3
Phoenix walked into the restaurant toilet and turned the tap, allowing cold water to emerge before splashing his face clean. Getting it clear of the grime and dirt that coated it, he felt like a new man when he lifted his face from the sink.
As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, his dark features betrayed how old he really was. Pushing into his early thirties, he wasn't a young boy anymore. But he felt stronger, smarter, and meaner as the years slowly piled on. As his dark brown eyes swept over his face, he took in his strong jawline and handsome features. Running his finger over his crocodile-tooth earring, he smiled at how absurd it must appear to certain people.
Making sure that he was clean once more, he stepped out of the toilet and made his way to where he normally sat. It was at the back of the room, near the fish tank. He loved to dine and watch the fish swim up and down. It calmed him.
Stopping just short of his normal table, Phoenix noticed that it was occupied by a beautiful redhead. With a smile slowly dancing along his lips, he approached her.
"Excuse me, but you do know this table is taken, right?"
The redhead looked at Phoenix with an upturned eyebrow. She pouted before replying. "I didn't see a name card saying so."
"There never is."
"Then how would I know if it's reserved or not?" asked the redhead.
"Ah, this must be your first time eating at this fine establishment," said Phoenix, before pulling up a chair and taking a seat. "Everyone who comes here, even only once, knows that this is my table. But I can see why you would be confused."
"Who said I'm confused?" snapped the redhead.
Phoenix gave her a slight shrug of the shoulders. Tutting in annoyance, she moved to leave.
"Leaving so soon?" asked he.
"I don't think there's enough space for me and your ego at this table," she snorted.
Phoenix snapped his fingers and shook his head before saying, "Chloe."
"What?"
"Chloe. I think that would be a great name for our first daughter."
Throwing her head back in unabashed laughter, the redhead placed a hand over her face to control her laughter. "Does that really work on anyone?"
"Why don't you take a seat and tell me?" Phoenix smiled.
She gave him a sideways look before lowering herself to her chair. "Name?"
"Phoenix Jones."
"Monica."
"Last name?"
"Depending how the night goes on, you may or may not get it."
Once the food was delivered by Omar and the wine flowed freely, they both relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. As they took a bite here and a sip there, the hours quickly tumbled one after the other.
"So tell me, Phoenix, how did you come by that earring of yours?"
"Well, that's an interesting story, actually. I spent some time in the African jungle, building homes for the less fortunate. Then the problem of this man-hunting croc came to my attention. The locals were all terrified of it. They called it Onontongay. Which means--"
"Hey! Female. What's your name?"
As they both turned to face the speaker, they saw an unpleasant sight approaching them. Pale, overweight, and with a mop of dark hair, there walked a man whose face looked like he had smelled something not to his liking. Standing in front of their table, he ran a greasy hand through his hair.
"I said, what's your name?" As he spoke, bits of food showered the pair, who tried to avoid it as best they could.
Phoenix looked at the intruder with an upturned brow. His gaze started from the bottom and made its way up. What he saw didn't impress him.
"I think you've had too much to drink," said Phoenix.
"I've done no such thing! I know when I've had enough to satisfy my tastes, and so far I haven't reached it!"
He grew louder by the second. The wave of silence in the restaurant travelled like a poison gas cloud, drowning out each and every voice it met.
"I think it would be in your best interest if you left now," said Phoenix, his voice just above a whisper.
"Who are you to tell me what I should do? You are nothing more than a speck of mould on this rock-like backward planet," said the intruder.
"Whatever, man," Phoenix said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Phoenix turned back to face Monica and took one of her hands in his. "Now where were we?"
A fist slammed on the table, overturning drinks and dropping cutlery to the floor. "Do you know who I am? Do you know who my family is?"
Phoenix turned to his side and gave the intruder a blank stare.
"I am Holger Portendorfer! The first son of the Portendorfer family. The only son of the Portendorfer family. My family owns planets, ship armadas, armies. I can crush your world with a single word! You should bow your head down to me. Now step aside while I converse with this female, and I will forget your utter lack of ignorance."
Slam!
As Phoenix drove a fork into the meaty part of Holger's hand, the high-pitched scream that erupted from Holger's mouth would have put any soprano's voice to shame.
"My hand! My hand!"
"That's the consequence of being a dickhead," said Phoenix.
He heard an eruption of chairs behind him and turned around to see men coming his way. Picking up his own chair and throwing it towards them, he grabbed Monica by the hand and made his way towards the kitchen.
"Omar, a little help!"
"Go! We'll take care of it. Use the exit through the kitchen," the restaurant owner screamed.
"I owe you one, man!"
With Monica still in tow, Phoenix dodged waiters, waitresses, and food carts. Using the backdoor of an establishment for what seemed like the hundredth time to escape, Phoenix allowed the cool breeze of the night air to wash over him.
"Using more than one backdoor to escape in as many hours isn't a good look. You need to evaluate your life, son," Phoenix muttered under his breath. He then addressed his companion. "How about we continue our conversation elsewhere, and I tell you the rest of that story?"
Monica gave him a wide-eyed stare and shook her head in disbelief.
"Don't tell me you're one of those girls scared of a little excitement." Phoenix smirked.
"Last time I checked, I was a grown woman. Who said anything about being scared? Just lead the way," Monica said with a smile.
4
Phoenix struck his hand out to hail the approaching cab. Watching it make its slow crawl towards him, he breathed out, trying to settle his overactive mind.
The rain lashing his face stung as it descended from the heavens. Lifting his head up, he wanted it to wash away his sins. But the grit from the London water did nothing but dirty his body as much as his soul.
It was unclean, polluted, bitter. It was akin to being drunk and hungry on a Friday night and ordering a kebab to satisfy your hunger. As the first mouthfuls made their way to your stomach, you welcomed it. Savoured it. But as the grease pooled in the pit of your stomach and soaked up the booze, you realised all too late the error of your ways.
Hopping into the black cab, he gave the driver the address to his apartment on the other side of town. As London passed him by in a blurry image, Phoenix rested his head on the backrest and closed his eyes.
Last night or earlier this morning had been fun. He and...Lisa?...had spent the night drinking, partying, and after it was all said and done, made their way back to a hotel where the night's activities finally ended.
It had been fun while it lasted.
It was always fun while it lasted.
He just could never bring himself round to making it last longer. His life was complicated enough without adding someone else into the mix to make it worse. Living from day to day could do that to a man.
As Phoenix settled into the backseat making himself comfortable, the words from that creep's mouth still rang loud and clear in his ear. If he were into the whole alien conspiracy thing, he would have given it more thought. But as it stood, he would just pass
him off as another weirdo in the long list that you found wondering London's streets.
But he seemed so sure.
"Your stop, mate," called the cabbie from the front.
"That was quick. You take a shortcut?" asked Phoenix.
"Nah, mate. You were out cold. I could hardly hear my radio with all the snoring that you did. A brass band has nothing on you."
Phoenix paid the driver what he owed and stepped out the cab. Looking at the tower block where he lived, his heart sank. Grey. Old. Peeling. Home.
He bent his head against the rain and made his way across the road. Spray from passing traffic got any dry spots the rain had missed. Pulling the heavy, metal-laden door towards him, the smell of stale urine hit him like a ton of bricks in the chest.
"Ah, the sweet smell of home."
Phoenix quickly made his way up a flight of stairs, but found his path blocked by a leg. Lifting his gaze, Phoenix saw who it was attached to--Phil. The local gossiper/wannabe tough guy. As the man sat on the stairs, he took a huge sniff of something in a brown, oily paper bag. Passing it behind him, he gave it to his partner in crime, John. Where you found one, you normally found the other. Like unwanted house guests that never left.
"What's up, soldier! How's the war treating you?" Phil snickered.
"Phil," Phoenix said dryly.
"I heard a little rumour that Abdul got hit last night," said Phil.
"Did you, now?"
"Yeah, yeah. What was it now, John? He got taken for everything he had, wasn't it?"
"That's what I heard, Phil," said John.
"Big score, too, I heard. Could really take care of someone right into their old age, that sort of money," said Phil.
"Heard anything about something like that?" asked John.
"No. Can't say I have," replied Phoenix.
As he went to walk past them, the leg remained in place.
"Interesting, interesting. I noticed you weren't around last night, soldier."
Phoenix gave Phil a blank stare, but didn't say anything.
"Just with you not being around...and some people saying," Phil said waving his hands in the air.
"Some people saying what, Phil?" asked Phoenix.
"Easy. Easy. What's with the attitude?" asked Phil, holding his hands up.
"Since he's been back from playing soldier in the army, he thinks he's better than us, Phil. Thinks he's above us."
"Is that so? You wouldn't think that now, would you, Phoenix? Otherwise, information about one's whereabouts could be very profitable to the right man." Phil smiled.
"Very profitable indeed," echoed John.
Phoenix grabbed Phil by the back of the head and slammed his face into the wall. Phil's nose broke on contact.
Before John could react, Phoenix had already cleared the distance and grabbed him by the balls. Squeezing for all his might, he grabbed hold of John's shirt and threw him down the stairs. His body bounced off each and every step on the way down. When it was over, John lay moaning on the floor below.
As Phil tried to get up from where he sat, Phoenix punched him in the face, knocking him back down. Grabbing him by the throat, Phoenix pulled Phil close to him so they were eye-to-eye.
"Now you listen to me, you little shit. If anyone comes looking for me about anything relating to Abdul, I will deal with them, then come looking for you. This is not a threat or a promise. It is simply a fact. Do we understand each other?" asked Phoenix.
Nose flattened, Phil tried to focus bloodshot eyes.
Slapping him across the face, Phoenix pointed a finger in his direction and said, "Understand?"
"Y-ye-yeah."
Phoenix knew this was the best he would get out of him. Letting him go, he allowed Phil to slump on the stairs while he made his way past. Stopping next to the brown paper bag, he stepped on it, hearing a satisfied crunch under his feet.
5
Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped through the door of his apartment. He had made it. Home sweet home. Feeling his bulging pockets where the money was stored, a faint smile crossed his lips.
Everything would be all right. They would be taken care of.
Walking into his living room, he saw two smiling faces looking up at him from a picture frame. They were both twelve years old.
Twins.
Going into his bedroom, he moved aside a chest of drawers. Taking a flat-head screwdriver from one of the drawers, he slowly lifted up the wooden floor panelling. Weapons, passports, and other documents he would need at a moment's notice were kept in this makeshift safe. He had used it for years. Placing the stacks of money into the hole, he sealed it back up.
Phoenix dusted himself off and walked back to his living room and stared at the house phone. He knew the call he would have to make. But doing it was a whole other matter. Phoenix let out a sigh and turned his back on the phone, then went to get something to eat.
Meal done, he once again found himself in front of the phone.
He drummed his fingers along his thigh, then shook his head and went for a shower.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked back and forth in front of the house phone. As his body slowly started to air-dry, his skin turned to Braille as goosebumps made their presence felt on his skin.
"Argh!"
Phoenix snatched the phone from where it lay and dialled a set of numbers he knew by heart. Placing the phone gingerly to his ear, he waited for the ringing to be replaced by a voice.
"Hello?"
"Aunty, it's me."
Silence.
Pacing once more, Phoenix ran his hand over his head. "Err, how have you been?"
"Fine," came the reply.
"Good. Good."
Phoenix's footsteps were the only things that could be heard bouncing along the walls of his apartment. Redoubling his grip on the phone, he held it close as it tried to slip out of his sweaty hands.
"Can I speak to the twins please?" asked Phoenix.
"Look, I don't think it's a goo--"
"It will only be for a minute."
"All right. But make sure that you ain't too long or get them overexcited. I just got them settled down in the ward and the nurses have given them something for the pain."
"I promise."
"Hello?" said two small voices on the other end of the phone.
"Hey, guys. Guess who it is? Your favourite big brother," said Phoenix softly.
"You're our only big brother, so the spot of favourite has to go to you, silly. It can't go to anyone else," a young girl's voice said.
"Yeah. If we had more, you would only come in third, maybe second." A little boy giggled.
"Hah. You really know how to kick a guy when he's down, don't you? How have you guys been?" asked Phoenix.
"Not too bad, we--" As the little voice stopped to cough and heave, Phoenix pulled the phone from his ear and gritted his teeth. When he placed it back, his sister continued. "Yeah, we're not too bad. There was a clown that came to the hospital yesterday, but you know how I feel about clowns. But all the other kids were all over themselves at the sight of him. It was just a stupid clown. Get over it."
His sister, always the brave one. Always the one who stood up against whatever life threw at her and kept fighting back. Old before her time.
"What about you, little man?" asked Phoenix.
"I liked the clown, he was funny. Made me laugh. He did something and his clown bottoms split."
He could almost feel the carefree smile on his little brother's face. He always had a smile. Was always open.
"We had more tests today. I didn't like that much, but the doctor said it was to make us better," finished his little brother.
"The tests are just there to check that you are getting better. They wouldn't do them otherwise, little man. You just have to be strong for a little bit longer."
"We know. When are you coming to see us?" demanded his sister.
"Sooner than you think. I gotta go now. I love you both ver
y much. Can you please pass me over to Aunty, and I will see you both before you know it."
"Love you, too," rang out the two voices.
"Yes?" said his aunt.
"Everything is taken care of. I have the money and I'll send it to the hospital in Germany tomorrow. After that, the twins should get all the help they need. It won't be long now."
A heavy sigh filled his ear from the other end; nothing was actually said.
Ignoring it, he continued on. "After that, they should get better. That hospital has a remarkable recovery rate. I've spoken to the doctors there, and they seem confident in the outcome. I've also been looking at schools I know they'd enjoy. Private schools. The best. They're always talking about being scientists, doctors, inventors. They can only do that if they get the best instruction in the world. They're so smart, it would be a waste not to give them the best start in life. I really think they can make a difference." His rambling came to a stop, and Phoenix once again waited for something to be said. Several moments of silence passed before Phoenix threw in, "What?"
"This isn't the first time you promised you would help them, but you never came through. The promises of money, of saving them, have always been just that. Promises. Phoenix, look... If you can't get the money together, there is no shame in admitting so. But be a man and come clean to me and them. I don't want the last words they hear in this world to be lies."
"Things were different then. People let me down. People let me down even when I managed to get the money. I had to do it all myself. It was a hard lesson learnt, but I learned it," said Phoenix.
"It's always someone else's fault, isn't it, Phoenix? When I get asked the endless questions by the police. When I've had to uproot the twins time and time again to a different home, a different place. All because they're related to you. Look, I've got to go. It would be nice if you saw your brother and sister. But if you can't, then I hate to say it, but they're used to it."
Phoenix raised his arm to throw the phone against the wall. He hesitated. Slowly lowering his arm, he firmly slotted the phone back in its cradle. Walking to his kitchen, he placed both hands on the table.
Breakout: (Space Outlaw 1) Page 2