First Call (Open to anyone in New York)

[fear_the_rider]

Tommy Templeton sped along the New York freeway, noting the billboards on the way in. He saw a particularly flattering one of one of those model-socialites that he'd seen in the paper somewhere. Her name was Roxanne...something. Tommy couldn't remember her last name off the top of his head but it didn't matter. He just needed to catch up to an old friend and then get back on the road.

 

It was around noon when Tommy pulled into the 8th Street Bar for a drink. There was an 8th Street Bar on 8th Street in every major city in America but most people never went to the part of town it existed in. He noted that every 8th Street in every major city in America tended to be infested with all kinds of scum and gangsters, and those were the /nice/ people.

The guilty were everywhere and Tommy could feel them like the breeze on his skin. He knew that he'd have to go after them before long. Stepping off his bike, Tommy headed inside the bar and sat down at the counter, nodding to the bar tender. When the blonde woman came over to him, Tommy grinned and gave her his best charm school smile.

"Can I get a shot of tequila, Miss? And keep 'em comin'. Long night ahead." Tommy said, placing a $100 bill on the counter. The woman took and brought over a bottle and a shot glass.

Tommy poured his first shot and relaxed after the long drive, picking up a local tabloid paper. He noted that the picture on the front page was that of a young man, around his age, warding off paparazzi as he came out of a brownstone. The headline was huge.

 

"ROXANNE DANVERS DATING THIS MAN! WHO IS HE? LOOK INSIDE TO FIND OUT!"

"Roxanne Danvers" looked a lot like the woman on the billboard he'd seen and now he remembered why he knew her. A couple of years younger and she'd look a lot like a girl that a friend of his had been carrying a torch for for a long time. Sammy always talked about "Roxanne" and how he hadn't seen her in years. Wait a minute...the guy in the picture looked like...

"So you came home to get the girl, eh, Sammy? Good on you, buddy. Good on you." Tommy said, downing his shot and pouring another. He wondered if Sam Rogers would speak to him if they were here. The article said that the brownstone was here in New York. 

Now, he just needed an address...