked the door, and slowly climbed into the driver's seat; careful not to jar his still tender ribs.
He relaxed his head on the back of the seat while he regained control of his breathing. Bosco then looked at his watch. Damn. It took me ten minutes to get to my car?! Usually takes me two! Great. At this rate I'm never going to get back on the force. He leaned forward to put the key in the ignition. Shit. How long is it gonna take me to get back up to my apartment?
Bosco put the key in the ignition, and started the car. He loved the roar of the engine. He ran his hand over the steering wheel, and then patted the dash. "Hey baby. I've missed you." He said to the car.
With his right hand he shifted the car into reverse. He checked his mirrors and turned to look over his shoulder. Bosco then went to put his left hand on the top of the steering wheel to guide the car out of its parking spot. He hissed in pain as he forgot that his left arm wasn't capable of that movement. "Owww! That was stupid!"
He threw the car in park, and grabbed his throbbing left shoulder. This is gonna be harder than I thought. After thinking things through Bosco put the car in reverse again, and used his right arm to steer the vehicle; leaving his left arm resting on his thigh. However before heading out of the parking garage Bosco used his right arm to position his injured arm so the fingers of his hand were gentle gripping the bottom of the steering wheel. Just in case. He gritted his teeth at the discomfort it caused, but eventually got used to it.
For almost twenty minutes Bosco drove around. He wasn't sure where he was going. He was just happy to be out of his apartment.
With only one hand he maneuvered the Mustang beautifully in and out of traffic. Shifting with his right hand, and steadying the car with the fingers of his left. "This is a snap!" He said to himself as he pulled up at a stoplight. "Don't know why that doctor doesn't want me driving. There's nothing to it!"
Seconds later those words would come back to bite him in the ass.
Unsatisfied with the radio station Bosco reached down to fiddle with the knob. Just then the light turned green, and Bosco proceeded forward; the fingers of his injured left arm controlling the wheel.
As he came to the next intersection Bosco noticed a flash of yellow coming at him from the left. He quickly looked up. His light was green. Someone was running a red light! There wasn't much time! He couldn't step on the gas because he couldn't risk shifting, and leaving his left arm to steer. He couldn't swerve because his left arm couldn't perform the task. The only thing left for him to do was slam on the brakes.
The yellow car flew past Bosco as his Mustang came to a screeching halt. The sudden jerk of the car sent Bosco forward then he recoiled backward then forward again. He was able to brace himself. Bosco screamed obscenities at the driver, and flashed him the universal "you're number one" sign. Whew, that was close.
Without warning someone rammed into the back of the Mustang. Sending an unprepared Bosco slamming into the steering wheel. Pain ripped through his body. He hadn't been wearing his seatbelt.
"Son of a---," he couldn't get the rest of it out as he started gasping for breath. The pain was so bad he thought he was going to pass out. But realizing he was stopped in the middle of traffic Bosco went into cop mode. He quickly turned on his hazards, and got out to assess the damage to his car.
He stumbled a little as he made his way to the back end of the vehicle. It was as if the pain intoxicated him. Bosco wrapped both arms around his body the best he could. He really wasn't feeling well, but felt that it was his duty as a police officer to take care of the situation.
Bosco met the hysterical female driver of the other car in-between their vehicles. "Oh my God I'm so sorry! I didn't even notice you had stopped! I was talking on my cell phone." Great. Stupid bitch driving around talking on a cell phone. Just what I need! She held up her cell phone. "Don't worry I'll call the cops."
"No need," Bosco flashed his badge.
"Oh God I hit a cop!" She looked at him more closely. "Are you OK? You don't look too good. Should I call an ambulance?" Her voice was etched with concern.
He looked at his watch. "I'll be fine. I just got out of the hospital this morning. I don't intend on going back anytime soon." He winced, and went back to surveying the two cars.
Surprisingly there was no damage that Bosco could see to his Mustang. That's a first. Most of the damage was done to the other vehicle. Which Bosco didn't feel bad about at all due to the fact that the lady had been too busy yakking on her cell phone to notice what was going on in front of her.
"Actually we're going to have to call this in, but don't worry I'll do it," Bosco said to the lady who was still freaking out because she had hit a cop, and in between "oh my Gods" she kept asking if he was sure he was all right.
Bosco walked gingerly to his car, and pulled out his cell phone. The pain in his chest and shoulder hadn't eased at all. The more he moved the worse it got. Damn. He rubbed his chest.
An eternity later a squad car arrived, took their statements and had them exchange insurance information. The lady was going to need a tow truck, but Bosco was free to go. The officer on the scene was a guy Bosco had met a few times. An over-eager kinda guy. "Have a good day Officer Boscorelli," the officer said as he clapped Bosco on the back.
"Owww!" Bosco cried out as he stumbled. The officer's well-meaning gesture causing him more pain.
"Whoa man," he quickly reached out to help keep Bosco on his feet. He grabbed Bosco by the shoulders.
"Umph, don't touch me." Bosco swallowed hard.
"Sorry man. You all right?"
"I will be when I get outta here." He slowly walked back to his car. OK, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Bosco pressed his body into the seat of the Mustang. The pain was so intense, and his heart was pounding. Oh God it hurts! He hugged himself with his right arm, and closed his eyes tight; willing the pain to go away. Oh God! It hurt so bad it was making him sick. He wanted to cry.
I've gotta do something. Maybe I should get that officer to take me to the hospital. No. I'm not going back there. Not today anyway. Then he remembered the piece of paper in his pocket. The prescription for painkillers. He pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket. "YES!"
When he felt confident enough to drive in the pain he was in he pulled back out into the street, and started looking for a pharmacy. He spotted a Wal- Mart a few blocks ahead. Thank you God.
He pulled into the parking lot, and got out of the car *very* slowly. He leaned against the car for a little while trying to push down the pain. Why does it hurt so bad?
Finally he pushed away from the car and began the slow walk into the store. He had managed to get his left hand in the front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. This position took some of the pressure off his shoulder as apposed to leaving his arm hanging at his side. Bosco hugged himself with his good arm.
He rounded the corner of the aisle by the pharmacy.
Shit.
"Bosco?"
"Busted."
Chapter 33
*****
Bosco had to stop and catch his breath three times as he made his way through the apartment building, and out to his car. Each time he cursed his body for being so weak, and he cursed Skaget for being such a bastard.
When he finally made it to the 1973 Ford Mustang Mach I that he cherished so much he unlocked the door, and slowly climbed into the driver's seat; careful not to jar his still tender ribs.
He relaxed his head on the back of the seat while he regained control of his breathing. Bosco then looked at his watch. Damn. It took me ten minutes to get to my car?! Usually takes me two! Great. At this rate I'm never going to get back on the force. He leaned forward to put the key in the ignition. Shit. How long is it gonna take me to get back up to my apartment?
Bosco put the key in the ignition, and started the car. He loved the roar of the engine. He ran his hand over the steering wheel, and then patted the dash. "Hey baby. I've missed you." He said to the car.
With his right hand he shifted the car into reverse. He checked his mirrors and turned to look over his shoulder. Bosco then went to put his left hand on the top of the steering wheel to guide the car out of its parking spot. He hissed in pain as he forgot that his left arm wasn't capable of that movement. "Owww! That was stupid!"
He threw the car in park, and grabbed his throbbing left shoulder. This is gonna be harder than I thought. After thinking things through Bosco put the car in reverse again, and used his right arm to steer the vehicle; leaving his left arm resting on his thigh. However before heading out of the parking garage Bosco used his right arm to position his injured arm so the fingers of his hand were gentle gripping the bottom of the steering wheel. Just in case. He gritted his teeth at the discomfort it caused, but eventually got used to it.
For almost twenty minutes Bosco drove around. He wasn't sure where he was going. He was just happy to be out of his apartment.
With only one hand he maneuvered the Mustang beautifully in and out of traffic. Shifting with his right hand, and steadying the car with the fingers of his left. "This is a snap!" He said to himself as he pulled up at a stoplight. "Don't know why that doctor doesn't want me driving. There's nothing to it!"
Seconds later those words would come back to bite him in the ass.
Unsatisfied with the radio station Bosco reached down to fiddle with the knob. Just then the light turned green, and Bosco proceeded forward; the fingers of his injured left arm controlling the wheel.
As he came to the next intersection Bosco noticed a flash of yellow coming at him from the left. He quickly looked up. His light was green. Someone was running a red light! There wasn't much time! He couldn't step on the gas because he couldn't risk shifting, and leaving his left arm to steer. He couldn't swerve because his left arm couldn't perform the task. The only thing left for him to do was slam on the brakes.
The yellow car flew past Bosco as his Mustang came to a screeching halt. The sudden jerk of the car sent Bosco forward then he recoiled backward then forward again. He was able to brace himself. Bosco screamed obscenities at the driver, and flashed him the universal "you're number one" sign. Whew, that was close.
Without warning someone rammed into the back of the Mustang. Sending an unprepared Bosco slamming into the steering wheel. Pain ripped through his body. He hadn't been wearing his seatbelt.
"Son of a---," he couldn't get the rest of it out as he started gasping for breath. The pain was so bad he thought he was going to pass out. But realizing he was stopped in the middle of traffic Bosco went into cop mode. He quickly turned on his hazards, and got out to assess the damage to his car.
He stumbled a little as he made his way to the back end of the vehicle. It was as if the pain intoxicated him. Bosco wrapped both arms around his body the best he could. He really wasn't feeling well, but felt that it was his duty as a police officer to take care of the situation.
Bosco met the hysterical female driver of the other car in-between their vehicles. "Oh my God I'm so sorry! I didn't even notice you had stopped! I was talking on my cell phone." Great. Stupid bitch driving around talking on a cell phone. Just what I need! She held up her cell phone. "Don't worry I'll call the cops."
"No need," Bosco flashed his badge.
"Oh God I hit a cop!" She looked at him more closely. "Are you OK? You don't look too good. Should I call an ambulance?" Her voice was etched with concern.
He looked at his watch. "I'll be fine. I just got out of the hospital this morning. I don't intend on going back anytime soon." He winced, and went back to surveying the two cars.
Surprisingly there was no damage that Bosco could see to his Mustang. That's a first. Most of the damage was done to the other vehicle. Which Bosco didn't feel bad about at all due to the fact that the lady had been too busy yakking on her cell phone to notice what was going on in front of her.
"Actually we're going to have to call this in, but don't worry I'll do it," Bosco said to the lady who was still freaking out because she had hit a cop, and in between "oh my Gods" she kept asking if he was sure he was all right.
Bosco walked gingerly to his car, and pulled out his cell phone. The pain in his chest and shoulder hadn't eased at all. The more he moved the worse it got. Damn. He rubbed his chest.
An eternity later a squad car arrived, took their statements and had them exchange insurance information. The lady was going to need a tow truck, but Bosco was free to go. The officer on the scene was a guy Bosco had met a few times. An over-eager kinda guy. "Have a good day Officer Boscorelli," the officer said as he clapped Bosco on the back.
"Owww!" Bosco cried out as he stumbled. The officer's well-meaning gesture causing him more pain.
"Whoa man," he quickly reached out to help keep Bosco on his feet. He grabbed Bosco by the shoulders.
"Umph, don't touch me." Bosco swallowed hard.
"Sorry man. You all right?"
"I will be when I get outta here." He slowly walked back to his car. OK, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Bosco pressed his body into the seat of the Mustang. The pain was so intense, and his heart was pounding. Oh God it hurts! He hugged himself with his right arm, and closed his eyes tight; willing the pain to go away. Oh God! It hurt so bad it was making him sick. He wanted to cry.
I've gotta do something. Maybe I should get that officer to take me to the hospital. No. I'm not going back there. Not today anyway. Then he remembered the piece of paper in his pocket. The prescription for painkillers. He pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket. "YES!"
When he felt confident enough to drive in the pain he was in he pulled back out into the street, and started looking for a pharmacy. He spotted a Wal- Mart a few blocks ahead. Thank you God.
He pulled into the parking lot, and got out of the car *very* slowly. He leaned against the car for a little while trying to push down the pain. Why does it hurt so bad?
Finally he pushed away from the car and began the slow walk into the store. He had managed to get his left hand in the front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. This position took some of the pressure off his shoulder as apposed to leaving his arm hanging at his side. Bosco hugged himself with his good arm.
He rounded the corner of the aisle by the pharmacy.
Shit.
"Bosco?"
"Busted."