CHAPTER 3
1234 Words
“Yeah, Mr. Malik,” Arnold called into the phone.
“As-salamu alaykum, Arnold Wright” an Arabian voice greeted from the other side.
“We've reached an agreement in principle with a Dubai Property Development Agency” Malik continued.
“Their fees are quite lower than the others we've consulted, but…”
“Are you there, Mr. Wright?”
“But what, Malik?” Arnold cut in impatiently.
Arnold through his company ‘Wright Realty’ has been pushing this business deal for months, looking to expand their operational base into the United Arab Emirates, and they couldn't afford to have a slip up now.
“I have had sleepless nights tryna close this deal, and now, this son of a gun thinks I'm interested in some suspense game?” Arnold muttered, pacing back and forth on the balcony, overlooking his sprawling Estate.
“But what?” He asked again, this time, more agitated than the last.
“But they're asking for a stake in Wright Realty.”
“They what!?” Arnold exclaimed in his mind, but resisted the urge to interject, as if giving Malik the benefit of the doubt.
He listened keenly as Malik rattled on.
“They want to be part owners of your company, and in return, develop properties in the UAE for Wright Realty to resell at a higher value, make massive profit and everyone goes home happy.”
“Win-win, if you ask me, Mr. Wright.”
“But I didn't ask you, Malik! I goddamn didn't ask you,” Arnold snapped.
“You don't tell me what's a win and what's not!”
“Your fuckin' job is to give reports and feedback on tasks assigned to you, not offer me unsolicited financial advice.”
“Comprehende?” Arnold quizzed, his voice maintaining its husky texture, yet menacing in its delivery.
“Y-Y-Yes Sir.”
Arnold hung up, still pacing back and forth, as he cursed under his breath.
“These overzealous busybodies of an employee, always wanting to prove they know more than their job description, but don't know s**t!” He muttered.
“I should hand over a stake of a company I built with blood, sweat and tears to some greedy Arabs, all for some crappy deal?”
“Imagine I had to sell out a stake of Wright Realty each time I tried to close a business deal or expand operational base, I'd be bought out by now, with nothing left of my legacy.”
“Win-win, if you ask me, Mr. Wright”, he said in a faux Arabian accent, mimicking Malik, shaking his head from side to side.
“Fuckin' clown!”
As Arnold walked back in, Olivia was nowhere in sight. The dining table where they were both seated stared at him blankly.
He briskly walked upstairs to the bedroom, calling out.
“Honeyyy”
“Oliviaaaa!”
The echo of his voice reverberating from one end of the house to the other greeted him.
“Baannngggg!”
It was loud and clear. The sound seemed to have come from their bedroom.
Despite having a Guard that manned the gate and another that surveilled the premises, Arnold almost always had his pistol on.
A man of his wealth and status could not afford to go about unguarded in crazy crazy America.
His personal bodyguard only accompanied him to public functions and was not retained on a full-time basis.
Arnold pulled a 9mm from its holster strapped inside his waistband and made calculated steps upstairs.
He paused and c****d the gun just as he reached for the doorknob of their bedroom.
He quickly kicked the door open in commando fashion, his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at any assailant.
The king-sized bed in the middle of their elaborately decorated bedroom was neatly dressed just as he had left it.
Arnold took a quick glance around and there was no sign that anyone had invaded their matrimonial sanctuary.
Oh, there it was! The source of the bang.
On his last trip to Haiti, Arnold had commissioned a Sculptor to make a custom-made figurine of a couple who looked like himself and Olivia in a ballroom dance.
The almost human-sized figurine made of pure gold had fallen, smashing a vintage porcelain vase in the bedroom into smithereens.
That was the least of his worries now. Whatever money could fix could be replaced.
The maid, a middle-aged woman with a shapely body that belied her age, had rushed upstairs too on hearing the bang.
“Clean this mess up,” Arnold said, pointing at the shards of glass and ceramics strewn across the shiny tiled floor.
“Okay Sir” she courtesied.
“Where's my wife?”
“I haven't seen her, Sir,” the maid responded, as she continued gathering the broken pieces together.
She was bent over, backing Arnold, and still in that position, said, “I thought she was with you, Sir. Is there anything else I can do to help?”
For a split second, Arnold caught a glimpse of her well-rounded derrière, accentuated by the pinafore that seemingly hugged her body just a bit too tightly.
He sharply turned around, looking away and hurriedly made for the door.
“Olivia!!!”
He called out, dashing down the stairway as he turned into the lobby that led out of the house.
Just as he opened the exit door, Olivia came rushing in. They almost collided.
“Jeez! Where on God's green earth have you been, babe?” He asked almost breathlessly.
“What's that on your face? Panic?” She teased.
“Panic about the one I love”, he admitted.
Olivia smirked, “The one you love? How many of us?”
“What do you mean by ‘how many of us’?” His eyebrows raised in a slight frown.
“Nevermind,” she dismissed.
“Well, when I was fed up waiting on you go on and on forever with this strange caller on the phone, I decided to spend some time alone in the garden with Cooper.”
“Hey Cooper,” Arnold stooped, rubbing its snowy white fur as Cooper lay down, wagging its short tail.
Olivia had adopted the Chihuahua as a puppy from a Shelter, soon after her marriage to Arnold.
As the Couple didn't yet have children of their own, Cooper was often a great companion.
Soon after Arnold turned his attention from Cooper, there was an unusually tense air about them, and to break the awkward silence, he asked.
“What else were you doing in the garden?”
Olivia wanted to mention that she had just gotten off a distress call with Katarina, but dismissed the thought.
“Uhmm, it's a great place to think too, errm, the garden. I came up with some great ideas for Floriculture.”
“Oh, great!” Arnold chipped in, absentmindedly.
“I'll be meeting with some of my associates the day after tomorrow. Some kinda old boys, all-guys hangout.”
“Where's this meeting holding?” Olivia questioned.
“Grand d’e la Ville by 6pm.”
It was a famous Hotel and Lounge in Los Angeles.
“Not only had he ignored my subtle inquiry about who he was talking to on the phone; now, this impromptu meeting just made it all the more suspect.” She brooded.
- Writer
