Max was not a fool. Observing Harris and Martin, and recalling the lewd antics of Martin dressed as that wretched teddy bear, it was not difficult for him to deduce, “Are you trying to frame me?”
He spoke sharply, “This is extortion, you little bastard; you’re in for trouble!”
“You hit someone and now you want to shift the blame?” Martin, of course, did not admit it. Instead, he took out his phone, dialed 911, and asked Harris with a solemn demeanor, “Do you need me to call the police?”
Max’s demeanor was no longer gentle. “You’ve crossed the wrong people; you’re finished!”
Martin, seemingly unfazed, muttered to himself, “I recall a case in the community involving severe injury caused by impaired driving. The unfortunate soul lost everything and ended up sentenced... how many years?”
Max stepped back and leaned against the car.
Martin continued, “There’s a ready-made case today. We’ll find out soon.”
Harris, playing along enthusiastically, said, “Impaired driving, oh my, how wonderful! The odds of me getting a big payout are a hundred percent!” He added theatrically, “Make sure you sell me that footage! I’ll offer $1,000 for it!”
Max stared at Martin as if seeing a venomous snake.
Martin said, “Mr. Max, you’re an exemplary husband, a loving father, with a beautiful wife and adorable children. They must see you as their pillar and hero. I admire you greatly and wouldn’t want to see you embroiled in a criminal case.”
“You vile scum!” Max roared, “Your shamelessness disqualifies you from being human!”
Martin was not provoked. “I’m a well-intentioned citizen. If I provide the footage to the police, I might earn a Marietta Honorary Citizen Award.”
Max, now visibly enraged, retorted, “Stop pretending to be virtuous, you scum from the slums! I know you’re in it for the money. Just name your price and hand over the damned footage.”
Responsible for his words, Martin decided to raise the price: “$5,000.”
“You’re insane!” Max pointed at him, “The fine for a traffic violation is around $5,000!”
Instead of refusing, Martin haggled over the amount, sensing that Max was on the brink of collapse. He raised his offer again, “My new boss has a freelance journalist friend. If I report this, the three major networks covering Atlanta social news will receive a copy.”
He pointed at Harris. “I’m not a legal expert, but Mr. Max, will you need to pay bail in addition to the fine? Will you need to hire a lawyer, which will cost money? Free legal aid from ATL may take months.”
Max was seething with anger.
Martin pressed on, “You might even face imprisonment. If the sentence is long, will your beautiful wife leave you? Will she take your assets and find a new partner? It wouldn’t be so bad; someone would protect your wife and raise your children…”
“Enough! Shut your filthy mouth!” Max kicked the Cadillac’s wheel in fury. “Martin Davis, you unworthy scum!”
He retrieved a pen and a checkbook from the car. “$3,000! Only $3,000! If you demand a single cent more, I’ll fight you! And bring back that cursed footage.”
Martin, needing time for Elena to replicate the footage, took three $1,000 checks and said, “I’m a poor soul and have never seen such large checks. Accompany me to the bank for the transfer, and I’ll give you the footage right after. There’s a Bank of America branch nearby.”
Max glared at him. “No tricks!”
Martin responded, “Honesty and integrity are my principles.”
After passing the intersection and barely a kilometer away, they reached a bank branch. Harris, ignoring his broken bike, followed Martin on foot.
Max moved the old bike aside and followed them.
With the large checks in hand, Harris momentarily forgot the pain of his broken arm and couldn’t help but remark, “How did I perform? At a film festival, I’d have an 80% chance of winning Best Actor.”
Martin dismissed him outright. “Too exaggerated, superficial.” He called Elena: “Is the video okay? Good! Send the original tape after you’re done. Bank of America.”
At the Bank of America branch, Martin and Harris opened accounts. Martin stepped out briefly to retrieve the camera.
Once the checks were transferred, in the bank waiting area, Max viewed the video on the small LCD screen of the camera, retrieved the tape, and placed it in his bag.
The video precisely captured the bicycle entering the frame and the collision with the Cadillac.
The angle was clearly selective.
Max asked, “Is there a copy?”
Martin took back the camera, surprised, “Can this thing even make copies?”
Max stared at him, detecting no oddities, and stood up. “Don’t let me see you again.”
Martin replied, “Rest assured, I don’t wish to see you either.”
Max left the bank, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. “Damn it!”
Those two scoundrels would pay for their actions.
The Cadillac roared to life, turning onto a secluded road. Max got out, pulled out the tape from the bag, and ignited it with a lighter, turning it to ash.
Starting tomorrow, he would hire a driver to prevent a repeat incident.
With that scoundrel’s shamelessness, it was absolutely possible.
Martin and Harris each took some change and obtained credit cards before heading out to their car.
Elena asked, “Do your legs and arms still hurt?”
Martin closed the passenger door and replied, “I’ve discovered that only when I’m broke do my legs ache; with money, everything feels just fine.”
Harris, reclining in the back seat, urged, “Hurry to the hospital. I’m in excruciating pain.”
Elena started the car. “If a crash couldn’t kill you, these minor injuries won’t be fatal.”
Passing the accident site, the bicycle had vanished.
The three didn’t care; the decrepit bike, aside from its bell, had turned into nothing but trash in their eyes.
With the money, Harris’s arm would be treated without needing to find Dr. Bill.
Elena suddenly had an idea. “Since we’ve broken an arm, should we do it again? There are many druggies.”
Harris protested, “The odds of me dying are ninety-nine percent!”
Martin had already considered, “Max has a happy family, a wife and children. He doesn’t want to be a criminal. What if we encounter a violent old guy next time? What if he shoots Harris’s pig head?”
Elena focused on driving and said nothing more.
At the hospital, Martin accompanied Harris for treatment, while Elena returned the car and teddy bear.
Martin asked, “Whose car is it?”
Elena replied, “Monica’s. She’s a nice person.”
Martin softly said, “Remember to fill the tank.”
Elena stared at him for a moment. “Has your idiotic head finally cleared?”
Martin hurried over when he saw Harris emerge from the CT room.
Harris’s condition wasn’t too severe; no surgery was needed, just a cast after repositioning, with the remaining treatment being medication and rest.
As they left the hospital, Elena suggested, “Let’s celebrate tonight.”
“Celebrate a fool breaking an arm? I’m all in!” Martin generously declared. “My treat. Let’s go buy some beer!”
Harris, with his arm in a sling, followed along. “I want funnel cakes and a Monte Cristo sandwich!”
Elena was delighted. “A poor fool treating us? I want sweet beer and oxtail stew!”
The trio made a large purchase at a roadside restaurant and convenience store, preparing to celebrate their evening.
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