Runaway Read Online Free PDF Page A

“It’s my goddamned arm.”
    â€œI know, I’m just … I wish you hadn’t come here, Johnny.” He fumbled with the blue paper, unrolled it, and ripped off a piece of cotton.
    â€œWhy? I told you I didn’t kill Luis.”
    â€œEverybody says otherwise.”
    â€œEverybody’s wrong, then. Come on, fix my arm and I’ll get the hell out of here.”
    â€œIf you killed him, then I’m accessory after the fact by dressing your wound. You shouldn’t have come here. I’m aiding and abetting—”
    â€œOh, shut the hell up!” Johnny said.
    Frankie reached for a large bottle of peroxide and soaked the cotton with it. He put the cotton to the wound, and he saw Johnny’s face tighten in pain.
    â€œEasy, easy,” Johnny said. “You trying to—”
    â€œYou’ve got to clean the wound,” Frankie said. He ripped off another piece of cotton, and he was sweating freely now, and his eyes were narrowed. He was thinking of Andrea, the mulatto girl he’d met at a City College dance, and he was thinking of the drugstore he wanted to own one day. He worked on the cut methodically, unaware of Johnny’s clenched fists and Johnny’s tight mouth. He worked on the wound with the blood running red, but he did not think of the wound, he thought only that he was helping someone who was wanted by the police. He thought that, and the sweat rolled from his forehead and over the soggy collar of his shirt and down his back.
    â€œI … I need some bandages,” he said.
    â€œAll right, hurry it up,” Johnny answered.
    â€œOut front,” Frankie said. He wet his lips and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I … I keep them out front. I’ll get some and come right back, Johnny.”
    â€œAll right, go ahead.”
    â€œI’ll be right back, Johnny,” he said a little louder. “Don’t move. The bleeding may stop if you don’t move.”
    He went out front, and Johnny watched him go, and then he looked down at the cut. Damn if that addict hadn’t done a dandy job on him, the sonovabitch. Well, Frankie would fix it. Frankie would bandage it, and at least he’d be able to walk the streets without leaving a trail of blood. He leaned back and looked at the walls of the room, at the bottles of pills and powders stacked on the shelves.
    He waited for ten minutes, and finally Frankie came back, out of breath, still sweating.
    â€œWhat the hell took so long?” Johnny asked.
    â€œI … I had a customer.”
    â€œI didn’t hear no bell,” Johnny said.
    â€œNo? That’s funny. It rang.”
    â€œYou got the bandage?”
    â€œYes. Yes, here it is. Johnny, you really shouldn’t have come here. I …”
    â€œIs that the only song you know? Can’t you see my arm is all cut up?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Johnny, but I’ve got to think of myself, too. You can understand that, can’t you?”
    â€œAll right, bandage my arm.”
    â€œBut you can understand that, can’t you? How a man has to think of himself, too? Is that being selfish, Johnny? A man has to think of his future, you know.”
    â€œWhat are you trying to tell me, Frankie?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œWhat are you sweating about?”
    â€œWhat do you mean, sweating? I’m not sweating, Johnny.”
    â€œYou’re soaking wet.” Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “What took you so long out there, man?”
    â€œWhere, Johnny? Long out where?”
    â€œOut front. Don’t play dumb, Frankie. What took you so goddamn long?”
    â€œI told you. I had a customer.”
    â€œWhat kind of customer?”
    â€œA woman. A lady. She … she came in just as I went out front.”
    â€œWhat’d she buy?”
    â€œWhat?”
    Johnny jumped to his feet. “You heard me. What’d she buy?”
    â€œUh … a bottle of cough