“Motorcycle? You won’t catch me on one of those death traps, not in the city. I was just walking back to my apartment, met up with a friend. Oh, I get you, you mean all this hard-rock leather? I wear it for Roz, my girlfriend, she really gets off on black leather. The more I wear, the luckier I get. I don’t get hassled as much in bars, either. You headed to the subway?”

At her nod, he said, “I’ll walk with you, might as well make sure no more morons are out in the neighborhood. You sure you’re okay?”

No, I want to throw up. But she made herself nod again. Mia took another step, weaved, stopped. “Lex, I think I’d better call an Uber. I don’t think I’ll take a chance with the subway, I might fall on the tracks.” She paused a moment, shook her head. “I’ve never thought of myself as a weak-kneed wuss before. It’s humiliating.”

Lex waved away her words. “Forget it, you’re entitled. I’ll stay with you until they come. It’ll all make a great story for Roz. Hey, I’m glad those garbage bags didn’t burst open too.” He patted her shoulder, and they sat side by side on the curb to wait for the Uber.

When a gray Lexus pulled up beside them six minutes later, Mia gave Lex her card. “If you’re interested in an internship or maybe a job at the Guardian, give me a call.”

Lex stared at the card a moment, gave her a big smile. “Roz’ll like this, too.”

Mia confirmed her address with the Uber driver and settled in, leaned her head back against the seat, and closed her eyes. Low-level nausea still hovered, too close. She took deep, even breaths and the nausea eased enough for her to text Travis. Nearly hit by a drunk driver. Feeling shaky, but everything’s fine. Don’t worry, Talk tomorrow?

Thirty-five minutes later, Mia stood naked in front of her bathroom mirror, staring at bright purple bruises on her arms, her shoulders, her chest. She looked over her shoulder, saw her back looked like a multicolor flag and the bruise on her butt something like Australia. If she hadn’t been wearing her thick coat, what would she look like now? Would she even have gotten up? She took three aspirin, looked in the mirror again at the pale face staring back at her. She looked like oatmeal. It was a drunk idiot or a druggie. Wrong place wrong time. It’s New York, get over it. It’s no big deal since I’m not dead.