Niko’s Eye

Chapter 28

"Masterpiece."

Sergio.

Sergio straightened himself up as he stood in front of Aisha’s hotel room.

Let’s make sure nothing is sticking out. No bad breath. No body odour. No sweaty balls.

He fiddled with the trifling piece of plastic that was attached to his chest, as he unhooked the wire that had been dangling on his left n****e, under the velour sweatshirt that he was wearing.

Oh God, I hate casual clothing.

He looked down at the matching velour sweatpants with white tennis shoes, and cringed.

He irritatingly shifted the wires back to position before using his saliva to smoothen his eyebrows.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

A few moments later, Aisha appeared in what seemed to be lingerie.

Lol. She actually thinks this is gonna be a fornication situation again, where we almost procreate and then it’s s****l congress.

Wrong.

He smirked at his thoughts as he brushed passed her, into the room, not uttering a single word.

Act casual, she might notice.

He plopped himself onto the bed and hopped onto one elbow, hand against his ear, whilst taking in the grandeur of the space he was in.

The grand spaces of the hotel room invited the lungs to expand, to absorb the floral aromas and enter the moment. It was the perfect array of homey hues, for they gave a sense of home away from home, of a place of nurturing safety, and bathed in hues of nature.

Grinning, and trying not to show his displeasure for the situation in itself.

Act natural, act natural..

Aisha turned around to face him,serving a raised eyebrow.

Ah s**t.

"What’s with you?", she asked.

He shook his head hastily and made up a c**k and bull story about the whole "divorce" situation that he was supposedly going through, that was messing with his energy.

She immediately lightened up and clapped her hands in delight.

Dumb broad.

"Well, I can loosen those tense shoulders and give you a pleasant experience", she said seductively, as she nonchalantly removed her silk robe.

Thunder fire you dere.

Sergio had an African background.

Nigerian, to be precise.

His father was a Nazi who had a whole plantation of black concubines. It was his little secret, until one of them happened to fall pregnant.

His mother was Adefolake Igitioluwotilaiye.

She had told him that his father had tried by all means possible to get rid of both him, and her.

This was what had led her to escape from the hands of the Europeans, onto a ship that had been importing bananas, rum and sugar from the Carribean.

That is how he had landed up there. He had known a life of hardship and so he worked really hard to become the man that he was today.

Thinking about how far he had come, had made him reconsider and reshape his character, starting with putting Aisha in her rightful place and ending her cynicism.

Cynicism is often mistaken for intelligence, when in truth it a sign of the opposite. When we use our full intelligence, we’ve taken into account multiple emotional perspectives rather than only a basic survivalist motivation. Sure, there are many guru’s of manipulation in our age, the cynics who pedal their crude interpretations and debased analysis, but they have developed their brains poorly and would have you do the same. Full intelligence requires empathy, love and generosity of spirit; that’s when the human species becomes successful at social complexity. Not all this hatred and dumb revenge schemes. And imagine being born into slavery, only to finally be free and then allow some woman to cast you back into submission.

He wasn’t keen on losing his willpower.

Her p***y is not that great either.

He was going to take back his authority. And then he’d seek for the child that she had kept from him.

Something deep inside of him told him that he or she, was still alive.

"We have all night. Come on up here with that bottle of champagne over there, so we can celebrate the conquering of Archimedes."

Game on.

Isis.

Isis stared after Alejandro as he knelt in front of the pulpit, pouring his heart out.

She felt a sting of benevolence and sympathy.

She wondered if she had ever gotten to that point in her life.

The point of being infrared by a heavy conscience that burns you from inside out, begging your soul to be more amenable for the glory of the Lord.

She thought long and hard.

I recognize the hymns. Alejandro also said that this place would help me remember. It must mean that this church is somehow connected to me on a much deeper scale than what meets the mind.

She swayed along to the ode that was being sung by the choir as people had begun to fill up the space in front of the pulpit.

Lost in thought, she gazed ahead, eyes fixed on Alejandro.

His pain seems misplaced. It’s almost as if he’s done something that’s so terrible that it’s made him this repentant and meek. He had the allure of a dominant man when I first set eyes on him. But now, it’s like somebody came and just stripped him of his armor. He looks so vulnerable. Or is it just me? Because from what it seems, you ask God for forgiveness when you’ve sinned right? And the amount of tears he’s shedding is the equivalent amount of his sins...

She c****d her head to the side and snapped out of her mind.

She looked at her hands and traced the path of the lines in her palms, still lost in thought.

Who are you Alejandro? And most importantly, who am I?

Suddenly there was a bright flash in her mind.

She saw the moment between balance lost and impact as she relived that precious second before her ankle snapped in two and tore right through her skin, glinting white in the summertime sun. The pain had brought her to the point of blacking out, but succeeded as her head crashed to the floor, almost fracturing the cerebral cortex. The whole thing was just freaky, like a spectral hand took a cord and wrapped it around her neck, to stop her from going any further down those stairs. Or maybe it would have been easier on her if it had been. As it was, she laid on that floor, unaware of every jolt and bump as she was transported to the medics centre.

As she sat there frowning at her newest revelation, she felt the light strokes of fingers on her arm and jumped to see the stature of a tiny, old woman, standing next to her.

"Isis! It’s me, Halima!", she whispered, almost screeching.

Isis stared at the woman in awe, for a good minute.

And then her face lit up.

"You...our house help. Right?"

The woman nodded excitingly. "Can I sit with you? I haven’t seen you in ages!", she exclaimed, as she pushed past a fazed Isis.

Wait, I remembered her?

Aisha.

Oh, you poor thing. If only you knew how elated the source of your troubles has gotten me.

She sneered at her own thoughts and proceeded to the bed.

"Archimedes had what was coming to him. How dare he snoop into my private affairs and try to ruin the name I worked so hard to establish. I still haven’t thought of how I will take back my church. Neither do I have word about his daft pillock of a daughter. She’s probably the one who went ahead and ran her mouth to all of the deacons and church elders. And..."

She plopped herself onto the bed, two glasses in her hand and the bottle of champagne in another.

She turned to look at Sergio.

"Are you even listening?"

He nodded as he scratched his forward and huffed.

"My wife wants 62% of shares in Puebla Viejo and everything else I worked so goddamn hard to build. I just don’t know what to do."

Aisha let out a cackle and reached out to the bedside table on her right, grabbing her box of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Kill them. Kill them all. Màtalos Sergio."

She said it calmly, slowly taking a drag of her cigarette and letting the smoke linger in her nostrils, before finally huffing it out into Sergio’s face.

She could feel Sergio’s eyes on her. But she refused to look at him.

Sometimes she felt like he was a weakling when it came to ethics of killing. Also, She loved huffing out smoke into his face because he hated cigarettes, let alone the simple smell of smoke.

He gave her a deathly stare and she put her hand up, pointing towards the ring she wore.

"I’m going to be your wife. A little romance and tenderness would be nice. Open the champagne please. These creatures are already dead to me, I think it calls for a celebration."

"Excellent," said Sergio, "Let’s make a toast."

Taking another drag of her cigarette, she washed down the smoke with a hearty gulp of champagne and used her empty glass to toast to the hell she planned on raining down.

Clink.

"To death."