He put his hand on his forehead, the pain so unbearable he faltered as he walked, crashing onto the road in front of him. He pulled his hand away from his head, only to find it covered in blood, his blood, his forehead cracked right open from hitting the windshield. That accident had been a big one, and he was surprised he was able to walk away from it.
“I’ve got to get this fixed,” he said as he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. It rang a few times before a male said hello on the other end. “J, it’s Rob, I’m outside Barley and Hops, come pick me up…and bring your first aid bag.”
“Are you okay man? What’s going on?” Jerome, or J as Rob called him, had been Rob’s best friend since high school. He moved here with Rob from New York, working for Rob’s firm and acting as his partner in crime whenever the situation called for it, although J was usually kept in the dark that an actual crime was taking place. This time would prove no different if Rob could help it.
“I just had a little accident and my head is bleeding; I slipped and hit my head on the edge of the stairs outside. Just hurry okay?” He didn’t even give J time to respond, he just shut his phone and tried to think of what to do next.
I’ll have to borrow Jerome’s car, since the cops are looking for mine and that stolen car is totaled. Just thinking about all his effort to find the perfect car to steal and then wrecking it only hours later pissed him off to no end. No one would have even noticed that car gone for days; it was just too perfect, making it just another thing that bitch ruined for me.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an approaching car, and he quickly ducked into the shadows of the doorway so he wouldn’t be seen. As the car slowed in front of the pub Rob peered out from his hiding place, and, after breathing a sigh a relief that it was Jerome, ran towards the car.
“Jesus Christ Rob, what the hell did you do?” exclaimed Jerome as Rob climbed into his car and he got a good look at Rob’s head.
“I told you; I hit my head on the steps, no big deal. Just get me away from here and cleaned up,” Rob ordered through gritted teeth. The less you know the better J; for your own good.
Ten minutes later Rob was sitting in his friend’s living room allowing J to clean and bandage the wound on his head. “You might need stitches Rob; are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?”
If you take me to the hospital I will get caught you idiot. I’m sure the cops have already put an alert out for me. “Is that your professional opinion or just that of a caring friend?” Rob asked with a grin on his face. No sense in being rude and grumpy with him; for one, he won’t buy it, and two, I need his help.
“Both, I guess,” he responded, a little concerned. Jerome, along with being Rob’s right hand man at the consulting firm, was a certified EMT; which was a big reason why Rob called him for help. He knew Jerome would be able to patch him up and he could forgo the hospital.
“J, I’m fine. I actually have some work to do tonight so I can’t spend the rest of it waiting in the ER for a few stitches.” Please believe me, please believe me. It appeared that Jerome did, so Rob took the opportunity that had presented itself to get something else he needed from his friend. “And since my car is in the shop, I was hoping I could borrow yours. Is that cool?”
The truth was that his car was parked in a storage unit and had been since he arrived back in Memphis earlier that afternoon. He couldn’t take the chance of someone seeing it, and since he had burned down the apartment complex he lived in there was no garage for him to park it in.
He waited for his friend to answer, puzzled as to what was taking so long. Jerome was the go-to guy, he never said no to Rob, so why would he start now?
“J? Is it cool?”
“Shhh,” J responded, straining to hear the police scanner that was sounding in the background.
“Black male, 6’ 1”, short black hair, brown eyes, muscular build, last seen wearing a gray t-shirt, dark wash blue jeans and dark shoes, believed to be armed and dangerous, with possible facial injuries caused by a car accident he was involved in before fleeing the scene. Suspect’s name is…..”
The scanner hit static as the dispatcher was about to name him as the suspect, but he had not been saved. Rob looked down at his blood stained clothes; the gray t-shirt, the dark jeans, the dark shoes. He brought his hand up to his head, feeling the bandage that Jerome had just finished attaching. He was made, and the look on his friend’s face told him that he had made him too, just as the rest of the city had.
He watched his friend open his mouth, he could tell Jerome wanted to ask, to find out what was going on, but nothing came out. He stared at Rob in disbelief, disbelief that his friend of over 10 years was capable of the things he was being accused of over the police scanner.
“Also looking for Caucasian female, 5’4”, long brown hair, green eyes, approximate weight 150, last seen wearing a pink tank top and gray shorts. She is believed to be involved in the accident as well, but is not willingly with the suspect. She answers to the name Roslyn Bushman.”
And that cemented it; Jerome had heard far too much to just pretend it was a mistake and lie his way out of this. God dammit! Rob screamed inside, dreading the inevitable. He now had a decision to make; a very important decision that would change his fate either way: tell Jerome everything and make him a part of the plan…..or get rid of him.
