"Are you gonna drink that?" A voice interrupted Watson's trail of thoughts. He looked up and saw a skinny guy with an oversize brown jacket covering his slim physique all the way down to his groin. He looked shady and one of his front tooth was missing. His trouser covered all the way to his ankle, exposing dry ankles covered by light green socks in some brown sport shoes. He leaked of alcohol and expired sweat and Watson struggled a bit to hide his disgust.
"I have tried, but only my mind has succeeded in doing so." Watson smiled at the guy.
"Hi bud. Ian." William introduced himself.
"Watson Paul." Watson responded as he watched William sit himself down and take the drink from his hands and start drinking it. "I am just having a rough day. My employer is a pain in my groin and I think my wife has replaced me in her heart." Watson added, feigning a lot of sadness. He put his face in his palms and rubbed them softly. William observed his company above the glass covering his mouth and felt happy. He had found someone sad to take advantage of and buy him drinks for the night as he pretended to care for his worries.
"Women!" William said after he had finished the whole glass of cold beer. "No one ever understands them! What work do you do?" He asked, pretending to be interested.
"I am an accountant." Watson replied, carefully observing William's response. Just as he had expected, William's eyes lit up with joy, though he tried to show restraint.
"I am an engineer at NoXy Architects." William lied.
"Where is that? I have never heard of it." Watson said.
"It is a new company, trying to build itself up." William said as he signaled one of the waiters to serve them. The waiter rushed in immediately and William ordered some expensive drink even Watson had never heard about.
"Do you come here often?" Watson asked William.
"No. I just came in here to celebrate my promotion. I think I may be getting promoted tomorrow."
"Is that not too early to celebrate? I mean, it is only lunch time and the day for result of promotion is tomorrow. And besides, should not be at work? Your work sounds busy." Watson said as he watched the waiter approach them with a bottle of alcohol and two glasses well balanced at the center of the tray. He always marveled at the art.
"No. No. It is right on time." William gave a short answer ignoring all the other questions asked. He immediately pounced on the drink and began pouring in to the glasses. Watson took the drink to his mouth but the smell already gave him a warning and so he held his breathe to not even smell it. When William covered his face with the glass, Watson would pour the drink at the corner of the room next to him then folded his face to show a bitter look.
"A strong bitter one that is, ain't it?" William asked Watson. His broken English had already betrayed how far from a decent working environment he had strayed. It was street English which was best spoken by drunks.
"Are you married?" Watson asked nodding to affirm William's question. William was caught off guard by the question and almost choked. "No. Not at all." He answered. Looking at Watson's even more curious look, he added, "I have no girlfriend either. Women are just a shit load of trouble mate."
"So you leave alone?" Watson asked. He noticed William suspicious look and added, "I live with my wife. A nasty one. She used to be sweet when we first married. I could get home and find my supper cooked and my batch ready and drawn but nowadays, I get home and find that she is not there, at all. I have to do the rest myself. Then she comes back later in the night, drunk as a skunk that she knows not the difference between the bathroom and the storage room. If you leave alone, do not get married at all. I wish I didn't." Watson said as he took a shot at the drink. It burned his lips, his tongue, his throat, his gut, his stomach and his brain, arousing all senses in his body. William shook off the suspicion and took three more shots in laughter.
Time went on as William interacted with his friend. As soon as the bottle was done, he excused himself and said he was headed to the restroom. He had drunk ninety-five percent of the whole body with Watson only taking one shot and carefully pouring out the rest. He did not come back. And Watson did not expect him to. His goal was realized either way. He asked the waiter for the bill, paid and left. In his car, he felt his stomach turn and burn. He took out his phone and texted his boss an address. Then sped off.
At Heal Care Hospital.
The BMW parked at the entrance and the man got out, vomiting, holding his burning stomach. He was immediately carried by a stretcher and taken to one of the most private wards in the hospital. He was well known and respected, just like his boss.
"Wats, what did you have this time?" Simon asked his friend with a sigh as he sent the nurse with him to get the prescription for the patient writhing in pain. He was used to such things happening with Watson. He definitely knew that work was involved.
"Work stuff." Watson replied in between pain sobs. He had vomited most of everything in his stomach and he was just vomiting air. It was a surprise he had gotten to the hospital with no accident involved. The nurse rushed back in and Simon immediately gave Watson and IV drip in to his left hand. Watson passed out. He was not doing great. Simon could see that. He dialed a number on his phone. Before it could ring a second time, Bran walked in to the room in large strides. He went straight to the bed and stood before Watson, who was passed out cold before him.
"Hi Doc," He greeted his friend, with his hand in his pocket, "What is his status?" He asked, was obviously concerned. Simon did not notice the woman standing at the door, peeping in.
"Critical, for now. Until we see improvement, we shall have to hold him here for a while. It seems he has some kind of poisoning. By the way he was vomiting, possibly alcohol poisoning." Simon replied, placing his hand on Bran's left shoulder. "He will be okay." As he turned to leave, he was startled to see the lady at the door. "Mr. Bran." He called out to his friend. Brandon looked at Simon and saw him looking at the lady at the door.
"Simon, Ms. Natasha Claire, my GM at BESMA Group and my driver to here today. Ms. Claire, Dr. Simon Peter, the Joseph's family doctor and long-time friend." Simon shook hands with Natasha and she could not shake the way he looked at her. 'She looks just like Julie, only prettier.' Simon thought but did not say out loud. Bran knew what he was thinking and turned back to look at Watson. Simon nodded and walked out, leaving the three people in the room. She did not know whether to get in or stand outside the door. So she just froze where she was. For a long moment, the room was very quiet.
"Come in and have a seat, Ms. Claire." Bran finally said without looking at her and with his hands still in his pocket. Natasha slowly moved in and sat at the sofa opposite the bed. She did not know what to say, so she just sat down quietly. She was surprised to see her boss care so much about his PA. She wondered if she ever got hurt whether he could care just as much for her as he did for him. This took her back to the conversation they were having earlier on in his office.
"I asked whether you like the painting." Brandon had asked her as soon as they had sat down.
"No. I mean, yes, I am just surprised to see a blue flamingo. It matches the color of the water. I wonder what the artist was thinking. I reckon he was trying to find his peace in his color." She answered enthusiastically then realized she had said too much. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"How have you settled in?" Brandon answered folding his hands to his chest and leaning towards the back of his chair. He was indifferent. Natasha felt a blush coming as her boss intensely stared at her. She adjusted her mirror and avoided his boss's handsome eyes. He smiled within. She was beautiful. Especially when playing with her fake specs, she was beautiful even more trying not to blush. He tried not to smile outwardly but failed. He let out a smile then immediately corrected his face. She did not notice.
"I am doing okay Sir. I am adjusting well to the company and the job." She answered and looked at him. He knew that. He had been closely following up on her progress ensuring that Watson updated her every day.
"Is your assistant, Mr. Leo, helpful?" He asked her, shifting his focus to the computer but still attentive enough to capture her frown which she hurriedly replaced with a smile.
"He is adapting too. He is helping." She answered, not sure what she said. She knew she was lying. He had been not helpful at all. Just good at throwing tantrums. But Bran also knew that. He knew almost everything going on within his company. 'In my company, nothing is personal.' He would tell his members during company meetings. They heard him, but few believed him, until you go yourself on the wrong side of the law, his law.
"Get ready, from next week, you will get more involved in business meetings, events, trips and appointments…" He said to her as he reached out to his vibrating phone. His face remained indifferent.
"Do you know how to drive?" He suddenly had asked her. As soon as she nodded in agreement, he rose up, "I need you to drive me somewhere."
"But I have no car, Sir." She answered as she followed him out in a hurry. The secretaries were surprised to see their two bosses rush out. Margret was used to such situations, especially when Watson was not around. She reached to one of her locked desks and took out a key. She immediately rushed and handed it over to Natasha before the elevator closed. As soon as they stepped out of the parking lot, she pressed the button and the alarm of a silver black jeep went off. They rushed to the hospital and there they were, looking at Watson, who was still unconscious.