Chapter 27: Payphone Plea I needed to talk to Demitra one last time. Ignoring the shouts of the security guard who was chasing after me, I burst through the automatic doors and into the chaotic New York City afternoon. Horns blared, buses wheezed, and the air was thick with the smell of exhaust and street food. I sprinted past tourists gawking at the towering buildings, weaving through the crowded sidewalks with a desperation that bordered on manic. My only thought was getting to a phone, any phone. My pockets were empty, a consequence of Rich’s meticulous emptying of my person, which he performed whilst berating me in the car. He’d taken both my burner and my real phone, leaving me completely cut off. I scanned the streets, desperate for a payphone, a relic from a bygone era. Finding one in 2024 felt like searching for a unicorn riding a skateboard. Cell phones had made these things extinct. Spotting a bodega across the street, I darted through traffic, narrowly avoiding a collision with a yellow cab. The driver laid on the horn, yelling obscenities that I barely registered. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, blocking out everything except the need to hear Demitra’s voice. I burst into the cool, dimly lit bodega, the smell of stale coffee and cleaning fluid hitting me like a wall. The cashier, a middle-aged man with tired eyes and a thick mustache, watched me with suspicion. “You got a phone I can use?” I blurted out, my voice hoarse. He narrowed his eyes, taking in my disheveled appearance. “What’s the magic word, kid?” “Please, man. It’s an emergency. I’ll pay you back, I swear.” He scoffed. “Everyone says that.” I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building. “Look, I’m Jim Feder, from Briarwood. You know, the basketball player?” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Yeah, I know who you are. Heard about that little stunt you pulled at the cafe.” “That’s… complicated. But I really need to make a call. It’s important.” He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Alright, alright. But you break it, you buy it.” He pointed towards the back of the store. “Ask Miguel at the hotdog stand, he's always on his phone, but i don't know if he'll be willing to let you use it though.” I didn't bother thanking him, turning on my heel and darting to the back of the bodega. I pushed open the door leading to the adjacent hotdog stand, the aroma of grilled meat and onions filling the air. A guy with a greasy apron and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes was arranging hotdogs on the grill. He looked up as I approached, his expression wary. “Yo, I need to borrow your phone,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Get outta here, kid. I’m busy.” “Please, man. It’s really important. I’ll give you double whatever it costs.” He chuckled. “Double? You think I’m stupid? I saw you running out of the airport. You’re probably broke.” “I’m good for it, I swear. I’m Jim Feder. You can Google me, whatever. Just let me make one call.” I took off my earrings, my signature jewlery. "Here, take these as collateral. These are gold, and genuine diamonds, if you don't believe me, go get them checked, they're worth more than double of whatever the call costs." He eyed me up and down, then glanced at my earrings. He looked at the direction of the door to the bodega, and then back at me. “Alright, alright,” he said finally. “But you got five minutes. And if you try to run off with my phone, I’m calling the cops.” “Deal,” I said, grabbing the phone from his outstretched hand. It was an old, beat-up Android, cracked screen and all, but it worked. I quickly punched in Demitra’s number, my fingers trembling slightly. Each ring felt like an eternity. I bounced on the balls of my feet, anxiety twisting in my stomach. Would she even pick up? After everything that had happened, after our last conversation, I wasn't sure. Finally, after what felt like an age, she answered. “Hello?” Her voice was hesitant, laced with a hint of sleepiness. “Demitra, it’s me, Jim,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. There was a long pause, the silence stretching out between us like a taut wire. I could practically feel her hesitation, her uncertainty. “Jim? What… what do you want?” she finally asked, her voice guarded. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. Where do I even start? The airport? Europe? The arrest? “I… I messed up, Demitra,” I began, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I messed up big time.” “What are you talking about, Jim? What’s going on?” I hesitated, then plunged in, laying everything bare. “I was… I was going to Europe. Dev Malik set it up. He got me a deal to play basketball over there, to get away from everything here.” “Europe? What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was rising in pitch, disbelief evident in every syllable. “I was scared, Demitra. I didn’t know how to explain it. After everything that happened with Valeria, with the café, with… with the pregnancy… I just panicked. I thought it was my only way out.” There was another long silence, broken only by the sizzling of hotdogs and the distant wail of a siren. “Pregnancy?” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. “What pregnancy? What are you talking about, Jim?” I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the explosion. “Valeria’s pregnant, Demitra. I found out today. That’s why I… that’s why I lost it at the airport.” “Valeria’s pregnant?” she repeated, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. “With your baby?” “I don’t know,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “I… I don’t know if it’s mine. But it doesn’t matter, Demitra. None of it matters anymore. I’m a mess. I screwed everything up.” “You… you’re running away to Europe because Valeria’s pregnant?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. “It’s more than that, Demitra. I’m facing assault charges, my reputation is ruined, Duke probably doesn’t want me anymore. This was my only chance to salvage something.” “And you didn’t think to tell me?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?” “I was going to, I swear. But then I saw you at the airport and I realized I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I turned around, but then…” I trailed off, unable to articulate the chaos that had unfolded in the last few hours. “But then what, Jim?” she pressed, her voice sharper now. “What happened then?” I took another deep breath, steeling myself. “Then I got arrested. For assault. I punched some kid who was taunting me about the café incident.” I waited for her reaction, but there was only silence. I could practically feel her disappointment, her disillusionment. “Jim… what is *wrong* with you?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just go around punching people! You can’t just run away from your problems! You have to face them!” “I know, I know,” I said, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears. “I’m trying, Demitra. I really am. But I’m drowning here. I don’t know what to do anymore.” “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to run away to Europe,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to assault someone in public.” I winced, the words hitting me like a slap in the face. “I know I messed up, Demitra. I’m sorry. I just… I needed you to know. I needed to hear your voice.” “And what good does that do, Jim? What good does it do to call me and tell me all this? Are you expecting me to fix it for you? Are you expecting me to wave a magic wand and make everything go away?” “No, I’m not expecting anything,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I just… I just wanted to say goodbye. Properly.” “Goodbye?” she repeated, her voice incredulous. “You’re saying goodbye? You’re still going to Europe after all this?” “I don’t know, Demitra. I honestly don’t know. Everything’s a mess. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.” Suddenly, I remembered why I had pulled the fire alarm. “Wait, I forgot to tell you something.” “What? What could possibly be worse than what you already told me?” “I pulled the fire alarm at the airport.” “WHAT? Why?!” “Because I needed to talk to you. I didn’t have a phone, and I needed to find a way to get out of there to talk to you.” The line went silent again. “You… you pulled the fire alarm at the airport… just to talk to me?” she asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “Yeah,” I admitted, feeling a wave of shame wash over me. “I know it was stupid. But I was desperate.” I waited for her to yell, to scream, to tell me what a complete idiot I was. But instead, there was only silence. A long, deafening silence. “Demitra?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. “Are you still there?” I listened intently, straining to hear any sound on the other end of the line. But there was nothing. Only static. “Demitra, please say something,” I pleaded, my voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t hang up on me.” Suddenly, a loud crackle filled the line, followed by a burst of static. And then, I heard it. Faint at first, but growing steadily louder. The unmistakable sound of police sirens. They were getting closer. Much closer. I spun around, scanning the street outside the bodega. And there they were. Two police cars, their lights flashing, speeding towards us. “Demitra, I gotta go,” I said, my voice frantic. “The cops are here. I gotta run.” But she didn’t respond. The line was dead. Or at least, it felt that way. I looked at Miguel, the hotdog vendor. He looked petrified and was already dialing 911. I quickly put the earrings and the phone back on the table. I turned and sprinted out of the bodega, dodging startled pedestrians as I ran. The sirens were deafening now, closing in fast. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing the police cars pull up to the curb. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I was trapped. Suddenly, the air was filled with a high-pitched ringing, piercing through the cacophony of the city. It was coming from my pocket. I reached inside and pulled out my earrings. The ringing continued. I glanced at them in confusion. How could my earrings be ringing? And then I realized. It wasn’t my earrings. It was the sound of static, coming from Demitra's end. The sirens grew louder, the flashing lights blinding me. And then, finally, I heard her voice, faint but clear, coming through the earrings. Her voice was strained, barely a whisper. “Jim…” And then, nothing. The line went dead again. The police were almost on top of me now, their hands reaching for their weapons. My fate hung in the balance, suspended between Demitra’s stunned silence and the approaching sirens.