Short Stories

Chronicles of Mafia II

Still haven’t read part 1? Click here before you continue….

“I really thought that it would work, that putting myself out there would be the best thing to do, and that Kimberly would forgive me and give me another chance.” Kieran darted a look at me, and returned his gaze on the highway, he was seemingly irked by my confession and he scoffed at me. He proceeded to clear his throat, just like he had done in the coffee shop six months ago before I had my epiphany. I could feel the lecture pitter-patter on his lips, ready to be unleashed.

“You don’t have issues Joe, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, what matters is that you found your identity in the process, and that you respect yourself and women more. When love comes, you will find out that it is patient and kind, unwavering and permanent.”

Today was going to be a very big day for our start-up, an angel investor had contacted me and placed an offer that was too good to be true, and if lady luck was on our side today, it would have been the last time Kieran picked me from home and drove me to work, the last thing I needed was the thought of a rather toxic cut-off to throw me off my game. For a normal autumn day, the sun was rather warm and inviting. The smell of the freshly cut lawn at the grounds of the office complex gave us the impression that today was going to be averse of catastrophe.

In case you are wondering how we were able to afford such a place, Kieran’s dad was more than delighted to provide us with complimentary office space to get the business running and attract serious investors only, like our advertisements in the dailies read. As soon as we walked in, Harper, Kieran’s personal assistant, walked toward us with a gait so hurried and excitement beaming on her face. I will be a bigger liar than Pinocchio if I said I did not dart ogles at her voluptuous figure every once in a while. Perhaps it was subconscious programming from her end, or maybe I was just being delusional.

“Mr. Kieran, Mr. Joe, Prince Ahmadis is in the lobby waiting for you two,” she said as she handed over may daily morning dose of pumpkin spice latte and avocado toast. What kind of a millennial would I be if the two were not an intricate part of my intestinal system? There was no time to eat. The investor meant business, and the last thing we wanted to do was not look the part ourselves. No sooner had we sat on our triple grain leather seats across the prince (it was one of the few luxuries we could afford, given our rent free freedom) than he started talking in his cockney accent.

“The government of Couscous would like to streamline its technological advancements, and we would like a start-up to spearhead the growth agenda,” he paused to take a sip of his yak. For those not conversant with the phrase it means Cognac. As in the brandy. I digress…

“You will be termed as a single-sourced technology company, and I will ensure you get an investment of tune of 200,000 £. The country will only know that a tenth of that money was allocated to the company.”

Kieran stood up, and seemed to soliloquize to himself on why the deal seemed too good to be true. On the other hand, I was over the moon, already doing a catalogue shopping for the latest model of the Audi Q7. He turned abruptly to the prince and asked,

“Your highness, since we are being brutally honest with each other, what is in it for you?”

“Harper, for a night. And perhaps Ayana,”

he paused,

“definitely Ayana as well.”

Now, I may want to mention that Kieran is the most emotionally averse gentleman I have ever met, despite his championing for women to be respected, this was a deal that was too good to pass. Moreover, he was definitely going to get his father’s approval, something that he had moved his entire life, through all his business ventures, seeking.

“With all due respect Prince Ahmadis, I will politely decline your offer, those terms and the whole aspect of illegality that looms around the deal leave me no choice but to say no.”

Being a minority shareholder in the company, I really had no say in the matter. And as his highness walked out of the lounge, he walked out with my dream of driving a German made efficient vehicle. Needless to say, I did not talk to Kieran for the remainder of the day, the feeling of distaste and resentment lingered a bit too long in mouth.

As we parked outside of Ayana’s residence, Kieran turned to me, took deep breath and went ahead to explain,

“You are not man enough to walk away from a bad deal when you are presented with one. Frankly, I am getting tired with having to father you around …”

“How dare you talk about being a man to me when you have nothing to show for it other than your occasional fling with this poor soul?”

I don’t remember the last time anyone slapped me, but the heat that emanated from the impact his burly right hand had had on my chubby cheeks, was enough to warm some left over food.

“A man is one whose body has been trained to be the ready servant of the mind, whose passions are trained to be the servants of his will. Who enjoys the beautiful, loves the truth, hates wrong, loves to do good and respects others as he respects himself.”

The silence that followed was loud enough for us to hear a pin drop on the garden loam soil. He was right, I needed to change my attitude and see that for me to change my thought pattern, it had to start with a change in my philosophies.

We were rudely interrupted by a knock on the car window, Ayana had a perplexed look on her face as she stood behind our company lawyer.

“Mr. Kieran, I’m sorry to tell you this, but your wife, she passed on today morning …

This piece was written by the ever talented Rafael Kariuki.

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Featured Imaage shot by me. Taken from Kemu Towers showing the round about on University Way in Nairobi, Kenya.


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