I eased my way into the chair of our favourite brunch place, my everything hurting, Sam giving me one of her knowing looks. “Looks like you got passed around the cell block last night,” she smirked as I shot her a-go-to-hell-and-die look.
She laughed as I finally got into the chair. “But David, seriously, what happened? I was shocked as hell when we saw you in the back seat of that cop car; I mean there’s no G8 protests going on. Or any other social justice events scheduled. So my thoughts immediately went to public indecency, but we didn’t see Paul in the back with you. So what happened?”
“Really?” I said cocking my eyebrow at my best friend. “You figured all that out and you didn’t even bother to call Paul to try and find out more? “
“Well of course I did, but he hung up the phone on me and raced down to the police station. So what the hell happened, you bitch?”
The waiter came up to us and filled our coffee mugs; we both asked her to make them Irish and she said she’d be right back, giving me a bit of a moment to myself to create a dramatic pause as I picked up the menu and opened it, blocking line of sight.
“You’re going to get two poached eggs with multigrain toast, with steamed spinach and some fruit salad. Don’t even pretend to keep me waiting.”
“Ugh fine! SO you know how I’ve started to run again lately right?”
She laughed a little, thinking this is one of my half assed attempts to get back in shape. “Of course. I’ve seen your all black running outfit. it’s. . . ‘cute’.”
“Shut up; it’s slimming and it matches and it makes me feel better,” I bit back as her, it hurt. I’ve always been a bit sensitive about my weight. “But seriously, so apparently last night, an ABP goes out about a chubby Caucasian guy with a beard wearing all black with a gun who had robbed a store. So when I was out for my run, I never hear the cops tell me to freeze; they just saw me running and I wasn’t really paying attention until two of them slammed me to the ground my entire side is bruised.”
We’re halted again and Sam gave the waitress our orders as she passed us our Irish for the coffee; we give her a smile. “Okay so there I am: I’m screaming about what the hell is going on, that my boyfriend is a lawyer and he’s going to sue the fucking city because of this, and they’re just reading me my Miranda rights, until one of them asks where I stashed the money, to which I’m like, money? I’m out on a run.”
“Anyway, they cuff me way too tight and by the time I’m down at the station, Paul is there waiting for me trying to figure out what’s going on; I guess I have you to thank for calling him, since he couldn’t remember. I don’t get to talk to him yet, but I get processed and put into a holding cell with a whole bunch of bears in black running gear. Given the pain I was in, it felt like I was at a Pitbull party.”
“So what happened next?” she asked between fits of laughter.
“Well, luckily, after not too much longer, they actually caught the real guy and we all get let go. Paul is furious and is making sure that my prints are destroyed, and also they replace my broken phone. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts a class action suit. I can see it now: Bear Runners vs the City of Toronto. The media would have a field day.”