Genuine Love: Roxanne and Charlie's Story

After the door was shut, Roxanne smiled at Arnold.

“So…Mummy and Daddy’s little pumpkin has matured into a man,” she observed and added, “Is that Giovanni character your girlfriend?”

“That’s my business. The party is over, so you have nothing on me now. I don’t pry in your relationship with Charlie…,” he started.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Roxanne cut.

“Yeah, right. So that lift he gave us and his paying for my items don’t mean anything?” Arnold asked, but before she could counter, he added, “You know what? I don’t know and frankly I don’t care. That’s your business. As I was saying, I don’t pry in your relationships, so don’t pry in mine.” Roxanne lifted her hands in surrender.

“Whatever. But from me to you, girls are tricky, so watch your back,” she said, then looked around at the living room and added, “This place is a mess. You know what to do, before Mom and Dad get back,” then took a piece of cake and went upstairs to her room. Arnold sighed, then looked around at the confetti.

They would really come in handy when, he thought, he and Rebecca were locked in each other’s arms kissing passionately. He pictured the glorious sight, with the confetti coming down gently upon them.

“One step at a time,” he said to himself, then hummed a tune as he cleaned up. It took a while but he finally finished. Afterwards, he went and had a shower then changed into a T-shirt and cargo pants. The doorbell rang. He whistled as he went to get the door. It was his parents.
“Mom, Dad, hi!” He said happily as he hugged them both.

“Hey Pumpkin. How was the party?” Mrs. Simmons asked as she hugged him.

“Great! I invited Erick, Duncan, and James over just like the other day and we studied and partied,” he lied.

She kissed him on both cheeks and said, “Good boy,” then got in. Mr. Simmons interacted with his son next.

“Hi son,”

“Hey Dad,” they exchanged while shaking hands, then Mr. Simmons winked at him and got in. Roxanne came down.

“Hey Mom, hey Dad, how was the massage parlor?” She asked as she hugged them both.

“Grand, as usual. Too bad you kids never want to join us,” Mr. Simmons said. Mrs. Simmons nodded her agreement.

“We’re still young and vibrant. We don’t need massages,” Arnold said.

“Yeah,” Roxanne agreed, then went to prepare supper as she always did on Saturdays. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons went to freshen up, and Arnold went and watched TV as he waited for supper.

When it was finally set, he helped in setting the table. He was hungry. Although he had a party, he didn’t eat anything solid. He survived on cola only. Roxanne, on the other hand, was full since she had eaten plenty of cakes. They were her main weakness. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons came down for supper.

“This looks good, Roxy,” Mrs. Simmons said as she took her seat. Mr. Simmons was too hungry to talk.

“Thanks. You’ll enjoy it,” Roxanne replied, and served her mother. 

She served everyone else, then herself last. Arnold and his father chomped down their meals without a word, Mrs. Simmons ate reflectively at a calm pace, and Roxanne ate hesitantly, poking her food with her fork. Her mother noticed this.

“What’s the matter, Roxy?” She asked.
“I’m not hungry. I guess I had too much to eat at the party,” Roxanne replied, and stopped eating.

“Too bad. All this food going to waste?” Arnold teased, then added himself some more.

“Looks like the party rocked,” Mr. Simmons observed as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

“Not much. It was mainly…,” Roxanne started.

“Studying and partying,” Arnold put in, before his sister contradicted his previous description.

“Yeah,” Roxanne agreed hesitantly. Mr. Simmons nodded.

“My Arnold is a good boy,” Mrs. Simmons said with a smile, then ate the last of her food. Arnold nodded proudly. Roxanne rolled her eyes.

“That was wonderful, sweetheart. Thanks,” Mr. Simmons said to her, and got up. She nodded with a smile. “It has been a tiring day. I’m going to bed. Coming, dear?” Mr. Simmons asked his wife. She held his hand, got up, then hugged Roxanne.

“Good night, honey. Thumbs up for the meal,” she complimented as she hugged her.

“Thanks, Mum. Slept tight,” Roxanne replied enthusiastically. Afterwards, Mrs. Simmons kissed Arnold on both cheeks. Mr. Simmons sighed. Mrs. Simmons ignored him.

“Good night, Pumpkin,” she whispered lovingly to her son.

“Same here, Mom,” he replied.

“Good night kids,” Mr. Simmons said to his children after he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder as they went.

“Good night, Dad,” they said in unison, and watched their parents disappear to their room. After they had left, Roxanne turned to her brother with a mocking smile.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, then stood up. Roxanne imitated the kissing sounds made as he was being kissed by their mother, then mimicked her: “Good night, Pumpkin.”

“Shut up,” Arnold said moodily and went to his room, leaving his sister laughing heartily. She cleared the table then went to bed. The day to her was fun.
Carla and Jack Al had gone for lunch at a diner that wasn’t all that, but was preferable in hygiene compared to Pleasure Treasure. 

It had wide, comfortable couches that curved out around the polished, black tables. They could accommodate at least ten people each. It had a marbled floor, and each table had several menus. Its waiters and waitresses were clad in exorbitant-looking black suits—pants for men and skirts for women—and bow ties. Its name was Bon Cuisine.

Jack Al smiled as he and Carla took a seat at a table they had selected.

“Your workplace could borrow a few leaves from here, don’t you think?” He mocked her as they scrutinized the menus. She ignored him. They had finally ordered after initially having trouble deciding what to pick. The foods listed all sounded classy, delicious, and superb.

Once their orders arrived and after Carla uttered “merci beaucoup” to the waiter who had served them, Jack Al began eating immediately. Carla watched him eating and giggled as he tore the flesh off the sheep’s leg he had ordered ferociously. She was in the mood for a conversation but clearly he wasn’t, forcing her to eat in silence while occasionally watching him.

It was only after the meal that he gazed at her while he wiped his mouth. She finished her food, and paid the waiter who had served them when he came again with the check. He was puzzled. He was used to being paid by the man in the couple for the meals ordered. A steely gaze from Jack Al made him retreat with their empty dishes.

“Let’s go?” Carla suggested to Jack Al after grabbing her purse. He nodded, and they left the diner together. Carla studied his face. He looked moody and grouchy as usual. “So where next?” She finally asked as they walked.

“Your place,” he murmured. She beamed and wanted to hold his hand, but refrained. He had a loose and unpredictable temper, and it was that that pulled her to him.

After a long, silent stroll, they finally arrived at Carla’s place. It was a simple apartment with four rooms: A bathroom cum toilet, a bedroom, a dining room that was combined with a kitchen, and a living room.

“Make yourself at home,” she said to Jack Al after they got into the living room, then went off to her bedroom to change. 

Jack Al took off his sweater  and sprawled onto one of the fur-coated seats in the living room and looked around. There was a radio on a stool at one of the corners of the room.
“I’ve always been a radio girl,” said a voice behind him. He turned to its source. It was Carla, when she walked in and found him eyeing it. She had changed into a vest and tracksuit bottoms. “What will you have?” She asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Jack Al replied.

“Alright,” she said with a slight shrug, then joined him where he sat. He cleared his throat and looked into her eyes.

“Carla, I have something to ask you,” he said. She faced him. “I need to go to the East Side to tend to some business, but I’m broke,” he explained. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully and stood up, then faced away.

“The East Side? That’s miles away from here,” she replied, while maintaining her position.

He looked at her hair then replied, “That’s why I need the cash. Please help me.”

“I will help you,” she declared, then turned to him and added, “I will help you Jack, and do you know why? Because I love and care for you,” and once again joined him on the seat. He held her hands.

“Thank you, Carla. It’s good to know that,” he said with a slight smile.

“But don’t you feel the same way? I know you love me too, Jack. Let’s stop pretending,” Carla implored, and brought her face closer to his. Jack Al could feel hot blood rushing through his veins. His urge was acting up.

“H-how will you help me?” He stammered, obviously brought to his knees by Carla’s bold act of pushing him onto the seat. He lay on his back. She towered above him. He put his hands on her slender waist. She slowly took off her vest.

“Less talk, more action,” she whispered sensually. She was right there before him, in a dark brassiere, and was starting to lower the tracksuit bottoms when Jack Al finally sat up.

“I need that money,” he whispered. Carla shifted from her pants to his shirt, and started unbuttoning it.

“You’ll get it, baby. Relax,” she cooed, then leaned over to kiss him. He turned his head, causing her to kiss his cheek.

“Carla, I…,” he started, but paused when his shirt slipped down his arms. He sprawled onto his back once more and she retained her position on top of him. She took off her brassiere while kissing him—still on the cheek—then her pants, and was starting to fumble with the button and zip of his jeans when he sat up, then stood up, making Carla shift onto the seat. “I can’t do this!” He panted. Carla also stood.

“Why not, baby? Don’t you want it? Don’t you want me?” She asked in confusion. Jack Al stroked his hair roughly.

“Stop it, Carla! Stop it! I’m not your baby. I’m Jack Al. This is a mistake which should never happen,” he spat furiously, then grabbed his shirt. He couldn’t allow himself to be under her spell. “Give me the money,” he demanded, after forcing on his shirt. 

Carla was disappointed. She put on her brassiere weakly. 

“Give me the damn money!” Jack Al ordered, his gray eyes widening. Carla shuddered and dressed up immediately and hurriedly.

“Alright. Let m-me go and withdraw it for you,” she replied calmly. She learned that fire is fought with water.

“Hurry up,” Jack Al murmured, then sank back onto his seat and waited. Carla wore his sweater and rushed off. Jack Al couldn’t understand himself. One minute, he wanted her bad but when he got the chance, he squandered it, ending it faster than it started. He sighed and buried his head in his hands.

It was 6.00 p.m. when Carla returned, taking exactly an hour and a half away and back.

“Here it is,” she whispered to Jack Al as she got into the living room. It was enveloped neatly in a brown package.

Jack Al took it and sighed, “I’m grateful,” then stood up. Carla stood still and looked at him. She didn’t know what to expect when with him. He pocketed the money then held her. She took off his sweater and gave it to him.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” he whispered as their faces came closer.

“Don’t say anything. Relax,” she replied in the same tone and intensity. He couldn’t kiss her as much as he wanted to. She held the sides of his head and smiled sweetly. “How’s about you spend the night here?” She suggested as she looked into his eyes. Jack Al licked his lips. It was a tempting offer. He looked at her chest, then her, and released her.

“I can’t. I have to be up early tomorrow,” he stammered uneasily.

“I’ll wake you. Please, Jack. You know you want me as much as I want you, so what’s keeping us apart?” Carla pleaded, still holding his head. He freed himself.

“I have to go,” he muttered.

“But Jack…,” Carla started.

“I said I have to go! I can’t take this anymore!” He roared, then turned and left.

“Jack,” Carla whispered after her door slammed shut, as she slumped onto the couch behind her, then buried her face in her hands. She was in no mood for food, so she did not prepare supper.

The next place that Jack Al went to was his place. He felt famished and regretted that he hadn’t stayed at Carla’s. She would have cooked for him. He sighed wearily as he got into the kitchen to prepare whichever food was available. 

There was some cheese and milk in the fridge, and that’s what he had for supper. Afterwards, he was too depressed to stay home, so he rose up, locked his place, and left for the Genuine Bar.

It was a large bar with flashy lights that made it noticeable even from a distance. Its loud, thrilling music was a huge contribution to the sea of customers—especially men—who visited it for drinks everyday despite the odd hours. The number one reason, Jack Al thought as he made his way in, was the unique costume of the waitresses. They were topless, with a black bow-tie, micro-miniskirt, and stilettos.

His usual spot was at the forefront where he, Damian, and all other VIPs sat. The owner, Homer Macabee, was his best friend. He found Damian and Homer exchanging stories and laughing as Damian sipped a glass of tequila and Homer wiped the inside of a beer mug with a towel.

“Hey hey! Jackster! How you doing, man?” Homer greeted as Jack Al sat beside Damian.

“Good. Good. I just need something strong to kill my cares, you know what I’m saying?” Jack Al breathed with a brief smile.

“I got you, Jackster. I got you,” Homer replied, and turned to a waitress who was just passing by. “Shelby, get a strong tequila for my man here,” he said while indicating Jack Al.

“Straight up, boss,” Shelby replied, and went to get the order. Jack Al had frequented the bar so often that Homer already knew his only drink.

“You know all these girls’ names?” Damian asked Homer after sipping his drink.

“It took me quite a while, Damster, but I finally managed,” he replied, then added, “You looking for one to give you some company? For a very small fee, I can organize that.” There was a silence as Shelby brought Jack Al the drink. 

She smiled at him and said, “Here’s your order,” then placed it before him. 

He eyed her breasts. There was something about women that he loved: Their femininity. She left, and Jack Al found himself following her with his eyes. She was beautiful. The sway of her hips as she moved was magical. Her perfect butt was a bonus. Jack Al smiled. Homer laughed and playfully slapped him on his back. There was an energetic song playing in the background.

“No thanks, Homey. I’ve got a girl who’s all I need. Perhaps Jackie boy here is interested,” Damian replied to Homer’s earlier question as he smiled at Jack Al, who sipped his drink silently. Homer nodded.

“Yeah. And for a beast like him, I recommend Cynthia,” he indicated to her with his dark brown eyes. 

Jack and Damian turned to where his eyes indicated, to a voluptuous woman who, judging by her appearance, was Latin American. She had a fine head of dark, curly long hair.

“She looks great, but I’ll pass. I had a chance with this really cute girl and I blew it,” Jack Al confessed, and gulped down his drink to the last drop. His friends looked at him in disbelief. “Another round, Homey,” he said as he pointed to the empty bottle.

“Devon, tequila for my man here: Straight on the rocks,” Homer shouted to another one of his waitresses who was serving a customer.

“Word up, boss,” the horny blonde waitress replied, then went to get it. Damian sang along to the song that was playing in the background and emptied his bottle.

“Go to her, Jackster. That’s a chance you get only once,” Homer advised, then eyes several waitresses who passed by with orders. Damian nodded his agreement. 

“Another round, Damster?” Homer asked. He shook his head.

“That will do,” he replied.

“And the best part, guys, is she paid for a meal we had, didn’t react when I hit her, and lent me some cash,” Jack Al said as he looked at his friends in turns. “Thanks,” he said briefly to Devon, who placed his order before him. She smiled at him, nodded, then left.

“These girls seem to have the hots for you, Jackie boy,” Damian observed, trying hard not to look at Devon as she left, then punched his friend lightly on the arm. Jack Al smiled proudly.

“They’re all cute, but tonight it’s Carla, the girl I’m telling you guys about,” he said, then took a sip of his bitter drink. He was starting to get tipsy.

“That’s my boy,” Homer said proudly as he watched him drink.

“Let me get going, guys, before these girls tempt me to forget that I’m taken,” Damian said, then stood.

“Damian, man, the night is still young. It’s a Saturday,” Homer said with a smile.

“Perhaps another day. Here’s your dough, Homey boy,” Damian replied, then paid for his drink.

“Alright, see you later,” Homer said, then took the money.

“Jackie boy,” Damian bade Jack Al, then slapped him on the back softly.

“Take care, man,” Jack Al replied drowsily. Damian left, leaving his two friends chatting and laughing. Jack Al gulped down his drink at once until it all finished.

“Another?” Homer asked him, after he placed the bottle on the counter. He shook his head.

“I’m alright,” he belched, then struggled to his feet.

“Go to your Carla, Jackster. We shall talk money when you’re sober,” Homer said.

Jack Al nodded, then strained, “Thanks for understanding, Homey,” and slowly left the bar while bouncing along to the song that was playing in the background.

Carla was in bed, but wasn’t asleep. She stared at the ceiling of her bedroom with her hands behind her head. Jack Al’s image kept popping up in her head. She had already convinced herself that he was the man for her. She was still thinking about him when she heard a loud bang at her front door that made her sit up in alarm. Her heart raced as she looked for something to hit the Nicodemus with, whom she presumed to be a burglar.

“Carla, it’s me,” said a familiar hoarse voice. She quickly got out of bed in her knee-length night gown and rushed to open the door.

“Jack?” She called out happily as she opened. Immediately she opened for him, he burst in and grabbed her by her arms. She could smell alcohol all over him but ignored its stench. He kissed her, then began undoing his jeans.

“What has gotten into you, Jack?” She asked happily after shutting the front door and taking off her gown. She took off his sweater and shirt and tossed them carelessly on the floor. He had a look of savage lust in his eyes.

“You have,” he croaked, then grabbed her and unleashed kisses on her neck and chest in the living room.

“Let’s go to my room where there’s plenty of space,” she suggested as Jack Al kissed her. 

He lay her on the sofa and parted her legs. The seat groaned under their combined weight, especially when he thrust into her. He gave her the pleasure she so longed for, and after five rounds of energetic sex, he lay on her and slept heavily. 

She heaved a sigh of pleasure amid the sweat and exhaustion as she felt his masculine, rock-hard body coming into contact with her more feminine and graceful one. She, too, fell asleep, and they slept in each other’s arms until the break of dawn.

Wise Enterprises was the name of Roxanne’s prestigious workplace. She looked at it in admiration. For a moment, she forgot about the cab driver beside her who was waiting for his pay.

“Cash, Miss,” he promptly bellowed to her. She looked at him.

“Right.” She said, then took several dollars from her purse and gave them to him. He nodded.

“At your service,” he said, then got into his cab and drove off. Roxanne sighed.

“This ‘cab’ thing is just for now. I shall soon have my own car,” she said to herself as she walked to her workplace.
The place was gigantic with numerous workstations and people—each professionally carrying out their duties. 

It was divided into floors: The ground floor was for newcomers like herself and subordinate staff, the first floor was for able employees who were promoted to working in the factories, the second floor was for qualified and experienced employees who did tons of work within a short time, while the final floor was for the boss, Mr. Reynolds, and his team of engineers.

Roxanne walked in while looking around. She liked what she was seeing and knew that there was where she belonged. She saw someone waving at her with a smile. She smiled back. The person stood up, walked to her, and hugged her.

“Rox! Wow! Look at you!” She said, while admiring Roxanne’s smart suit.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Bree,” Roxanne returned with the same enthusiasm. The two friends walked to their stations.

“You work here,” Bree informed her while indicating a well-polished desk with a computer, several files, and a tag boldly indicated ROXANNE SIMMONS.

“Thanks,” Roxanne said, then took a seat on a swivel chair behind the desk. 

Bree sat behind the desk right beside Roxanne’s. There was a thick plank of wood that separated them but they could still see each other. Roxanne noted that Bree’s desk also had a tag with her name on it. 

She put her purse on the desk and looked around. What would she do? She wondered. She glanced over at Bree, who was busy uploading files into her computer, and drummed her fingers on her desk.

She finally decided to turn on her computer and watch a movie in it to kill time. She put on the headphones beside the computer and turned up the volume of the computer. All her attention was fixed on the movie. Time went by very quickly and before long, it was 10 a.m., when the employees had a coffee break.

Getting Roxanne’s attention was no easy task, especially since she was engrossed in the movie. Bree slammed Roxanne’s desk with her open palm, and that did it. Roxanne looked up at her, took off her headphones, and paused and muted the computer.

“What?” She asked.
“We’re on a break—unless you want to sit your butt here watching a romcom movie the whole time,” Bree said as she watched the movie behind her friend.

“You’ve seen it?” Roxanne asked.

“Have I? It’s a classic,” Bree replied, then watched a well-built man as he passed by her. “You know, sometimes I regret being Keith’s girlfriend. There are so many yummy guys and I have tied myself down to one guy,” she said to Roxanne, who smiled, shook her head, and turned off the computer then got up. She adjusted the top which she wore under the coat.

“Keith is hot. You don’t need any other guy when you’ve got him,” she said, then followed her friend who was equally beautiful. She had on a purple skirt suit with heels, noticeable features, and shoulder-length beautifully kempt dark hair. Her cocky nature and audible soft voice made her, Bree, to be easily identified.

“Speaking of guys, do you have one?” Bree intruded as they strolled to get their coffees. “Let me correct myself: Do you have tons of them?” She said again. Roxanne laughed and playfully slapped her friend on the back.

“Bree, I don’t need one right now,” she said, as they both served themselves coffee.

“Yeah, right. Roxanne? Rox, the one I know? We were bad girls in high school, remember?” Bree said as she looked at Roxanne, then sipped her coffee.

“Guys going head over heels for us, others dumping their girlfriends for us…” Roxanne recalled fondly.

“...others had to beg for our phone numbers. Remember when Tyler Fisher broke his leg trying to pull a stunt to woo us?” Bree contributed, then broke into an uncontrollable laughter. Roxanne joined her.

“Those were the days,” she said after a long hearty laugh. “But now we’re adults, living in the real world,” she added and smiled on noticing a good-looking guy eyeing her. Bree followed her gaze.

“Who said adults can’t turn heads and have some fun? Your smile tells me you think that guy is cute,” Bree said while staring on at the distant guy who was having coffee with a few of the engineers. He waved at them. Bree waved back vivaciously while Roxanne nodded at him.

“Maybe, but he’s not my type,” Roxanne said, then finished up her coffee and put her cup on the rack of dirty dishes. Bree did likewise.

“What’s your type, exactly?” She asked Roxanne.

“I don’t know. He should be ideal, caring, loving, and, of course, handsome,” Roxanne replied as they walked up the stairs leading to the first floor.

The first floor was more advanced than the ground floor. It had several fans, a well-tiled floor, water dispensers for each employee, plus a two-sided flat screen TV on the ceiling for every employee to watch. A few of them were watching it.

“It’s like we’re in kindergarten and these guys are in middle school,” Bree said as she enviously looked at the fans then the TV.

“Well, at least we have computers on our floor. Let’s go to the second floor,” Roxanne replied, then took her friend by the hand and led her to the flight of stairs that led to the second floor.

The second floor was even more advanced. Each employee had their own office, TVs, and air-conditioners. They even phoned to order coffee and lunch without having to stand up and go for them. Several female cateresses from the ground floor would come there and serve them.

“You call first floor middle school? Baby, this is high school!” Roxanne said to Bree as she admired the beautiful walls of the department.

“This is a crime against workers. What do they have that we don’t?” Bree said loudly, making one of the employees who was passing by turn to her.

“Um, experience, Bree. Let’s move on, before you put us in a very tight spot, to the university of Wise Enterprises, where the likes of Mr. Reynolds are,” Roxanne answered as she led her friend to the third and final floor.

It was like a totally different place. It was a combination of the first and second floors, with their boss and his engineers having washrooms in a room in their offices. Each office door had a name tag made of gold on it.

“Well, enough sightseeing. Let’s get back to work before Mr. Reynolds finds us here,” Bree said firmly. Roxanne nodded. They turned and went back to their kindergarten—the ground floor. 

Roxanne’s desk was as she left it but Bree’s had some files that she was to sort out. Roxanne smiled to herself as she turned on her computer and wore her headphones. It was nice to know that someone found her attractive. Before she retrieved the movie she was watching, she heard a baritone voice saying, “Excuse me.”

She looked up at the person and took off her headphones. It was the guy who waved at her and Bree earlier. She looked over at Bree. Bree smiled at her and pretended to be minding her own business. She cleared her throat.

“Yes, may I help you?” She said to him formally.

“You are already helping me by letting me hear your gorgeous voice. My name is Charlie Wright, and I work on the third floor as an engineer,” the man said as he outstretched his hand to her. She took it. She wanted to smile but she didn’t.

“So why are you here?” Roxanne asked after the handshake.

“To know your name. Your beauty has captured me. Knowing your name would be like discovering the cure of some serious disease to me,” Charlie replied.

“I’m Roxanne Simmons,” Roxanne said, then looked at him from head to toe. 

He was a guy with a clean shaven chin with an aftershave scent still lingering on him. He had on a white tight shirt that adequately curved out his broad chest and muscles, a tie, a well-fitting pair of dark trousers, and well-polished black loafers. She liked the way his Adam’s apple bobbled up and down rhythmically as he talked.

“Roxanne. What an angelic name,” he said longingly as he internalized it.

“Yes. Well, I have tons of work to do, so if you don’t mind…” Roxanne said, then grabbed one of the files beside her computer and perused through it.

“Is there any chance that we could, maybe get together some time and get coffee or something?” Charlie asked her humbly. Bree suddenly cleared her throat.

“Let’s not push it, Charlie,” Roxanne replied, totally ignoring Bree. Again, Bree cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry, would you like some water?” Charlie asked her.

“Me? No, thanks. I’m fine,” she replied, then glared at Roxanne. “Oh, and I’m Bree Javen, Roxanne’s best friend,” she added quickly.

“Pleasure. I’m Charlie Wright. Now I see why they said birds of the same feather flock together. You two beautiful ladies find pleasure in each other’s company. I’ll just leave you to your work, Roxanne, and please consider that coffee,” he said, then left.

“I will,” Roxanne replied as she watched him go.

“I swear, Rox, if I wasn’t taken, I would accept him. He’s quite a charmer,” Bree said, then continued with her work.

“A wordsmith indeed. Anyway, too bad he doesn’t tickle my fancy,” Roxanne breathed, then put on her headphones and retrieved the movie, right where she had left off.

After a while, two files were heavily stacked on her desk. She almost lost it but controlled herself and calmly paused the movie, took off her headphones, and looked up at her disturber. Wasn’t there any moment that she would have peace? She then remembered that she was at work and wasn’t supposed to have any peace.

“Yes?” She said calmly.

“The boss wants these files sorted out in 20, so if I were you I would get off the computer and on to some more constructive work like sorting them,” the disturber said. Roxanne watched her as she spoke. “You must be Roxanne. I’m Trish Mae, the head of this department,” the disturber added.

She was curvaceous and had on plenty of makeup, a blouse, a tight skirt with a slit at the back, and a head of well pushed back red hair. She wasn’t much of a beauty, but her large breasts and shapely legs that looked good in a skirt made up for it.

“Right. I’ll get to it immediately,” Roxanne said as she looked at the files.

“You better,” Trish said and glared at her, then swayed away.

When she was out of earshot, Bree said, “The booby bitch thinks she’s got it but damn! She would even lose to my grandmother in a beauty contest,” then shook her head and stood up with the files she was sorting. “Excuse me,” she added, then left.
Roxanne went to a music site on her computer and listened to music as she sorted the files. They contained information about the company’s shares on the stock market, the salaries of the employees, and the commodities manufactured in the factories on the first floor and their values. If she had time, she would go through them.

Within no time, she was through with the sorting and happily breathed in and out. She checked the time and realized there were five minutes left. She paused the music, took off her headphones, and stood up with the files.

“That was fast,” Bree commented as she looked at her.

“Yep. Excusez-moi,” she replied proudly, and swaggered her way to Mr. Reynolds’ office.

From a far, she could see Trish eyeing her wickedly while poking her chin with the end of a biro. Roxanne ignored her glare. It was no secret that Trish disliked her and wanted her head on a plate. The floors were awfully quiet, with only a few murmurs being audible.

“Hi,” an employee on the second floor greeted her as she passed by.

“Hi,” she returned, and went up the stairs to her boss’ floor.

The only sound audible there was that of her stilettos as they clanked on the polished marble floor as she walked. She breathed in and out then knocked on his huge door with the huge tag MR. ANDREW REYNOLDS on it.

“Come in!” Came the hoarse reply.

The door slowly opened and in came Roxanne. Mr. Reynolds was from the washroom when she had entered.

“Good afternoon, sir. Here are the files you needed,” Roxanne said in a relaxed manner while gently placing the files on his huge, wide desk that had countless files, a calculator, a computer, a telephone, and other office equipment.

Mr. Reynolds wiped his hands and took his seat. He was a bespectacled middle-aged man with wrinkles on his forehead, probably from all the reading he did, Roxanne guessed as she looked at him, and an intimidating deep voice.

“Thank you, Miss Roxanne,” he said jovially.

“Is there anything else, sir?” Roxanne asked politely.

“No, thank you. That will be all for now,” he replied, with his eyes glued to the files. “You may leave,” he added, while taking one of them.

“Thank you, sir,” Roxanne said, and turned to go. She noticed a noticeboard filled with memos and reminders on his side wall as she left. He had a large office, and the neatness contributed greatly to his peace of mind and ability to work.

Some of the employees were already leaving and when Roxanne arrived at her floor, Bree was waiting for her.

“Ready to go?” She asked her.

“Yeah, let’s,” Roxanne replied happily. That was what she was waiting for. She grabbed her purse, turned off the computer, and arranged her desk.

“Here comes Miss Boobs,” Bree whispered to her while glancing at Trish, who slowly swayed towards them, attracting some few guys’ attention in the process.

“I hope you’re not planning to go,” Trish said to Roxanne.

“And if I am?” Roxanne replied calmly as she came face to face with her. Bree looked at them in turns. She knew that somebody was going to get slapped and it definitely wasn’t Roxanne.

“Well, not yet. There’s an errand I want you to run for me,” Trish said firmly, then made a face at Bree who said ‘What?’ to herself. Roxanne pursed her lips and looked at Trish, then sideways.

“Excuse me, I would hate to barge in, but Trish, run your own errand. Does she look like a slave to you?” Bree intervened.

“And who asked you? You don’t talk to the head of department like that! And it’s Madam Trish to you,” Trish responded. Bree laughed sardonically.

“I got this, Bree. Trish, you wouldn’t want to mess with me. Trust me. Let’s go, Bree,” Roxanne said. Trish stood aside for her to pass.

“Oh, and er, Trish, office hours are over, so cut the ‘madam’ crap. Mess with a bee and you will get stung,” Bree said to her, then joined Roxanne.

They could hear her yelling to people, “What are you looking at? Look on if you want to lose your jobs,” and scoffed.

“The bitch. Her nerve. How could she tell me, Roxanne, to run an errand for her?” Roxanne growled as they walked out of the company.

“You should have slapped her boobs off, Rox. Then she’ll know who you are,” Bree said, disappointed that the squabble didn’t result in an uncensored, heated catfight.

“It’s alright. I’m sure the warning I gave is enough. See you tomorrow, Bree. I have some groceries to grab before heading home,” Roxanne said to her friend.

“Alright, Rox. Keith is supposed to pick me up anyway,” Bree replied, then the two friends hugged. “Take care,” Bree told her after the hug.

“You too,” Roxanne replied, then left for the grocery store. She bought some bananas, apples, peas, carrots, broccoli, tomatoes, potatoes, and eggs, and took a cab home. As she traveled, events of that day—her first day—played in her mind.

On arriving home, Roxanne sighed happily, paid the cab driver, and strolled to her home—where her heart indeed was—with the groceries. She glanced at her watch. It read 6.15 p.m.

“Not bad,” she said to herself, and rang the doorbell. After a while, Arnold came to answer it.

“Sis, hey. How many necks did you break?” He asked her casually, without bothering to help with the groceries.

“Plenty, and yours will be one of them if you don’t help me out here,” Roxanne breathed, as her purse slipped from around her shoulder to around her elbow.

“I’ve got lots of assignments. Sorry,” Arnold replied, and dashed upstairs to his room.

“You’re such a gentleman,” Roxanne called out after him, then carried the groceries to the kitchen and placed them on the counter.

“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Simmons said to her, then hugged her. She happily received it.

“Hi, Mom,” she replied.
“So how was your first day at work?” Mrs. Simmons asked her after the hug, then turned back to the stew she was preparing.

“It was great, but I’ll tell you about it at supper. Let me go and shower now. Isn’t Dad home yet?” Roxanne asked.

“He’s in the living room watching the big game,” her mother replied. Roxanne pranced into the living room.

“Hey, Dad,” she greeted her father.

“Hey, sweetie. How was work?” He replied.

“I’ll tell you about it at supper,” she said, then left when he burst out cheering when the team he supported won.

She never understood what he saw in football. As she climbed the stairs to her room, she could hear faint laughter and voices from her brother’s room. At first, she decided to ignore them but when they got out of hand, she decided to investigate by eavesdropping through his bedroom door.

“No one in my family understands me. They all think that I’m still a kid,” she could hear her brother’s voice say. 

“Well, I’ll prove to them I’m not. On Saturday, I’ll invite Melissa, Cindy, Sandy, and Becky over and make sure that I get them drunk. Dudes, they’re like the hottest girls in school,” he continued.

“And what about your parents and sister?” Another voice asked him.

“Mom and Dad won’t be around. As for Roxanne, she’ll be busy,” Arnold replied. “I’ll make sure I have one of them, if not all of them. Sweet sixteen!” He shouted madly with his friends in unison, then they laughed out loud.

Roxanne groaned in disgust as she made her way to her room.

“Not if I can help it, little brother,” she said as she got into her room, shut the door, and began undressing. What she needed was a warm, soothing bath. She wrapped a towel around herself then went to the bathroom and opened up the warm water, which flowed into a bathtub.

She slowly took off the towel and got into the water. It gave her a calm and relaxed feeling. She lathered soap all over herself and relaxed in the water. She outstretched her arms and legs and rested her head on the edge of the bathtub. It felt good. 

After a while, she was through bathing and unclogged the sink for the water to go down the drain. She wiped herself, covered herself, and went into her room and clad in a loose T-shirt and tight shorts then styled her hair into a messy ponytail. When she went down for supper, her family had already begun eating.

“We’re dying of suspense,” Mrs. Simmons said to her as she took her seat.

“My day was the best. I had the time of my life. Did I mention that Bree Javen works with me?” Roxanne started, as she received the food that her mother served her.

“Your friend from school?” Mr. Simmons asked her.

“Exactly,” she replied excitedly.

“Can I get her number?” Arnold asked her. Everyone was quiet and looked at him.

“My dear, she’s way above you and way too old for you, and FYI, she’s taken,” Roxanne replied, then stroked his dark, curly hair.

“As I was saying,” she continued, “I met a few people, checked the place out, and put a woman named Trish Mae—who is the head of department where I work—in her place.”

“Why?” Mrs. Simmons asked her.

“She was telling me to run an errand for her after work hours, Mom. Imagine that!” Roxanne enthused.

“I hope you didn’t fight her, honey. That could cost you your job, you know,” Mr. Simmons said with a look of concern.

“No. I gave her a stern warning, that’s all,” she replied.

“That’s my girl,” her father said proudly.

“Enough of this boring stuff. Tell us about a guy you met and had a crush on. Or is the company a ‘females only’ institution?” Arnold asked her.
“What plans do you have for Saturday, Arnie?” She fired back. He froze and withdrew.

“None,” he whispered, and silently ate his food.

“When will you kids get along? You’re always on each other’s necks! That aside, so is there a Mr. Someone that we should know about, Roxy?” Mrs. Simmons asked. Roxanne glared at Arnold. He smiled and looked on at her for her answer.

“No, Mom, there isn’t. At least not yet,” she breathed as she remembered Charlie Wright. She was going to cut ties with him gently to avoid breaking his heart.

“And how was school today, Pumpkin?” Her mother asked Arnold.

“I’m Arnold, Mom. School was usual. Nothing big; learning, gym class, assignments…” he said, then refocused on his food.

“And those boys you were with upstairs?” Roxanne asked him with a straight look into his brown eyes.

“They are my friends and study mates,” he replied curtly.

“So what were you studying? Girls?” She asked again. Arnold shifted uneasily and gave her a look.

“Roxanne! That’s enough! What’s with the questions? My boy couldn’t have been studying girls. He’s way too young and innocent for that kind of stuff,” Mrs. Simmons intruded, then went and hugged Arnold.

“If you say so, Mom,” Roxanne replied, and stared at Arnold then got up from her seat.

“Thanks for the supper, Mom. It was terrific,” she added.

“You’re welcome. Have some more,” her mother suggested.

“No, thanks. I’m full,” she replied, and energetically went off to her room. Her brother watched her as she left.

“I hope you don’t have some girl stashed up in your room,” Mrs. Simmons told him.

“No way, Mom. I’m a good boy. Girls are trouble,” he recited casually.
“That’s my baby,” Mrs. Simmons rejoiced, and smothered him a big kiss on his cheek. Mr. Simmons fixed him with a look of disbelief. He knew their son better than his wife did.

“Thanks, Mom, for the supper. I’m full and I’m off,” Arnold said, and rushed off upstairs. After he left, Mr. Simmons cleared his throat. 

“Honey, Arnold is no longer a kid. Stop treating him like one. And I’m sorry to say, but girls are a natural part of a young man’s life,” he said lovingly to his wife as she cleared the table.

“Not my Arnold. He is a good boy,” she insisted. Mr. Simmons rolled his eyes and got up from his seat.

“I’m going to bed,” he said as he went. Mrs. Simmons finished with the table and joined him. She was convinced that he was wrong about Arnold and was waiting for the right moment to prove it.

Upstairs, Arnold knocked on the door of his sister’s room heavily. He heard a “Come in” and slowly opened the door. His sister was outstretched on her bed, reading a magazine with crossed legs while listening to music. She looked at him, sat up, and turned off the stereo.

“What do you want?” She rudely inquired.

“To talk to you,” he replied, then shut her door and went and sat at the foot of her king-size bed.

“Shoot,” Roxanne encouraged, then tossed the magazine aside and faced him.

“I know you heard about Saturday, right?” Arnold asked.

“You bet. And I must say I’m very disappointed in you. Sex? Alcohol? At your age?” Roxanne replied.

“Just don’t tell Mom and Dad about this, please,” Arnold begged.

“What do you want me to do? Sit back and fold my arms while my sixteen-year-old brother enters into an adult realm while still technically in diapers?” His sister asked him.

“Yes,” he replied imploringly with a humble voice.

“Forget it,” she said briefly.

“Please, Roxy. Just mind your own business and I’ll mind mine. Let’s not meddle in each other’s affairs,” Arnold begged, then held her hands.

“You’re my business, Arnie. From the time that Mom and Dad told me that I have a little brother,” she paused then continued, “Tell you what: I’ll let you have your fun on Saturday, but with zero booze and drugs. Invite the girls and mingle with them. No kissing or cuddling, and no sex.”

“But it won’t be fun!” Arnold protested, and let go of her hands. She sighed heavily.

“Well, it’s either that or Mom and Dad know their little Pumpkin to be indeed a rotten, perverted teenager,” she said.

“Alright! Just put a lid on it,” he said moodily and rose to go.

“And you too, stay out of my business. Got it?” Roxanne said as she once again outstretched herself on the bed and took the magazine she was reading.

“Got it,” he mumbled.

“Good night,” Roxanne whispered to him as he opened her door.

“Good night,” he replied, and got out then shut the door.

It didn’t matter how he looked at it, Roxanne thought, she did good and felt proud of herself. She turned on the stereo and continued with her reading to the late hours of the night when eventually she called it a day.

The next day started off quite early. Roxanne groaned when the rays of the sun penetrated into her room. She kicked off her blanket and stared at her digital clock on the dressing table.

“7.25!” She complained, and grabbed a towel then rushed to the bathroom.

After a quick, revitalizing bath, she donned a striped skirt suit with a blouse under the coat and matching striped earrings and high-heels. She let her hair hang freely down her back and put on her favorite golden necklace and watch. With a final touch of make up and mascara, she winked at her reflection, grabbed her striped purse, and strolled to the kitchen counter.

“Don’t we look lovely!” Her mother complimented her as she came down the stairs, making her smile. The outfit curved out her gorgeous body and the make up put a fitting touch to her grace.

“You look beautiful, sweetie. My baby girl is now a woman,” her father said proudly as he admired her outfit. “What do you think, son?” He asked Arnold. Arnold looked up at her.

“She looks awesome,” he commented as he looked at her from head to toe.

“Thanks, all. Thank you very much. Mom, you’re gorgeous as always and full of life, Dad, you’ve nailed it with your three-piece suit, and Arnie, kudos, you look wonderful today,” Roxanne summarized as she took a seat and served herself some coffee and French omelettes. She glanced at her brother.

Arnold was a taller-than-average thin, handsome young man with a deep shrill voice. He always clouded his forehead with his neck-length curly hair because it was an acne zone.

Time was not on Roxanne’s side. She quickly cleared her plate and cup.

“I’m off, guys. Super breakfast, Mom,” she said, then took her purse and got up from her chair. Arnold sipped the last of his tea and cleared up his omelettes, then stood up as well and wore his backpack. He was clad in a well-fitting checked shirt with a white T-shirt inside, jeans, and Air Jordans.

“Me too,” he said. His father gave him his lunch money and he was off.

“Later, Mom and Dad,” Roxanne said to her parents as she left.

“Bye honey, have a nice day,” they said in unison.

Mr. Simmons adjusted his coat and rose from his seat. He took his wife in his arms and kissed her lengthily. She looked young for her age and was still beautiful, with long flowing golden hair that she put together in a ponytail, brown eyes, and a trim figure that made her husband stay faithful to her all their years of marriage.

“Thanks for the breakfast, honey. It was as delicious as you,” Mr. Simmons cooed lovingly into her ear and took his briefcase. He added, “have a wonderful day, darling,” as he left.

“You too, sweetheart,” she replied, and watched him as he went, with his large, burly figure and glossy dark hair dancing from side to side, and smiled to herself for being lucky enough to have such a husband.
Away from the bright, optimistic side of Manhattan, deeper than the dark alleys, deeper than the suburbs, down to the boondocks, was a confidential, brutal organization headed by an obese bearded bald black man known as Big Boss Sheezy. 

He relaxed in his office as he went through his computer, with a young, voluptuous Asian woman with long, gray hair seated at his side—on his lap—and a ferocious-looking beefy man in a shirt and jeans standing at his other side.

“Double M, call Jack Al here immediately,” Big Boss Sheezy said to the beefy man, whose name was Murray Murphy, then turned to the Asian woman, who was lusciously beautiful and whose name was Love Lee, and began kissing her passionately as his right hand man, Murray, made the call.

“He’s on his way, sir,” Murray reported to his boss as he put the phone in the back pocket of his jeans.

After a while, a tall, well-built man in a polo shirt and fitting jeans appeared before Big Boss Sheezy. He was attractive and had long, curly shoulder-length hair, side burns, and a moustache plus goatee. His bushy brows combined with a steely gaze from his gray eyes made him look fierce and ruthless.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” He asked Big Boss Sheezy in his rough, hoarse voice. Big Boss Sheezy looked at him.

“Jackie, my man! Looking fly as usual. How you, dawg?” He greeted jovially, and wrapped his arm around Love Lee’s waist.

“I’m fine, sir. Thanks,” Jack Al replied, and glanced at Love Lee and her generous cleavage. She admired his physique and licked her lips as she did, without her man Big Boss Sheezy’s knowledge.

“I’ll get straight to the point: Big Boss Sheezy loves money and beautiful women like my fine gurl Love Lee over here, so here what he wants: There is a huge company over at the East Side of this fine city of ours called Wise Enterprises. I want you to get me some green, Jack baby. Are we clear?” Big Boss Sheezy said to Jack Al as Love Lee kissed him on the side of the neck.

“Got it, sir,” Jack Al replied.

“And Jackie baby,” Big Boss Sheezy started, then concluded, “Big Boss Sheezy hates blunders.” Jack Al nodded grimly.
Just as they were talking, a man and woman came in carrying huge bags. Big Boss Sheezy smiled and clapped his hands.

“Here’s the loot we looted from the warehouse, sir,” the man said as he dropped the huge bag he was carrying beside him in a heap.

“It was not easy, sir. We had to shed plenty of blood for it,” the woman added, and also dropped her bag.

“I’m proud of both of you, Damian and Easter. Congratulations,” Big Boss Sheezy said to them. 

The man’s name was Damian Luis. He was a guy with overtanned skin, hairy arms and chest, strong muscular frame, a shaved head choice, a stern face, and a beard.

“Thank you, sir,” he said in his baritone voice. He was Jack Al’s best friend.

The woman’s name was Easter Monday. Though she joined the crime organization, she was soft-spoken and was beautiful, with her almost-brown hair forming an Afro, and her doll face looking to die for thanks to her long, dark eyelashes, deep blue eyes and naturally cherry-red lips. 

Her features were well defined and balanced, with her breasts and backside being medium-sized. The black bustier and trousers she wore carved out her slim, feminine shape. Her long neck was a fine addition to her unique features. She was Damian’s girlfriend.

“Why don’t y’all take some green from there and go have some fun,” Big Boss Sheezy said to them happily as Love Lee stroked his bald head then licked him on the side of his face. He shuddered excitedly and pressed her onto him. “You’re a bad girl,” he whispered to her.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet. Take me to your bed and you’ll see how bad I can get,” she replied seductively.

“Will that be all, sir?” Jack Al asked Big Boss Sheezy. Damian and Easter took some of the cash.

“Yes, Jackie. You may leave,” he replied.

“Thank you, sir,” Easter said to her boss, then held her boyfriend.

“We’re grateful, sir,” Damian added, after wrapping an arm around Easter’s curved waist, then kissing her.
“Don’t mention it. You both deserve it. Go take care of your gurl nice, Damey baby. Give it to her real slow,” Big Boss Sheezy said, then smiled at his girl. Damian smiled shyly at Easter as they left in each other’s arms.

“Coming, Jack?” Easter asked Jack Al.

“Sure,” he replied absent-mindedly. The three left together.

“Double M, make sure this cash goes to The Dungeon,” Big Boss Sheezy ordered Murray, then motioned Love Lee to get up.

“You’ve got some ass, gurl. My leg feels numb,” he said as she got up.

“I’m a doll. What do you expect?” She replied. Big Boss Sheezy got up and held her from behind.

“You’re so hot, baby,” he whispered to her. She turned to him and hugged him. Then, she started removing his coat. He stopped her. “Not here, doll. Not here. Let me show you where,” he said to her gently, then wrapped his arm around her and walked away with her.

“You’re free to go, Double M,” he said behind his back to Murray. Murray took the bags and carried them to the Dungeon, where valuable items were stored.

Roxanne had arrived at her workplace and was surprised to find a package on her desk. Bree had not yet arrived. She put her purse on the desk and examined the neat, well-packaged package. She sat down, took it in her hands, and admired it. It was addressed to her. Before she could think of opening it, numerous files were stacked on her desk.

“This is a workplace, not a lovers’ zone. The boss wants these files in 10, so you’d better get to it,” the deliverer said. 

It was Trish Mae, and she was clad in a sleeveless top and dark trousers. She wrapped up her hair neatly into a ponytail. Roxanne watched her as she swayed to Bree’s desk with her share of files.

“I see your sassy friend isn’t here yet,” Trish said, and stacked up the numerous files onto her desk. “When she gets here, tell her she’s got 20 to present these files. They’re urgently needed,” she said, then swayed away. Roxanne put the package aside and got down to business. Just then, Bree arrived.

“What did Miss Boobs want?” She asked a busy Roxanne, who indicated her occupied desk.
“She brought those. They’re needed by Mr. Reynolds in 20 minutes,” she replied.

“Oh my God. I’d better get to it then,” Bree said urgently after settling on her swivel chair and putting her portable purse on her desk. “You look lovely, by the way,” she complimented Roxanne while working.

“Thanks, likewise,” Roxanne returned, fully involved in her work. Bree was clad in a dark blouse that was neatly tucked into a gray skirt with a slit at the back and slingbacks. Her hair hung at her sides.

After seven painstaking minutes of carefully analyzing information in the files and sorting them out, Roxanne was through. She got up heavily, took in a deep breath, and carried the six files she had sorted to her boss’ office. 

Bree was still sweating hard trying to complete the work before time was up. Trish couldn’t believe that Roxanne had completed the work within such a short time. Roxanne knocked on her boss’ door uneasily.

“Come in!” Came the reply. She staggered in with the heavy files.

“Here are the files you required, sir,” she said proudly, and stacked them gently on her desk, then adjusted her striped coat and stood straight. Mr. Reynolds was impressed.

“Wow, Miss Roxanne. You’re through already?” He said, while admiring her outfit while swinging sideways on his swivel chair.

“Yes, sir. Are there any more?” She replied with a confident gaze into his eyes. He took one of the files and went through it.

“Let me go through these first. Nice work, Roxanne. You may leave,” he said, without looking at her.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and left. After she left, she met Bree rushing towards their boss’ office with the files she was to sort. “Hurry up, Bree,” she called out after her with a smile.

She felt confident. Her desk was as she left it. She sat and resumed admiring the package, then slowly tore off the decorative wrapper and opened it. It was a pair of red heels, and attached to one of them was a note that read: ‘I hope you love them, Roxanne. Beautiful heels deserve beautiful feet like yours. Charlie.’

After reading the last statement, she took the shoes and tried them on. They were a perfect fit. One of her greatest weaknesses was shoes—beautiful, stylish ones.

“A package…” Bree spontaneously intruded, then took the empty cartons and scanned through them. She read the note and smiled. “Charlie really has a way with words. Let me see the heels,” she said excitedly. Roxanne proudly displayed them. “Beautiful. They suit you fine,” she complimented. Roxanne smiled and took them off.

“They’re gorgeous, but they don’t match with my outfit. I’ll just save them for later,” she said, while carefully placing them back in the package.

“As for Charlie?” Bree asked, while taking her seat then stroking her hair. Roxanne breathed in deeply as she wore her original heels.

“He’ll have to go. I’ll have to break it to him gently during coffee,” she said.

“And as for the heels?” Bree inquired, then eyed the package.

“I’ll keep them, duh! I can’t let such beauties slip through my fingers,” Roxanne replied, then laughed slightly.

“It’s coffee break time,” Bree announced as she looked at her watch.

“Thank God! I could use some coffee!” Roxanne exclaimed, while holding her head with both hands.

“Don’t look now, but here comes Mr. Charmer, and he’s got a bouquet of roses,” Bree reported, while staring directly at Charlie.

“This is going to be hard,” Roxanne lamented wearily, with her eyes glued to him.

Arnold Simmons groaned after 6th period History class. He was not concentrating at all on the American Revolution and as the History teacher taught, he could just see his lips moving. He was grateful that it was over. His friend, Erick Russel, went over to him and slapped him lightly on the back.

“Dude, let’s bounce before Math class,” he said to him. Arnold got up and cleared his throat. “What’s wrong with you? You look out of place and touch,” Erick commented after looking at his friend.

“It’s Rebecca Giovanni, man. She smiled at me. Isn’t that a sign that she digs me?” Arnold asked as they walked into the school’s entrance.

“Totally. So what did you do?” Erick asked him.

“Nothing. What was I to do?” Arnold replied cluelessly.

“Er, approach her, for starters,” Erick offered, and looked up ahead. “Go for her, man. Excuse me. Let me go talk to Amy. All the best,” he said assuringly to his friend, then rushed off to a slim brunette in a cardigan, top, and miniskirt.

Arnold stroked his hair. He began his search for her. He strolled around, blushing when some girls admired him, looking around for her familiar face.

She was reading outside the brick rail outside the library. Arnold smiled. Perfect. She was alone. He smelt his breath and straightened his shirt. He hoped that the cologne he sprayed was easily smelt. He confidently walked up to her.

“Hi, Rebecca,” he said shyly. She looked up from her reading to his expressionless face.

“Arnold. Hi,” she replied, with a dynamite smile. Arnold could feel his heart melt just watching her smile—at him.

Rebecca Giovanni was a beautiful, intelligent Italian girl who many students thought was arrogant but the truth of the matter was she was specific on her choice of people to talk to. She had long, dark hair that hung freely down to her lower back and some of it hung down to her chest. The hair on the left side of her head was carefully arranged behind her left ear.

Her face was glowing with mascara and blood-red lipstick. The beauty mark on her left cheek added to her glow. She had on a pink striped, long-sleeved top imprinted I LOVE MYSELF, black bell bottom jeans, and purple jelly shoes.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” Arnold said as he sat beside her on the rail.

“No. I could really use the company,” she replied, and put the book she was reading aside, faced him, then put her hair together behind her.
“You look beautiful. I don’t know whether you have a boyfriend or not, but if you do, he’s lucky to have you,” he began poetically. She smiled and watched a group of girls and boys pass by them.

“I don’t,” she replied, her gray eyes looking directly into his. Arnold hid a smile.

“I don’t have a girlfriend too and from the time I saw you I thought: Damn! If I had a girl like Rebecca, wouldn't I be complete?” He said, then watched her blush and added, “So I gathered up courage to come and ask you if you would be my girlfriend since, well, we’re both free,” and swallowed nervously with crossed fingers. Rebecca laughed. Arnold felt his heart sink.

“Yes. I accept. I accepted long before today when you’ve decided to man up and do the asking. See, Arnold, you’re the first guy in this school for me to talk to. Not that I’m antisocial, but that guys here are jerks. They just want sex from beautiful girls, and I’ve proved that by noticing how they look at a girl’s breasts and butt when she passes by,” she paused and continued, “But not you, Arnold. There’s that shy thing about you that pulls me to you like a magnet. You’re different from other guys. You’ve got what I’m looking for in a guy.”

Arnold thought of what he had been discussing with his friends in his room the previous night and breathed in, then hugged her.

“You’ve made my day, Becky,” he said to her after the hug and added, “I’m personally inviting you over to my place on Saturday.”

“Cool. I’ll be there. At what time?” She replied.

“At 10 a.m.,” he replied, and turned to the direction of the ringing bell. They both stood and walked together to their class. As Arnold walked beside her and smelt her smooth scent, he rejoiced inwardly that he was officially loved despite his shy nature.

Roxanne stared at the dapper Charlie Wright in front of her, then the beautiful white roses he had.

“Did you like the shoes, Roxanne?” He asked her politely. Bree greeted him, then left to give them some privacy. Roxanne stood wearily, then put the package in her purse.

“They’re beautiful, Charlie,” she said, and looked at his perfectly pressed blue shirt and purple tie.

“These roses are for you,” he said softly as he presented them to her, and added, “You look stunning.”

“Thanks,” she said, and took the roses and smelt them. “They’re wonderful, Charlie. You didn’t have to go through the trouble,” she whispered. He pocketed his right hand.

“Not as wonderful as you, Roxanne. You’re worth the trouble. Your pleasure is my satisfaction. May we?” He said, while outstretching his left hand to her. She put the roses on her desk and took his hand. He led her to his office. “We shall have coffee in my office today,” he said as they went.

She didn’t oppose. Besides, it would be the best place to break his heart gently, she thought. They walked hand in hand to the door with the golden tag MR. CHARLIE WRIGHT on it—third from Mr. Reynolds’ office—and he softly let go of her hand and opened it.

“Here we are,” he said as the door swung open. He let her enter first then he followed, and shut the door. It was like Mr. Reynolds’ office, but less crowded. He had a glass desk with an office chair behind it and several other chairs in front of it.

The floor had a soft leopard skin carpet and on the side wall was a huge window which was open. There was a fan on the ceiling and a computer and plenty of huge books, stationery, and a telephone on the desk. There was another room—the washroom—opposite the window, and a medium-size TV on a table beside the door.

“Nice place,” Roxanne said as she admired it. “May I use your washroom?” She asked him, almost immediately.

“Sure. It’s that room over there,” he replied, while indicating the washroom.

“Thanks,” she said, then went into it.

While she was there, Charlie ordered two steaming mugs of hot coffee via telephone, then smiled at himself. After a while, Roxanne reappeared while wiping her face.

“Are you alright?” Charlie asked her as she sat on one of the chairs opposite him. She sniffed.

“Yeah. Just washed some sleepiness I felt away,” she replied, and sighed. There was momentous silence. “Charlie,” she started softly, with her blue eyes peering into his.

“Yes,” he replied in the same tone. There was a knock at the door. “Yes,” he repeated calmly. A cateress entered with a tray containing two coffees and a small pot of sugar with a spoon in it.

“Here’s your coffee, Sir, Madam,” she said, while carefully placing the tray on the desk.

“Thanks, Nadia, that will be all,” Charlie said to her, with a cheerful smile.

“Thanks,” Roxanne repeated, also with a smile. Nadia nodded and briskly walked out of the office and shut the door behind her.

“As you were saying, Roxanne? Please have some coffee,” Charlie offered kindly.

“Thanks,” she breathed, and poured several spoons of sugar into one of the mugs, stirred it, and tactfully sipped some of the coffee after blowing away its steam. His kindness was making things even more difficult.

“Charlie, you’re a nice guy. A gentleman, to be precise,” she started, and looked at him. His eyes were fixed on her as he sipped his coffee slowly and in a relaxed manner. She breathed uneasily and continued, “But there’s no chemistry between us. You may have feelings for me, but I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way.” Charlie cleared his throat and coughed. The coffee he had sipped burnt his throat.

“Roxanne…” he began in his hoarse voice then held her hands and continued, “we just met yesterday. Don’t dismiss us just like that. Give yourself time. I’m certain that you’ll learn to love me as much as I do you,” then squeezed her hands gently in an imploring manner. As she looked at him, she felt defeated. Her heart was not fixed on him.

“Alright. I’ll give myself time,” she said, and gently freed her hands.

“Please,” Charlie said, and pulled himself together. Roxanne finished her coffee quickly and rose from her seat.

“I have to go now. Thanks for the coffee,” she said uneasily.

“Don’t mention it. See you later,” Charlie said, as he sipped his coffee while watching her go.

“Later,” she replied as she went.

Downstairs, Bree was waiting for her eagerly for the full 411 while admiring the roses.

“Mhmmm…” she encouraged while looking at her friend with expectant eyes and a broad smile.

“What?” Roxanne asked casually as she took her seat, then arranged her desk.

“You know what. Out with it. What magic happened up there?” Bree asked, focusing all her attention on her collected friend.

“We talked and had coffee like mature adults. That’s all,” Roxanne replied briefly and indicated to her right with a nod.

“You know what to do. 15 is the maximum,” Trish said to Bree scornfully while chewing gum, after dropping a workload of files on her desk. Bree glared at her.

“I hate you,” she whispered to her. Trish smiled momentarily while slowly chewing the gum and put her right hand on her curved hip.

“I have never liked you too, sweetheart,” she replied, then looked at the files. “Chop chop. 15 is a short time,” she added, and glared at Roxanne, who gazed at her with a straight face. 

A secretary from the third floor came and whispered to Trish, “Excuse me, Madam. The boss wants to see you in his office this instant,” then went back to her post.

“If you ladies will excuse me, I have some fish to fry,” she said proudly, and swayed away in her usual exaggerated manner. Bree watched her.

“That bitch drives me crazy. I can’t understand why she thinks she’s better than us,” she said angrily. 

Roxanne looked at her silently, then turned on her computer. It would be useless to inform her that Trish was just doing her job. She retrieved the movie, wore her headphones, and blissfully whiled time away watching her favorite movie while her friend struggled to meet the 15-minute deadline.

Trish Mae knocked meekly on her boss’ door.

“Come in,” he replied in his usual cheerful tone. She slowly opened the door.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” She asked.

“Yes. Please come in and have a seat,” he replied while indicating the empty seat in front of his desk. Trish closed the door and took the seat. “Yes, Miss Trish. I am looking for a secretary from your department. Someone able. Someone competent.” As Mr. Reynolds spoke, Trish adjusted herself on her seat.

“I have called you here because I know you know your 15 members of staff individually, and who has the qualities I have just mentioned. Whom do you suggest?” He concluded thoughtfully, avoiding staring at her chest. She cleared her throat and sat up.

“Thank you, sir, for deeming it fit to seek my opinion on this delicate issue. Frankly, all my staff members are not up to the task, so I suggest myself, sir. I’m able, competent, and I’m definitely hardworking,” she replied with an assuring smile. Mr. Reynolds swallowed.

“Thank you, Miss Trish, for your recommendation. Please tell Ms. Roxanne to see me after lunch. That will be all,” he said briefly, then turned to his computer.

“Roxanne?” Trish replied, then stood up and walked towards her boss, getting his attention.

“Yes, Miss Roxanne. The plump, beautiful blonde who joined us yesterday,” he said, then pushed his chair back to create distance between them. Trish got on her knees and held her boss’ hand.

“I know who she is. Sir, she joined us yesterday, as you’ve rightfully said. I joined this company last year. I am experienced. Please choose me,” she said, with a beseeching tone.

“But you’re head of department,” Mr. Reynolds argued, then freed his hand.

“That’s not enough. I’ve been a dedicated employee all this while. The least you could do is grant me this honor,” she insisted. Her boss sighed uneasily.

“Miss Trish…” he started.

“Please, sir. I am willing to do anything for that post,” she pressed, then noted him eyeing her breasts. She moved closer to him. Their noses almost touched. “I know you want me, sir. I know you want to feel my boobs. No one has to know. I’ll help you out, you’ll help me out. Fair deal,” she whispered seductively, then her mouth opened and her tongue surfaced.

Mr. Reynolds remembered his wife, Antoinette Silver, and their five-year-old son, and got up hastily.

“That’s enough, Miss Trish. I shall let you off with a warning. Get up and leave, or you risk losing your job,” he hissed, then rubbed his eyes behind his spectacles and breathed out. Trish got up slowly.

“Just give me five minutes with you, sir. Five, and I swear I’ll cool the heat you have right now. My price is simple: I be your secretary,” she said.

“My wife satisfies me perfectly, Miss Trish. That will be all from you now. Go and call me Miss Roxanne,” Mr. Reynolds said, and looked away from her. Trish mechanically swayed out of the office on realizing that she was fighting a losing battle. A cateress walked in the same time she left, carrying a tray containing his lunch.

“May I come in, sir?” She inquired politely.

“Please,” he replied, after sinking into his seat and relaxing. The cateress set the tray on his desk and excused herself. 

He nodded her leave, then heaved a sigh of relief imagining her catching him in the act with Trish. He looked up and thanked his lucky stars for helping him escape Trish’s trap. The damage it could do to his reputation. The guilt he would feel afterwards. The wreckage it could cause to his stable and happy family, he thought of all that and shook his head gratefully.

Though she was thoroughly disappointed, Trish carried herself with her usual exaggerated confidence. Everyone in her department was eating and chatting and having a good time. She swayed up to Roxanne’s desk and looked her straight in the eye.

“What?” Roxanne said curtly while looking back at her as Bree eyed Trish disdainfully.

“I don’t know what charms you’ve worked on the boss, but he wants to see you in his office,” she said plainly, then went to serve herself some food. Bree shook her head as she watched her go. Roxanne let out a mouthful of air.

“I wonder what he wants,” she said quietly to her friend, then finished up her food and excused herself.

“Happy thoughts,” Bree said to her with a smile and thumbs up. Roxanne turned to her, smiled, shook her head, and kept going.

Mr. Reynolds’ office was becoming a familiar place to Roxanne already. She knocked on his door and after hearing the usual “Come in” go-ahead, she walked in and closed the door.
“You called for me, sir?” She asked him.

“Yes. Have a seat, Miss Roxanne,” he replied. She sat on one of the seats before his desk. “The reason I have called you here is to appoint you my secretary on the ground floor. I have been following up your progress in the files I give to be sorted and found that you are able, since you beat the time I give, and you are competent as well,” he said with a smile.

Roxanne smiled broadly, not being able to control her joy and believe her luck.

“It will be my honor, sir. And let me just say that I will not disappoint you,” she said in a determined tone.

“I hope so. Keep up the good work. You officially begin on Monday. That will be all,” he concluded.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, then got up and left his office with her heart leaping with joy. 

Things were looking up for her. First, she got a good job. Second, she was appointed secretary on her second day. Who knows what next? She thought to herself with a smile as she walked back to her desk. Bree looked up to her from her food immediately in anticipation.

“Good news?” She asked expectantly.

“Great news! Reynolds has appointed me secretary on this floor!” Roxanne replied with the excitement of a 12-year-old girl, with eyes widened as she clapped. Bree got up with the same excitement and spontaneously wrapped her friend up in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Rox. Congratulations,” she said after the hug as they held hands and looked into each other’s eyes. 

Roxanne beamed and mumbled a “Thank you.” 

Bree finished her food and took hers and Roxanne’s plate to the rack of dirty dishes. The cateresses took the racks of dirty dishes and went to wash them. It was back to work for everyone.

Trish swayed by Bree’s desk and dumped files onto it.

“In 15,” she said, then went over to Roxanne’s desk. She put the files Roxanne was supposed to sort on it then sat on it. “In 10,” she said, then after a lengthy pause, added, “When are you beginning work as secretary?” Roxanne looked up from the file she was sorting.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Trish. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do,” she said briefly, then continued with her work. Trish got up heavily and strolled back to her desk angrily, shrugging off the rude reply. 

Roxanne glanced at her friend. She was engrossed in her work.

“What, no critical remark?” Roxanne asked her. She shook her head.

“Nah, she isn’t worth my time,” she replied. 

“Now you’re getting it,” Roxanne said with a proud smile at her. She smiled back.

After several minutes, Roxanne was through with her files and sighed contentedly. She got up with them and majestically walked to Mr. Reynolds’ office. Trish had been eyeing her all along. There was something about her that she didn’t like, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it.

When Roxanne went up the stairs, Trish’s eyes went back to Roxanne’s desk. She was surprised to see a tall, thin, young man with neck-length hair approaching her.

“Excuse me,” he started courteously and added, “I’m looking for Roxanne Simmons?” While looking around, and finally at Trish.

Roxanne came down the stairs from Mr. Reynolds’ office feeling proud of herself after being congratulated by her boss.

“I wonder who that guy chatting with Boobs is. Never seen him around before,” Bree commented to Roxanne while passing by her as she, Bree, took files to Mr. Reynolds’ office. 

Roxanne’s gaze went to Trish’s desk. Sure enough, there was a young man there. She scrutinized him. He was clad in a checked shirt, jeans, and some fancy sneakers.

“Arnold?” She whispered in disbelief, then walked towards Trish’s desk.

“...how are you related to her?” Trish was asking Arnold.

“So that’s how you would be handling clients if you were secretary?” Roxanne intruded from behind Arnold, making him and Trish turn to her.

“Sis!” Arnold exclaimed. Roxanne took him by the arm and led him to her desk.

“Hey, perhaps you should notify your brother the official bring-your-relative-to-work day,” Trish called out after her.

“What do you want? And how did you know the way here anyway?” Roxanne asked Arnold when they got to her desk. He sat on her chair and swung around on it.

“You got your own computer? This place is the best!” He exclaimed, then turned on her computer. Bree came back from Mr. Reynolds’ office.

“You must be Bree,” Arnold asked her as she sat on her seat. She smiled in an astonished manner.

“And you are…?” She asked.

“Arnold. Arnold Simmons,” he replied, in a mature-sounding voice.

“Rox, your brother?” Bree asked her friend. She nodded. Arnold stretched his hand out to Bree.

“Pleasure to meet you, Bree,” he said in an enchanting whisper. She greeted his extended hand.

“Likewise,” she replied. Arnold felt her hand’s texture.

“Your hand is as awesome as you,” he said to her. She inhaled slowly and withdrew her hand. She knew where he was going.

“Um, Arnold,” she started, then continued, “you’re a really good kid, but I’m not single. You’re charming, though, and I bet plenty of girls your age love you.” Arnold cleared his throat and looked up at his sister. She coughed mockingly.

“I told you. She’s way out of your league. So to what do I owe your unexpected visit?” She asked him.

“I need some money for tomorrow’s party,” he said briefly, and glanced at Bree. She was arranging her desk. He sighed. Roxanne looked at her watch.

“We’ve still got 15 minutes before departure time. Stay here. I’ll be right back,” she instructed him, then left. He leaned back on her chair and accessed her computer.

He went to a site that posted pictures of women from around the world. They were clad in trendy figure-carving attire and had friendly smiles. Arnold found himself smiling back at them. He was lost in his own world but came to when he saw Bree embracing and kissing a tall, well-groomed man she referred to as Keith.

“Tell Roxanne I left with Keith,” she said, then left hand in hand with the man Arnold guessed to be her boyfriend. Just when they had left, Arnold noticed a clean-shaven guy with broad shoulders and in a suit coming down the stairs and towards him.

“He must be Roxanne’s squeeze,” he whispered to himself, and refixed his attention to the women in the computer. Roxanne re-emerged, with a smile on her face.

“Get up. It’s go time,” she told her brother, then started arranging her desk.

“Roxanne. Hi,” the clean-shaven guy greeted her jovially, then turned to Arnold. “Hello,” he said to him with a brief handshake.

“Hello,” Arnold returned in the same tone. Roxanne glanced at the guy.

“Hi, Charlie. This is Arnold, my brother,” she introduced. Charlie nodded at Arnold. “So how may I help you?” She asked him gently.

“I’m the one who wants to help you. I was hoping I’d take you—and your brother—home. It’s totally friendly. No strings attached,” Charlie recited. Arnold stood and walked a short distance away to grant his sister and her friend some privacy.

It was leaving time, and many employees who had finished the day’s duties were leaving. Trish was no exception. Arnold watched her as she approached him.

“Roxanne’s brother? Hi. I’m Trish. Trish Mae, head of this department. I’m your sister’s best friend,” she said as she greeted him. Arnold could not help glancing at her bountiful chest. “You’re cute. Perhaps we can talk later. Here’s my number,” she continued, then wrote her digits on his palm and left. Arnold thought she was into him but she had other plans in mind.

Roxanne was so preoccupied with Charlie that she didn’t notice her worst enemy conversing with her brother.

“Arnold and I are dropping by somewhere first. There are some few things I want to buy him,” she explained to Charlie as they walked out of the company. She called Arnold to join them.

“Then that’s perfect. I’ll come along, pay for the things, then drop you both off,” he replied after pocketing.

“Charlie…” Roxanne started.

“Please. Let me. It would be my pleasure,” Charlie cut hastily before she turned him down—again. She sighed.

“Fine. If you insist. But let’s hurry up,” she replied, then put her free arm around her brother’s shoulder. “By the way, where’s Bree?” She asked him suddenly.

“She left earlier with some guy called Keith,” he replied casually as they got into Charlie’s sports car. They went and did Arnold’s shopping—with Charlie paying for it—then he dropped them off at their place and drove off. They found their parents having supper.

“Why so late, Pumpkin, and what’s that?” Mrs. Simmons asked Arnold as Roxanne went upstairs to her room.

“I went to see Roxanne at her workplace. These are the items I need for a party I’m holding tomorrow, which will be strictly alcohol and drug-free, and will be boys-only,” he replied. Mrs. Simmons nodded and smiled at her husband.

“What did I tell you? My Arnold is a good boy,” she said to him. He simply watched their son as he went up the stairs to his room.

After a while, Roxanne came down for supper dressed in an oversized relaxing T-shirt and jeans.

“Hi Mom, hi Dad,” she greeted, then took her seat at the table. Mrs. Simmons served her some food.

“Hi dear,” her parents replied in unison.

“So how was work?” Her father asked her. Arnold came down, clad in a T-shirt and pair of shorts, for supper.

“Hey Dad,” he greeted, after taking his seat. His mother served him some food.

“Hey, son. How was school?” His father replied.

“It was usual, but great,” Arnold said, then mouthed a forkful of his mac and cheese. He wanted to add the bit about Rebecca Giovanni but refrained. The environment was not conducive. Roxanne took over the conversation.

“Work was great—brilliant, in fact. I was appointed ground floor secretary!” She squeaked excitedly.

“That’s great, honey,” Mrs. Simmons said, then went over to her and hugged her.

“Congratulations, sweetie,” Mr. Simmons added, and winked at her.

After supper, Arnold excused himself and left the table. He had tons of planning to do if he wanted the next day’s party to be successful. Mr. Simmons followed him to his room, leaving his wife and daughter chatting happily. He knocked on his son’s bedroom door gently.

Arnold finished transferring Trish’s number to his phone then replied, “Come in!” Mr. Simmons walked in with a smile. His son looked at him suspiciously. Had Roxanne told him about the party and he came to rebuke him? He wondered, while watching his father sitting on his bed beside him.

“Relax, son. I come in peace,” Mr. Simmons said, then looked at his son’s phone. “Trish Mae? Isn’t she…” he started. Arnold panicked and hid his phone.

“It’s not what you think, Dad. I swear. Please don’t tell Mom,” he begged. Mr. Simmons nodded.

“Alright, but just be careful. I’m for you, not against you. I don’t mind you having countless girlfriends as long as you don’t bake a bun before you become a baker, if you know what I mean,” he said.

“Really?” Arnold said in surprise, not believing that it was his father who was encouraging him to be comfortable with his interest in girls.

“Yeah! Back in the day before I met your mother, I was a boy with girls on the palms of my hands. Let this be between you and me,” Mr. Simmons said.

“Sure,” Arnold replied, then shared with him about Rebecca Giovanni and added that she, among two other girls, were the guests to his party. He felt free with his father, enough to disclose his private life concerning the opposite sex without fear.
“It’s great that you have a girlfriend, son, but I’ll advise you to lay off her oven for now. If you want to bake buns right now, at least make sure you’re protected. Okay?” Mr. Simmons advised.

“Sure, Dad,” Arnold replied confidently. Mr. Simmons sighed then stood up.

“I have to go, son. See you tomorrow,” he said.

“Same here, Dad. Sleep tight,” Arnold replied, then tucked himself in. He felt good knowing that his father understood him perfectly.

Roxanne and Mrs. Simmons had gone off to bed long after Mr. Simmons went to talk to his son. He went to his and his wife’s bedroom, took off his vest, and joined her in bed.

Saturday morning finally arrived, to Arnold’s delight. He had been tossing and turning for a better part of the previous night just waiting for the D-day, when he would see Rebecca again. He woke up at 7.00 a.m, tidied his room, then went and had a shower. Mrs. Simmons was preparing breakfast while Mr. Simmons was watching the morning news.

He was smartly dressed in a short-sleeved shirt, trousers, and sneakers. He did not go to work on Saturdays but spent them all with his wife, the whole day, until 6.00 p.m. Roxanne, on the other hand, was still asleep. She, too, did not go to work on the weekends, giving her time to catch up on important things she missed during the week, like sleep.

Mrs. Simmons set the breakfast then went to prepare herself, leaving her husband and son to talk.

“Remember, son: Be safe,” Mr. Simmons whispered to Arnold.

“Right. I will,” he replied, also in a whisper, then thanked him for his advice.

Jack Al strolled along the cool, almost deserted streets wondering how he would get to the East Side. His job as a gangster paid well, but his salary went to alcohol. The morning sun shone upon him, making him squint his eyes. He was hungry but had no money for breakfast. Perhaps, he thought, he could go and see a friend of his who worked in a restaurant.

The restaurant’s name was Pleasure Treasure. It was located across the street from a phone booth, adjacent to a strip club that was operational during the night and opposite the best known bar in the area, Genuine Bar, where Jack Al frequented to drink his stresses and cares away.

As he got in, he could smell the waft of freshly toasted waffles and salivated as he sat on an unoccupied bench behind a filthy, shoddily-wiped table. He looked around at the other customers as they enjoyed their meals while he waited for his friend to come and serve—or save—him. A waiter approached him.

“What will you have, sir?” He asked him. Jack Al shook his head quickly.

“I-I haven’t decided yet,” he replied, while pretending to study the board fixed on the wall at the reception area of the hotel, that indicated the foods and drinks available and their prices. His friend was serving customers opposite him. The waiter left.

“Carla!” Jack Al whispered loudly to his friend severally until he got her attention. 

She turned to him and smiled, then left her customers with an “Enjoy” and went to where he was.

“Jack. What’s up? It’s been a while,” she said fondly while smiling at him. She was a brunette of medium height, pretty, with a confident almost masculine voice, white skin that was untanned, a long shapely neck, and a curvaceous body with perfect features that would land her a job as a model if ever she was interested. Jack Al eyed her outfit.

“What’s with the revealing top and slinky miniskirt?” He asked.

“They’re for attracting male customers. They add a visual dessert to whichever food they order. Hotel policy. All waitresses wear them. They are uniform,” she replied, and turned to some of her colleagues to prove her point.

“Well, I don’t like it,” Jack Al grumbled. Carla pouted.

“Would you rather I worked as a stripper in the strip joint a distance away?” She asked him.

“Alright. Alright. Have a seat,” he said to her softly.

“Staff are not allowed to sit and chat with customers, but for you I will,” she replied softly and sat lightly on the bench opposite his, then looked into his gray eyes. “I’m all yours,” she added. He cleared his throat.

“I need a favor. I’m hungry and broke. Get me a meal and let it be on your tab,” he asked. She looked at his bushy eyebrows then goatee in thought.

“And what do I get out of it?” She asked him.

“We shall discuss that later. Please hurry up. I’m starving,” Jack Al replied desperately. She winked at him.

“Coming right up,” she said, then stood slowly, turned, and walked towards the counter. Jack Al watched her go. She was nice enough as a friend and probably a bed warmer, he thought, but nothing more. He wasn’t ready for relationships yet.

Carla came back to him with a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast on one hand and a coffee on the other, and set them before him.

“Enjoy,” she said, then left once again.

Jack Al smiled and licked his lips, then began eating. The sweetness of the food made him notice a cockroach that slithered across the table. As he ate, Carla was on standby, waiting to take his dishes after he finished so he would leave without paying. She loved him and was willing to do anything for him, even risking losing her job.

She sprang into action when another waitress was going to clear Jack Al’s dishes after he had eaten. She beat her colleague to Jack Al’s table.

“I got this, Georgia,” she said to her. Georgia was a beautiful African American woman with a tapered cut-hairstyle and light skin. Georgia nodded and left. Jack Al smiled at Carla and looked at her cleavage.

“You can see more of this if you want,” she cooed to him in her exciting voice. He stood up.

“Meet me later on at lunch in my place,” he said, then looked into her ocean blue eyes. She smiled.

“I’ll see to it that I do,” she replied, and hurried away with his empty dishes. She was the type of woman that any man would want as a wife, but not Jack Al. As he walked out of the hotel, he thought of his friend Damian.

“Perhaps he can sort me out. Yeah,” he said to himself with a smile as he remembered the amount of money he took the previous day from the loot he delivered. His next stop was Damian’s place.

Mr. and Mrs. Simmons had finished their breakfast and left for their usual Saturday destination that they themselves knew. Arnold smiled cheekily while rubbing his palms together and looking around the house. It was almost party time with only thirty minutes left. He went and retrieved the items from his room, which were confetti, yogurt, cakes, and chocolate—all selected by Roxanne.

He wanted to include energy-giving drinks, but his sister brought diet colas and sodas. She argued that most girls watch their weight, hence her choices were ideal. It was as if she could read his mind on why he wanted to buy the energy drinks.

After setting the living room with the mouth-watering snacks, Arnold turned up the volume of the stereo, put on the TV, and relaxed on the couch as he sipped a bottle of soda. Everything was perfect. The only touches left to complete the picture were the much-anticipated visitors.

Roxanne came down briefly in the previous night’s outfit, served herself breakfast, and joined her brother on the couch. He reduced the stereo’s volume and stared at her uncomfortably.

“Don’t you have somewhere to go? Something to do? Someone to visit, I don’t know Bree, or what’s-his-name Charlie?” He asked her. 

She shook her head while chewing and after swallowing replied, “Nope. I’m totally free today. As I said, I’ll let you have your fun, but it better be PG 13.”

The doorbell rang. Arnold fidgeted. His heart thumped quickly. Roxanne mouthed the last of her toast and looked at her stationary brother.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” She asked him. He mumbled inaudibly while smiling goofily. “If you can’t handle the heat, why light up a fire?” Roxanne said, then went to answer the door. The best Arnold could do was turn to the direction of the door.

“Welcome. Welcome,” Roxanne said to two girls sweetly as she ushered them in. 

Arnold studied the girls. They were both of medium height. One of them had long, dark silky flowing hair that reached to her chest, big brown eyes, full pink lips, and a petite figure. She had on a low-cut top, skin-tight jeans tucked into baseball boots, and a trendy mesh cap.

The other looked sophisticated. She was an auburn-haired girl with a straight, powdered face that had makeup on, an athletic feminine body with small features, and lovely green eyes. She was wearing a see-through cardigan on top of a flowing dress and had on pink earrings to complement the eye-catching pink opens she wore.

“Melissa, Cindy, good to see you both. My, you look lovely,” Arnold said with a wide grin as he approached the girls. They shook Roxanne’s hand, then hugged him.

“You look terrific too, but that golden chain around your neck is a bit too much,” Melissa, the girl with pink lips, commented to Arnold after the hugs. Roxanne and Cindy stared at the chain thoughtfully. Arnold, hating to be the center of negative attention, hesitantly took off the chain.

“Have a seat. Enjoy yourselves,” he said to his visitors. They did so.

“And you are?” Cindy asked Roxanne while looking up at her. Roxanne turned to her and smiled.

“I’m Roxanne, Arnold’s elder sister,” she replied. Cindy nodded. Melissa grabbed a can of cola and began sipping on it.

“Do you have a job?” Cindy asked Roxanne after a momentous silence. Arnold and Melissa stared at her, wondering whether she came to interview Roxanne or party. Before Roxanne could reply, another smashing beauty appeared at the doorstep.

“Hi, you tall, handsome thing. May I come in?” She asked Arnold. This one looked talkative. 

She was an inch taller than Melissa and Cindy, and had stylish shades perched on her hair. She was beautiful, with an angelic voice, beaming light-blue eyes, and a shapely body with curved out hips and large features. She had straight, blue hair that hung down to her shoulders and was wearing a short-sleeve blouse, a light brown silk miniskirt, and fuzzy viking boots.

“Of course, Sandy!” Arnold exclaimed, then went over to her and hugged her then admired her outfit. “You look exquisitely put together,” he added to her as she strutted in confidently. 

“Don’t I ever? You look sharp as well,” she replied with a glance at him, then turned to Roxanne.

“Welcome to the party. I’m your host’s elder sister, Roxanne,” Roxanne said with a warm smile, then hugged her.

“Is that chocolate? It’s like you read my mind, Arnold,” Sandy said, with her eyes fixed on the stack of chocolate at the table. After a ‘Hi girls’ to Melissa and Cindy, she sat between them and helped herself to some chocolate. Roxanne folded her hands knowingly and gave her brother an I-told-you smile.

“Turn up the music, DJ. Let this be a real party!” Sandy declared loudly to Arnold, to Melissa and Cindy’s irritation. He increased the volume of the stereo then looked outside longingly for his final, most important visitor.

He waited for a while and almost despaired until a beautiful girl with long dark hair appeared at the doorstep, smiled, then said, “Sorry I’m late.”

She was of the same height as Arnold and had a model’s body with a medium front and large backside. She had a heavy Italian accent and the hair on the left side of her head was carefully arranged behind her left ear. 

There was a red rose peeping out of the baseball cap she wore, her eyes glowed with mascara, her lips with the trademark blood-red lipstick, and her face with the beauty mark on her left cheek. She wore black loop-shaped earrings and was adorned in a red strapless top, gray flared satin trousers, and black open shoes.

“Come in,” Arnold breathed to her as he admired her and her outfit as if she was an angel from the sky. She got in and stared at the girls—including Roxanne—momentarily. Arnold knew that he had some explaining to do but he wouldn’t. Not in front of his sister.

The girl blended into the unexpected many-people party easily. Arnold hugged her and while he did, whispered to her, “We’ll talk later.” 

She nodded slowly then said to him after the hug, “You look handsome—as always.”

He smiled and returned, “No words can describe your outfit, but I’ll go with ‘breathtaking’.” The girl turned to Roxanne.

“I’m Rebecca Giovanni, Arnold’s friend,” she said to her then greeted her.

“And I’m Roxanne Simmons, his elder sister. Welcome to the party,” Roxanne replied, then paved the way for her to pass.

After greeting the rest of the girls, Rebecca sat on the couch beside the table then took a piece of cake. Melissa eyed her enviously while sipping her cola slowly. Sandy stood up and began dancing energetically to the tune of a song from the stereo.

“I love this song,” she said as she danced. Rebecca laughed at her offbeat dance moves while the rest just watched Sandy shake it.

Arnold closed the front door and went to attend to his guests. He smiled and nodded as he watched Sandy, then clapped.

“That’s what I’m talking about. Let’s get into the party mood, ladies!” He told Melissa, Cindy, and Rebecca, and began dancing himself. Roxanne watched over them for a while then excused herself. Cindy was hot on her trail.

“Do you have a job?” She asked her again as they walked out of the noisy living room.

“Yes. I’m a secretary at a company called Wise Enterprises,” Roxanne replied casually, wondering what the girl’s obsession with her occupation was. She thought the conversation was over but her reply caused Cindy to be even more curious.

“Wise Enterprises? The Wise Enterprises? That’s my dream workplace!” She exclaimed happily as they stopped by the dining table and faced each other.

“Really?” Roxanne asked, starting to become impressed with her new admirer.

“Yeah! Ever since I stepped into high school. Too bad I didn’t carry a pen and notepad. If I had known that Arnold has a cool sister working in a cool place, I’d carry them,” she started, and before Roxanne could comment, she continued, “I am a girl who believes that this world belongs to women. I believe that we are the fuel that keeps it going, and that should we relent in our responsibility to work hard, then it will fall and break into pieces.”

Roxanne clapped with a smile, obviously impressed.

“Wow. I never knew my brother has any cool friends who are smart,” she said, then craned her neck to get a glimpse of the living room. Arnold was on the table, screaming like a madman with a can of cola in his uplifted right hand and the girls dancing around him to some song. She shook her head and turned back to Cindy.

“So how can I help you achieve your dream?” She asked her.

“I’m imploring you to inspire me with your story from scratch, how you came to be in the most prestigious company,” Cindy said, with her green eyes glowing perfectly.

“You sure you won’t get bored? And what about the party?” Roxanne asked.

“No way. I would never get bored. As for the party, to be honest with you, I only attended because I thought it would be crawling with gorgeous guys. I’m not a party person,” Cindy replied.

“Alright. Let’s go to my room. I will provide the writing material. Feel free to ask any question,” Roxanne instructed as they went up the stairs. Cindy nodded her agreement. Roxanne got so carried away by Cindy’s ambition that she forgot  about her brother’s blazing party downstairs.

Carla had finished her duties for the day. She went to change into a low-cut light-green cropped blouse, skin-tight pants, and heels. Her brown hair hung freely down her back. After adding a touch of lipstick on her lips, she took her golden portable purse and walked out of the hotel to her destination.

Damian lived in a fancy bungalow with four rooms and a hot shower plus jacuzzi that was solar-powered. He was outstretched on his leopard skin sofa, listening to some music when Jack Al arrived.

“Hey man,” Jack Al greeted while eyeing his friend’s stereo system. Damian sat up and reduced the system’s volume.

“Hi Jack. Come in,” he replied enthusiastically, then stood up to give his friend a proper welcome handshake. After the handshake, Jack Al ensconced himself on one of the seats. Damian excused himself. While he waited for his friend, Jack Al busied himself by perusing through an auto magazine that was on the glass table in the room.

Damian reappeared with two bottles of freezing-cold tequila.

“Just the way you like it, Jackie boy,” he said, then handed Jack Al one of the bottles and sat where he formerly sat. 

Jack Al took a huge sip of the drink, wiped his mouth, and asked, “Where’s Easter?”

Damian had sipped his drink and was letting its taste linger in his mouth. He swallowed and replied, “She’s out of town till Monday. Went to visit her folks.”

“Didn’t she spend the night here?” Jack Al probed while staring intently at his friend.

“Sure she did. She woke up, had a shower, got ready and left,” Damian replied, then they both sipped their drinks.

“Won’t you miss her?” Jack Al asked, then took another sip. Damian shook his head grimly.

“I can always call her and ask her to shorten her stay. But after last night, I think I can do without her for a day,” he replied, then took a sip of his drink.

“You sure you won’t bring in an extra flame to keep you warm tonight?” Jack Al asked with a naughty smile, then studied his bottle keenly. Damian took a huge sip of his drink, then glanced at his TV then his friend.

“Easter is my life, man—the woman I intend to walk down the aisle with very soon. And do you know why, man?” He asked Jack Al. Jack Al shook his head. He continued, “Because not only do I love her, but I admire her as well. She shares my job. How many women can kill in cold blood without blinking? Not many. I watch in admiration every time we’re on a mission the way she kills brutally with a sinister yet attractive smile.”

He paused and continued, “Besides, if she caught me with any other chick, she’ll kill her, then me, without flinching. I’m satisfied with only her. No other will ever take her place.”

Jack Al nodded in admiration and sipped the last of his drink, then put the empty bottle on the table.

“And what about you, man? Have you met a woman who has caught your eye?” Damian asked him. Jack Al spread his arms on the backrest of his seat then crossed his legs. He thought about Carla.

“Nope. I’m flying solo for now. A girlfriend is the last person on my mind right now. I haven’t achieved much in life, but then I know that urges do come now and again, so I have to gratify them with any girl whose body and looks have caught my eye without being emotionally attached to her. I’m only human, right?” He explained, then broke down into a hoarse laughter.

Damian finished his drink and stood up, then took his friend’s bottle.

“Want another round?” He asked him. Jack Al shook his head jovially.

“It is too early to be drunk,” he replied. Damian took the bottles away then returned. “I have a favor to ask you, man,” Jack Al said to him after he sat.

“I’m all ears. Let’s hear it,” Damian replied, then folded his arms and crossed his legs. Jack Al took a deep breath and leaned forward.

“I need you to lend me some green to go to the East Side,” he breathed, then continued, “My mission to rob Wise Enterprises  is pending and I’m flat broke.”
 
Damian breathed in thoughtfully then replied, “Sorry, man. I spent the money I received from my warehouse mission on Easter. You know how women are, wanting to squeeze men dry to the last penny. And so it was with Easter. I spent everything on her last night. I only have $50 left that I intend to use on drinking tonight.”

That reply didn’t please Jack Al. He stroked his long curly hair desperately. He suddenly remembered his rendezvous with Carla and stood up.

“It’s okay. Let me go and try some other place. Thanks for the drink,” he said, then turned to go.

“Stay for lunch?” Damian suggested to him as he went.

“No, thanks. I’ll see you tonight.” Jack Al replied before opening the front door.

“Sure.” Damian replied. With that, Jack Al left for his place. He arrived at 1.00 p.m. and found a brunette pacing from side to side on his front porch. She looked at him.

“Finally! I thought you decided to ditch me,” she said to him while walking towards him and continued, “I’ve stood here for almost an hour.”

“Sorry, Carla. I had some business to attend to,” he replied briefly, then went to unlock his front door. 

“It’s alright. What matters is you’re here now,” Carla replied while following him. He unlocked and opened the door, then ushered Carla in. 

His place was a simple two-bedroom apartment with a basic living room consisting of several seats, a wooden table, and a TV stand on which a TV sat. The highlight was a pedestal of himself beside one of the seats close to the stand. There was a collection of weapons in one of the bedrooms. His place was generally dirty.

“Don’t mind the place. I’m normally too busy to clean it,” he said gruffly as they got into the living room. He dusted one of the seats for her, then she sat on it. “I’ll get you a drink,” he said after, then disappeared into another room that Carla guessed was the kitchen. 

As he fetched it, she looked around the room she was in after crossing her legs and putting her intertwined fingers on them. Jack Al replied with a tall glass of orange juice and gave it to her.

“Aren’t you having some?” She asked him, then sipped the juice.

“I’m fine,” he replied, and sank into a seat beside her. He looked restless. Carla set the glass on the wooden table.

“Is something bothering you?” She asked him with a look of concern, then stroked his muscular right arm. He stood up.

“I-I’m fine. I just need a shower. I haven’t had one since yesterday,” he explained, then added, “I’ll be with you in a second,” then left.

He came out of the shower after a while with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was wiping his hair with a smaller towel as he passed by the living room to his bedroom. He was surprised to find that the living room was empty.

“Carla?” He called out, “Carla!” He cried, this time with an urgent tone. “Where could she…Carla!” He roared, then went to look for her in his two bedrooms.  She wasn’t in the one with the weapons. He stormed into his room and found her seated on his bed, going through his photo album as she sipped her juice peacefully. She looked up at him, then his body.

“Is there a problem?” She asked calmly. He grabbed hold of her and pulled her to her feet, spilling her juice in the process, and brought her face to face with himself. He had a deadly expression on his face and cast her his trademark steely gaze.

“Who told you to come in here and go through my things?” He whispered to her angrily behind gritted teeth. Before she had a chance to speak, he gave her two fatal blows that sent her sprawling outstretched on his one-person bed. “No one, I repeat, no one, goes through my personal things without my consent. Am I understood?!” He barked loudly at her.

She was too frightened and overwhelmed to speak. She nodded while cupping both her cheeks. He turned away from her.

“Excuse me. I want to dress,” he hissed, without turning to her. She got up hurriedly, faced him, then wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I-I’m sorry, Jack. It won’t happen again. P-please forgive me,” she begged urgently. He cupped her lower jaw with his powerful left hand and pressed her cheeks forward.

“I love my privacy. Don’t let that happen again,” he replied, then released her and her grip on him, and pointed to his bedroom door.

“S-sorry, Jack,” she whispered to him as she slowly left. He watched her go with a glare. As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t let himself be under her or any other woman’s spell. After his door shut, he returned the album where it was and slipped into a shirt with a sweater on top, with the shirt’s sleeves and edge peeped out of the sweater. He also wore jeans and sneakers.

He walked out of his room with the empty glass to the living room where Carla was perched where she previously sat. Upon his appearance, she stood up.

“You look great,” she complemented.

“Thank you,” he said briefly, then rushed the glass into the kitchen. “Let’s go out for lunch. There’s no food here and I don’t have any money on me right now,” he said pathetically to her as he reappeared.

“Sure. No problem. I’ll pay for it,” she replied. He wanted to kiss her but just pulled her close to himself and looked into her ocean-blue eyes. She looked up at him with the innocence of a child. Her eyes were so full of love for him that they were getting teary. 

He maintained a straight face and licked his lips then whispered to her, “I never want to hit you again, Carla. Don’t ever make me do it. Don’t,” and rubbed his face against hers while holding her, then let go of her.

Carla loved him because he was a bad boy and wasn’t afraid to show it, while Jack Al wanted her because of her level of tolerance. She wanted him to love her. They left the house silently.

The music had been blaring for three and a half hours. Arnold got tired of dancing. He got off the table and slumped onto the couch behind him. Rebecca joined him. He put his arm around her shoulder then remembered Roxanne and her watchful eye. He looked around for her. She was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Cindy?” Melissa asked no one in particular, after taking her former seat.

“She left with Roxanne,” Rebecca volunteered.

“Really?” Arnold asked in disbelief, totally alert. She nodded.

“Why? Is she babysitting you? And that reminds me, why is she here anyway? Isn’t she supposed to give you space as you throw your party?” Melissa grilled him.

“And where are the boys?” Sandy contributed while panting, then took a can of cola and bobbed her head to the rhythm of the music after sitting beside Melissa. Those questions left Arnold tongue-tied.

“My sister was helping me organize this party and as for the boys…,” he started, then looked at Rebecca and continued, “I invited them but they didn’t show up. Totally not my fault,” then stood up and excused himself. He went to look for his sister. He looked everywhere, and his final search place was her room.

As he went up the stairs, he could hear murmurs from there. Without bothering to go closer, he concluded that she was there. He punched the air in triumph, turned, and went back to the living room to his guests. 

Sandy stood up again and began dancing, this time in line with the playing song’s beat. Arnold got hold of Rebecca’s wrist and led her out to the backyard. Melissa leaned back on her seat and sang along to the song while watching Sandy dance.

Roxanne had already told Cindy about her childhood and at that time, as they were both seated on her bed, Cindy wrote all she was told and asked, “Were boys your number one interest in high school?” Roxanne smiled and breathed in and out sharply.

“Yes and no. Yes, because I wanted a cute, caring guy, and no, because I got their attention without sweating. They did plenty of stupid things like dumping their girlfriends just for me,” she explained. Cindy smiled as she jotted down the information.

“Were they hot?” She asked afterwards.

“Of course! But I was the type of girl who believed and still believes that every girl has their guy. I couldn’t accept them all since they were already taken even if they left their girls,” Roxanne replied as Cindy wrote.

“So did you eventually get a guy?” She asked.

“Yeah. In eleventh grade. But we didn’t last. I left him because he was stingy and immature. No other came after him,” Roxanne explained.

The backyard was a large, open space with relaxing chairs—both with their umbrellas—and rich, lush green grass. It was tranquil, with only the distant chirping of birds being audible. Arnold led Rebecca to the chairs and they both took a seat on the same chair.

“I brought you here so we can talk in private,” he said to her, then held her hand and looked into her gray eyes. She took off her cap with her free hand and fanned herself with it. “I know that this was a two-person party but things just took a different turn against my expectation,” he explained.

“So you didn’t invite Melissa, Cindy, and Sandy over?” Rebecca asked. He scratched his head.

“Maybe I did. But it was for the good of everyone,” he replied.

“What good?” She demanded. There was an uncomfortable silence. “Come on, Arnold. If we are to see each other, we are to be open with each other. Tell me, what good?” She asked again. Arnold bit his lower lip in deep thought. Rebecca squeezed his hand gently. “You can tell me, Arnold. My lips will be sealed,” she persisted.

He couldn’t tell her his real, dirty reason for inviting the four most beautiful girls, including herself, with him being the only guy. He thought fast.

“My sister recommended it, arguing that if it’s just you and me, the obvious would happen. But lucky us! The other girls have acted as distractions, especially Cindy, and here we are together. Alone. All to ourselves,” Arnold said with a smile. Rebecca wasn’t still satisfied.

“So your sister has a problem with you being alone with me or any other girl for that matter?” She asked, while peering into his eyes to search for some truth in them. It sounded ridiculous. He nodded, then looked towards their house.

“My entire family. Not only her. They still baby me. But let’s not delve deeper. It’s embarrassing,” his words sounded true enough. Rebecca believed him. She held his head. He slowly rested it on her chest. She stroked his hair slowly.

“It’s alright. We all have our secrets,” she whispered as they both looked into the horizon. A smooth, romantic song played faintly in the background from the house. “I have to go now,” Rebecca said after a while. Arnold sat up and held her hands.

“What? So soon? It’s only…,” he paused and consulted his phone for the time, then continued, “5.00 p.m. Stay longer.” Rebecca smiled and stood up. He stood too.

“No matter how much I want to, I can’t. But we’ll meet soon, right?” She replied. He sighed, then they looked into each other’s eyes. Arnold’s heart pounded. He had no experience in circumstances like those. “Let’s…let’s go slow. Let’s not rush into kissing every time it’s just the two of us. We have to be open, right?” Rebecca said, then kissed Arnold on the cheek and let go of his hands. He nodded. She smiled and stroked her hair. “Bye,” she whispered.

“I-I’ll walk you out,” Arnold offered. She nodded, then they walked back into the living room where Melissa and Sandy held each other and were seated, singing along to the song that played sorrowfully. 

Arnold and Rebecca smiled at each other, then he turned off the stereo. Melissa and Sandy let go of each other and stared at him.

“Hey!” Sandy bursted.

“Sorry, girls. That was the perfect song to end this party with. Thanks for coming,” Arnold announced calmly.

“Already? And where the hell is Cindy?” Melissa asked authoritatively.

“Here,” said a voice behind her. She and Sandy turned to the direction of its source. Cindy was coming down the stairs with Roxanne.

“What happened to the party? Out of power?” Roxanne asked Arnold as she looked at the three girls in turns.

“No, out of time,” he replied. 

Cindy turned to Roxanne and said to her, “Thanks. You’ve really been a big help.”

She nodded and replied, “Anytime.” Melissa stared at the notepad Cindy had. 

“A big help with what?” She asked.

“My future. She gave me her success story to inspire me. You’re really lucky to have her for a sister, Arnold,” Cindy concluded.

“Tell him. He never seems to realize it,” Roxanne boasted while staring at her brother with a smile. He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get moving before somebody’s ego shows,” he said. 

Sandy took the last bar of chocolate and told him, “Nice party, handsome. But next time, have boys over.”

“Hot beefy ones,” Melissa added.

“The kinds that make us…swoon,” Cindy said, then dramatized it. She fell into Melissa’s arms, then they both laughed out loud.

“Your party rocked, Arnold. It was perfect,” Rebecca concluded, then blew him a kiss. The girls left together. Arnold smiled happily and sighed dreamily. Roxanne looked at Rebecca, then him.

After the door was shut, Roxanne smiled at Arnold.

“So…Mummy and Daddy’s little pumpkin has matured into a man,” she observed and added, “Is that Giovanni character your girlfriend?”

“That’s my business. The party is over, so you have nothing on me now. I don’t pry in your relationship with Charlie…,” he started.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Roxanne cut.

“Yeah, right. So that lift he gave us and his paying for my items don’t mean anything?” Arnold asked, but before she could counter, he added, “You know what? I don’t know and frankly I don’t care. That’s your business. As I was saying, I don’t pry in your relationships, so don’t pry in mine.” Roxanne lifted her hands in surrender.

“Whatever. But from me to you, girls are tricky, so watch your back,” she said, then looked around at the living room and added, “This place is a mess. You know what to do, before Mom and Dad get back,” then took a piece of cake and went upstairs to her room. Arnold sighed, then looked around at the confetti.

They would really come in handy when, he thought, he and Rebecca were locked in each other’s arms kissing passionately. He pictured the glorious sight, with the confetti coming down gently upon them.

“One step at a time,” he said to himself, then hummed a tune as he cleaned up. It took a while but he finally finished. Afterwards, he went and had a shower then changed into a T-shirt and cargo pants. The doorbell rang. He whistled as he went to get the door. It was his parents.
“Mom, Dad, hi!” He said happily as he hugged them both.

“Hey Pumpkin. How was the party?” Mrs. Simmons asked as she hugged him.

“Great! I invited Erick, Duncan, and James over just like the other day and we studied and partied,” he lied.

She kissed him on both cheeks and said, “Good boy,” then got in. Mr. Simmons interacted with his son next.

“Hi son,”

“Hey Dad,” they exchanged while shaking hands, then Mr. Simmons winked at him and got in. Roxanne came down.

“Hey Mom, hey Dad, how was the massage parlor?” She asked as she hugged them both.

“Grand, as usual. Too bad you kids never want to join us,” Mr. Simmons said. Mrs. Simmons nodded her agreement.

“We’re still young and vibrant. We don’t need massages,” Arnold said.

“Yeah,” Roxanne agreed, then went to prepare supper as she always did on Saturdays. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons went to freshen up, and Arnold went and watched TV as he waited for supper.

When it was finally set, he helped in setting the table. He was hungry. Although he had a party, he didn’t eat anything solid. He survived on cola only. Roxanne, on the other hand, was full since she had eaten plenty of cakes. They were her main weakness. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons came down for supper.

“This looks good, Roxy,” Mrs. Simmons said as she took her seat. Mr. Simmons was too hungry to talk.

“Thanks. You’ll enjoy it,” Roxanne replied, and served her mother. 

She served everyone else, then herself last. Arnold and his father chomped down their meals without a word, Mrs. Simmons ate reflectively at a calm pace, and Roxanne ate hesitantly, poking her food with her fork. Her mother noticed this.

“What’s the matter, Roxy?” She asked.
“I’m not hungry. I guess I had too much to eat at the party,” Roxanne replied, and stopped eating.

“Too bad. All this food going to waste?” Arnold teased, then added himself some more.

“Looks like the party rocked,” Mr. Simmons observed as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

“Not much. It was mainly…,” Roxanne started.

“Studying and partying,” Arnold put in, before his sister contradicted his previous description.

“Yeah,” Roxanne agreed hesitantly. Mr. Simmons nodded.

“My Arnold is a good boy,” Mrs. Simmons said with a smile, then ate the last of her food. Arnold nodded proudly. Roxanne rolled her eyes.

“That was wonderful, sweetheart. Thanks,” Mr. Simmons said to her, and got up. She nodded with a smile. “It has been a tiring day. I’m going to bed. Coming, dear?” Mr. Simmons asked his wife. She held his hand, got up, then hugged Roxanne.

“Good night, honey. Thumbs up for the meal,” she complimented as she hugged her.

“Thanks, Mum. Slept tight,” Roxanne replied enthusiastically. Afterwards, Mrs. Simmons kissed Arnold on both cheeks. Mr. Simmons sighed. Mrs. Simmons ignored him.

“Good night, Pumpkin,” she whispered lovingly to her son.

“Same here, Mom,” he replied.

“Good night kids,” Mr. Simmons said to his children after he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder as they went.

“Good night, Dad,” they said in unison, and watched their parents disappear to their room. After they had left, Roxanne turned to her brother with a mocking smile.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, then stood up. Roxanne imitated the kissing sounds made as he was being kissed by their mother, then mimicked her: “Good night, Pumpkin.”

“Shut up,” Arnold said moodily and went to his room, leaving his sister laughing heartily. She cleared the table then went to bed. The day to her was fun.
Carla and Jack Al had gone for lunch at a diner that wasn’t all that, but was preferable in hygiene compared to Pleasure Treasure. 

It had wide, comfortable couches that curved out around the polished, black tables. They could accommodate at least ten people each. It had a marbled floor, and each table had several menus. Its waiters and waitresses were clad in exorbitant-looking black suits—pants for men and skirts for women—and bow ties. Its name was Bon Cuisine.

Jack Al smiled as he and Carla took a seat at a table they had selected.

“Your workplace could borrow a few leaves from here, don’t you think?” He mocked her as they scrutinized the menus. She ignored him. They had finally ordered after initially having trouble deciding what to pick. The foods listed all sounded classy, delicious, and superb.

Once their orders arrived and after Carla uttered “merci beaucoup” to the waiter who had served them, Jack Al began eating immediately. Carla watched him eating and giggled as he tore the flesh off the sheep’s leg he had ordered ferociously. She was in the mood for a conversation but clearly he wasn’t, forcing her to eat in silence while occasionally watching him.

It was only after the meal that he gazed at her while he wiped his mouth. She finished her food, and paid the waiter who had served them when he came again with the check. He was puzzled. He was used to being paid by the man in the couple for the meals ordered. A steely gaze from Jack Al made him retreat with their empty dishes.

“Let’s go?” Carla suggested to Jack Al after grabbing her purse. He nodded, and they left the diner together. Carla studied his face. He looked moody and grouchy as usual. “So where next?” She finally asked as they walked.

“Your place,” he murmured. She beamed and wanted to hold his hand, but refrained. He had a loose and unpredictable temper, and it was that that pulled her to him.

After a long, silent stroll, they finally arrived at Carla’s place. It was a simple apartment with four rooms: A bathroom cum toilet, a bedroom, a dining room that was combined with a kitchen, and a living room.

“Make yourself at home,” she said to Jack Al after they got into the living room, then went off to her bedroom to change. 

Jack Al took off his sweater  and sprawled onto one of the fur-coated seats in the living room and looked around. There was a radio on a stool at one of the corners of the room.
“I’ve always been a radio girl,” said a voice behind him. He turned to its source. It was Carla, when she walked in and found him eyeing it. She had changed into a vest and tracksuit bottoms. “What will you have?” She asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Jack Al replied.

“Alright,” she said with a slight shrug, then joined him where he sat. He cleared his throat and looked into her eyes.

“Carla, I have something to ask you,” he said. She faced him. “I need to go to the East Side to tend to some business, but I’m broke,” he explained. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully and stood up, then faced away.

“The East Side? That’s miles away from here,” she replied, while maintaining her position.

He looked at her hair then replied, “That’s why I need the cash. Please help me.”

“I will help you,” she declared, then turned to him and added, “I will help you Jack, and do you know why? Because I love and care for you,” and once again joined him on the seat. He held her hands.

“Thank you, Carla. It’s good to know that,” he said with a slight smile.

“But don’t you feel the same way? I know you love me too, Jack. Let’s stop pretending,” Carla implored, and brought her face closer to his. Jack Al could feel hot blood rushing through his veins. His urge was acting up.

“H-how will you help me?” He stammered, obviously brought to his knees by Carla’s bold act of pushing him onto the seat. He lay on his back. She towered above him. He put his hands on her slender waist. She slowly took off her vest.

“Less talk, more action,” she whispered sensually. She was right there before him, in a dark brassiere, and was starting to lower the tracksuit bottoms when Jack Al finally sat up.

“I need that money,” he whispered. Carla shifted from her pants to his shirt, and started unbuttoning it.

“You’ll get it, baby. Relax,” she cooed, then leaned over to kiss him. He turned his head, causing her to kiss his cheek.

“Carla, I…,” he started, but paused when his shirt slipped down his arms. He sprawled onto his back once more and she retained her position on top of him. She took off her brassiere while kissing him—still on the cheek—then her pants, and was starting to fumble with the button and zip of his jeans when he sat up, then stood up, making Carla shift onto the seat. “I can’t do this!” He panted. Carla also stood.

“Why not, baby? Don’t you want it? Don’t you want me?” She asked in confusion. Jack Al stroked his hair roughly.

“Stop it, Carla! Stop it! I’m not your baby. I’m Jack Al. This is a mistake which should never happen,” he spat furiously, then grabbed his shirt. He couldn’t allow himself to be under her spell. “Give me the money,” he demanded, after forcing on his shirt. 

Carla was disappointed. She put on her brassiere weakly. 

“Give me the damn money!” Jack Al ordered, his gray eyes widening. Carla shuddered and dressed up immediately and hurriedly.

“Alright. Let m-me go and withdraw it for you,” she replied calmly. She learned that fire is fought with water.

“Hurry up,” Jack Al murmured, then sank back onto his seat and waited. Carla wore his sweater and rushed off. Jack Al couldn’t understand himself. One minute, he wanted her bad but when he got the chance, he squandered it, ending it faster than it started. He sighed and buried his head in his hands.

It was 6.00 p.m. when Carla returned, taking exactly an hour and a half away and back.

“Here it is,” she whispered to Jack Al as she got into the living room. It was enveloped neatly in a brown package.

Jack Al took it and sighed, “I’m grateful,” then stood up. Carla stood still and looked at him. She didn’t know what to expect when with him. He pocketed the money then held her. She took off his sweater and gave it to him.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” he whispered as their faces came closer.

“Don’t say anything. Relax,” she replied in the same tone and intensity. He couldn’t kiss her as much as he wanted to. She held the sides of his head and smiled sweetly. “How’s about you spend the night here?” She suggested as she looked into his eyes. Jack Al licked his lips. It was a tempting offer. He looked at her chest, then her, and released her.

“I can’t. I have to be up early tomorrow,” he stammered uneasily.

“I’ll wake you. Please, Jack. You know you want me as much as I want you, so what’s keeping us apart?” Carla pleaded, still holding his head. He freed himself.

“I have to go,” he muttered.

“But Jack…,” Carla started.

“I said I have to go! I can’t take this anymore!” He roared, then turned and left.

“Jack,” Carla whispered after her door slammed shut, as she slumped onto the couch behind her, then buried her face in her hands. She was in no mood for food, so she did not prepare supper.

The next place that Jack Al went to was his place. He felt famished and regretted that he hadn’t stayed at Carla’s. She would have cooked for him. He sighed wearily as he got into the kitchen to prepare whichever food was available. 

There was some cheese and milk in the fridge, and that’s what he had for supper. Afterwards, he was too depressed to stay home, so he rose up, locked his place, and left for the Genuine Bar.

It was a large bar with flashy lights that made it noticeable even from a distance. Its loud, thrilling music was a huge contribution to the sea of customers—especially men—who visited it for drinks everyday despite the odd hours. The number one reason, Jack Al thought as he made his way in, was the unique costume of the waitresses. They were topless, with a black bow-tie, micro-miniskirt, and stilettos.

His usual spot was at the forefront where he, Damian, and all other VIPs sat. The owner, Homer Macabee, was his best friend. He found Damian and Homer exchanging stories and laughing as Damian sipped a glass of tequila and Homer wiped the inside of a beer mug with a towel.

“Hey hey! Jackster! How you doing, man?” Homer greeted as Jack Al sat beside Damian.

“Good. Good. I just need something strong to kill my cares, you know what I’m saying?” Jack Al breathed with a brief smile.

“I got you, Jackster. I got you,” Homer replied, and turned to a waitress who was just passing by. “Shelby, get a strong tequila for my man here,” he said while indicating Jack Al.

“Straight up, boss,” Shelby replied, and went to get the order. Jack Al had frequented the bar so often that Homer already knew his only drink.

“You know all these girls’ names?” Damian asked Homer after sipping his drink.

“It took me quite a while, Damster, but I finally managed,” he replied, then added, “You looking for one to give you some company? For a very small fee, I can organize that.” There was a silence as Shelby brought Jack Al the drink. 

She smiled at him and said, “Here’s your order,” then placed it before him. 

He eyed her breasts. There was something about women that he loved: Their femininity. She left, and Jack Al found himself following her with his eyes. She was beautiful. The sway of her hips as she moved was magical. Her perfect butt was a bonus. Jack Al smiled. Homer laughed and playfully slapped him on his back. There was an energetic song playing in the background.

“No thanks, Homey. I’ve got a girl who’s all I need. Perhaps Jackie boy here is interested,” Damian replied to Homer’s earlier question as he smiled at Jack Al, who sipped his drink silently. Homer nodded.

“Yeah. And for a beast like him, I recommend Cynthia,” he indicated to her with his dark brown eyes. 

Jack and Damian turned to where his eyes indicated, to a voluptuous woman who, judging by her appearance, was Latin American. She had a fine head of dark, curly long hair.

“She looks great, but I’ll pass. I had a chance with this really cute girl and I blew it,” Jack Al confessed, and gulped down his drink to the last drop. His friends looked at him in disbelief. “Another round, Homey,” he said as he pointed to the empty bottle.

“Devon, tequila for my man here: Straight on the rocks,” Homer shouted to another one of his waitresses who was serving a customer.

“Word up, boss,” the horny blonde waitress replied, then went to get it. Damian sang along to the song that was playing in the background and emptied his bottle.

“Go to her, Jackster. That’s a chance you get only once,” Homer advised, then eyes several waitresses who passed by with orders. Damian nodded his agreement. 

“Another round, Damster?” Homer asked. He shook his head.

“That will do,” he replied.

“And the best part, guys, is she paid for a meal we had, didn’t react when I hit her, and lent me some cash,” Jack Al said as he looked at his friends in turns. “Thanks,” he said briefly to Devon, who placed his order before him. She smiled at him, nodded, then left.

“These girls seem to have the hots for you, Jackie boy,” Damian observed, trying hard not to look at Devon as she left, then punched his friend lightly on the arm. Jack Al smiled proudly.

“They’re all cute, but tonight it’s Carla, the girl I’m telling you guys about,” he said, then took a sip of his bitter drink. He was starting to get tipsy.

“That’s my boy,” Homer said proudly as he watched him drink.

“Let me get going, guys, before these girls tempt me to forget that I’m taken,” Damian said, then stood.

“Damian, man, the night is still young. It’s a Saturday,” Homer said with a smile.

“Perhaps another day. Here’s your dough, Homey boy,” Damian replied, then paid for his drink.

“Alright, see you later,” Homer said, then took the money.

“Jackie boy,” Damian bade Jack Al, then slapped him on the back softly.

“Take care, man,” Jack Al replied drowsily. Damian left, leaving his two friends chatting and laughing. Jack Al gulped down his drink at once until it all finished.

“Another?” Homer asked him, after he placed the bottle on the counter. He shook his head.

“I’m alright,” he belched, then struggled to his feet.

“Go to your Carla, Jackster. We shall talk money when you’re sober,” Homer said.

Jack Al nodded, then strained, “Thanks for understanding, Homey,” and slowly left the bar while bouncing along to the song that was playing in the background.

Carla was in bed, but wasn’t asleep. She stared at the ceiling of her bedroom with her hands behind her head. Jack Al’s image kept popping up in her head. She had already convinced herself that he was the man for her. She was still thinking about him when she heard a loud bang at her front door that made her sit up in alarm. Her heart raced as she looked for something to hit the Nicodemus with, whom she presumed to be a burglar.

“Carla, it’s me,” said a familiar hoarse voice. She quickly got out of bed in her knee-length night gown and rushed to open the door.

“Jack?” She called out happily as she opened. Immediately she opened for him, he burst in and grabbed her by her arms. She could smell alcohol all over him but ignored its stench. He kissed her, then began undoing his jeans.

“What has gotten into you, Jack?” She asked happily after shutting the front door and taking off her gown. She took off his sweater and shirt and tossed them carelessly on the floor. He had a look of savage lust in his eyes.

“You have,” he croaked, then grabbed her and unleashed kisses on her neck and chest in the living room.

“Let’s go to my room where there’s plenty of space,” she suggested as Jack Al kissed her. 

He lay her on the sofa and parted her legs. The seat groaned under their combined weight, especially when he thrust into her. He gave her the pleasure she so longed for, and after five rounds of energetic sex, he lay on her and slept heavily. 

She heaved a sigh of pleasure amid the sweat and exhaustion as she felt his masculine, rock-hard body coming into contact with her more feminine and graceful one. She, too, fell asleep, and they slept in each other’s arms until the break of dawn.

The next day came and went like a flash of lightning. The Simmonses got up early and prepared themselves to go to church. 

Mr. and Mrs. Simmons went because they wanted to, while their children went for the sake of it. But ever since things started looking up for Roxanne and Arnold, with Roxanne becoming secretary and Arnold getting a beautiful girlfriend, their morale to worship God was rekindled.

After church, they returned home to spend the afternoon together as a family. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons were watching a movie, Roxanne was listening to music in her room, while Arnold was scrolling through his contacts list on his phone. Trish’s number popped up. He smiled, then called her. It would be nice to hear her voice again, he thought.

“Hi, who’s this?” Asked her familiar voice through the phone.

“Hi, Trish. It’s me, Roxanne’s brother,” Arnold replied. He could hear faint laughter in the background.

“How’s Roxanne? What is she doing?” Trish asked.

“She’s alright, just listening to some music in her room,” Arnold replied.

“Did she tell you guys when she’s starting work as secretary?” Trish pried.

“Nope, why?” Arnold wondered.

“Just asking. I wanted to congratulate her,” she lied. Arnold nodded.

“I have to go, Arnold. Let this conversation be between us, okay? I wouldn’t want your sister thinking I’m spying on her,” Trish requested.

“Sure, sure. Where are you?” Arnold asked her quickly before she hung up.

“I’m at a friend’s place,” Trish replied impatiently.

“One last question: When you said I’m cute, did you mean it?” Arnold persisted.

“Why definitely!” Trish replied enthusiastically. Did he think that she had a crush on him? She thought to herself, then shook her head. She understood adolescent boys and if it meant complimenting him more for him to feed her some information on her sworn enemy, she reasoned, then so be it. But she wouldn’t degrade herself to the level of getting intimate with him.

“Bye now, cutie,” she said, in her sweetest tone. Arnold smiled and shuddered excitedly.
“Talk to you later, babe,” he returned, then Trish hung up.

Jack Al woke up early and found Carla sleeping soundly beside him with a smile on her face. She had woken up long before him but was pretending to be asleep. As he rose and went to the shower, she saw him through squinted eyes. He tried hard not to wake her, and even when showering, he did it slowly so as not to make noise for her.

After the shower, he wiped himself using her towel, dressed up in the previous day’s attire, then woke her up to prepare him something to eat. She woke up, and after feigning a yawn and stretching, went into the kitchen.

“Aren’t you going to shower and dress first?” Jack Al asked her as he watched her go in the nude.

“Why? I’m not before a crowd of people and besides, I feel more free this way,” she replied drowsily. Jack Al shook his head, then went into the living room and waited for breakfast.

“Hurry up, Carla. I have this day planned out,” he called out to her. She increased her pace and within no time, came rushing into the room in an apron and with a tray of French toast and coffee, and set it before him.

He didn’t even wait to be welcomed to start eating. He was too hungry for that. Carla was used to his gluttonous eating habits, so she sat beside him and watched him as he ate. The food was quickly finished. He got up and started for the door.

“Jack,” Carla called from behind him, then stood up and went to him. He turned to her slowly. She engulfed him in a spontaneous embrace and kiss. “Thanks for last night. You don’t know how happy you’ve made me,” she said afterwards with a loving smile while looking into his eyes. He looked into hers briefly, not knowing how to react, then looked away.

“Let’s forget it ever happened,” Jack Al grumbled.

“I won’t,” Carla cooed, then rested her head on his shoulder. Jack Al was helpless. He stood there clueless of what to do next. Finally, he regained control.

“Goodbye Carla, I have to leave,” he whispered. 

She hugged him again, with tears in the corners of her eyes, then strained a “Goodbye, Jack,” before releasing him. He turned sharply and left. He was poor in expressing his emotions and feelings. Carla lingered on the door frame and watched him leave until he was out of sight. Then, she got in heavily and shut and locked her door.

Jack Al went straight to his place and began packing some necessities he would need while away from home. When he was through, he got out of his apartment and locked it, placed his bag over his right shoulder and clutched it with his hand, then marched out confidently into the open outdoors. There was a faint scent of alcohol in the air, and police sirens could be heard from afar.

That was the life, he thought as he walked, of the West Side, that he was used to. One for all and all for one. Death was as common as the flu, so much so that if someone died, they would be bidden farewell with just a nod. Anyone who cared would bury the corpse. He went to the train station, bought a ticket, and got into a train that headed to the East Side.

His journey was long and tiring but after eight gruesome hours of being glued to a seat listening to music, he arrived. As his fellow passengers were alighting, he looked out of his window to the sight of a clean place with beautiful people who were smartly dressed, finding their way across the busy roads whose traffic moved at a slow pace, then sighed. Now he would have to hustle to get a place to stay throughout his mission.

“Beanstalk?” Said a soft, feminine voice from his side, that snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to the speaker. There was only one person, he thought, who referred to him using that name.

The speaker was a beautiful, statuesque woman with a bandanna wrapped around her forehead. She also had long, flowing white hair that flowed through the bandanna to her back. She had no makeup on, had a golden cross-shaped earring on her left ear, and was wearing a dark sweater with a blouse inside plus dark, flowing pants and peep toes. She smiled as she saw Jack Al’s reaction to her. He stood to see if it were really who he hoped it was.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me,” the speaker said, still smiling, as they alighted from the train.

“Lilly? Lilly Anne Smart?” Jack Al asked, with wide open eyes.

“There we go,” Lilly replied, then they hugged briefly and made their way across the busy streets. “I see you’re still as handsome as ever,” Lilly observed.

“And you still rock your hair from elementary school?” Jack Al also observed, as he looked at her hair.

“It defines me. So how have you been since high school? How are you holding up? Where do you stay?” She asked in one breath. He gave her a look.

“Still the same talkative Lilly,” he said. She blushed and momentarily looked at her feet, then at him again. They had been friends since childhood and went to the same school from elementary school to high school, when they completed it and parted ways, each pursuing their dream.

“I’ve been coping, and how I’ve been holding up, I can’t complain. I stay in the West Side of this city,” Jack Al replied after a brief silence.

“The West Side? Isn’t that place dangerous?” Lilly asked as they walked to a concrete city bench and sat on it.

“I’m used to it. But enough about me. Tell me about you, how you’ve been and where you stay,” he replied. Lilly sighed then looked into the distance.

“There’s nothing much. I completed high school, joined college, and pursued a degree in Fashion Design. I stay here in the East Side in a duplex that my parents insisted I have,” she said. 

“So you’re a model?” Jack Al asked, then arranged his hair back in place after the warm, evening breeze disarrayed it. Lilly nodded.

“But that’s no big deal. What do you do for a living? Or do you still fantasize about finding the mythical beanstalk and climbing it?” She asked, then laughed.

She had given him the nickname ‘Beanstalk’ when they were in middle school because his favorite story back then was ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’ At first he hated it, but with time got used to it.

“No, no. Of course not. I outgrew that nonsense ages ago,” he started, then thought of a prestigious-sounding job. He couldn’t find any. He couldn’t tell her that he was a gangster, so he lied, “I don’t have a job.”

“No job? Then how are you holding up? And what are you doing here?” Lilly asked, then shifted to face him better.

“As I said earlier, I can’t complain about how I’m holding up. I’m here to visit this place. It’s been long since I was here,” he replied.

“Do you have somewhere to stay during your visit?” Lilly asked him in one breath. He didn’t think of that in advance before going there.

“Not yet, but I’m still searching,” he replied uneasily.

“Tell you what: Why don’t you come stay with me at my place while you continue searching? That duplex can get boring since I’m all alone,” Lilly suggested. Jack Al couldn’t believe his luck.

“That’s a great idea, but I don’t know how your boyfriend will take it,” he said cheekily. Lilly smiled.

“Your girlfriend will have to understand that I’m just helping out an old friend in a friendly manner, with no strings attached. And for the record, I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said, then folded her hands and looked around. Darkness was quickly engulfing, and street lights and other public illuminations started being visible.

“I don’t have a girlfriend either!” Jack Al said, then laughed briefly as he studied his friend’s expression.

“That’s a freaking lie. The Beanstalk who girls were— and I bet are still—all over?” She said in disbelief.

“And the Lilly who is now a model? As gorgeous as ever? Still rolling solo? That doesn’t sound right,” Jack Al contributed, then added, “With your timeless appeal, guys are obviously after you, so why still alone?”

“Let’s just say that I haven’t met Mr. Right yet. Maybe he’s closer than I think, just a breath away,” she answered, then looked into his gray eyes. She had just thrown him a hint that she was interested in him. He didn’t get it.

“Enough of this question-answer session. Darkness is caving in on us. Shall we?” She added, then stood up and straightened her sweater. Jack Al stood as well. They walked up to the pavement, then Lilly flagged down a cab which they both got into. “Rangers Avenue. Step on it,” she instructed the driver. He nodded. The cab came alive in a matter of seconds and took them to their destination.

Rangers Avenue was a quiet, secluded place with top notch security and adequate living conditions. The cab stopped. Lilly paid for both Jack Al and herself, then they alighted.

“Let’s go. It’s not far from here,” she urged him, then led the way to her place. Jack Al followed silently while admiring the beautiful nighttime scenery, from the sky to the posh cars that drove by hastily, with their front lights being as bright as the sun.

“Here we are,” Lilly said to him with a smile after they had trekked a short distance. His jaw dropped. 

It was like a palace. It had a flowing fountain a short distance away from the front door and was enclosed by picket fences. It was a tall, white structure with several large windows, which was built on a large portion of green land. She smiled at his reaction then went on ahead to unlock the hard-glass front door.

Jack Al stayed on a bit to take in the wonders he was witnessing, then joined her on the front porch. After she had unlocked the door, a large German Shepherd came rushing to her.

“Bud!” She exclaimed, and squatted with open arms. He came into her arms and began licking her. She laughed as he did.

“Bud?” Jack Al replied as he eyed the beast. Bud looked at him then began growling, with his sharp, pointed teeth showing.

“Relax, boy. He’s a friend of mine called Jack,” Lilly said to him, then stroked his soft fur, kissed him between his ears and on his snout, and stood up. 

He relaxed then went over to sniff Jack Al half-heartedly to get his scent. He didn’t like him. He looked and smelled fishy. Jack Al didn’t like him either. He hated dogs.

“Say hi to him. He feels offended when you don’t show interest in him,” Lilly informed Jack Al as she watched her dog proudly. He got down on one knee and stroked him at the top of the head. Bud’s huge pink tongue stuck out of his agape mouth. “He’s called Buddy, but I call him Bud,” Lilly said.

“Hey, Bud,” Jack Al greeted. Bud licked him on his face. Jack Al stood and wiped the slobber off. Lilly laughed.

“He says ‘hello’ too,” she said, then led Jack Al into her place, with Bud following from behind.

Jack Al looked around the place. It was spacious, well-furnished, classy, and large. Every room had its specification and walls with fine designs and a glossy finish.

“All this is yours?” Jack Al asked as they went into the living room. She sighed, then they both sat on a large, hard chair with a circular backrest. All the seats in the room were of that nature.

“Yeah, but if it were up to me, I would have had a smaller place. All this is too much for one person,” Lilly replied.

“Why?” Jack Al asked, then scooted over for Bud, who clambered between them on the seat.

“I’m lonely here, save for Bud here who’s my loyal friend and guard. Let me go fix us something to eat,” Lilly explained, then left for the kitchen. 

Bud eyed Jack Al suspiciously as he surveyed the room greedily. His gaze finally met Bud’s.

“What? I don’t like you too,” he said, then looked away.

Supper was finally ready, and after Lilly served herself and Jack Al in the living room, she called Bud.

“Yours is in the kitchen. Off you go,” she said. He jumped off the seat and rushed towards the kitchen.

“He understands what you say?” Jack Al asked Lilly, then took his food from the tray on the box-like table before them.

“Yeah,” she replied casually, then joined him on the seat and also took her food. They ate in silence.

Afterwards, she showed him to his room, where he would be staying. It was sizable with a polished floor, a bed with a drawer, a wardrobe, stereo, and TV that stretched from one side of the wall facing the bed to the other. Jack Al hurriedly got in with his bag, dumped it onto the bed, then sprawled onto the bed.

“Thanks, Lilly. You don’t know how much I appreciate it,” he said to her with his hands behind his head and feet crossed. She stood at the doorstep and folded her hands, then smiled.

“Don’t mention it. If I were in your shoes, I believe you’d do the same thing for me,” she said, then added, “If that will be all, sleep tight. See you tomorrow.”

“Likewise,” Jack Al replied. Lilly left and shut the door. Jack Al took off his sweater and shirt, then settled down and watched TV.

Lilly, on the other hand, took a shower then went and slept in her master bedroom, with Bud sleeping at the foot of her bed.

At exactly 6.30 a.m., Roxanne had woken up and rushed to the shower. She was looking forward to that day and finally, it arrived. Arnold was still sound asleep until she knocked on his door after her shower and shouted,  “You’ll be late for school!”, then went into her bedroom to make herself presentable.

She arranged her hair into a ponytail, and put on a flowing red silk blouse tucked into a smart pair of dark trousers, plus the red heels Charlie got her. She put on dark earrings and completed the look with a red handbag. After applying red lipstick and admiring herself on her mirror, she went to have breakfast with her family, feeling ready to face the long awaited day.

“Looking smart as usual, honey,” Mr. Simmons observed, then sipped his coffee. Mrs. Simmons smiled as she beheld her.

“You look wonderful, darling,” she added to a beaming Roxanne who took her place at the counter.

“Thanks, guys. You both look terrific too,” she returned with a smile at both of them as she poured herself some coffee.

“Isn’t your brother up yet?” Mrs. Simmons asked her, then looked up the stairs that led to their rooms. Roxanne shrugged.

“I woke him up. I don’t know whether he’s still asleep,” she said, then sipped her coffee.

“Pumpkin! Breakfast, now!” Mrs. Simmons called out to Arnold. His bedroom door flew open and out he rushed, with his backpack strapped onto his back, while adjusting a jacket that he had worn on top of a dark T-shirt with tight blue jeans and sneakers to the counter, and took his place.

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” Roxanne teased as she looked at her brother’s disarranged hair. He stroked it severally until his forehead was covered up and it looked tidy, then received the juice Mrs. Simmons poured him.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, then wiped his nose and took a slice of the buttered bread on a wide plate that graced the center of the counter.

“Did you sleep well, son?” Mr. Simmons asked him.

“Perfect. It’s just that the night felt too short,” he replied briefly.

“Short? Anyway, I’m off, guys,” Roxanne announced after clearing her meal, then stood and took her place.

“Already? But you’ve had just a single cup of coffee and two slices of bread. Sit down. Have some more,” Mrs. Simmons implored her softly.

“I can’t, Mom. Duty calls. I’m reporting as secretary today and I have to be punctual,” she replied. Arnold’s ears pricked up, but he pretended to be disinterested. Mrs. Simmons hesitantly agreed.

“Alright, but next time, eat enough to get enough energy,” she said, then Mr. Simmons rose from his seat, took his briefcase, then wiped his mouth.

“Thanks for the wonderful breakfast, honey,” he said to his wife. She stood up and smiled, then walked towards him.

“Okay, see you all later,” Roxanne repeated, and marched off confidently after her family replied ‘Bye’ to her in unison.

Mrs. Simmons straightened her husband’s tie, then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Arnold groaned in disgust and shifted on his seat.

“It’s my pleasure. Have a nice day, darling,” she said, then released him.

“Bye, son,” he said.

“Bye, Dad,” Arnold replied. Mr. Simmons finally left, with his briefcase firmly in hand. Arnold finished his breakfast and stood up hurriedly.

“Thanks, Mom, I’ll be on my way now,” he said. She gave him his lunch money then kissed him on both cheeks.

“Have a nice day, Pumpkin. Remember: Mommy loves you,” she said. He rolled his eyes and rushed off to the front door, with his mother watching him proudly.

Immediately he got out of the house, he fished out his phone and made a call at the front porch. He thought of the one he called’s good will towards his sister and figured he had to inform her.

“Hello, cutie. What’s up?” Asked her familiar voice.

“Hi, babe. I just called to let you know that my sister begins work as secretary today,” he informed proudly, feeling important because of delivering the much needed news.

“That’s absolutely marvelous,” Trish replied, while typing on the keyboard of her computer.

“Where are you?” Arnold asked her.

“I’m at work. Thanks for the information, cutie. I have to go now. I’ll speak to you later,” she replied.

“Sure, babe. Until then,” Arnold replied with a satisfied smile, then pocketed his phone and strutted to school with one hand in his pocket and the other grasping one of the straps of his backpack.

That early morning found Jack Al snoring in bed. He was peacefully sleeping, all curled up, when he felt something wet striking his face severally. It was Bud, and he was on his bed. Jack Al cursed then sat up. Lilly came rushing.

“Bud! I told you not to bother Jack!” Lilly rebuked, as she stopped at the doorstep. He hung his head in shame and slowly climbed off the bed. Jack Al glared at him as he wiped the drool from his face. “Sorry, Beanstalk,” Lilly said with an embarrassed smile as Bud walked out of the room.

She then excused him to start his day, as she could see he was half-naked. He put on his shirt, grabbed a towel, and went to ask her where the bathroom was. She was dressed in a colorful dress, with a necklace around her neck, and had applied eyeshadow and lip gloss. Her hair hung freely down her shoulders. Jack Al went to take a shower, then dressed up in a gray T-shirt with a coat on top, plus jeans and football boots.

“Sleep well?” Lilly asked him as he came for breakfast.

“Yeah. You?” He replied as he eyed her from head to toe, then joined her at the dining table. She was having fruit salad and a glass of milk, while stroking Bud who perched on a chair beside her.

“I slept fine too. Let me get your food,” she replied, and left after Jack Al took a seat opposite her. He glared at Bud as he waited. Bud returned his intense glare, but looked away after sometime.

Lilly returned with a tray containing slices of toast on a plate, a flask, and a cup, then set it before Jack Al and resumed with her breakfast.

“You look stunning. Are you going out?” Jack Al asked as he took a slice of toast.

“Thanks, yeah. My designer is coming to pick me up,” she replied, while smiling at Bud and patting him.

“Don’t you eat bread?” He asked her again. She shook her head.

“Not just bread, any fat or anything with excess calories. We straight size models have to maintain our trim figures, you know,” she explained.

“Right,” Jack Al said, then raised his eyebrows and bit into the toast. After a while, Lilly eyed him.

“You’re also looking sharp. Are you going out?” She asked him. 

He chewed, then took a sip of his coffee, swallowed, nodded and replied, “Yeah. I’m going to Wise Enterprises.”

“Nice. Are you going to seek a job there?” She asked him again, then stopped Bud from stealing a slice of toast from the tray. 

Jack Al wrapped his arm around the tray protectively and replied, “No, I’m just checking the place out. I’ve heard so much about it.” He paused then added, “Um…I was wondering if you would lend me some cash for cab fare. I’m kind of broke at the moment,” feeling embarrassed.

“Sure. What are friends for, right?” Lilly asked with a smile, then reached out for her handbag that was on the table and took out some money, then gave it to him without counting. He smiled while receiving it.

“Thanks, Lilly. You’re a true friend,” Jack Al beamed.

“Don’t mention it,” Lilly replied, then gulped down her milk and forked the last forkful of her salad. Jack Al hurriedly finished his meal, then stood and hugged her.
“I have to go now,” he said. She took out a key from the side of her bag.

“Take this. It’s the key to this place, just in case you arrive earlier than me,” she said, while handing it to him and looking into his gray eyes. He received it and also looked into her eyes that had long eyelids and blue lenses.

“Thank you, Lilly,” he whispered. Bud looked at both of them, then barked. Lilly giggled shyly as they stopped the eye contact, then glanced at Bud.

“I think he’s jealous of you since you’ve caught my eye as well,” she said, then stroked Bud and hugged it.

Jack Al looked at him then smiled and said to Lilly, “Take care.”

“Have a wonderful day,” Lilly returned. He nodded then left. Lilly stared on at him, with Bud in her arms, and she stroked him gently. “Can’t he tell that I still love him after all these years that we’ve been apart?” She asked him. He barked enviously. “And I still love you too,” she said to him, then laughed and kissed him.

The ground floor was unusually noisy, and as Roxanne entered her workplace, a few of her workmates looked up at her and smiled. She walked to her desk wondering what was going on. Her desk now had a telephone and several office items such as writing material and a calculator. Bree was the first to get up and receive her.

“Hi, Rox. How was your weekend?” She asked her cheerfully after a warm hug. 

Roxanne was in a daze, and after she took her seat, replied, “Fine. Just…fine,” then started trying to adjust to her new desk.

“And there she is, ladies and gentlemen: Madam Secretary,” Trish said after standing, then clapped. Their workmates joined her. Roxanne looked at her friend.

“I didn’t say anything. I swear,” Bree said.

“Then who did?” Roxanne asked as she eyed Trish, who was approaching her with a huge book. Bree shrugged then proceeded with her work. Everyone else went on with their work.

Trish stood before her with a smile and put the book on Roxanne’s desk with both hands.

“The boss says you should have this. It’s an appointment book. Guard it with your life, Madam,” she said. Bree stole a glance of it, then looked at both Roxanne and Trish. 

She was clad in a blazer, open neck blouse, pants, and pumps. Trish wore a black waistcoat on top of an orange long-sleeve blouse, neatly tucked into her trademark skirt with a slit at the back, and orange heels.

“How did you know?” Roxanne asked her after staring at the book lengthily. She shrugged.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Roxanne. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do,” she replied, then winked at her, smiled, and swayed back to her desk. Roxanne watched her thoughtfully. The telephone on her desk rang, getting her attention. She received it. It was Mr. Reynolds.

“Good morning, Ms. Roxanne,” he started.

“Good morning, sir,” she replied.

“Cancel all appointments I have for today. There are some letters that need typing. Come for them,” he instructed.

“Right away, sir,” she replied, then Mr. Reynolds hung up. She replaced it on its cradle then stood, straightened her blouse, and went to her boss’ office.

She walked back to her desk with several written letters. Bree had finished sorting the files she was to sort and took them to their boss. Roxanne got to work immediately. She took one of the letters and started typing its contents into her computer—word by word. After a while, the telephone rang again. She received it patiently.

“Wise Enterprises, Miss Roxanne Simmons speaking. How may I be of service to you? You want to see Mr. Reynolds? Name please,” she said, and as the caller gave his name, she jotted it down.

“Mr. Paul Richards. Yes, I have it down. I’m sorry, Mr. Richards, it’s impossible for you to see him today. Perhaps you would like to make an appointment? Yes? Okay, hold on,” she said, then opened the appointment book.

“Alright, go on…Friday the 15th at 9.00 a.m. Perfect. Have a nice day, sir,” she concluded, then took a deep breath and replaced the telephone, and smiled at Bree. She smiled back.

“Way to go, Rox. That was perfect,” she complimented. Roxanne smiled and resumed her typing.
“Hey, hey, Miss Bree. Less talking, more sorting. The boss wants these in 10,” Trish suddenly said, then stacked several files onto Bree’s desk, glared at Roxanne, then turned and left. Roxanne was glad that she didn’t have to put up with Trish any longer.

A tall, well-built man in football boots slowly made his way into the company and looked around. He wanted to identify the boss of the rest, who could obviously be secretary. Everyone seemed busy typing this and concentrating on that, except a busty red-haired woman in a waistcoat and orange heels, who had finished a report and was filing her nails while humming to herself. He smiled, adjusted his coat, then confidently approached her.

“Excuse me, Miss…,” he started, and paused to look at her nametag, then continued, “...Trish Mae. I was wondering if I could see Mr. Reynolds? Your boss?” Trish looked up at him and smiled. She stood and shook his hand.

“Mr. Reynolds? Well, um…” she stammered while eyeing him. He smiled slightly. He always had that reaction from women.

“Perhaps you should see his secretary, sir,” an employee seated beside Trish offered. She cast him a deadly glare.

“And who asked you? Get back to work!” She scoffed at him. The man’s smile broadened.

“Where is the secretary?” He asked Trish as his eyes traveled around her. He was impressed. She was curvaceous and well-endowed.

“There she is: The blonde in a red blouse,” Trish replied weakly while indicating Roxanne.

“Thank you,” the man said as he looked at Roxanne.

“What’s your name?” Trish spilled nervously in one breath to him, trying to conceal a smile.

“I’m Jack Al, but you can just call me Jackie,” he replied, then smiled at her and left for Roxanne’s desk. 

Trish sank back onto her seat as she watched him go and sighed, “Jack,” then glared at the employee. “That will be the last time you interfere. Mind your own damn business,” she hissed at him, then continued filing her nails furiously.

Roxanne was typing the last word of the letter onto her computer and was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Jack until he said, “Excuse me,” softly in his hoarse voice. She looked up from her work. Her jaw almost dropped. Emotions were running around in her as she observed him, but she managed to compose herself.

“Yes, please. How may I be of service to you?” She said confidently while looking into his gray eyes. Her confidence intrigued him. The fact that she did not react to the charms he thought he had on women made him interested in her.

“I was wondering if I could see your boss?” He inquired humbly while surveying her. 

She sighed then finished her typing, and started, “I’m sorry, Mr…”

“Max Johnson,” Jack Al guessed, the first name that came to mind.

“...Mr. Max Johnson, but the boss can’t see anyone today,” Roxanne continued, then opened the appointment book and added, “But perhaps you would like to make an appointment?” Then flashed a friendly smile at him. He bit his lower in frustration.

“It’s really urgent that I see him today. Please help me,” he said urgently.

Roxanne thought for a while, then said, “Alright. Let me go and see what I can do. You’re welcome to sit and wait,” and took the letters that were then transferred into soft copy, stood and excused herself. Jack Al watched her as she left. She fascinated him. He couldn’t let his feelings sabotage his mission. 

He quickly grabbed her seat, and before operating her computer, looked over at Bree. She was eyeing him suspiciously.

“Hello,” he said to her with a smile.

“Hi,” she replied curtly, then stood with the files she had sorted and left for Mr. Reynolds’ office. 

Jack Al followed her with his eyes. She’s alright, he thought to himself, then shook his head, rubbed his palms together, and began working on Roxanne’s computer.

Being a secretary, the company’s shares were stored in her computer. Jack Al transacted a sum of $100,000,000 from Wise Enterprises to Discreet Bullies, the organization he worked for at the West Side. He smiled contentedly after he had entered the organization’s account number and the computer indicated: TRANSACTION COMPLETE, then quickly returned the computer to its original page, which Roxanne was using.

He noticed Trish eyeing him sensually with a smile. He leaned back on the swivel chair, then smiled at and winked at her. She is good for a lay, he thought as he stared at her chest—that she proudly pushed forward. It was her saving grace, so she loved and cherished it with all her heart.

Jack Al’s attention was redirected to Roxanne when she returned and stopped beside him. He stood and moved aside for her to reoccupy the seat as he looked at her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson. He is very busy, so he cannot see you today. I highly recommend an appointment, she said as she sat. Jack Al stroked his hair.

“It’s okay. I can always try another day,” he breathed, then looked at her tag and added, “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I have to say you look very smart, Miss Roxanne. That outfit you have worn suits you perfectly.” 

Bree returned just in time to hear the compliment. She took her seat then looked at her friend. Roxanne ignored her. If she were to look at her, she, Roxanne, would smile in delight.

“Thank you,” she managed, while maintaining a straight face.

“I’m not the type of guy who beats around the bush, so I’ll get straight to the point: I’m attracted to you and if you’re not busy this afternoon, perhaps we can meet at Choice Cafe at 5.00 p.m. I hope to see you then. Excuse me,” Jack Al said, then confidently walked out of the company after smiling at her. She watched him as he left, then smiled at her friend.

“I like that guy,” she sputtered. Bree made as if to get up. “Where are you going?” Roxanne asked her.

“To phone a mental institution because obviously, you’ve gone mad,” she replied. Roxanne frowned.

“Why is that?” She asked.

“Come on. It’s coffee break time. I’ll tell you over at coffee,” Bree replied, then stood and took her friend by her hand. “Let’s go,” she added. They both went to serve themselves coffee.

After Jack Al had taken a few steps away from Wise Enterprises, he took out his phone and phoned his boss. Big Boss Sheezy was organizing the next mission before Jack Al phoned him. When his phone rang, he took it out and on seeing it was Jack Al, he gave it to Murray to answer it. He hated bad news and when Jack Al phoned him, he thought that maybe he was telling him that the heist backfired or he was arrested.
“What’s up, Jack?” Murray asked, after he walked out of his boss’ office.

“It worked, man! The mission was successful!” Jack Al informed.

“That’s great, man. So when should we expect the green?” Murray asked.

“I’ve already sent it. It’s in the boss’ computer,” Jack Al replied.

“Where are you?” Murray asked him.

“I’m over here at the East Side,” he replied.

“Do you think you can make it here by tonight?” Murray asked.

“No way. I’m crashing with a hot girl whom I want to befriend before going for the kill,” he replied.

“You go, man. Heads up for accomplishing the mission. Did anyone get hurt?” Murray asked.

“No,” Jack Al replied, then paused as he thought of Roxanne and added, “Not yet, but trust me, it won’t be me. I do feel wrong for endangering the job of the beaut whose computer made it possible, though.”

“Snap out of it, Jack. She’ll be cool. We hurt and kill without remorse. Remember?” Murray reminded him.

“Right,” he replied half-heartedly.

“Let me connect you to the boss. He’ll be happy to hear this,” Murray said, then walked back into Big Boss Sheezy’s office, all smiles. He handed him his phone.

“Good or bad?” Big Boss Sheezy asked him, as he and Love Lee stared at Murray.

“Great! He’s on the other end. Talk to him,” Murray replied excitedly. 

Big Boss Sheezy’s expression changed from worried to happy. He leaned back on his seat, wrapped his arm around his girl’s shoulder, and saluted, “Hello, Jackie baby. How you doing?”

“Great, sir. I just called to inform you that I’ve accomplished the mission,” Jack Al reported proudly. Big Boss Sheezy laughed lengthily.
“That’s my boy. That’s my dawg. Big up yourself, baby. Where you at?” He asked afterwards, then hugged and kissed Love Lee. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.

“I’m in the East Side, and I won’t be able to make it there until after a few days, probably,” Jack Al replied.

“You’re the man, baby. We’ll hold a celebration for you when you get back,” Big Boss Sheezy assured.

“Are Damian and Easter there?” Jack Al inquired.

“Nope. Before you called, I was planning their next mission. They have an off in the meantime. Take care of yourself, baby, and find yourself a gurl to share the joy with, you know what I’m saying?” Big Boss Sheezy said suggestively.

“Yes, sir. I will. Goodbye, sir,” Jack Al replied.

“Later, Jackie. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it,” Big Boss Sheezy responded, then added, “Double M, get some champagne. Such good news needs a drink,” after pocketting his phone. Love Lee sat up and looked at her man.

“What’s the occasion?” She asked, while studying his chubby face.

“Doll, we’re dollars richer! Jackie baby was successful,” he replied, then laughed and planted a kiss on her lipstick-coated lips. Murray walked back into his boss’ office with a bottle of champagne and three flutes, and after setting them on his boss’ desk, poured champagne into each.

“That’s wonderful, but where is it?” She asked, then took one of the flutes. Big Boss Sheezy wrinkled his forehead in thought, and turned to his right hand man.

“It’s in your computer, sir,” he informed, after standing at his side. Big Boss Sheezy nodded, then accessed the organization’s shares via his computer and smiled on seeing an increment of $100,000,000.

“There it is,” he said proudly to Love Lee, while displaying the computer’s monitor to her. She squealed and clapped her hands excitedly. Afterwards, Big Boss Sheezy took the remaining two flutes on his desk and gave one to Murray.

“Let’s make a toast to Jackie,” he said. The three of them raised and toasted their flutes. “Let’s make another toast to our fine organization and all its members,” he said again. 

They toasted their flutes once more in unison, said, “Cheers!” In one voice, and gulped down their drinks in one sip.

Bree Javen looked at her friend as she slowly sipped her steaming coffee. Roxanne sipped it, then returned the look.

“You just met the guy. You don’t know anything about him,” Bree said, then sipped her coffee.

“Well, I know he’s handsome and is called Max Johnson,” Roxanne replied dreamily. Bree rolled her eyes.

“Forget the basic details. What about where he lives? What he does? Who he is, stuff like that,” she said.

“I shall know with time. As you’ve said, we’ve just met. Come on, Bree, I thought you have an eye for steaming hot guys. I mean, did you see his sideburns? His bushy brows? His savage gray eyes?” Roxanne asked excitedly, then sipped her coffee. Bree blew the steam from her coffee.

“If you ask me, that guy is trouble. And what sort of guy keeps long hair?” She criticized.

“My sort of guy. He’s my sort of man. I feel pulled to him. By what, I don’t know,” Roxanne said, then smiled.

“He looks like the type of guy who can hold you by the legs, turn you upside down, and use your hair to mop the floor,” Bree said with a searching look at her friend, then gulped down her coffee at once.

“He can use it any day, anytime, and anywhere. I don’t care,” Roxanne said while gazing at the ceiling, then giggled and downed her coffee as well.

The two friends went and put their cups on the rack of dirty dishes, then went back to their desks.

“You seem to really like this guy,” Bree commented after they had both taken their seats. Roxanne nodded.

“But I have everything under control. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” she said. Bree raised her eyebrows and stopped trying to help her friends see things in her perspective.

There was silence as they both found something to occupy themselves. Roxanne couldn’t stop smiling, even when she noted Charlie approaching her with his hands behind his back.

“Is that smile for me?” He asked gently after also smiling, then turned to Bree. “Hi, Bree,” he greeted.

“Hi, Charlie. Looking sharp,” she replied.

“You’re looking good yourself,” he said to her, then turned to Roxanne. He was clad in a silver suit with a polka-dotted tie and a well pressed clean shirt.

“Maybe,” Roxanne replied to him in a friendly manner.

“You look wonderful,” he whispered to her, after eyeing her from head to toe, then took out his right hand before her. “I bought you a present,” he said softly. It was a box of chocolates. She got up and hugged him after putting the box on her desk.

“Thanks, Charlie. You shouldn’t have,” she said while smiling after the hug, then they looked into each other’s eyes.

“I-I’ll see you later, Roxanne. I have to get back to work,” he said uneasily, not sure whether to kiss her or not. He refrained and started going.

“Sure,” she replied, then scratched the nape of her neck lightly with the nail of her index finger as she watched him go. She sighed, then sat heavily. Bree looked at her, then the box.

“Awww. Chocolate? That’s the man you should love, Rox,” she pried.

“Unfortunately, he isn’t. I like him, but as a friend. Nothing else, no matter how hard I try,” Roxanne said remorsefully, then popped open the box, took out a piece, and tossed it into her mouth. She put it within Bree’s reach. “Help yourself to some,” she said to her. Bree didn’t wait to be told twice. She took two pieces and put them in her mouth.

“You don’t know how much I love chocolate, Rox. If I were you I’d stop torturing the poor guy and love him back. He’s so loveable and good-looking,” she advised.

“I’m trying, Bree, but apparently, my heart beats for Max. I feel as though I’ve known him all my life. You felt that way when you met Keith, right?” Roxanne whined.

“I guess,” Bree replied, then shut her eyes and enjoyed the milky taste of the chocolate.

Trish swayed towards them and looked at both of them.

“I see there’s a party going on here,” she said, while eyeing the chocolate. They gave her blank stares. She added, “Anyway, Roxanne, we have a staff meeting in the boss’ office at 2 p.m.,” then said to Bree, “Follow me,” and turned and left. Bree looked at Roxanne quizzically, then stood, stroked her hair, and went after Trish. The telephone rang again.

“Hello?” Roxanne chirped.

“Hello, Miss Roxanne. I need you in my office right now,” the caller instructed.

“Yes, sir,” Roxanne replied, then replaced the telephone on its cradle and strode to her boss’ office. On arrival, she knocked on his door and after she was granted entry, got in slowly.

Mr. Reynolds was swinging on his chair while studying some papers deeply when Roxanne got in. He looked up at her.

“Please have a seat, Miss Roxanne,” he requested. She did, then cleared her throat. He gave her the papers and said, “These are detailed accounts of our commodities and their prices on the stock market. I need a printed, summarized report on them within 20 minutes. Are you up for the challenge?” While looking straight at her.

“Yes,” she replied, almost immediately, after a glance at the papers. She had to prove her competence.

“Good. That will be all,” Mr. Reynolds said briefly.

“Excuse me, sir,” Roxanne said, then got up and left the office with the papers. She didn’t take a good look at them until she arrived at her station and took her seat. Bree had returned and was going through some forms that required her filling in.

“What did Trish want?” Roxanne asked her after a while.

“She needed my help in carrying some boxes into the company van. Thanks to her, I’ve got muscle cramps,” Bree started, then paused and continued, “But on the plus side, I got the chance to watch some really gorgeous guys as they offloaded some crates from a lorry. Their continuous winks and smiles at me told me how much they want me.”

“Don’t forget about Keith,” Roxanne said, again as she worked.

“He’s my man. I love him. It’s just that experiences like the one I had boost a woman’s ego, you feel me?” Bree replied, then glanced at her friend. She nodded.

“Did I forget to mention that they paid no attention to Miss Boobs, even after she tried flaunting her goods?” Bree added with a smile, while doing her work.

“Ouch,” Roxanne replied, then they both laughed lengthily.

After a while, Trish walked up to Roxanne’s desk and slammed three papers on her desk.

“Here are the progress reports of this department. The boss wants them printed and edited. Get to it,” she said with a sardonic smile, then swayed back to her desk. Roxanne sighed, then glanced at the papers.

“If I had known being secretary involved all this, I would have turned it down,” she said wearily, while scratching her brow.

“You can do it, Rox. Just hang in there,” Bree comforted. 

Roxanne quickened her pace of work. If all those were to be taken care of, she had to work fast.

“My weekend was the best,” Bree said, after a brief silence. 

“Let’s hear about it,” Roxanne encouraged, while working. Bree breathed in and out, smiled as she remembered it, then started narrating.

“Keith took me to a romantic getaway at the beach. We survived on nothing but seafood, and during the day, we swam side by side, raced on yachts, then sunbathed in the afternoon. At night, after a cool refreshing bath in the beach’s raging waters, he would set up a tent, light a fire, then go fish our dinner while I sat by and relaxed. After dinner, we would cuddle each other and count the stars till late, then sleep after, of course, getting cozy. You?”

“I’m glad you had an awesome time. Mine was ordinary. My brother had a party on Saturday and I had to supervise it, while on Sunday, we went to church and I spent the afternoon listening to some music in my room,” Roxanne replied casually. Suddenly, the telephone rang. She received it.

“Wise Enterprises, Miss Roxanne Simmons speaking. How may I be of service to you?...sir, we do not sell pizza. We are not a fast food joint. This is a company…yes.” She paused as the caller apologized for the mixup, then continued, “It’s alright, have a nice day—and snack,” and returned the telephone in its cradle and glanced at her watch. There were 15 minutes left before lunchtime.

She sighed, adjusted herself on her seat, then proceeded with her work carefully but quickly. She had finished printing her summarized report and was working on the progress reports. Bree had finished filling in the forms and excused herself, then took them to their boss.

It was a few minutes past one when Roxanne had finished her work. She arranged them neatly, then hurriedly went up the stairs to her boss’ office.

“Come in!” He replied, after she knocked. She entered, and found a cateress presenting him his lunch on a tray.

“Excuse me,” the cateress said afterwards, then left. Roxanne stepped forward.

“Yes, Miss Roxanne?” Mr. Reynolds said, then he forked his lunch and mouthed a mouthful.

“Here are the summarized and progress reports. I’m sorry I prolonged the 20-minute deadline by…” she paused, then consulted her watch, and continued, “...twenty five minutes. I had worked on the progress reports of the ground floor presented to me by Miss Trish after I was through with them.” Mr. Reynolds outstretched his hand towards her.

“Let me have them,” he said. She gave them to him. “It’s okay. The important thing is you have completed the work on time,” he added while going through them, and concluded, “You may go.”

“Thank you, sir. Excuse me,” Roxanne replied, then left his office while thanking her lucky stars that he understood.

Bree had served her her lunch and when she returned to her station, she and Bree mingled with their fellow employees as they ate. After lunch, when the dishes were put together by the cateresses and wheeled off to be washed, Roxanne relaxed on her seat while swinging from side to side happily. Everything was ready.

At ten minutes to two, she rose slowly after a soft, contented sigh and went to her boss’ office. Trish was behind her. They couldn’t walk together due to their differences. In attendance in the meeting were secretaries and heads of departments of all floors, the subordinate staff, and the boss himself.

The secretaries wrote down the minutes of the meeting, the heads of departments presented their departments’ grievances to the boss, and the subordinate staff, comprising the janitors, caterers and cateresses, and handymen. The caterers and cateresses had a list of foodstuffs that needed immediate replenishing. 

The meeting took three hours and ended under the conclusion that Mr. Reynolds would look into all the presented data. The staff was dismissed for the day.

Every one of them went their way without a word to another. Trish went down the stairs to her station, and on seeing Charlie at Roxanne’s desk, greeted him. He returned the greeting without turning to her. He only had eyes for Roxanne. 

Roxanne was walking slowly, way behind Trish, thinking about the meeting, then she suddenly remembered her meeting with Jack Al. One glance at her watch told her it was five p.m. She quickened her pace, and after coming down the stairs and seeing Charlie by her desk, she groaned inaudibly as she approached her desk. He smiled at her. She smiled back. She didn’t want to be rude and tell him to go away.

“Hi, Roxanne. You guys have been in there for hours. There must have been plenty to discuss,” Charlie broke the ice while pocketing his right hand, as he watched her arrange her desk. Bree had already left.

“Hi, Charlie. Yeah,” she replied absent-mindedly.

“Did you like the chocolate?” He asked her again.

“Yeah. They were delicious. Thanks,” she replied in one gasp. There was a brief silence, then Charlie drew nearer to her desk.

“Would it be alright if I dropped you home again?” He asked.

“Charlie…” she breathed wearily.

“No strings attached. I promise,” he put in quickly. She sighed heavily as she hoisted the strap of her handbag onto her left shoulder, and looked at his expectant face.
“Charlie, you’re a nice guy, but I’m still learning to love you. And besides, there’s somewhere I’m dropping by before I go home,” she said in one breath.

“May I drop you off where you’re going then?” Charlie insisted politely. There was a pause as Roxanne stared at him. He was making things difficult.

“Maybe another day, Charlie. I’m grateful, though, for your gift. I have to do this alone. See you tomorrow,” she said, then left quickly after a brief, sympathetic hug to him. He watched her as she went.

“Okay. Be safe,” he said after her, then left the company alone slowly, feeling rejected.

Jack Al had arrived at the meeting place fifteen minutes earlier and patiently waited for Roxanne to show up. He was sipping the dark, sugary coffee he ordered while looking into the distance. He was positive that she would make it. They always did, after he got straight to the point with them and complimented them—even when most of them didn’t deserve it. But Roxanne, he thought to himself, Roxanne wasn’t like the rest.

She had that calm and collected nature, cupped with her confidence, that totally intrigued him. She wasn’t like Carla and Lilly, or even Trish, that he wanted to use and dump. He wanted to figure her out, though eventually, he thought with a slight smile, he would have to sleep with her. He couldn’t help himself. Jack Al was his name and women definitely were his game. He was an experienced player.

As he continued thinking, he finally spotted Roxanne at the entrance, trying to locate him amidst the sea of customers in there. He raised his hand and stood and when she saw him, she made her way towards his table. He watched how her blond hair danced on her shoulders as she approached, then looked at her chest and thought, Medium ones. Perfect, and smiled at her. She smiled back.

“Hello, gorgeous. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” he said to her gently as she sat opposite him. 

She put her handbag on the table and replied, “Yeah, well. I’m sorry I’m late…”

“Busy day at work. I understand,” he filled in with a knowing smile, then before she could order, he stopped her and said, “No no no, gorgeous. Let me. Don’t bother yourself,” and beckoned a waiter. 

As he ordered for her, she watched him. She maintained a collected body language but deep inside her, questions were echoing one after the other; Who is he? Is he taken?, and many more. She started enjoying his calling her ‘gorgeous.’

“I hope you’re not diabetic,” he said to her, as he and the waiter stared at her for a reply.

“No. I love sugar, as a matter of fact,” she replied. He nodded.

“That will be all, thank you,” he told the waiter, who nodded and left. “Well, what do you know, I love sugar too,” he said with his smile that melted her heart, then looked into her eyes. She didn’t show the least sign of reacting to his statement but thought, Similarity number one: We both love sugar.

“You have the most beautiful pair of blue doll eyes I’ve ever seen,” he complimented her.

“Thank you,” she replied plainly in a collected tone, when she was actually blushing inwards.

“Here’s your order, Miss. Enjoy,” the waiter said to her after reappearing with what Jack Al ordered for her, then placed it before her and left.

“Thank you,” she repeated with a brief nod at him, then stared at the order. “A vanilla-strawberry sundae? Max, how did you know I love ice cream?” She asked, with a smile forming slowly at the corners of her lips. He leaned back on his seat proudly and marveled at her reaction.

“I didn’t. I just saw fatigue and despair in your eyes and figured ice cream would do the trick. A sweet girl deserves a sweet snack,” he said poetically. 

Roxanne rolled her eyes at the flow of his words. The more he spoke, the more she felt pulled to him. She felt that he knew her. She began enjoying her snack while he watched her.

“Is it that obvious that I’ve had a long day?” She asked him after a while. He shook his head.

“It takes skill to read one’s eyes, for they are inlets into the soul,” he said.

“Are you some kind of mind reader or something?” She asked him. He broke down into a hearty laughter.

“Of course not!” He exclaimed.

“Good. Those people really freak me out,” she mumbled, then took the last spoonful of the sundae and pushed it away from her slightly.

“Roxanne,” he whispered to her.

“Yes, Max,” she replied. He slowly put his hand on hers, then looked into her gleaming eyes.

“Are you attracted to me as much as I am to you?” He asked. Roxanne looked at his huge hand, then him. Her heart was racing. He’s attracted to me? She thought happily.

“Max, I…er…,” she stammered in a whisper, trying hard to subdue her emotions. “I have to go. It’s getting late,” she continued in a more relaxed tone, then retrieved her hand that was beneath his all along, and stood up before he lured her with his charms that she was finding difficult to resist.

“Of course. Of course,” Jack Al said as he looked up at her with a slightly astonished expression. “May I go with you?” He asked.

“No, thanks. Thanks for everything,” she said, as she wore her handbag.

“May I have your number?” He asked, then thought again and added quickly, “Sorry. It’s too early for that. See you soon?” She nodded and left hurriedly without looking back. Jack Al sat dumbfounded, watching her go as he sipped his coffee. She felt him staring at her. She smiled.

As Roxanne got into a cab, she meditated on her rendezvous. 

“Where to, Miss?” The cab driver asked her.

“Ninth Street,” she replied softly after glancing at him. He nodded, then started his cab. 

Roxanne slipped back into the meeting and smiled while gazing outside the window, but slowly frowned when Charlie’s picture pasted itself in her head. She was torn between him and Jack Al. Charlie was sweet, she reasoned, and bought her all sorts of gifts, complimented her, and even dropped her off, but…she sighed, then turned to Jack Al’s side.

Max is charming, dashing, and handsome. He even likes sugar, like me! She thought excitedly. He had that special effect on her. Whether Charlie or Max, only time will tell, she concluded, while looking around the cab.
Meanwhile, Jack Al strolled back to Lilly’s. He couldn’t help smiling. He felt good. All that she needs is time, he said, as he watched a woman pass by him, then shook his head. “Women: Just tell them sweet nothings and they’ll fall for you,” he whispered to himself, then quickened his pace. Roxanne was proving to be a challenge for him and he loved challenges.

After quite a walk, he arrived and found that Lilly still wasn’t home. He opened the front door, and just as he opened it, Bud came rushing towards him. He signaled him to stay. “Don’t get your dog drool all over my expensive outfit,” he said to him as he closed the door. Bud whimpered as he stared at him pitifully.

“I’m not Lilly, so cut it out. I already made it clear that I don’t like you,” he said to him, then marched off into the kitchen after carelessly tossing his coat on one of the seats in the living room. Bud ran after him. Whether he liked it or not, it was Bud’s duty to protect his mistress and her things from fishy people, including Jack Al.

“Man, I’m starving,” Jack Al complained as he strolled back into the living room with a loaf of bread, tomatoes, onions, lettuce, some bacon, and a carton of juice. He sank into a seat wearily and began fixing himself a snack. Bud grabbed a piece of bacon and dashed off. “I’ll get you for this, you mutt!” Jack Al screamed after him angrily, then resumed his project moodily.

The front door opened. Again, Bud rushed towards it. “Bud! Oh I missed you too!” The person said excitedly, as she squatted and received him in her arms. She let him lick her, then she kissed him and stroked its head and stood up. “Your buddy is a thief,” Jack Al grumbled with his mouth full when Lilly appeared in the living room with Bud by her side.

“Why do you say that?” She asked, after her smile faded, then glanced at Bud. He looked up at her innocently.

“He stole my piece of bacon,” Jack Al reported after swallowing, then glaring at the beast. The person, Lilly, laughed briefly and stroked Bud.

“Come on, Beanstalk. Give him a break,” she said, then sat on a seat opposite his. “Did you offer him some?” She asked him.

“No,” he readily replied, then took a bite of his sandwich.

“I guess that’s why. If he can’t have something he takes it by force,” she explained, then crossed her legs. Bud jumped onto her seat beside her, then rubbed himself on her. She giggled, then stroked him with both her hands. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” She asked Jack Al.

He took a sip of juice then replied, “Of course I am, Lilly. So how was your day?” He asked her. She stopped stroking Bud, reached into her handbag, and she retrieved some photos which she stretched out to him.

“Super. These are copies of the shots I took today,” she said as she did. Jack Al received them, put his sandwich aside, and started studying them one by one. They were five colorful photos of her in different outfits and poses.

In the first one, her hair was styled into a ponytail and she had on a skimpy, well-fitting short dress with peeptoes, and a mop and bucket of water.

“There, I posed as a maid who feels her life has lost meaning,” she explained to him, after moving closer to him and observing the photo. Bud went over to Jack Al’s side. He also wanted to see the pictures. Jack Al glared at it, then looked at the second picture.

In it, she was spread out on a luxurious chair with her head tilted and one leg on the chair. She had on plenty of makeup and a glass of champagne in one of her hands.

“There, I am a carefree, wealthy lazy girl,” she explained. Jack Al let his eyes scan the entire photo.

“You are beautiful,” he blurted, almost inaudibly, while still looking at the picture.

“Really? Thank you,” Lilly said, then blushed. Jack Al reluctantly went to the third picture. 

His eyes widened on seeing her hair looking disarranged, her mouth uglified with a careless makeover, her eyes burning with lust, and the outfit she wore tore at the chest, revealing the black brassiere inside. There was a man in his boxers on the floor, and he appeared dead, with ‘blood’ on his stomach region. She was feeding on his ‘intestines.’

“This has to be my ugliest one. It’s the work of visual effects. I portray a sex-obsessed, beautiful, man-eater. That stuff around my mouth and this guy’s stomach is supposed to be blood,” Lilly said, with a cringe.

“No, it’s…it’s great,” Jack Al said slowly, thinking about every word. Bud barked.

“Yeah, I know, Buddy. It sucks,” Lilly breathed. Jack Al slowly turned to the next picture.

It was shot in a sunny environment, and Lilly was in a yellow sun hat, with a beautiful matching short dress and yellow heels. Her head was raised lightly, and there was a look of disdain on her face. She folded her hands and turned away from the man in the previous picture, who was in a yellow suit. He outstretched his hand towards her, was on bended knee, and had an imploring look on his face.

“Here, this guy and I pose as teenagers. I am a feministic young girl who wants nothing to do with boys,” Lilly explained to Jack Al as she pointed to her image.

“You seem to be close to this guy,” Jack Al observed quietly while eyeing the man.

“He’s my fellow model. We shoot many scenes together. We’re just casual friends, though. Why do you think so?” Lilly asked in surprise.

“It was just an assumption,” Jack Al mumbled, then turned to the last picture. Lilly’s heart sank as she stared at his straight face and narrowed gray eyes that focused on the snap. She sighed longingly and looked at the last picture.

In the last picture, she was on the floor, had on a black wig, and cast a blank gaze at the observer with tears flowing from her eyes. She was in a torn, scanty dress and knelt, while covering her exposed breasts with her hands. Jack Al liked that picture.

“And finally, here I pose as a woman who has been raped and discarded. Perhaps the uncovered chest was a bit extreme?” Lilly said and asked Jack, while eyeing her image’s chest questioningly.

“No. It’s perfect. In fact, I love this picture. I think it’s the best,” he replied as he continued studying the photo intently.

“Well, it’s all thanks to my designer, Simone Jacques—a French, and my co-model, Ray Jones. Excuse me, I’ll go shower,” she said, then stood up and added, “Stay, Bud. The bathroom is for me only,” to Bud who sat up and whose tail was wagging as his tongue stuck out as he panted. He whimpered, then reluctantly outstretched on the seat.

Lilly catwalked to her room. Jack Al watched her admiringly as she went and stroked his rugged chin. She’s in control of her life, he thought with a smile, then turned to Bud when he growled at him.

“What’s your problem? You’re a dog, she’s a human woman and I’m a human man. Human women belong to human men. Go find a bitch who will love you for the rogue that you are. She’s mine,” he said, then re-examined the snaps, after which he returned to his snack.

Arnold was in his room studying when his phone rang. It was Trish.

“Hi, cutie. Any new info on Roxanne?” She asked. He sat up.

“Nope. As we speak, she isn’t home yet…oh, wait. She’s arrived. I’ll try to dig up some stuff for you,” he replied.

“Do that, darling. I truly care for my friend. I have to go now,” Trish replied.

“Alright, stay safe. Talk to you soon, babe,” Arnold said.

“I’ll be waiting,” Trish answered, then the line went dead. He closed his books and went down to the kitchen, where Roxanne was chatting with their mother.

“Hi, Arnie,” Roxanne said, then hugged him. He looked puzzled.

“Hi, Roxy. You don’t normally hug me, so what’s the occasion?” He asked his elated sister.

“I’m just happy. I’ve had a wonderful day. See you both later,” she replied, then swung away happily with a smile. Arnold turned to his mother for an explanation. She shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. My lips are sealed,” she said, and continued cooking. Arnold felt curious. He had to know the cause of Roxanne’s joy, not to inform Trish, but to satisfy his curiosity. He went to the living room and joined his father who was watching the evening news.

During supper, he watched his sister eat. She ate while meditating with a smile. Mr. Simmons noticed his son’s intense stare at Roxanne.

“Is there something on your sister’s face, son?” He asked. Arnold shook his head and looked back at his plate. Roxanne glanced at him.

“It’s rude to stare,” she said thinly. Mrs. Simmons nodded without a word and continued eating.

“So how was your day, sweetie?” Mr. Simmons asked Roxanne.

“Extraordinary. I had plenty to do as a secretary and almost gave up, but Bree encouraged me. We also had a staff meeting with our boss, Mr. Reynolds,” she replied.

“And that’s why you’re happy?” Arnold asked her quickly.

“Why I’m happy is my business. Good night, all,” she replied, then wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin, stood, and went to bed after thanking her mother.

“It’s nice to see Roxy is happy with her job,” Mr. Simmons offered.

“Yeah,” Mrs. Simmons replied. Arnold was in deep thought. He finished his food, stood up, and left.

“Thanks for the food, Mom. It was great. I’m full, good night, and same to you, Dad,” he said in one breath, then left.

“What, no hug?” Mrs. Simmons asked him. He didn’t reply. Mr. Simmons rubbed his wife’s shoulder comfortingly.

“He’s all grown up, dear. He’s no longer interested in us,” he said.

On reaching his room, Arnold locked the door and took out his phone. He phoned Trish.

“Yes, cutie. I’m all ears. Fill me in,” she said enthusiastically from the other end of the line.

“Roxanne is in an unusually good mood today,” Arnold reported.

“And?” Trish asked interestedly.

“And it’s weird. She’s normally calm and collected,” he replied.

“It’s probably Charlie. He has been pursuing her relentlessly,” Trish suggested. Of course! Arnold thought, why hadn’t he thought along those lines? “Hello?” Trish said, after a brief silence between them.

“Yes, I’m still here,” Arnold replied absent-mindedly.

“Is there anything else?” She asked.

“That’s all, for now,” he replied.

“Keep your eyes and ears open,” she instructed, then hung up. Arnold smiled at himself as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“You can’t hide anything from me, sis. You know about Becky and I, so it’s only fair that I know about you and Charlie,” he said to himself as he got into bed.

He thought about Rebecca for a while—how smartly-dressed she had been in school, how she kissed him on the cheek when he punched a senior who tried to chat her up—and smiled.

“Becky,” he whispered, then slept.

The next morning, after a light breakfast, Roxanne hugged her parents and took a cab to work. She was clad in a white blouse with a matching gray blazer and pants, plus white heels and a gray purse. She was in high spirits. As the cab stopped a distance away from her workplace, she adjusted her blazer and cleared her throat. She paid the driver and confidently strutted in.

“Hello, Roxanne,” a fellow worker greeted her on her way to her station.

“Hi,” she replied, with a quizzical look at him. Several other people had greeted her. She responded, still perplexed, and smiled on seeing Bree.

“Good morning, Rox,” Bree greeted her as she sat.

“Morning, Bree. Yesterday was the best, especially after I met with Max,” she said after placing her purse on her desk. Bree became attentive and looked up from her work.

“Really? Did you two, like, you know?” She asked.

“Hell no! What do you take me for, Bree? A loose, unprincipled woman? Well, that’s not me,” Roxanne replied, slightly offended.

“So what happened?” Bree asked quickly.

“We met up and chatted. He ordered me ice cream, admitted he loves me, and guess what? We both love sugar!” Roxanne explained. Trish suddenly walked up to her.

“Hey, princess, the boss wants to see you in his office ASAP,” she reported, then turned to Bree and ordered her, “Hurry up with those files. The boss wants them in ten,” and swayed back to her desk. Bree mimicked her. Roxanne laughed as she got up.

“Rox. All you do with that guy is chat. When will it be action and not talk?” Bree teased her.

“When the time is right. Excuse me,” she replied, and strode to their boss’ office, hands in pockets. Bree shook her head as she smiled, and resumed her work.

Jack Al woke up at half past ten, feeling exhausted. He noticed that the TV was on. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, then switched it off. It had been on the whole night. He drew his bedroom curtains and saw Lilly swimming in her swimming pool at the backyard of the house.

He watched her for a while, then put on the previous day’s gray T-shirt and walked into the living room. The whole place was quiet, and Bud lay by the front door. On seeing Jack Al, he sprang to his paws and followed him.

“I didn’t say I need a bodyguard,” Jack Al told him. He followed him anyway.

There was some tea and pieces of cake on the dining table. Jack Al helped himself to some. It had been a long time since he ate cake. While he ate, Bud was perched on an opposite chair watching him intently. He was already used to it, so he ignored him. He cleared the breakfast and stretched.

Life was going well for him. His boss and friends were waiting for him with a huge surprise back at the West Side for a job well done…then he thought about Roxanne. He felt that he needed to see her but remembered the trouble he had put her in. He felt sorry for her. All in all, a job was a job, and if she got caught up in it, well, it’s unfortunate, he reasoned.

Afterwards, he stood and went to the swimming pool area. He found a short, slender man with spiky hair and a camera with Lilly.

“Pose for me, my beautiful lilly. The camera loves you,” he said to Lilly as he took pictures of her as she struck a pose in a bikini. She caught sight of Jack Al.

“Hey, Beanstalk. Did Bud wake you up again?” She asked while maintaining her picture-perfect pose. The man stopped taking pictures and turned to Jack Al.

“You’re quite a hunk,” he said, as he observed Jack Al from head to toe. His brown eyes rested on Jack Al’s broad chest.

“Um, allow me to do the introduction. Beanstalk, this is Simone Jacques, my designer cum photographer,” Lilly introduced while looking at both men in turns. Simone stretched his hand to Jack Al. He shook it. “Simone, this is my childhood friend Jack Al, but I call him Beanstalk,” Lilly continued. Jack Al nodded to Simone briefly. He found Simone’s continuous stares at his chest and groin to be annoying.

“Is he a model?” Simone asked Lilly.

“No, he’s not,” she replied briefly.

“What a shame! The camera is hungry for a yummy-looking body like his!” Simone exclaimed while scanning Jack Al’s entire body. Jack Al raised his eyebrows at Lilly. She shrugged.

“So where do the pictures you shoot of Lilly go?” Jack Al asked Simone.

“To the elegant magazines such as Vogue, Romance, Thrill, and Super Girl, not to mention Seventeen for teen girls. Your friend has a body that any normal person can desire, and her face has that natural beauty that perfectly complements the lens. She gets good money, monsieur,” he replied.

“Good money?” Jack Al repeated, more interested. Simone nodded surely, then looked at Lilly’s gorgeous frame.

“She deserves it, and you will too, if you start modeling. You have the body for it,” he replied. Lilly nodded. Jack Al stroked his hair.

“I don’t know,” he started weakly. Lilly grabbed him by his right hand.

“Oh come on, Beanstalk. Do something exciting for once in your life. Come on. It’s easy. I’ll show you,” she said, as she led him by the pool. Simone prepared his camera for some good shots while Lilly taught Jack Al how to pose. “That’s it. Now flex your muscles and pout,” she encouraged him. When he did, Lilly clapped and squeaked in delight.

“Are we ready?” Simone asked them. They both nodded. He shook his head. “No, mon ami, that won’t do. You have to be a part of the setting,” he said to Jack Al. Jack Al looked at Lilly for an explanation.

“What he means is…” she started, then suddenly pushed him into the huge pool of blue water. He plunged in with a loud ‘sploosh!’ “...get into the scene,” she continued, then laughed when huge drops of water splashed on her and Simone. Simone protected his precious camera from the water. Jack Al struggled back to the dry ground. He hoped to dodge the morning bath, but it caught up with him. Once out, he tickled Lilly slightly.

“Now?” He asked Simone. Simone shook his head firmly.

“That T-shirt is covering  the goodies that God blessed you with that should be exposed,” he said. Jack Al rolled his eyes and slowly took off the T-shirt. Simone and Lilly stared at his broad, well-built chest as he did. When it was off, Simone clapped. 

“Excellent, Jack. Now we’re ready,” he said, and instructed, “Okay, Jack, I want you to hold Lilly around her lower waist and press her against you. Lilly, I want you to rest your head on Jack’s chest. I want you both to give me a look of passion, yet calm. Pleasure, yet peace. I want magic, my models. Understand?” They nodded. “Alright. Places,” he said, as Jack Al and Lilly got ready for the shoot.

As Jack Al held Lilly, she looked at his pecs—how they gleamed in the warm, mid-morning sun—then looked into his gray eyes, and at his bushy brows, goatee, and finally his entire face. Even after she felt their bodies pressing against each other, she remained collected. She had been taught during a modeling class that models must always conceal their emotions. 

Meanwhile, Jack Al felt hot blood rush through him. He desired Lilly, and the heated effect her body had on his when they pressed together didn’t make things easier. Nevertheless, he managed to keep his emotions intact.

Mr. Reynolds was pacing about his office in disbelief. He sat again and examined the figures on his computer. He wasn’t dreaming. $100,000,000 had been withdrawn from his company’s shares behind his back. Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. He took his seat and leaned back, then took off his spectacles. He wanted to see Roxanne better. Perhaps, he thought, his specs blinded him or made her be someone she wasn’t.

“Come in!” He called out. The door opened slowly and in came Roxanne.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” She asked meekly.

“Yes, Miss Roxanne. Please have a seat,” Mr. Reynolds replied, then outstretched his hand to one of the empty seats before him. 

Roxanne shut the door then sat down. Mr. Reynolds looked into her eyes for a while. She returned his look, unmoved. He cleared his throat, then sat up and turned the computer monitor towards her.

“Would you care to explain this, Miss Roxanne?” He told her, while indicating the figure in bold. She looked at it, then him.
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m not following. Explain what?” She asked. He wore his spectacles, then joined his hands together. There was a knock at his door. They both looked at it.

“Yes?” Mr. Reynolds responded. A cateress walked in with his coffee. “Get another cup for the young lady, Flora. And this time when you come, don’t bother knocking,” he instructed. She poured him some tea, nodded, then excused herself. When she closed the door, Mr. Reynolds faced Roxanne once again. “Would you care to explain how a sum of $100,000,000 was transacted from the company’s shares from your computer’s records?” He asked her, then sipped his coffee.

“I have nothing to say. I have never accessed those records. I never even knew they existed,” she replied, then kept quiet when Flora walked in, set a cup before her, and poured her some coffee.

“Thank you, Flora, that will be all,” Mr. Reynolds said. Flora nodded, and just as she was leaving, Bree appeared at the doorstep of the office with files and knocked. She was in a well-fitting blouse, knee-length mermaid skirt, and heels. Her hair was tied into a French pleat.

“Yes, Miss Bree, come in,” came the reply. 

She got in, looked at her friend, then said to her boss, “Here are the files you needed, sir,” and left. Mr. Reynolds nodded, then sipped his coffee and put the files aside. When Bree shut the door, he motioned Roxanne to continue.

“As I was saying, I have never gone through the company records’ shares,” she said calmly.

“So are you saying that the figures are lying?” Mr. Reynolds asked coldly after taking off his spectacles and narrowing his eyes dangerously, making his appearance stern.

“No, I’m saying that there is a mix up here, sir,” Roxanne replied gently.

“A mix up? A mix up, Miss Roxanne? A mix up, you say?” He asked, then got up hurriedly and paced around his office furiously. He wore his spectacles. “I think the only mix up here is me mistaking you for an honest, hardworking woman,” he added quietly, then walked back to his seat and slowly sank into it.

Roxanne adjusted herself on her seat and watched him as he sipped his coffee. Though his words had hurt her, she managed to stay calm and controlled.

“I am, sir,” replied softly. Mr. Reynolds slapped his desk with his open palm.

“Then how does a huge sum of money disappear from the company’s shares?!” He roared, with his widened bloodshot eyes staring directly into hers.

“It is a puzzle to me just as it is to you, sir,” she replied calmly. 

Mr. Reynolds heaved and slowly walked towards the gigantic windows of his office—whose curtains had been drawn—with hands behind his back. He looked at the skyscrapers beautifully arrayed before his company in deep thought.

“I could easily sue you for fraud, Miss Roxanne,” he said, without facing her. His back was directed to her. She looked at his rear view from head to toe then hung her head. “But I won’t. I’m suspending you until this mystery has been solved. I’m letting you go now. You’re free to go,” he concluded. She knew better than to plead.

“Thank you so much for your decision, sir. I wish I could prove to you my innocence,” she said after standing up.

“I wish so too,” he replied, still glued to his crystal clear windows. He watched a distant jet gliding through the blue skies.

“Excuse me, sir,” Roxanne said respectfully, then left. It was only when she left that Mr. Reynolds turned away from the window. He hastily took his grand chair and telephoned the police department.

Police Commissioner Edward Spy, head of New York City Police Department, was busy going through a murder case brought to him by one of his men when his telephone rang. He wanted to ignore it but when it persisted, he answered it.

“Yes? NYPD, Police Commissioner Edward Spy speaking. How may we be of service?...money?...stolen?...” as he spoke, he motioned the police officer by the door to get a pen and paper, which he did. “...yes, yes, I’m getting all of it. What’s the company’s name?...Wise Enterprises?...okay. I got it. I’m sending somebody over there right away. Everything will be alright. Rest assured. Have a wonderful day,” Police Commissioner Edward concluded, as he jotted down the last bit of information. “Um, Michael, send me detective Jillian,” he said to the police officer.

The police officer saluted him then left, leaving Police Commissioner Edward going through the information thoughtfully. Could it be fraud? He wondered, then turned to his office door when it was knocked.

“Enter,” he bellowed, in his deep voice. A confident-looking lady with pixie-styled dark hair and in a bolero, crop top, and jeans walked in, followed by the police officer.

“You called for me, Commissioner?” She said to Police Commissioner Edward.

“Yes, detective. I have some very interesting information that I would like you to take a look at,” he replied, then outstretched the piece of paper to her. She received it and carefully went through the information word by word. “What do you make of it?” He asked her, after leaning back on his seat and studying her face.

“Fraud,” she replied, then looked at him.

“My thought exactly, but that’s our presumption. I’m personally letting you handle this case. The caller, Mr. Andrew Reynolds, said that we should get to it immediately,” he said.

“Got it, Commissioner. I’ll be on my way,” detective Jillian replied, saluted, then left the Commissioner totally engrossed in the murder case.

As Roxanne came down the stairs, Bree eyed her worriedly. Her countenance looked gloomy.

“What did Reynolds want?” She asked her as she approached. Roxanne shook her head. Trish looked up from her work.

“I can’t believe it, Bree. I’m being suspended,” Roxanne reported softly, holding back tears.

“What?!” Bree said in disbelief, then stood up. Trish paid more attention, with a slight smile spreading across her glossed lips. “For what?” Bree asked, after nearing her friend. Roxanne sat on her desk and folded her hands.

“Apparently I stole $100,000,000 from the company,” she whispered. Bree rubbed her arms gently. “I’m so confused,” Roxanne added, after wrapping her arms around her friend’s waist.

“You’ve been suspended?” Trish echoed tauntingly, while slowly approaching. Roxanne and Bree let go of each other.

“Not now, Trish,” Roxanne said quietly, then stood up and took her purse.

“Don’t leave me hanging here, at least tell me for what,” Trish said with a smile, with hands on her hips. Roxanne bit her lower lip, then looked to her side. “Whatever for, I knew you couldn’t last,” Trish persisted, while looking at her from head to toe.
“She said not…” Bree started, but Trish cut her hastily.

“Hush! This is between Roxanne and me. Get back to work!” She roared. Bree reluctantly went back to her station.

“I’ll see you soon, Bree,” Roxanne said to her, then hugged her briefly and left. Trish watched her go.

“What? Did you steal?” She asked a disappearing Roxanne in a loud voice. That was the last straw. Roxanne went back to where Trish was and gave her such a loud slap that the entire department echoed. Trish’s head almost did a 180° turn.

The employees’ eyes, including Bree’s, gleamed in delight as they stared at Trish staggering two steps back, with her hand cupping the sore cheek. She stared at Roxanne, who glared at her dangerously while breathing angrily with her mouth closed, and advanced towards her.

“You have been asking for that for a long time, Trish. If you want a piece of me, come and get it,” Roxanne hissed.

Trish looked around her, at the employees who stifled their laughter while watching the show in full anticipation, waiting to see her response, and screamed, then roared, “Get back to work! Get back to work! All of you!”, to them, glared at Roxanne while rubbing her cheek momentarily, then returned to her station. There were excited murmurs all round. Bree smiled and rushed to congratulate her friend.

“Way to go, Rox! You really put Boobs in her place,” she said excitedly while hugging Roxanne, who stood attention.

“She deserved it,” she said, after the hug. 

Charlie was from his office and on his way to see Roxanne when he heard the slap’s echo. He rushed down the stairs and was surprised to find her looking grim.

“Hello, Bree,” he gently greeted Bree while approaching them.

“Hi, Charlie. I’ll just let you two talk,” she replied, then went back to her station.

“Hello, Roxanne. Are you alright?” Charlie asked her, after standing a distance away from her.

“Let’s talk outside,” Roxanne replied, then turned and left. Charlie followed her quickly. 
Bree turned to Trish. She was observing her minor injury on her portable mirror while pressing it lightly. She grimaced in pain each time she did.

“Serves you right,” Bree whispered to her, then turned back to her work.

Lilly Anne Smart and Jack Al had posed for numerous photos together. At first Jack Al was stiff in his poses but after continuous encouragement from Lilly, he got the hang of it.

“Now let’s do the final shoot before breaking for lunch. I want you both to get into the pool, with half of your bodies out of the water,” Simone instructed them. They hastily obeyed. 

“Good. Now I want you, Jack, to hold Lilly’s waist. And you, Lilly: Hold Jack’s head. Then I want the both of you to stare into each other’s eyes with a lovers’ passion. Imagine you belong to each other,” he continued. Jack Al and Lilly did as they were told.

“Excellent! Now pose. Pose for me, you beautiful people. Remember, it’s for Romance magazine. The readers want to see that connection between the both of you,” Simone said, while taking shots.

Jack Al and Lilly were captured by each other’s gaze so much that for a moment, nothing else seemed to exist. Their heads came close to each other slowly and lips were almost pressing against each other.

“Enough! I think we have all we need,” Simone said happily after the last shot and clapped wildly, making his models break the romantic pose. “You two were excellent!” He said happily to them as they came out of the pool—Lilly first and Jack Al after. “You were so natural, so magnifique. It’s like you’re really in love, eh?” Simone said to them, then elbowed Jack Al lightly.

“Oh come on, Simone. Beanstalk’s a good friend. Nothing else,” Lilly said shyly.

“Yeah. Lilly’s a very good friend too,” Jack Al added. Simone looked at both of them in turns in disbelief, then sighed.

“Henceforth Lilly, your partner is Jack. I’ll find Ray another pose mate. The two of you have the pizazz that the hungry readers look for. You were platinum with Ray, Lill, but with Jack, you’re gold! Excusez moi as I go process these babies. I’ll see you both after lunch. Have a nice lunch break. Au revoir!” He said, then left.
“Au revoir!” Jack Al and Lilly replied in unison. After he had left, Lilly took the body towels on the foldable seat under an umbrella that was some distance away from the pool and threw Jack Al one.

“You were great, Beanstalk,” she said as she wiped herself. Jack Al observed her from head to toe and swallowed.

“Thanks,” he replied, while passing the towel across his face. They walked side by side into the house, only to be received by a restless Bud who barked on seeing them.

“Sorry, Buddy. The shots took us a while. I’ll get to your lunch immediately,” Lilly said to him as she stroked him lovingly. Jack Al went to his room and changed. Lilly tied the towel around her waist and walked to the kitchen. Bud followed her happily with his tail wagging.

Outside Wise Enterprises, Roxanne turned and faced Charlie.

“My life’s a wreck at the moment,” she said with a broken voice, trying to hold back her tears.

“Why?” Charlie asked, and almost stroked her arm but refrained.

“I’ve been suspended for supposed theft of $100,000,000 from the company’s shares,” she said, while blinking repeatedly.

“What?” Charlie exclaimed. Roxanne nodded slowly.

“I swear by my life, Charlie, I’m as confused as you are. I’m innocent. I swear,” Roxanne said, then fell into Charlie’s arms. He wrapped them around her.

“I know. I have to see Mr. Reynolds about this,” he said. Roxanne composed herself then slowly came out of Charlie’s warm embrace.

“This has to be a malicious scheme by Trish to get me kicked out. The bitch has never liked me,” she said, while looking at the distance.

“Did you two fight?” Charlie asked after a while. Roxanne nodded while wiping her tears and sniffing.

“I slapped her. She got into my face and taunted me,” she said. Charlie put his hand into his pocket and retrieved a slender, small, wide rectangular box.

“For you,” he said, while giving it to her. She smiled slightly, then received it and opened it. It was a beautiful golden watch with lighted hands and numbers.

“Thanks, Charlie. It’s beautiful,” she said with a smile, then kissed him on the cheek and hugged him. He was pleasantly surprised and returned the hug.

“My pleasure, Roxanne. Seeing you smile tells me that you like it,” he replied. Roxanne stopped hugging him.

“I really do. I have to go now, Charlie,” she said, and returned the watch into the box then put it in her purse and started going.

“Roxanne,” Charlie called out to her softly. She turned to him. “I’m always here for you,” he said. She nodded with a weak smile, then resumed her walking. He watched her go until she disappeared into the horizon, then walked back into his workplace.

Shortly after he got in, a Mercedes parked outside Wise Enterprises and out of it came a woman in a bolero and jeans. She strutted into the company and looked around, then marched to Trish’s desk.

“Excuse me, ma’am, detective Jillian Green, NYPD,” she said, then flashed her badge at Trish and continued, “I’m looking for a Mr. Andrew Reynolds.” Trish stood slowly and shook her hand. “Are you alright? Your cheek looks like it hurts,” detective Jillian observed after the handshake. Trish blushed.

“Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just a little accident. This way,” she replied, and led the detective to her boss’ office. She was in a low-cut long-sleeve blouse with a pink belt around her narrow waist, a tight knee-length pencil skirt with a slit at the back, and pink stilettos. Her red hair was neatly styled into a ponytail. On arrival outside the office, Trish knocked lightly severally.

“Come in!” Came the reply. She and the detective got in slowly.

“Excuse me, sir. There’s a woman here to see you. She says she’s detective Jillian Green from the New York City Police Department,” Trish said. Mr. Reynolds stood up respectfully.

“How do you do, sir,” the detective said, while outstretching her hand to him.

“How do you do, detective. I’ve been waiting for you,” he replied, then shook her hand. After the handshake, he turned to Trish. “That will be all, Miss Trish. Thank you,” he said to her, then offered the detective a seat. Trish got out and shut the door, then pressed her ear against it. “I’ve been expecting you, detective,” Mr. Reynolds said.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll get to the bottom of this. Where is the woman you said was in charge of the records where the money disappeared from?” The detective asked him.

“I suspended her,” he replied carefreely, hoping to be commended.

“What? Why? You’ve made a mistake! She would have given me her statement,” the detective rebuked softly. Mr. Reynolds moved uneasily on his seat in embarrassment. The detective added, “But not to worry. Not all hope is lost. I shall question all your employees who were around the scene,” she added, then stood, shook Mr. Reynolds’ hand briefly, and left. Trish heard her approaching and rushed back to her station.

She was trying to work but couldn’t concentrate. It was all too good to believe. Roxanne? Suspended for alleged theft? She smiled, while swinging around contentedly in her chair.

“Alright, listen up!” The detective boomed once she went downstairs to the ground floor, and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. 

All the employees looked at her. 

She continued, “There has been a withdrawal of $100,000,000 from the company’s shares and I need some answers,” while looking at all of them in turns. There were loud murmurs. She continued, “And I’m made to understand that Miss Roxanne Simmons is behind it,” and paused on hearing scattered ‘What?’s from them.

“That’s not true!” Bree declared. Trish was enjoying every minute of what was going on.

“Settle down. Settle down, please. That’s why I’m here: To investigate. I would first like to know where Miss Roxanne’s desk is,” the detective said. 

Several employees, including Bree, pointed to Roxanne’s desk. 

“Thank you,” the detective said with a nod, then went to it, examined it, and sat on it and faced them. “I’m here to do an interrogation and from where this desk is positioned, I shall interrogate you,” she pointed at Bree, “you,” she pointed at an employee on the desk’s other side, “and you,” she concluded, pointing at Trish.

“Me?” Trish asked.
“Yes. You. Who wants to be first?” The detective replied, then asked.

“Me!” Bree offered willingly. She was more than ready to help out her friend.

“Good. The rest of you continue with your work. Assume what’s going on here,” the detective said, then took Roxanne’s seat, set it before Bree’s desk, sat on it, and faced Bree.

After lunch, Simone had taken pictures of Jack Al and Lilly in the living room. He had changed the scenery because  the pool photos were enough. They were fully dressed, and Jack Al was spread  out on a seat, with Lilly seated on top of him and facing him. She held his right cheek, and they looked into each other’s eyes.

“Bravo! Magnifique!” Simone encouraged them as he took their pictures. The camera loved them. They were a perfect match. After one more shot, Simone asked them to break the pose and said, “Lovely. You two are diamonds. For the final shot of the day, I want you both to get seated, then Jack, hold Lilly’s cheek and kiss her,” in his strong French accent. They looked at each other.

“Will you be okay with it?” Jack Al asked her.

“I’m game. The question is, will you?” She replied, while smiling at him and looking straight into his eyes. Simone watched them conversing happily and, without their knowledge, took several shots of them. Their chemistry was too magical to be wasted.

“Yeah,” Jack Al replied gruffly, with a goofy smile.

“Perfect. Then let’s get into places,” Simone said, while admiring the secret pictures he took of them that were posted on the camera’s monitor. Jack Al and Lilly sat close to each other, then looked into each other’s eyes.

“Have I already told you that you’re beautiful?” Jack Al asked Lilly as he held her cheek. She blushed.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again and again,” she replied. Their eyes met. Simone adjusted the lens of his camera for a super-clear picture.

Jack Al was so used to kissing that he didn’t need to get into the moment. Lilly, on her part, was a professional model and could very well blend into whichever pose or situation. Their lips touched, and their eyes were closed. Simone smiled as he took pictures. He loved what he saw. The kiss was more than just a pose to Lilly. The tender manner in which Jack Al’s lips touched hers told her there was a passion that Jack Al was aching to release.

“Alright. I think we have all we need. Lilly, bring Jack Al over to our studios tomorrow for more shots and your money,” Simone instructed. Jack Al beamed as Lilly stood and went to talk to Simone.

“Merci, Simone, for today. See you tomorrow,” she said.

“Alright, stay safe. But you two should consider being in a relationship,” Simone replied with a wink at both of them. Lilly laughed and slapped him lightly on the back as they walked to the front door. Jack Al was in deep meditation, anxiously awaiting the next day.

It was only Bud’s audible bark that brought him back to the present. Bud was locked up in the kitchen during the entire shooting period to avoid any unpleasant interruptions from him. Jack Al contemplated opening for him but thought better and chose not to.

“You seem to really hate Buddy,” Lilly said to him as she rushed to open for Bud.

“Well, he hates me too,” Jack Al said after her as she disappeared, then groaned when he saw Bud rushing at her side with her as she came back.

Roxanne opted not to take a cab on that warm sunny afternoon. She could use a nice walk to clear her head—that seemed to be too heavy for her neck—as it was filled with numerous thoughts. She decided not to let her family in on her suspension. She wanted to handle her predicament alone and get back on her feet alone. She was no longer a child who depended on her parents, but a mature, responsible woman.

As she strolled, she caught sight of two women who looked at her and whispered to each other as if they knew her. One was black and the other was white. She stopped and took a much better look at them.

“Roxanne?” They said in unison as they approached her.

“Gail? Sarah?” She replied excitedly with a smile, then they gave each other a group hug while jumping around and squeaking excitedly like teenage girls.

Gail was the white girl. She was called Gail Brandon. Sarah, on the other hand, was an African from Kenya. She was from the Kenyan tribe of Kisii and went for further studies in New York. She was called Sarah Kemunto.
“Hi, girl! It’s been a long time!” She exclaimed to Roxanne after the hug.

“Yeah, what, 7 years?” Gail added.

“Quite a while. So what’s going on with you two? Gail, you’re looking fly in that strapless top and skinny jeans. And you, Sarah, I’m loving that blouse and mini,” Roxanne complimented them both.

“Thanks. You’re looking professional in that gray suit and purse,” Gail returned, as her and Sarah admired the outfit. The three of them were friends at the university, and their friendship went on.

“Thanks, Gail. Let’s go somewhere and catch up on old times. What do you girls think?” Roxanne suggested.

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Sarah replied on Gail’s behalf, then they walked away while chatting happily.

“My friend is hardworking, responsible, and totally incapable of theft,” Bree started, as the detective took down her statement.

“Explain how yesterday was,” the detective said to her, after writing what she said down. Bree pursed her lips and tilted her head in remembrance.

“Yesterday. Okay, Roxanne was appointed the boss’ secretary last week on Friday and had begun work yesterday,” she explained.

“As a secretary?” The detective asked, after taking it down. Bree nodded, then the detective motioned for her to continue.

“Miss Trish Mae, the head of this department, brought her a huge book, an appointment book, in which she instructed her to take down appointments,” Bree started, and then paused for the detective to take it down.

After the detective wrote, she asked, “How do your friend and Miss Trish relate?”

“Well, they bad mouth each other here and there and have this beef between them that I know nothing about, but which has never affected their official duties,” Bree answered. The detective nodded as she wrote, then thought deeply.

“Has Miss Trish ever tampered with your friend’s desk, or rummaged through her things?” She asked. Bree was tempted to respond ‘yes,’ but spoke the truth.

“No. Not at any one time,” she breathed, and noticed Trish eyeing her. She ignored her, and drummed her fingers on the desk as the detective wrote.

“Proceed with your flashback on yesterday,” the detective urged after writing.

“Yeah. So Roxanne received a few calls, one concerning an appointment and the other was a wrong number then later on, a man came,” Bree continued.

“A man?” The detective repeated, becoming more alert after writing.

“Yes,” Bree answered.

“Describe this man,” the detective said as she reviewed the information she had collected so far. Bree narrowed her eyes to remember him better.

“He was tall and muscular, and had long, curly hair that reached to his shoulders. He also had an arresting face with bushy brows, steely gray eyes, and a goatee,” she described, and as she did, the detective sketched a picture of the man as per her description.

“Did he look something like this?” She asked after sketching, while showing her sketch to Bree.

“Indeed, detective. This is him. Exactly!” Bree exclaimed as she admired the accurate sketch.

“What was his name? What did he want?” The detective asked as she took back her notebook.

“I heard him tell Roxanne that he was called Max Johnson. He said he wanted to see our boss, Mr. Andrew Reynolds,” Bree explained.

“Did he say what for?” The detective inquired after having it down.

“No, but when Roxanne said it was not possible, he insisted, forcing Roxanne to go and try organizing a meeting with the boss. In her absence, he sat on her seat and said ‘hi’ to me. I replied, then left to take some urgently needed files that I had sorted to the boss. I don’t know what happened next, but if you ask me, that guy’s a real creep and I think he’s behind all this,” Bree concluded.

The detective quickly wrote all that she had said while Bree watched her write.
“Thank you, Miss Bree, for your testimony and your opinion. You have been a real help,” she said after standing up, then shook Bree’s hand.

“Anytime, detective,” she replied.

The detective mumbled, “The jackal strikes again,” as she turned to the rest of the employees. Bree heard this, but rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to understand what she meant. 

“Alright, here’s the thing: I’ll be back tomorrow to interrogate you, Miss Mae, and you, Mr. Daniels,” the detective informed, then turned to Bree and added, “Thank you very much for your cooperation, Miss Bree. I’ll be off now,” then left.

Trish heaved a sigh of relief. She had some time to cook up a testimony that would make Roxanne seem to be the thief. The whole department was quiet as everyone wondered about Roxanne’s fate.

“Can you all get back to work or you will join that thief in your homes, jobless?!” Trish boomed to them, then went on with her work, choosing to ignore the scattered murmurs.

Once outside, the detective rested against her car and phoned the Police Commissioner.

“Hello, Commissioner. I’ve been able to interrogate one of the employees who was around the crime scene and have gathered that the jackal visited this place and used an alias, a Max Johnson…no, I’m not yet through. I shall come back here tomorrow to gather more information…okay, bye,” she concluded, then got into her car and drove off.

The three friends went to Luxury Palace—a fast food and soft drink joint—and talked about their lives, experiences, hopes, and ambitions over some snacks and drinks.

“How is your brother? Arnold, was it?” Gail asked Roxanne as she sucked some orange smoothie through a straw. Their sitting style formed a triangle.

“He’s fine. He’s a big boy now in high school,” Roxanne replied as she bit a French fry.

“Really? The last time we saw him he was a cute little 9 year old,” Sarah said. Gail nodded her agreement.

“They grow up so fast. He’s aiming for the ceiling in height and can get quite irritating,” Roxanne said, and looked at her watch, then added, “Listen, guys, I have to get going now.”

“Already? Come on, Rox,” Gail implored her friend, who was already on her feet.

“Yeah. This is a special girls’ reunion after such a long time,” Sarah added. Roxanne groaned.

“I’m sorry, guys. Things are no longer the same. We are no longer students who have all the time for idle banter,” she whispered wearily.

“At least grant us a party night for a few hours over at Big Kev’s,” Sarah suggested, then looked at her friends in turns.

“That’s an awesome idea! Come on, Rox. Pleeease,” Gail begged.

“But guys…” Roxanne started, but they were not willing to listen to her protests.

“Pleeease,” they begged in unison.

“Alright,” Roxanne said in a defeated tone.

“Yay!” Gail squealed, then she and Sarah got up and gave Roxanne, who laughed weakly at their energy, a group hug.

“Great. So at what time shall we meet?” Sarah asked after the hug.

“I was thinking…” Roxanne started.

“Eight p.m. is perfect. Okay, see ya, Rox,” Gail cut quickly. She did not give Roxanne the chance to speak because she did not want her to change her mind, especially since it had already been decided. When Roxanne hesitated to leave, they shooed her away.

“Bye, Roxanne,” they said, prompting her to leave while accepting the set time for their night out.

The urge that Jack Al had to go and see Roxanne was weighing down heavily on him, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He changed into a short-sleeved shirt, calf-length shorts and open shoes, then appeared before Lilly. She was outstretched on a seat reading a novel with Bud seated beside her.

“I’m going out for a while,” Jack Al said to her, then pocketed. She stopped reading and sat up.

“Do you need some company?” She asked. Bud barked to oppose her suggestion. He didn’t want her to go.

“No, it’s okay. Maybe later,” Jack Al started, then paused to look at Bud who stared at him while Lilly stroked him, Bud, to calm him down, and continued, “besides, Bud needs you.”

“Alright. See you later,” Lilly said reluctantly, then once again spread herself out on the seat. Jack Al waved at her, then left. She sighed, then continued with her novel.

By the time he arrived at Wise Enterprises, it was 5.00 p.m.  Employees were arranging their desks, ready to leave. He scanned around frantically for Roxanne’s familiar face but it was nowhere in sight. He only saw two familiar faces: Trish’s and Bree’s. Trish was finishing up a report while Bree arranged her desk while a hairy man of medium size and height and a square jaw waited on her with folded arms. He was Keith.

Jack Al chose to consult Trish. He liked her reaction to his natural charms better.

“Excuse me, Trish,” he said to her. She looked up at him with a stone expression, but smiled in surprise on seeing it was him and stopped writing.

“Jackie. What a pleasant surprise. Please. Have a seat,” she said while eyeing him, then indicated the seat of the desk beside hers. He scratched his head slightly then smiled.

“Maybe later. But as for now, I’m looking for Roxanne,” he said. Trish’s smile faded.

“Oh. Her. She’s not here,” she said flatly as she concluded her report.

“Where is she?” Jack Al asked her as she got up with a smile, report in hand.

“That’s for me to tell and you to listen. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back,” she whispered to him, then swayed to her boss’ office in the manner she knew always made men’s minds to be filled with lustful thoughts. And it worked.

Jack Al eyed her as she went, and when he saw Bree staring at him while shaking her head, he smiled at her in an embarrassed manner.

“Hi…Bree and…” he started as he approached her, then studied Keith.

“Keith,” Keith offered.

“Yeah, Keith,” Jack Al repeated, then they nodded a greeting to each other. “I am looking for Roxanne,” Jack Al said softly to Bree.

“Roxanne or Trish?” She returned, while scanning him with folded arms, wondering what her friend saw in that shameless womanizer.

“Baby, ease up, come on,” Keith said to her, then rubbed her arms.

“She went home,” Bree breathed involuntarily.

“Please tell me where she lives. I really care for her. Please,” Jack Al begged her. She was hesitant, but he insisted so much that she just had to.

“323 W 80th St, New York, NY 10024,” she mumbled moodily, then turned to Keith and said to him, “Let’s go.” He nodded, then they left without saying goodbye.

“Thank you!” Jack Al shouted after her.

“For what?” Trish inquired as she came down the stairs, then looked to the direction he was facing.

“For wishing me a good evening. They wished me a good evening,” Jack Al replied quickly to avoid arousing any doubts that she would have of his answer.

“Right. So anyway, does the name detective Jillian Green ring a bell to you?” Trish asked, then took her purse from her desk and put it on, then turned off her computer. 

Jack Al’s mind flashed back to the numerous times her and her boss jailed him for his countless misdeeds, but he managed to escape.

“Judging from your silence, it does. Let’s go,” Trish said. They walked side to side, with Jack Al walking as if he had stones in his pocket.

“Why do you ask me that?” He finally managed.

“She was here today investigating. Picture this, Jackie: You arrive yesterday, Roxanne leaves, you toy with her computer and the next thing, detective Jillian comes snooping around in the name of theft of cash from the company’s records, from Roxanne’s records?” Trish explained, while looking at him for a confession.

“What are you insinuating?” He asked casually.

“Don’t play daft with me, Jackie. I know that it’s you who transacted that money, not Roxanne. I saw you,” she started, then when he wanted to speak, she continued, “And I can keep your secret if you keep mine and repay me for shutting up. The truth is, I hate Roxanne and she can remain outside the locked doors of Wise Enterprises for all I care.”

“How can I repay you?” He asked her. She smiled at him, then her eyes traveled around his body.

“Spend the night with me, and I swear I’ll put a lid on it,” she replied easily. Jack Al hesitated.

“What?” He said in astonishment. He would have loved to, but not on that day when he hoped to visit Roxanne.

“It’s my way or the highway,” Trish replied calmly while admiring her fingernails.

“I can’t. Not today. Please,” Jack Al said softly.

“Oh well, when Jillian comes tomorrow, I guess I just have to speak the truth and…” Trish started.

“Alright. Alright. Let’s go to your place,” Jack Al said impatiently. He knew where she was going.

“Good. Now we’re talking. Let me phone my chauffeur to come pick us up,” Trish said with a satisfied smile then took out her phone and made the call. Jack Al studied her from top to bottom. Never underestimate the strength of a woman, he thought as he did.

Arnold felt that his hands were clammy with sweat. He was walking beside Rebecca. They were heading to her place. She looked at him and smiled.

“You nervous?” She asked.

“Yeah. I’ve never met a girl’s parents before—I mean the parents of the girl I’m dating,” he replied with a shy smile.

“Relax. They’re not monsters. They won’t eat you up. I promise,” Rebecca assured. When they arrived, Rebecca led, and unlocked the front door and came in shouting, “Mamma! Papà! I’m home!” In her strong Italian accent. Arnold followed while looking around his new environment like a lost puppy.

“Un momento!” Came a reply from another end of the house.

“Sit. Make yourself comfy,” Rebecca said to Arnold after turning to him. He took one of the four seats of the humble dining table and rested his hands on the table, with his heart in his mouth.

“Becka. I see you bring friend?” A short, stout, beautiful woman with curly brown hair and in purple business attire said as she appeared at the scene, then hugged Rebecca.

“Yes, Mamma. He’s the Americano I’ve been telling you about: Arnold,” she replied. Mrs. Giovanni smiled at Arnold. He stood up meekly to meet her and outstretched his hand out to her, but she engulfed him spontaneously in a firm but soft embrace.

“Any friend of my Becka is welcome here, whether African, Asian, European, Australian, or American,” she said while hugging him.

“Thank you, Mrs. Giovanni. It’s good to know that,” Arnold struggled, due to her firm hug.

“My, you Americani are thin, no?” She observed after letting go of him as she studied him. He fumbled for words.

“Mamma, that’s how he is, and besides, some Americani are all swollen like balloons,” Rebecca intervened while smiling sweetly at Arnold.

“And he’ll be one of them. We Italiani are big, round people. We eat food. Let me fix you some spaghetti, macaroni, pizza, some spicy meatballs…” Mrs. Giovanni started, emphasizing each of the cuisines, but Arnold stood up.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Giovanni, but I have to go. I’ll drop in some other time to try your delicious cuisines,” he said to her.

“What? What’s up with you Americani, always in hurry,” she replied, pretending to be upset, then smiled. “I understand. Pleasure’s been meeting you,” she added.

“Likewise,” Arnold replied uneasily with an awkward smile, then turned to Rebecca.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispered to her. She nodded, then hugged him. Her mother stood aside and watched them.

“Yeah,” Rebecca replied after the hug.

“Give her a kiss, my boy. Don’t you Americani know how to be romantic?” Mrs. Giovanni said to Arnold. He smiled at Rebecca shyly.

“Mamma!” She shouted, while blushing. Mrs. Giovanni raised her hands. Arnold left quietly.

It was fifteen minutes past seven in the evening when Roxanne arrived at home.

“I’m home!” She announced as she went to where her mother was.

“Long day at work?” Mrs. Simmons asked as she set the dining table. Roxanne sighed wearily. It slipped her mind that she had been canned—temporarily.

“Yeah. Hi, Dad,” she replied, then greeted Mr. Simmons, who was carrying a saucepan of soup to the table.

“Hello, sweetheart. Go freshen up. Dinner’s ready,” he replied.

“Where’s Arnold?” Roxanne asked, while looking around.

“He’s not home yet,” Mrs. Simmons replied, while admiring her table setting style.

“He’s a big boy. He’ll be back. Relax,” Mr. Simmons added, then took his place at the table. Roxanne tilted her head, then went to her room.

“What is my little Pumpkin doing out at a time like this? Or perhaps he’s been kidnapped!” Mrs. Simmons exclaimed, while serving the stew.

“Come out of it, Vanessa. He’s a young man now. Roaming around at odd hours is perfectly normal for boys his age,” Mr. Simmons said, then spooned a spoonful of the thick stew and sipped it.

“He’ll get it from me. I’m not going to let my Pumpkin become some punk, on the pretext of adolescence. Young man or not, he’s still my little Pumpkin,” Mrs. Simmons said firmly, then took a seat in a huff.

Mr. Simmons kept quiet and concentrated on his meal. There was silence as they both ate.

“Roxy, your food is getting cold!” Mrs. Simmons shouted to Roxanne, who was upstairs.

“Yeah. Here I am,” she replied while coming down the stairs slowly. She was in a pink strapless dress with matching pink heels and an evening jacket.

“Going out?” Mr. Simmons asked her as she sat.

“Yes. With some friends,” she replied, then prayed and started eating. Just then, the front door opened and in came Arnold.

“Hi Mom, hi Dad,” he said, as he rushed to his room.

“Stop right there, mister. I need details,” Mrs. Simmons said.

“In full,” Roxanne stressed, then leaned back on her seat, folded her arms, and gave her brother a questioning stare. Mr. Simmons fixed his eyes on his plate. He was concentrating on his food.

“I was at a friend’s,” Arnold explained confidently, then straightened his hair.

“Girl or boy?” Mrs. Simmons questioned, while looking straight into his eyes. Roxanne and Mr. Simmons minded their business.

“Boy, Mom. Girls are trouble, I’m a good boy, remember? I was over at Erick’s finishing a Biology assignment,” Arnold replied. There was a brief silence as Mrs. Simmons internalized the story. “May I go now?” Arnold asked. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“So how was work today, Roxy?” Mr. Simmons asked her to change the subject.

“Ordinary, with plenty of work,” she replied.

“You should expect it. Being a secretary requires resilience and hard work,” he said. She nodded, then they continued eating. Arnold came down in a vest and cargo shorts.

“I’m starving. I could eat a whole cow!” He exclaimed, then hurriedly took his seat as his mother served him.

“What’s with that chain around your neck?” Roxanne observed, while staring at it.

“It’s called bounce. Some term that you won’t get. And what’s with the arranged hair, the make up, and the outfit?” He returned.

“I’m going out,” she replied. He didn’t bother to know where or with whom. They had agreed earlier on to stay out of each other’s lives.

“Mom!” Arnold protested.

“She can go,” Mrs. Simmons said briefly, then dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. Roxanne smiled at her brother.

“Dad?” He tried again.

“She’s an adult who’s working, son. What she does with her life is her business,” Mr. Simmons replied, while adding himself some more food.

“That’s not fair!” Arnold complained.

“They let you off the hook after arriving at this time of the night. Isn’t that fair?” Roxanne reasoned with him. He wanted to speak but didn’t. She had a point. He focused on his meal. There was a knock at the front door.

“How time flies. That must be them. I’ll get it,” Roxanne said excitedly, then went to answer it. Everyone else continued eating. “Hey, girls! Looking sharp, looking sharp,” she said, after opening for her friends, then hugged them. When Arnold heard ‘girls,’ he turned to the door to get a glimpse of the visitors.

“You too. That dress curves you out perfectly. May we come in? You know, to greet the old folks and Arnold again and say ‘hi’?” Gail said, all in one breath.

“And ‘bye’?” Sarah added.

“Sure. Sure. Come in,” Roxanne ushered them in. Sarah was in a tight, fitting ocean blue evening silk dress with peeptoes with bows at the front and a faux-fur jacket. Gail was the most informal, in a black spaghetti top, tight cream pants, vintage sneakers, and a single-breasted jacket.

“Gail? Sarah?” Mrs. Simmons said in recognition with a smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Simmons,” they said in unison, and greeted her, then turned to Mr. Simmons and also greeted him.
“Is that you, Arnold?” Sarah said in disbelief as she stared at the thin young man who grinned broadly. He nodded.

“Bigger and better. You girls haven’t changed a bit: Sarah, still dazzling with a social personality and you, Gail, still beautiful with that easy personality,” he complimented, as he greeted both of them. Roxanne looked on at Arnold as he spoke. She had never realized that he was a wordsmith.

“I like this Arnold better. The small one was destructive and shy,” Gail said.

“But cute,” Sarah added. Gail nodded.

“So what do you girls do now?” Mr. Simmons asked them while looking at them in turns.

“I’m an accountant at PNC Bank,” Gail replied proudly.

“And I’m a doctor at The Mount Sinai Hospital,” Sarah followed.

“Wow! Congrats, girls. Our Roxanne works at Wise Enterprises. You three girls had dreams and now you’re living them, after toiling in school and the university to bring them to fruition,” Mrs. Simmons said, while looking at all of them with an impressed smile and a nod.

“So Mom, Dad, we’re off for our girls’ night out now,” Roxanne said.

“Don’t let us stop you,” Mrs. Simmons replied.

“You girls have fun,” Mr. Simmons added.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons. Bye, Arnold,” Gail said respectfully, with hands behind her back.

“Bye, Gail,” Arnold replied.

“Good to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons. Study hard, Arnold,” Sarah advised him, then they left after greeting them all.

“I will!” Arnold replied, then turned back to his food. 

Roxanne, Sarah, and Gail got into Gail’s silver sedan and drove off while singing along energetically to the song that was playing in the car radio.

Big Boss Sheezy was starting to wonder about Jack Al’s lengthy absence. Had he been arrested? He wondered anxiously. Murray had not yet reported to work and Damian was on a heist in a bank. Easter stood there before him, waiting for her assignment.

“Are you alright, boss?” She asked him, after his long silence.

“I’m. I’m cool, just thinking ‘bout Jackie. And when Big Boss Sheezy thinks so much, Big Boss Sheezy becomes so anxious that he needs a drink to calm ‘em down,” he replied.

“May I get you the drink?” Easter offered.

“Don’t bother. You’re going on a mission,” he replied, then turned to Love Lee, who was seated at his side. “Love, baby, why don’chu getcha fine ass up and go get me a nice, strong Scotch?” He requested her sweetly. She got up and stroked his flabby chin with her open palm.

“Anything for you, my love,” she cooed, then blew him a kiss and strutted out of the room in a slow manner. Big Boss Sheezy watched her until she was out of sight, then turned to Easter and smiled.

“You women are blessed,” he said softly.

“Why is that, boss?” She replied.

“You’ve been given a fine body that us men don’ ‘ave,” he said, then took out his phone. “I ‘ave to call Jackie. Easter, sweetie, can you do me this favor?” He requested, then outstretched his phone to her.

“Sure,” she said, then took it and phoned Jack Al. It took a while before he picked up. “Hello, Jack?...yeah, it’s me, Easter. The boss wants you back very soon…no, there’s no…hello? Hello?” she started, but then stared at the phone blankly when the line on the other end went dead.

“What happened?” Big Boss Sheezy asked her with a look of concern. She gave him back his phone.

“The phone went dead,” she whispered cautiously.

“I knew it! Jackie has been arrested!” Big Boss Sheezy shouted hysterically, then got up and scratched his bald head in frustration.
“We’re not sure about that, boss,” Easter said to him calmly.

“What’s there to be sure about, baby? Do you prefer that we go to the cell he’s locked up in to confirm it? Nah uh, baby girl. Big Boss Sheezy been ‘n this business for long with no trouble. Know what I’m saying?” He replied.

She nodded blankly, just watching her boss lose it. Mercifully, Love Lee walked into the office with a bottle, glass, and magazine, and poured Big Boss Sheezy a drink. The magazine was Thrill magazine, and on the front cover was Jack Al with a white-haired beauty. Easter’s eyes widened as she studied it. Big Boss Sheezy downed his drink in one gulp, then snatched the magazine from Easter.

“Give me that!” He roared, then scanned the source of astonishment. “You see? You see, bitches? This here’s our man. Our Jackie, with some white-haired bitch!” He spat at both of them while displaying the front cover to them and poking Jack Al’s image as if it was the real Jack Al. Easter and Love Lee looked at him silently. 

“He’s abandoned us and is now planning to sell us off. He’s not picking our call. He never told us he’s now a fancy model posing with fancy women!” He shouted, while studying the picture again.

“But boss…” Easter started.

“But nothing, bitch! My word is without any mistake. No one double crosses Big Boss Sheezy and gets away with it, not even Big Boss Sheezy himself!” He snapped. 

Easter and Love Lee exchanged worried glances as he poured himself another drink while mumbling to himself. He tossed the magazine away angrily. Love Lee approached him and tried to cool him down with her slow massage and kisses but he stopped her.

“Not now, bitch!” He growled, making her recoil and move away from him. Easter folded her arms and stared at the tossed magazine beside the office door. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Big Boss Sheezy bellowed. Murray came rushing in.

“Sorry I’m late, sir,” he said.

“It’s cool, Double M, my man. How you doin’?” Big Boss Sheezy asked as he struggled to approach him. When he did, he greeted him.

“I’m fine, sir,” Murray replied.
“You loyal to me?” Big Boss Sheezy whispered to him.

“Yes, sir. You know I am,” Murray answered, then glanced at Love Lee and Easter quizzically.

“That’s good. That’s good,” Big Boss Sheezy whispered as he wobbled to his seat, then sprawled onto it. “But some of us aren’t—Jackie in particular. Take a look at that magazine over there,” he said, then indicated the magazine with his eyes. Murray turned to it, then went and picked it up. Love Lee took her post beside her man, and Easter went to where Murray was to see the picture better.

“Jackie’s a traitor. The sonofabitch goes big shot and he doesn’t tell us,” Big Boss Sheezy said to Murray as he studied the picture. “So, Double M, Big Boss Sheezy got a big mission for you: Find the bastard. Kill ‘em, before he exposes us. Big Boss Sheezy don’ wanna go to jail, no siree,” he added. 

Easter looked at her boss in disbelief. He took out a bundle of notes from the inside of his coat pocket and slammed it on his desk.

“Here’s your fare to that shit hole they call the East Side. Go there now, baby. Keep in touch with me. I want him dead!” Big Boss Sheezy said, then motioned Love Lee to plant him a kiss on the cheek. Murray grabbed the bundle and forced it into his back pocket.

“I’ll be on my way, sir,” he said. Big Boss Sheezy saluted him leave. He left quickly. Easter watched him go with a look of horror. She wished she could do something, but she was powerless.

“Easter, baby,” Big Boss Sheezy said as he looked through the side drawer of his desk.

“Yes, sir,” she replied. He took out a glossy sheet of paper and stretched it out to her. She took it, then studied it.

“That is a blueprint of Deluxe Jewelry Store,” he started, then joined his hands together. “It has all the details on the place and all the crocodiles to avoid, so you can get in and conduct business successfully,” he paused. She nodded, while still studying it carefully. “So here what Big Boss Sheezy wants: Jewels. Plenty of them, and he want you to get ‘em for him,” he continued.

“Alright, sir,” she said, then rolled up the paper and stuffed it in the side pocket of the tight black pants she had put on.

“Good. Then go get me ‘em,” he concluded, and with that, she left, leaving him exchanging pleasantries and kisses with his girl Love Lee.

Jack Al was up and already dressed. Trish had left for work earlier on. He stared at his phone for a while, then put it in his pocket and went to Trish’s super kitchen that had all the electrical appliances and hungrily went through her fridge. There was plenty of semi-frozen food, but he chose to take several slices of bread and a pack of ice cold 7Up canned sodas.

He devoured it quickly. When he was hungry, he was more of a beast than a human being. He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. It read 8.30 a.m. He went out and found Trish’s chauffeur leaning against her car with folded arms, looking blankly at the horizon. He was an old man of about sixty, with a firm face, thick gray moustache, and dark uniform to match Trish’s dark Hummer.

“Rangers Avenue: Step on it,” Jack Al ordered the chauffeur, then sprawled into the Hummer. The chauffeur slowly got in, took the driver’s seat, and started the vehicle to where he was ordered. Jack Al hoped inwardly that Lilly was still home.

Mrs. Simmons was clearing the table after her, her husband, and son had had breakfast, minus Roxanne. She, Roxanne, had been out the whole of the previous night. As she was still clearing, the front door flew open, and in came Roxanne, looking fresh and happy. She took off her jacket and greeted sweetly, “Good morning, Mom,” as she went to her and hugged her.

“Good morning, Roxy. Won’t you be late for work?” Mrs. Simmons inquired gently after the hug.

“I’m not going,” Roxanne said simply, then sat on the seat closest to her mother.

“Why?” Mrs. Simmons pried.

“I-I don’t feel like it,” Roxanne stammered, then rubbed her eyes and stretched.

“Why?” Mrs. Simmons repeated, while staring intently at her daughter. “There’s a problem, isn’t there?” She asked, then took a seat beside her daughter. Roxanne nodded slowly, and was thinking of a lie that she could tell to save her skin. “He left you, didn’t he?” Mrs. Simmons asked in a slow and gentle, yet piercing voice.

“Who?” Roxanne asked.

“Him. That boy you told me about; Max,” she replied.
“Yes. How did you know, Mom?” Roxanne asked, while studying her mother’s face.

“I’m not your mother for nothing. I know you. I saw the way you’re interested in him by the excitement you displayed while telling me of how you two met. Apart from that, I was also a young woman like you once. Or you thought I was born the way I am?” Mrs. Simmons asked her. Roxanne shook her head and became more attentive.

“I was a shy, humble girl who avoided boys because I was told from my childhood by your grandmother that they are trouble; that they use us and dump us like garbage,” Mrs. Simmons explained, and continued, “But we all have that moment when love knocks on the door of our heart and we have no option but to open up. You may think that I’m too ancient to have fallen in love but yes, Roxy, I did—in my teens, with a strapping and handsome young man. He loved me too, or so I thought, so when he approached me and asked for my friendship, I accepted due to my naivety,” and paused, then stood and went to get her daughter a cup of coffee.

“You’ll have to do with just coffee. Your father and brother finished up the pancakes and bacon,” she said, as she presented the coffee to Roxanne.

Roxanne took it and nodded quickly, then muttered, “It’s alright,” and urged, “Then what?”

Mrs. Simmons sat once more and said, “He broke my heart. He wasn’t willing to wait till marriage, so he broke up with me. So I understand how you feel,” and held her daughter’s left hand. Roxanne sipped her coffee.

“But won’t you lose your job?” Mrs. Simmons asked her afterwards. She shook her head.

“No. My boss is very understanding. I asked for some time off, saying that I am sick, and he granted it to me,” Roxanne replied quietly. 

Her mother nodded, then got up and continued clearing the table as Roxanne slowly took her coffee. There was a soft knock at the front door. Roxanne was getting up to answer it but her mother stopped her.

“Don’t worry about it, dear, I got it,” Mrs. Simmons said as she went to answer it. 

Roxanne sighed gratefully and continued taking her coffee peacefully. She felt exhausted after a wild night of partying with her friends and doing karaokes of all her favorite songs. She just wanted to bathe and get a good, well-deserved rest.

“Yes? How can I help you?” Mrs. Simmons asked the visitor once she opened the door.
“Good morning, Mrs. Simmons. It’s me, Bree!” The visitor said excitedly with an enthusiastic smile.

“Bree? Oh, how time flies! You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman!” Mrs. Simmons exclaimed, and wrapped her up in a fond hug then let her in as she told her, “Welcome.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Simmons,” Bree blushed as she got in quickly.

“Bree?” Roxanne repeated, then looked towards the direction of the door, waiting for Bree to pop up. She appeared fast, startling Roxanne a bit. “Bree!” Roxanne said excitedly as she stood up when she saw her.

“Rox!” Bree replied with the same enthusiasm, then they hugged. “We have to go,” Bree said after the hug.

“What? Wh…,” Roxanne started, but her friend pulled her by the wrist.

“I’ll tell you as we go. Bye bye, Mrs. Simmons,” Bree said as she led Roxanne out hurriedly.

“Goodbye, girls. Do be safe,” she replied, just watching the two girls zoom away. They took a cab and sped off.

Lilly looked at her watch with one hand on her hip and while tapping her foot impatiently.

“Where the hell is he?” She asked herself, then looked around at the fresh morning environment outside, comprising a sunny, cloudless blue sky, happy children frolicking in the distance, and the neighborhood milkman doing his rounds.  Bud rolled over a number of times on the lush carpet of green grass on the front lawn with his tongue out. He distracted Lilly for a while, and she found herself urging him on. 

An expensive-looking dark Hummer screeched beside the path leading to Lilly’s duplex, prompting Bud to sit up and get ready to attack. Out of it came Jack Al, waving a magazine happily.

“You may go,” he said to the chauffeur, then came rushing to Lilly who watched the Hummer speed off. “Good morning, Lilly. Seen the magazine?” He said to her, then gave her the Thrill magazine. Bud growled at him. “Yes, good morning too,” he replied.

“Good morning, Beanstalk. I see it everyday. My pictures appear in the magazines daily,” Lilly said, with a slight smile as she admired the front picture, which was that of her and Jack Al in a gentle yet perfect kiss, then read the headlines: LILLY IN LOVE? MODEL LILLY ANNE SMART WITH HER BEEFY SQUEEZE AT HER PLACE, RANGERS AVENUE. NOW THAT’S A THRILL. 

Jack Al nodded proudly then said, “Shouldn’t we get going? Before Simone snaps at us for being late?”

“Aren’t you going to eat first?” Lilly asked him.

“I already ate at my friend’s,” he replied quickly.

“Right. Some friend,” Lilly replied, then ordered Bud into her house. 

“Be a good boy till we get back,” she said to him, then locked him in. 

“This way. Let’s use my car. We’re already late as it is,” she said to Jack Al, then led him to her convertible. They both got in. She drove. Jack Al was still admiring the picture.

“Did you enjoy the kiss?” He asked her after a while.

“What kind of question is that? How can someone…no. I won’t answer that,” she replied.

“C’mon, Lilly. Stop being so uptight. Loosen up,” he teased her.

“No, Beanstalk. I’m behind the wheel. I need utmost concentration if we’re to arrive alive,” she said, then glanced at him, smiled, and refocused on the traffic-free boulevard.

“Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Daniels,” detective Jillian said as she compared her notes of Bree’s testimony with her notes of his. 

She nodded at him, then got up and went to Trish. Bree’s and Mr. Daniels’ testimonies matched, and they both said that the sketch—Jack Al—was the man who appeared and when he left, money was gone. According to them, the detective thought as she sat before Trish, Roxanne was innocent. Jack Al was the culprit. Only one more testimony could determine the fate of Roxanne.

Trish had her story planned out. She smiled at the detective.

“Good morning, detective,” she greeted her jovially.

“Good morning, Miss Mae. I believe you know the procedure?” Detective Jillian replied in a professional tone.

“Yes, detective. I remember the day in question as if it was a few minutes ago,” Trish replied, and crossed her legs and leaned back with fingers joined on her knee.

“Go ahead,” the detective encouraged, and opened a fresh page in her notebook.

“So there I was, busy with my work when a fat, ugly man approached me, asking for the secretary,” Trish started, then paused on seeing the expression on detective Jillian’s face.

“Fat and ugly?” The detective repeated, then wrinkled her forehead at the contradiction as she wrote.

“Yes. Is there a problem?” Trish asked, trying to hide the clever smile that was struggling to surface.

“No. Go ahead,” the detective encouraged after writing. Trish cleared her throat.

“Being the responsible employee that I am, I directed him to the alleged thief,” she continued.

“What did he say his name was?” The detective interrupted, looking straight at her. She was beginning to suspect her, and one more blunder on her side would mean having a time out behind bars. Trish cursed under her breath. She forgot to ask Jack Al his alias. All the same, she had to guess one.

“Matthew Spielberg,” she said, the name of the main male character in one of her favorite novels. The detective shook her head then took it down.

“Then what?” She said afterwards.

“I saw them talking and after a while, the alleged thief stood up and went to the boss’ office, leaving Matthew standing beside her seat,” Trish narrated.

“Didn’t he sit?” The detective questioned as she wrote.

“Nope,” Trish replied quickly. After writing, the detective showed her the sketch.

“Did he look anything like this?” She asked her.

“No! He was much uglier with short hair,” Trish replied. The detective was just about to give her verdict when she heard a voice behind them.

“Excuse me, detective,” it said. She turned to its source and found that it was Bree. She was with a blonde woman. “I took the liberty of bringing Roxanne over for questioning to clear the foul-smelling confusion-filled air,” Bree continued, then turned to Roxanne.

“This is the detective I was telling you about: Jillian Green,” she introduced. The detective stood and outstretched her hand to Roxanne.

“Pleased to meet you, Roxanne,” she said.

“Likewise, detective,” she replied, then shook her hand.

“Good job, Bree. I was beginning to wonder how I would access the supposed villain of the story,” the detective said as she and Roxanne walked to Roxanne’s station.

“It’s a pleasure to help where I can, detective,” Bree replied, then smiled at Trish who frowned at her. The detective and Roxanne sat opposite each other, then the detective opened a fresh page on her notebook.

“Now, Miss Roxanne, I want to help you. I want your account of the events of Monday,” she said. Roxanne nodded, then adjusted herself on her seat.

“That was the day that I began work as secretary. The head of this department, Miss Trish, came to me and presented a huge appointment book to me. I received it, then she assigned Miss Bree and went back to her desk,” she started, then licked her lips and smiled at Bree who cheered her on.

“How do you and Miss Trish relate?” The detective asked her after taking down her statement.

“Personally, detective, I’ve had no problem with her, but ever since I came to work here, I noticed that she hates me,” Roxanne answered.

“Would you know why?” The detective asked with a steady gaze at her.

“Maybe she’s insecure or thinks I’m competition. I don’t know,” she replied. The detective nodded, then took it down.

“Proceed with Monday,” she urged after writing.
“Yeah. So I was typing some summarized reports when this tall, well-built man with curly hair approached me and said he wanted to see the boss, Mr. Reynolds,” Roxanne started.

“What did he say his name was?” The detective asked her.

“Max Johnson,” Roxanne replied quickly. 

The detective nodded and after writing, said, “Proceed.”

“I said it wasn’t possible, but he insisted so much that I had to go and inquire. Before going, I offered him my seat,” Roxanne concluded. The detective wrote and afterwards showed Jack Al’s sketch to her.

“Did he look anything like this?” She asked her.

“Yes, and in fact, he looks everything like this!” Roxanne exclaimed. The detective nodded and took her notebook.

“Thank you, Roxanne, for your cooperation. Excuse me,” she said, then got up and left for Mr. Reynolds’ office. When she did, Bree went over and hugged Roxanne.

“You were great, Rox!” She said as she did.

“Thanks, Bree. I just hope that all this ends quickly,” Roxanne said with a smile as she enjoyed the hug.

“Bree! There’s a scheme waiting to be edited and the boss needs them more than yesterday. Hop to it,” Trish ordered, from the comfort of her station, and watched with satisfaction as Bree retreated to her desk.

“Aren’t you done here? Shouldn’t you be on your way now?” Trish asked Roxanne from her desk. Roxanne laughed scornfully and looked at her.

“Not just yet. Don’t let that red mark on your cheek heal. It’s a reminder that still waters run deep. Remember that, Trish,” she said, then leaned back and swung around in a relaxed manner on her swivel chair.

Elite Fashion Studios was the place that Lilly’s convertible stopped—in the parking lot. Her and Jack Al rushed out of it and into the studios, with Lilly leading. 

“This way,” she instructed Jack Al as she and him pressed their way to the shooting room. 

Jack Al looked around everywhere they passed. There were other models—some on the runway, some posing to be drawn in art lessons, other fashionistas, while a vast majority were fashion models like Lilly and himself. Every room, Jack Al observed, was buzzing with activity.

“Move your hips from side to side and look straight ahead,” he saw and heard a lady trainer instructing one of her male runway models, as they went. 

They went up a flight of staircases to a room printed PHOTO SHOOT ROOM 5, then Lilly pushed its door open and burst in, followed by Jack Al.

Simone folded his arms and watched as his colleague photographer took pictures of an ebony man in a leopard skin with a leopard prop and a jungle setting.

“We want this to look African, Tyrell. Hold that leopard and squeeze it with beastly energy,” the photographer instructed the ebony man. Lilly and Jack Al watched as Tyrell carried out the instructions. Simone saw them.

“There you be, my two little moneybags,” he said happily while waving a magazine at them as he approached them. “Comment ça va, Lil?” He said as he kissed her on both cheeks.

“Ca va bien, merci,” she replied, then he gave her the magazine and turned to Jack Al.

“Good to see you, mon ami,” he said to him.

“Pareil ici, Simone,” Jack Al replied. 

After the greetings, Simone said, “If you two weren’t picture perfect and with the best poses and chemistry like the one there,” he paused then pointed at the magazine, and continued, “I would have scolded you both, for you are late! But not to worry. Let’s get down to business. Leo!” He shouted to one of the set designers in a tilted cap. Leo went rushing to him.

“Get me my checkbook,” Simone instructed him. Jack Al smiled as he watched Leo rushing to do as he was asked. Lilly gave Simone back the magazine. Tyrell and his trainer were through.

“What’s up, girl?” He said to Lilly as he passed by her.

“Hi, Tye. You were great, dawg,” she replied, in her not-so-perfect African American accent. 
He laughed briefly and greeted her punk-style—hitting his right shoulder lightly against her left one—then said to Jack Al, “How you doin’ homey?”

“Hello,” Jack Al returned plainly. Tyrell left.

“Right. As we wait, let’s take some pictures,” Simone said to his models as he admired them in turns.

Murray arrived at the East Side and saw Jack Al’s pictures in every magazine store he passed. He observed teenage girls and women as mature as 50 going crazy over Jack Al’s attractive, authentic masculine features.

“Excuse me a moment,” he said to one woman, then snatched her copy of Vogue—that had Jack Al’s photo on the front cover—from her. Jack Al was in a tight military vest and flexed his muscles proudly in the picture.

“Hey!” The woman protested.

“SMART’S NEW BEEFCAKE HOTTER THAN EVER IN RANGERS AVENUE,” Murray read the tagline, then thought, and shoved the magazine back to its irate owner.

“Pig!” She screamed at him as he rushed to take a cab to Rangers Avenue.

“Come in!” Mr. Reynolds said, after he heard a soft rap on his door. It opened and in came the detective. He stood up. “Good morning, detective,” he said respectfully, then outstretched his hand out to her.

“Good morning, sir,” she replied, then shook his hand briefly and firmly.

“Please, have a seat,” Mr. Reynolds offered.

“Thank you,” she replied, then they had their seats uniformly. Mr. Reynolds sighed.

“I’ll be brief and straight to the point, sir. Investigations are proceeding smoothly and as per the progress, Miss Roxanne seems to be innocent, and witnesses point out a foreigner who came to see you could be the culprit. That’s all for now. I’d recommend that you don’t let Miss Roxanne go just yet. She seems to be a truthful, hardworking girl. You shall hear more from me,” she concluded, then got up. “Excuse me,” she added, then walked out of the office.

Mr. Reynolds moved his specs and rubbed his eyes, then leaned back on his seat. If the detective was right, and Roxanne truly was innocent, then he’d be happy. He didn’t want to lose her. She was diligent and competent, the two qualities she had that he wanted. He sat up and straightened his tie, then wore his specs and continued with his work.

Everyone, especially Roxanne and Trish, held their breath as the detective reappeared. She said nothing, but just nodded at all of them and walked out of the company in her authoritative gait. Trish looked around at the employees who grumbled inaudibly.

“Are you paid to grumble or work? Can you get back to work?” She said to all of them, then glared at Roxanne. Bree got up and made her way to her boss’ office with the ready schemes.

Roxanne got up and rubbed her shoulders to provide warmth as she walked out of her workplace. She felt lonely and guilty because she kept her heart closed to her closest friend, her mother. She thought of Jack Al as she absorbed the soothing sunshine and breeze that massaged her skin softly. Where could he be? She thought.

At a distant magazine store across the road was an elderly woman who went through Romance magazine and grimaced in disgust, then tossed it into a public dustbin beside the store. Roxanne narrowed her eyes. She thought she saw Max on the magazine’s cover. She smiled, then without hesitation crossed the road and went to the dustbin where the magazine lay.

“Max,” she breathed, as she took out the magazine and admired his familiar face. Her heart sank. She felt a cold chill run down her spine. Her smile faded. He was on top of a woman, and they were making out on a couch.

“Take it if you want it. You girls of these days love such filthy things,” the old woman said to her from inside the store. 

Roxanne looked at her for a while, then refocused on the heartrending picture before her. It stung her eyes. Her mind went back to her mother’s past experience, that perfectly suited her present experience. Was history repeating itself? Aren’t there any clean-minded, faithful men in this world? She asked herself, then tossed the magazine back into the dustbin and took out a seat on the nearby bench, just outside the store.

A young girl of about eight passed by there and looked into the dustbin, then grabbed the magazine, squealed, and ran off. She, too, had been watching Roxanne until when she tossed it. Roxanne watched her blankly as she disappeared into the distance.

Detective Jillian Green had taken a quick stop at Luxury Palace and was having fries, grilled chicken, salad, and a diet cola. She studied the three notes from Bree, Roxanne, and Mr. Daniels, and compared them with Trish’s. They were as different as day and night. If only there was a way to prove that Trish had a hand in the looting and locate Jack Al, then it would be case closed, she thought, then bit into her chicken and accompanied it with some cola.

She decided to let the Police Commissioner in on her progress so far. She wiped her hands roughly with the napkin then got up and walked out of the cafe. Once outside, she phoned her boss.

“Hello, Chief? Yes, it’s me. Things are looking good. The jackal is definitely the man behind the $100,000,000 robbery, and a hunch tells me that one of the employees, a Miss Trish Mae, is his accomplice…no, I haven’t traced his whereabouts. In fact, that’s the only piece left to complete…,” she paused, then observed two teenage girls reading Seventeen magazine. 

She looked at the magazine and smiled. “...yes, Chief, I’m still here,” she continued, as she walked towards the girls, then flashed her badge at them and pointed to the magazine. They hesitantly gave it up and went away. 

“Chief, I’m holding our man’s whereabouts in my hands. According to a teenie mag dubbed Seventeen, the jackal now resides at Rangers Avenue with famous model Lilly Anne Smart and is her squeeze. It states further that they work at Elite Fashion Studios…yes. Send some backup over at the studios, Chief. I’m on my way there. Okay, bye,” the detective concluded, then went back into the cafe, paid for the food and left a tip, then rushed into her car and drove off to her prey’s lair.

Murray arrived at an empty house that was locked. He cursed and tried to force open the glass front door. Bud barked fiercely and appeared on the window. He snarled at Murray and was just aching to break free so that he could give him a taste of his razor-sharp incisors and canines. 

Just one look at the ferocious animal and his sharp teeth made Murray back off and stop struggling. He decided to approach the matter from a different angle and decided to leave the premises when he noticed a young man looking at him suspiciously. He didn’t want to be sued for trespassing.

Roxanne got tired of mourning for past losses and got up, straightened her dress, then walked back into her workplace. There was one person there she owed her gratitude and life to aside from Bree. When she entered, she ignored all the stares and went up to the uppermost floor of the company. Once there, she made for the third door from Mr. Reynolds’, with the golden tag MR. CHARLIE WRIGHT on it and knocked it softly.

“Come in,” came his faint reply. She slowly got in and on seeing her, Charlie stopped what he was doing and stood up to receive her. He adjusted his coat and exclaimed “Roxanne!” As she walked towards him after shutting the door. “Please have a seat,” he offered, while indicating the vacant seat before his desk.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a shy smile as she sat. Charlie cleared his throat with a smile as he sat.

“You look lovely,” he complimented her.

“Thank you,” she repeated, while studying his sweet and sincere facial expression.

“Should I order you some coffee? It’s a few minutes to coffee break,” he suggested.

“No, thanks,” she replied softly, with her eyes glued to him. He wanted to ask her what she was doing there but he didn’t. He was enjoying the moment.

“I was planning to come visit you after work, to see how you’re faring,” he said calmly.

“That’s so considerate of you,” she replied, and leaned forward then cooed, “Charlie.”

“Yes, Roxanne,” he replied in the same tone.

“I have come here to tell you something,” Roxanne said.

“And what could that be?” Charlie asked, trying to erase negative guesses such as she was getting engaged or no matter how much she tried, she just didn’t love him.

Roxanne got up and walked towards him,  then unexpectedly stooped and kissed him. Charlie was astonished. Though he was flabbergasted, he was enjoying it.

“Thank you, Charlie. You’ve been there for me since the beginning, but I have adamantly been refusing to accept that I love you too,” she confessed after the kiss. 

Charlie was taken aback. He slowly stood and held her hands while looking at her with a broad smile.

“That day in your office when I said I don’t have feelings for you, I was in denial. The truth is, I was afraid of getting hurt. I was afraid that you could run off with some girl behind my back,” she admitted, while looking into his eyes. He kissed her hands then hugged her.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me, Roxanne. I’ll be your man and you’ll be my woman. There’s no other if it’s not you,” he said gently.

“I’m glad to hear that. Let me not distract you. I’ll just leave and leave you to your work,” Roxanne said, then started to withdraw. Charlie’s grip on her remained firm but gentle.

“No! You’re not a distractor, you’re my motivation. If you go, so will my drive. Stay. Sit here,” he said, then let go of her and indicated the seat she formerly sat on. Roxanne laughed.

“You have a way with words,” she said as she sat.

“If the woman of my dreams is with me, I can play a grammatical flute and words dance to my tune,” Charlie said as he settled on his seat gleefully. 

Roxanne clapped, then said, “Bravo!” She smiled at him, he smiled back, then continued with his work happily.

“Wonderful! Now, Jack, I want you to lift Lilly with an expressionless face. Show calm, show grace, show strength, without showing weakness. Understand?” Simone instructed. Jack Al nodded, then began lifting Lilly.

Detective Jillian’s car stopped outside the studio’s parking lot and moments later, several NYPD police cars stopped behind hers. She got out with an air of justice surrounding her. Her crew, consisting of three policemen and one policewoman, emerged from their cars.

“Listen up, guys. We’ll go at my signal. Ready…let’s go,” she instructed, then stormed into the fashion house and flashed her badge at some random janitor.

“Detective Jillian Green, New York Police Department. Direct us to Miss Lilly Anne Smart,” she spoke, in a firm, intimidating voice. The janitor nodded absent-mindedly, then led them to where Lilly and Jack Al were.

The shots were getting more fun and relaxing. Simone called for a short break, for his models to recollect and rejuvenate. Lilly was wiping her face and neck gently with a face cloth. Jack Al stood by and watched her.

“Lilly,” he called softly. She turned to him. “I just want to say that it’s a pleasure working with you,” he added. She smiled.

“I feel the same. Working alongside a good friend is really interesting. Are you thinking of taking up modeling as a career?” She asked him. He scratched his brow lightly. The door of the room burst open.

“NYPD! Everyone, freeze!” The detective shouted, while she and her crew made a sudden entry. There was a bit of panic, but everyone managed to stay calm. “Especially you!” She said, while walking towards and pointing at Jack Al. He cursed, then stood behind Lilly.

“What’s going on here?” Simone asked after getting his tongue back.

“Excuse me, detective. I would like to know the reason for your unexpected visit,” Lilly repeated, after glancing at Jack Al.

“I’m sorry about this, Miss Lilly. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, by the way. I’m your biggest fan,” the detective replied, then took out her notebook and a pen. “Can I have your autograph?” She requested.

“Sure,” Lilly replied, then quickly signed her notebook.

“Thanks. I’ll treasure this. Now to answer your question, the man behind you is a dangerous wanted criminal. A gangster to be specific, who stole $100,000,000 from Wise Enterprises,” the detective said, then said to the policemen, “Cuff him, boys!”

“Criminal?” Lilly repeated as she turned to the man she thought would marry her later on.

“Yes, that’s right, and further, he’s a damned liar who used an alias Max Johnson during his heist,” the detective added with a disgusted glare at Jack Al, who was trying to resist arrest but the power of three superseded his one-man struggle.

“Please, Lilly. Let me explain,” he begged. Lilly shook her head in surprise.

“You lied to me that you have no job but the truth is you’re a damn…this is too much,” she said, then waved her hand and walked away from him.

“Oui, let him explain. Surely there must be some sort of mistake,” Simone pleaded, then added, “he’s the new male face of this organization. If he goes, then so will our worth!”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but the law has to take its course. You thought you could escape, jackal? Well, you were wrong. Joining this agency brought you closer to us. Journalists did their jobs perfectly and highlighted your living with the famous Lilly Anne Smart. Being the number one fan of hers that I am, I know where she works and hence I knew where to find you. Sorry, jackal. You can’t, and will never, hide from the law. Law-1, Jack Al-0. Take him away, boys!” The detective concluded her speech, then punched the air in triumph and savored Jack Al’s continuous pleas that fell on deaf ears. She then turned to the policewoman.

“Come with me, officer. We have a traitor to capture,” she said to her, then said to Lilly and Simone, “I’m sorry for barging in on such short notice. Please continue shooting. I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s Vogue. I’ll be on my way now.” The policewoman went with her.

After they had gone, Simone went to where Lilly was and tapped her shoulder then sighed.

“I guess it’s back to Ray,” he said. 

Lilly nodded, then said, “Let’s continue with the shooting.”

Coffee break period had reached and Charlie hosted Roxanne in his office. They chatted, drank coffee, and laughed like old friends. They were having the time of their lives. Charlie was telling Roxanne a joke.

“...and then the rooster told the hen, ‘Where’s my tail?’” He concluded, then they both burst out laughing.

As Bree did her work, she smiled. She guessed that her friend was with Charlie. Suddenly, there was a screech outside. There was an uproar among the employees.

“Can you all mind your own damn business? The thief is being taken in for questioning, that’s all,” Trish shouted, while looking around at all of them. The detective rushed in, with the policewoman on her tail.

“There she is! Cuff her!” She instructed the policewoman while pointing at Trish. Trish’s eyes widened in horror. The inferno racket caused all the employees in the first, second, and third floors—including Mr. Reynolds, Roxanne, and Charlie—to take a peek down below.

“Let’s go closer for a better view,” Roxanne suggested to Charlie.

“Good idea,” he agreed, then they went down to the scene of the arrest.

“Me? You h-have me mistaken, detective. I’m Trish. Trish Mae. Not the thief Roxanne Simmons,” Trish said, as the policewoman motioned her to get up.

“I know. It’s you I want, not Roxanne. You had a hand in the disappearance of the money,” the detective replied as she watched the policewoman cuffing Trish.

“What?!” Trish said in shock.

“Yes. Or if not, you knew he was the culprit, but you intentionally tried to hide him by giving me a testimony that contradicted Miss Roxanne’s, Miss Bree’s, and Mr. Daniels’ to an epic degree,” the detective said. Trish was dumbfounded.

“B-but, I-I…,” she fumbled. Mr. Reynolds emerged from the multitude.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Trish. To think that you wanted to be my secretary just makes me want to puke. You are a disgrace to this company. You have violated our virtues, such as honesty and selflessness,” he said while glaring at her. The detective turned to him.

“Sir, I can confidently clear Ms. Roxanne’s name from the criminals list. She is innocent,” she said to him. Roxanne smiled, then hugged and kissed Charlie.

“I knew it!” Charlie exclaimed excitedly as they shared a happy hug. The employees present clapped and cheered. Roxanne then went and hugged Bree.

“Thanks for all your help, Bree,” she whispered to her as they hugged.

“There’s nothing to thank me for. Good friends look out for each other,” Bree replied in the same tone, then they stopped hugging.

“Who is the mastermind behind the dastardly scheme?” Mr. Reynolds asked detective Jillian solemnly.

“Mr. Jack Al, a wanted criminal who used the alias Max Johnson. Or was it Matthew Spielberg, Miss Trish?” She replied, then turned to Trish, who looked away in shame. Her fellow employees burst out into a loud laughter.

“Anyway, we have him in custody, and our guess is he’ll be there for a long time,” the detective said.

“Please. Make sure of that,” Mr. Reynolds said.
“Take her away, officer!” The detective ordered the policewoman.

“I’m innocent! I’m innocent, I tell you! You just wait, you’ll hear from my lawyer, a-and my father who owns an estate in this city. What are you all looking at? Can you get back to WORK!” Trish struggled as she was led away, with the detective following from behind. When they were out, the door shut behind them.

“Well, you all heard her. Get back to work,” Mr. Reynolds said to all the employees, then turned to Roxanne. All the employees went back to their stations while chatting happily about the occurrence.

“I guess I was wrong about you, Miss Roxanne,” Mr. Reynolds started. Roxanne remained silent and watched him as he spoke. “If you’re still interested, your post is still available and as a bonus, I’m offering you a chance to become the new head of this department. Or will it be too much?” He asked her. She smiled.

“Oh no, sir. I can manage. Thank you very much!” She replied excitedly, and fought the urge to give him a big hug.

“Do you think you can begin immediately, or…” he asked.

“I was actually thinking tomorrow, sir. I’m really exhausted,” she replied. Mr. Reynolds nodded.

“Alright. See you tomorrow,” he said, then turned to Bree. “Can you hold the fort for Miss Roxanne till tomorrow, Miss Bree?” He asked her. Roxanne turned to her and smiled. She was dumbstruck.

“Y-yes, sir. Yes I can,” she said goofily. 

“Alright, you start immediately. Excuse me,” Mr. Reynolds said briefly, then went to his office. 

After he went, the employees went to Roxanne and hugged her one after the other, each saying, “Congratulations, madam,” as they did. And finally it was Bree.

“Should I now call you madam?” She asked Roxanne as she hugged her.

“Don’t be silly, Bree. Even if I become the boss of this company, I’m still Roxanne Simmons minus the huge title of ‘madam.’ Besides, you’re the one in charge now. Congratulations,” Roxanne replied after they hugged and as they held hands. Bree beamed.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile, then returned to her station. 

After she went, Roxanne went to Trish’s former desk and sat on it, then said, “Excuse me for just a minute,” to all the employees. They stopped what they were doing and turned to her. “I shall not tolerate anyone referring to me as Madam Roxanne. I’m still Miss Roxanne to all. Alright. Proceed. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she continued, then stood after a brief nod.

“You’re the best, Miss Roxanne!” An employee said, then began clapping. The rest joined in.

“Thank you. Thank you all,” Roxanne said as she waved, then left the company, feeling as if she was walking on air. When she left, Bree occupied the station.

Mrs. Simmons couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Her Pumpkin had introduced an Italian girl to her as his girlfriend.

“We’re just casual friends, Mom,” he assured, with his arm around Rebecca’s shoulder. Rebecca nodded.

“Why is it that you need a friend who is a girl, Pumpkin? Aren’t Erick, Duncan and James good enough?” Mrs. Simmons asked. Arnold sighed then scratched his forehead.

“It has reached that point in my life that girls are no longer a nuisance, but dear people that I’m interested in. Rebecca, here, has caught my attention,” he said.

“Do her parents know of this?” Mrs. Simmons asked.

“Yes they do, Mrs. Simmons, and they’re alright with it,” Rebecca replied. Mrs. Simmons looked at them both in turns for a while, then smiled and hugged her son.

“My baby has now become a man!” She declared happily as she did. Afterwards, she hugged Rebecca. “Welcome to my son’s life, dear. I must say you suit him perfectly,” she said to her while they hugged.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Simmons. I really appreciate it,” Rebecca replied, after they hugged.

“I hope that you two haven’t gone between the sheets yet,” Mrs. Simmons said as she looked at them both.

“No, Mom,” Arnold replied.
“We haven’t even thought until that point,” Rebecca added.

“I hope so. But if you do, know that you have my permission, as long as the bottle of soda is properly covered up when it fizzes,” Mrs. Simmons said. Rebecca giggled.

“Mom! Oh, come on, Becky, let’s get out of here,” Arnold blushed, feeling happy that his relationship with the girl he loved was no longer clandestine.

Roxanne burst into the house through the front door with a new energy.

“What did Bree want?” Mrs. Simmons asked her as she, Roxanne, went where she was. Roxanne hugged her first, then led her to the dining table and sat her down. 

Arnold and Rebecca followed, to know what all the fuss was about. Before she began speaking, Roxanne greeted Rebecca. Then, they all listened keenly as she narrated to them the whole story.

“And now Trish has been arrested?” Arnold asked in obvious wonder.

“Not only her, but the heartless thief who almost cost me my job as well,” Roxanne answered, then added, “And now I’m the new head of department.”

“Congratulations, darling,” Mrs. Simmons said to her, then held her hand and squeezed it gently. Roxanne beamed.

“I’m confused,” Arnold confessed.

“About what?” Rebecca inquired, as she, Mrs. Simmons, and Roxanne turned to him.

“I thought that Trish is your friend, Roxy,” he said.

“What makes you think that?” Roxanne asked.

“Well, that day at the office she gave me her number and has been asking details about you, like when you were beginning working as secretary and what you were doing at a particular time,” he replied.

“So it was you who told her that I was beginning as secretary on that Monday?” Roxanne asked. He nodded.

“She said she was your friend and even told me not to tell you of all the times that we spoke,” he replied.

“That conniver! Do you still have her number?” Roxanne asked him. He nodded. “Give me your phone,” she ordered him. Hesitantly, he gave it to her. She deleted Trish’s number and gave his phone back to him.

“Hello, boss? Yes, I made it to the East Side. In fact, I’m there right now…no, I haven’t been able to locate Jack Al yet. I went to where it was stated in the magazine that he lives with the gorgeous model Lilly but got a hostile welcome from her canine…no, it didn’t hurt or bite me, thank goodness. It was locked up in her place. There was no one there but the canine. I don’t know where to look…” Murray reported to his boss from under a tree at the park. 

“The police station? No, I haven’t checked there…alright, boss, I’ll make sure I get the job done. Goodbye,” he concluded his call, then looked sideways, stood up, tucked his phone into his pocket, and went to the police station.

Jack Al was frog marched into the department in cuffs by three policemen and was brought before the Police Commissioner. The Police Commissioner eyed him.

“Sit him down,” he ordered one of the policemen. The rest were on standby. He forcefully made Jack Al sit on the chair before the Police Commissioner’s desk. “Whom do you work for, jackal?” The Police Commissioner asked him.

“I want to make a call,” Jack Al replied.

“I have asked you a question,” the Police Commissioner hissed irritably.

“And I have made a statement that if I’m not granted, I won't answer your question,” Jack Al replied quietly. The two men looked into each other’s eyes. The Police Commissioner sighed, then lifted his telephone off its cradle.

“Number?” He asked Jack Al. Jack Al gave him Carla’s number as he keyed it in. Police Officer Michael held for him the telephone as he waited for Carla to respond. She finally did. She turned down her radio then picked the call.

“Hello? Jack? Oh, baby! I’ve missed you. Where are you?...at the police de…you want me to bail you out?...okay, I’ll try my best. I love you, baby,” she concluded. Before she could ask anything else, the telephone went dead.

“Satisfied?” The Police Commissioner asked Jack Al after the call.

“I’m not going to answer your question,” he replied.

“I’m trying to help you, jackal. If you give me what I’m asking for, I’ll work something out for you,” the Police Commissioner negotiated.

“I don’t need your help, Eddy. A friend of mine will burst me out of here in no time,” he replied. The Police Commissioner’s patience ran out.

“Get him out of here. Let him rot in jail for all I care!” He ordered the three policemen. They forced Jack Al up, led him to the cell section, stripped him of his civilian clothing, and dressed him in the cell uniform, that was a khaki T-shirt and matching pants, then one of them opened up a cell.

“Welcome to your new home, jackal,” he said, as his colleagues roughly pushed Jack Al into the spacious cell with a bed and toilet. They locked him up, then left. He looked around the cell that he was already used to.

The window that he always used to escape was fitted with thick metal bars that allowed a little space for ventilation. He cursed, then sprawled on the bed. His life was now in the hands of Carla. After a while, he sat up slowly. He could see something, or someone, moving around in the translucent air conditioner.

“Carla?” He called out excitedly, then shrieked when several bullet shots caught him on the chest. 

The shooter was none other than Murray. He had sniped from a distance and got a clear shot using his binoculars. He smiled at the sight of Jack Al bleeding profusely on the bed, his beastly gray eyes wide open. He was dead. Murray phoned his boss.

“Hello, boss? It is done,” he said proudly, then smiled on hearing Big Boss Sheezy showering him with praises from the other end of the line.

Roxanne had already showered and changed into a striped long-sleeved V-neck top and skin-tight jeans and was watching TV. Her mother had gone to the market, Arnold had gone to accompany Rebecca to her place, and her father was not yet back from work. After a while of silence, there was a knock at the front door.

“Coming!” She replied, while going to check who it was. It was Charlie, Bree, and Keith.
“Hello, Roxanne. I hope we’re not bothering you,” Charlie said, with a soft smile, after she opened the door. She returned the smile. It was her first time to see him in casual wear. He was in a dark blue polo neck and a faded pair of jeans.

“No. Not at all,” she replied.

“Great. How’s about you join us as we celebrate your elevation to head of department?” Bree asked her. She thought. There was no one at home. Aaah, what the heck. It wouldn’t kill her to chill with the man she loved, her best friend, and her best friend’s boyfriend.

“Sure. Just give me a minute,” she said, then once again disappeared into the house. Her gang waited patiently.

“You’re a good friend,” Keith said to Bree. She wrapped her arms around his neck, then they looked into each other’s eyes. 

Roxanne reappeared, wearing a woolen cardigan that was buttoned up to her chest. She locked the front door and placed the key under the rug on the doorstep as her family had always done for the rest to get easy access to it, then slipped her hand into Charlie’s.

“Whose idea was this?” She asked as they went ahead.

“We all thought of it. A perfect get together for four good friends, don’t you think?” Bree replied.

“Definitely,” Roxanne said happily.

“If all the women in this world were you, this world would definitely be a place to live in,” Charlie cooed to Roxanne.

“That’s so sweet, Charlie!” She squealed, then pecked him on the cheek.

“Why can’t you be that romantic?” Bree asked Keith lightly, then elbowed him on his ribs.

“We men are different. Like me, for instance: I’m not romantic, but I’m funny,” he replied.

“Oh yeah? Crack my ribs,” Bree said.

“That’s easy,” he said, then started tickling her for a while, then held her.

“Hey! You cheated!” She protested.

“I didn’t say I would use words,” he defended himself.

Roxanne and Charlie looked into each other’s eyes as their friends had a light quarrel. Their friendship was blossoming into courtship.