Men On The Run

Men On The Run
DEREK
Anger swirled as I switched off the TV, shutting up the boring faced, annoying tone of the newscaster. I turned to glare at Philip, he ignored me, taking a drink of the brandy he'd shoplifted last night.
"Are you happy, man?" I began, knowing how much he avoided talking about it.
He heaved a weary sigh. "I'm sorry, Derek. How many times do I have to apologize before you truly know how sorry I am?"
"No apology can repair the damage you've done. My life is fucking on the verge of being ruined. I should have left you at the hotel and zoomed off."
"You almost left me." The accusation in his tone didn't go unnoticed by me.
"I should have. I hate myself for having a change of heart. I should have let those cops coming after you get you." The half-filled glass in my made a thudding sound as it came in contact with the stool beside me.
We were currently in a guest house in a remote location, hiding it out, searching for the perfect opportunity to leave the country. Though I still had one more job to do before I left.
"It was a mistake, alright! A mistake!" He yelled, obviously as frustrated as I was.
None of this was going according to plan.
"The plan was to teach her a lesson, not to kill her. You never said anything about strangling your wife to death."
"She was fighting back!" He defended, his voice rising as well. "She was fighting back and it made me furious. I was used to her being subservient and meek, not challenging me. Plus she ratted me out. You of all people should understand the situation I am in."
I stood from the single chair in the room to pace. "The cops are everywhere, our pictures are constantly aired on TV, Phil. You should have controlled that anger."
"You killed Catherine, didn't you? She was your girlfriend and you snuffed life out of her. Why's mine irking you so badly?!" He quipped, frustration growing by leap and bounds in the depths of his eyes.
"But her death and my involvement in it is not being aired right now, is it? My picture has never been paraded on news, until you!" I shot an accusing finger at him.
"Crucify me then!" Phillip yelled back. "As though you can not see how much I am also suffering in this. I have an unknown number asking for ransom in exchange for my daughter's life!"
"But you said it was your wife that was behind it." I asked, tension and anger still palpable in the air.
"I guessed wrong." His chest rose and fell in another weary, frustrated sigh. "I got another warning from an unknown number, it threatened to ruin my company and pull every money I've ever made from there. I'll be totally broke! I have my credit cards but I'm too scared to use them. The cops might use them to track me." He eyed the bottle beside him.
He abandoned glass and chugged directly from the bottle.
"I'm reduced to shoplifting when I have money. Fuck!" His words were a bit slurred, he had chugged too much.
I almost felt pity for him but anger refused to give way for sympathy to grow so that particular emotion only blossomed in the shadow of anger.
"We'll find a way." I moved closer to snatch the bottle away much to his annoyance. "Drinking leaves you helpless and stupid. We need our brains to think of a way out." I placed the bottle a bit far from his easy reach.
"What do you suggest we do? It's over, man. From my perspective, nothing will work in our favor." He complained sadly, his eyes glazed and unfocused.
"It's not over. I still have to get my son." My lifestyle never allowed me to go for stability and have a child of my own.
The very fact that Catherine had kept such a big secret from me was enough to make me not regret her death. I'd loved her yet she couldn't trust me enough to tell me about our son or even love me back.
She'd played me. Extorted me. Sold me out.
No, I wasn't sorry she was gone and I was glad that whatever feelings I harbored for her went along with her.
Once I was able to get my son, it was goodbye to this country.
"Can you just stop? You think Hailey will give up the boy? Can't you think?!" Though his words slurred, anger and impatience were palpable.
"I should be scared of that little Hailey bitch?! Why? Just because she has an unexplainable connection with Peter Johnson?" I spat, hating his discouragement.
"He has the President on his side. And right this moment, Rashford is in prison for life, we don't have anyone to...you know, do whatever Rashford was doing for us."
"And you think the President will not listen to us?" A smug smile crept up my face, crooking a corner of my mouth.
"What do you mean?" His alcohol-glazed eyes met my face.
"I'll get back my son through the support of the President." The confidence tinging my tone had Philips looking at me with eyes narrowed a bit in curiosity.
"What do you mean?" He slurred again. "You think the President will help you?"
"Yes and he has no choice."
He could only stare in further perplexity at me.
"I just found out recently that the huge sales we've been making all this while was coming from none than the our dear beloved President." I informed quite importantly.
"What?" My friend's face scrunched in disbelief. "Where did you hear this?"
"From a trusted source, but don't ask me because I won't say." The person who had given me this information was none other than one of the President's cabinets member that knew of his secret business of ammunition and drugs deals.
I had been shocked to know as well. I'd gotten it from the man because he was also a buyer — not ammunition but drugs.
He did drugs in private.
"He wouldn't want to ruin his reputation." Philip was beginning to see my point, even though it was through a slow, intoxicated brain and glazed eyes.
"Exactly. We just have to find him and strike a deal." I put in.
"What deal?"
"Either he does as we ask or risk his name getting smeared." A wicked yet hopeful gleam crossed my eyes as I observed my reflection in the small mirror hung to the wall of the wardrobe in the guest suite.