Confidential(48)

Then he grabbed my phone off the pavement and took off running. I should have gotten up and started running myself, so I could get back to my apartment as fast as I could. Get inside where it was safe. I’d dodged a bullet, really. I could have been raped; I could have been beaten; I could have been killed.

I sat up, scanning my body, gingerly touching my bloody knees and the bruise on my back from his kick. I was shaken, but I was okay.

He’d taken my phone, taken Kate with him. I could still hear her panicked voice, a concern that couldn’t be faked.

He had my phone, with all the evidence of my secret life with Michael. He had my phone, so I couldn’t even call the police. Not that I could give a description. I’d only seen him from behind as he’d fled the scene, a faceless man in a navy-blue hoodie and jeans. Yep, the overtaxed Oakland police would get right on this.

Michael. That’s who I needed to call. Sure, things had been strained between us, but when he heard about this, he’d sound like Kate had. His love for me would assert itself as he assimilated the fact that he’d never lost me for good. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, right?

It gave me an idea.

“Are you okay?” It was a woman’s voice. I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even heard her approach. She crouched beside me. “Can you stand up?”

I tried, only to crumple back down on colt legs.

“Did you trip, or did someone do this to you?”

So she hadn’t seen the mugging. How long had I been here, unable to muster the energy to walk home? I’d been enervated lately, but this was on another level. Was it possible I’d been hurt worse than I thought, that I’d hit my head and been unconscious?

“Someone did this,” I said. I felt around my scalp and my face. There were no painful or tender spots. Maybe I’d just been lost in thoughts. In plans.

The woman introduced herself as Kate. It was like a message from the fucking universe, but what was the universe saying?

“I got mugged,” I said.

“Oh no!” She was about my age, a little bit overweight, a little bit frumpy, dishwater blonde hair, a kind face. “Have you called the police yet?”

“He took my phone.”

“Use mine.” She thrust it toward me.

“I didn’t see his face. The police won’t do anything.”

“Maybe not. But shouldn’t we call them anyway?”

We. Now I was a we with this do-gooder I’d just met. I was able to get to my feet, with her assistance. I winced at the pain in my knee, which was pretty torn up. Damned vanity. I should have worn pants.

“Could you call my fiancé?” I said. “His name’s Michael.”

“Do you want to just borrow my phone for a minute?”

“I don’t want to have to say the words again, to tell him what happened. Could you just tell him for me, and where I am so he can pick me up?”

Sad that it had come to this, that Michael was more likely to answer an unknown number than mine, more likely to come get me if the request came from a stranger. At the moment, given the state of trust in our relationship, he’d be more likely to believe her. And he wouldn’t want to look like a cad in front of this other Kate.

But he would feel differently once he saw me. I’d make sure of that.

“Don’t tell him your name,” I said. I didn’t want him to think it was that Kate. “Just say you were passing by.”

“What’s your name?”

“Flora.” I gave her a weak smile. “Nice to meet you.”

She was hesitating. Something about this didn’t smell right, but she was not the most assertive, this other Kate. She’d rather carry out my request than confront me about its peculiarity.

“Five one zero . . .” I started to reel off the number, and she dutifully punched it in.

“Hello?” Michael answered, sounding a bit leery. But my read on him was right. He did take calls from strange numbers. Was it because he gave certain clients his personal cell?

No. Just because Kate had said it didn’t make it true. She had ulterior motives, whether she knew it or not. All she’d kept telling me when I pushed her was that she was trying to help me. But there had to be more to it.

“I’m here with Flora,” the other Kate said. “I was walking, and I found her on the pavement. She was just mugged.”

“Is she okay?” I thought I could make out urgency in his tone. He cared, or at least, he cared how he looked to this stranger.

“I’m not sure. It was hard for her to get up, and he stole her phone. Could you pick her up?”

One potato, two potato, three potato, four . . . I didn’t look at Kate, I was so embarrassed. I’d hate to know what mental calculations he was doing during that time when he should have answered with an instantaneous yes. Finally, he relented. “Where is she?”

Once Kate had hung up, she offered to wait with me. I said no, she’d been too kind already. She insisted, and I insisted no, I’d be fine, and after a couple more rounds like that, I wanted to punch Kate instead of myself. But I prevailed, and she looked relieved. I’d been behaving oddly and so had Michael. I reassured her she’d been an exemplary citizen and that Michael lived very close by, which was true. Then she was on her way, quickly, without a backward glance, which confirmed that what she’d wanted most was to be rid of me while still feeling like a good person. She could join the club.