Roman’s eyes darted nervously to and from his side view mirrors as he rode his bike away from the café, his fingers twitching over the throttle in case he had to gun it down the steet. But so far, all was quiet—or as quiet as it could be—in the big city of NYC. No sight nor sound of cop cars or sirens. It looked like he was in the clear.

He pulled around a corner, parking in an alleyway on a low traffic street near the outskirts of the city, and breathed a sigh of mingled tension and relief. He swung his leg over the side of his bike and put down the kickstand. It was a good place to take a quick rest before he went back. And contemplate the crazy last twelve hours of his life.

He was glad to have gotten out of that mess without even a scratch, but his frustration about the night before had been rekindled with the newfound knowledge that he had “gotten frisky” with some guy’s girlfriend. Probably while the bastard was standing right there. That would explain the bruises on his body, after all.

He groaned and leaned against the side of a building, raking his fingers through his hair. [i]Dammit![/i] While he didn’t really care about whether a chick was single or taken—just because there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you can’t shoot to score, eh?—he [i]did[/i] prefer to avoid situations that would get him beat senseless by big jackasses. Putting the moves on said jackass’s girl was not the way to do that.

[i]And speaking of girls…[/i]

His thoughts drifted back to that waitress, Abigail. For some reason, he couldn’t get her completely out of his head. Sure, she was hot and all, but so were plenty of other chicks. And he had his pick of the lot of ‘em. Not Abigail though. There was no way in hell she would ever consider going out with him after what went down at Morning Star. So why was it that he couldn’t forget about her and move on with his life?

Roman ducked his head around the corner, checking to make sure he was still in the clear. Still no cops. He chuckled underneath his breath. They must have been satisfied with the arrest of those two idiots back at the café. He put the kickstand of his bike back up and hopped up onto the seat. He was just about to ride out from the alleyway when his phone went off in his pocket. He checked the caller ID; It was his boss. He checked the time; It was 9:44AM.

[i]Shit.[/i]

He swiped the option to receive the call, “Hello?”

[i][b]Sousa, what the hell are you doing? The meeting with our new client started almost an hour ago![/b][/i]

“Sorry, boss. I forgot that was today,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, can you just start without me? I’m not gonna be in until later. I’m feeling a little under the weather this morning.”

[i][b]Uh huh,[/b][/i] the man’s voice was skeptical. [i][b]You’re gonna have to get over that drinking problem of yours sometime, Sousa. You’re really on thin ice, you know that? You’re just lucky you’re good at your job or I’d be firing you right now. Get your ass over here when your hangover is gone. I’ll see you then.[/b][/i]

“Aye aye, boss man” Roman answered. He hung up the phone, slipped it back into his pocket, and rode out into the street. However, he didn’t go straight to work. He didn’t feel like doing that just yet. Instead, he decided to take a detour and drive around NYC for a little while. The honking cars, trying to get through crowded intersections; the angry businessmen, shoving through packed sidewalks to get to their jobs; the street vendors, harassing tourists while wearing wild costumes… The bustle of the city brought him joy. He needed a little joy right then. So, he headed back towards the towering skyscrapers of New York, planning to ride around for a while before he went to his job at Precision Horizons.