The Open Road

Chapter 19

Darren

I have always been a lucid dreamer. Even back when I was a child. I enjoyed the idea of controlling every aspect of my dreams and each time I felt my potency dissipate, I would panic and wake up. Many have spoken their minds about this, claiming that it was unhealthy, maniacal even but, well, I did not care much for other people's opinions.

I casually stride into my company, glancing at my watch as I enter the elevator situated on the ground floor. I send a glare towards the other occupant within the lift and they respond by nervously moving forward to press the elevator's button. I see the man's fingers hovering between "6" and "7". I mutter a cuss and shift to study him. He has ashen hair and there are pronounced wrinkles around his eyes. There is something odd about his posture. The way he puts pressure on his left leg indicates that his right is injured. Who the hell hired a cripple in my company ? His attire suggests that he is one of the floor workers. A janitor? Or maybe an electrician? Exterminator perhaps? The faded green overalls can belong to any department really and I soon give up the task of placing him. Bored, I glance at my watch again and look ahead as I speak.

"Tell you what, if you get it wrong your services will be terminated without pay. If you get it right, well, you get to keep your crappy job."

I spare the man a glance and smile when I spot perspiration on the side of his forehead.

This ought to be fun.

"Time is money...Go on...press the button."

The man slowly stretches his arm. I notice that it is shaking and bite back a laugh. He elongates his finger and once again hovers it between "6" and "7". I scarcely wonder what is going on through his mind. Whether he is cussing me or thinking of how he is going to feed himself or his family if he lost this job.

"Five...four...three...two..."

He presses "7".

Lucky bastard.

The doors to the elevator close with a silent thud and we begin to move. I start to fish out my phone but stop when my nostrils catch a whiff of an eerie smell. The scent is pungent, almost suffocating. Slowly, I turn towards the man who has significantly distanced himself from me. I lower my gaze to his crotch and spot a noticeable dampness in that area. We lock eyes briefly. He is the first to turn away, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

I had made an old man urinate on himself.

A laugh swiftly formed in my throat. By the time the elevator doors were sliding open, I was clutching my knees, my eyes hot with amused tears. The man half-limps half-runs past me and vanishes beyond the hallway. The smell of urine follows him like how flies would follow s**t. After a few seconds I straighten my back, adjust my tie and wipe tears from my eyes using the tip of my thumb.

"Eh these people will show me things!" I yell loudly, catching the attention of a few of the employees walking by.

I then proceed to my office, a chuckle still lodged in my throat.

My late father, good riddance he is dead, was handed this company by his father on a silver platter. The fool had not worked for anything in his entire life yet he wanted Robby and I to tread rough roads in order for us to inherit his position. Come to think of it, that is when it had all begun, the infamous drift between brothers. We went from fighting over monstertruck toys to fighting over the automobile company. Robby got everything. The fame, the power and the girl. How could I not grow resentful? Had I not invested my own blood and sweat into this company? Why was he to run it and not me? The primitive traditions that revolved around first born sons inheriting property had become stale. My father had made it clear from the beginning that he did not believe in that old crap. Yet, in the end, my big brother had gotten everything while I got nothing.

I loathed Robby with every ounce of my being and I had vowed to strip him of everything.

So far, so good.

A smirk made its way on my lips as my personal secretary made his way towards me.

"Good morning S-sir... Y-your appointment is w-waiting-"

The poor guy dropped the cup of tea he was holding. His butter fingers seemed to be clumsier than usual. I could not blame him. If I had to be a personal assistant to myself I would probably quit. Heck I would even commit suicide! But for some reason he put up with me, now this was loyalty.

"I suppose you are more shaken than usual because of the guest in my office?" I asked knowingly as I suppressed the urge to chuckle at his squirming. He had always possessed a knack of making me laugh.

"What is it that scares you about him? The dreadlocks? Rugged clothes? s***h on his face? Menacing right? Maybe I will send him after you... You know, if you ever cross me or keep pouring my tea."

I watched as his eyes widened in horror and color drained from his face. Again, I bit back a chuckle.

"No, tafadhali, I'm too young, I c-can't die..."

Satisfied with his response, I left the personal assistant on his knees attempting to clean up the mess he had created. A few paces forward, I suddenly stopped.

"Oh and if you so much as whisper about him being here, I will see to it that you do, in fact, die young."

I did not have to turn to know that the threat had hit a nerve.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

I sauntered towards my swivel chair and eyed my guest. Now I fully understood my personal assistant's fear. The guy was about 6'3 with with an extremely frightful appearance. The scar on his face had somehow grown larger, more menacing. Yet upon closer scrutiny, this person was just like any other in Kenya, greedy for wealth. The reason my personal assistant was scared of him was due to the fact that he reeked of the ghetto. White collar employees happen to have a safe bubble where they can hide from the world's biggest problem, money.

"Haina ngori, manze si nko chini, kwanza niwai ile dao yangu manze."

I eyed Jango venomously. Greed was the number one vice in our society, once green started showing one wanted more of it. I let a feline smile play on my lips.

"You are in my world now...speak a language I can understand."

Jango held my eye for a moment before clearing his throat.

"I need money...give me my money."

I c****d my head to the side and leaned forward on my desk.

"Now that we understand each other...You know the drill, give me information...I give you your money."

Jango stayed quiet for a while, as if contemplating whether to tell me or not. Was he f*****g kidding me? I was the one feeding him and his f*****g family, I owned him.

"Start speaking Jango..."

This came out as a low whisper. Jango shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"If Marie finds out...If she knows I am here, with you...No one in the streets will show me respect..."

My patience was deteriorating with every passing minute.

"Let's not forget who got you the job in Eros okay? I planned the whole ploy, the drugs were mine and if you weren't already working for me I'd have gotten both of you killed for stealing my coke. Also don't forget I'm the one feeding your sick mother and your goddamn siblings who are already suffering from malnutrition! Didn't your mother just get diagnosed with cancer? f**k with me and your family ends up in s**t!"

Jango went stiff and slowly lifted his head in submission.

"Bro wako...I mean your bro met us in Eros, we dropped him off in Naivasha where he was meeting this guy...I guess he was supposed to help him with him being out of the pit and all..."

I gnawed over these words still trying to make sense of them. I had left Suzie at the hospital with that bastard daughter she has decided she would mother. I was sure the bills were going to cost me a pocket load of money. I could not just stay there and pretend to care. I did that when the kid was healthy, now that she was sick, I took my leave. I knew Suzie needed me and God did I love her. She was my angel, constantly calming the demons inside of me. Sometimes she just got me too riled up.

"How? How did Marie get a hold of him?"

Jango ran a hand through his locks and eyed me straight in the eye. A cynical smile played on his lips.

"Your fiancee."