"Michael," the faint sound finally coalesces into a loud yell. A whoosh follows suddenly as it suctions away.
Michael, for some reason, ignores the call and breaks into a run.
"Pass the ball," comes another voice in the distance. He heeds this voice like a hunter on its prey, his red boots sending the ball rolling over green carpets of grass.
Out of the blue, the scene severs into a lattice and he's thrown into darkness.The grass is squashed underneath him and when his eyes open, there are spots playing in his vision. Through it, he makes out two figures towering over him. Since when did they get this tall?
Through the daze, he feels needle pricks of pain in the arm lodged under him. In the awareness of this sensation, a wave of panic slowly sweeps through him. The space starts to twist and distort and something ominous looms in the air.
"MICHAEL!" This voice booms like Sanders has just spoken into his ear with a microphone.
It jolts Michael upright in his bed, wide-eyed. The white sheets wrapping around him in a death strangle, chest rising and falling palpably against his white pajamas. Beads of sweat cling to his pale countenance. His arms curls into his chest as he swallows, saliva soothing his parched throat.
This dream again, and his eyelids shutter on a despaired sigh.
Afterwards, routine drags on for Michael like a heavy log-work. Work with Blue, work out and check in to the office.
Leaving the office after a short while, his first stop is Texas.
When he had first expressed his wish of owning a refinery at the board meeting that fateful day, the shock had been expected quite alright. But there had been looks, subtle looks filled with impression. Reckless, foolhardy - and more adjectives he could have ascribed to them. In addition, the media had played their part. Thanks to them.
His patron and mentor, a man greater than his father himself, had been also rendered speechless by his ambitions. Nevertheless had believed in him until his dream difficultly but soon became a reality.
Leo Banks, the first man to win the business mogul awards. And, not just a win. But a win for all the black men across the nation, including Michael.
Leo Banks' existence might be a novelty to only a selected few but wouldn't be missed by any of the promising lads who studied business studies in the University of California.
And in every chance that presents itself, Mr. Banks is always ready to assert that the universe could have never meant for their meeting to be mere coincidence. Under his nurture, Michael had also won the award, making him the second black man to pave way for the black community in the business industry.
Now, Michael gapes, jaw angling up towards the long, dark roofs. The clear, blue sky is a gorgeous backdrop.
A bird flies past. Michael feels wistful. Won't it be nice to spread wings and fly?
Judging by the sweat pouring down his back and coupled with his black shirt, there is no doubt that he will long be pot-roast before he gets to a destination.
After a few breaths of soaring in the breathtaking scenery against the glare of the sun, he turns to the man standing five inches behind him.
Will Donald is the manager of this new branch, and of course, tested and trusted.
"When is the permit and license arriving?" Michael asks him. He has turned away from the building. But what did not turn with him is the itch to erect the open sign at the entrance of his latest edifice.
"Soon."
"Soon?" He wants a definite date.
"We just reached a draw on the tax allocation." Will mirrors his movement and on realizing that Michael is moving towards his car, he halts.
Seeing the act from his peripheral, Michael swings around and queries him in form of a lifted brow. The sun goes down and Michael almost goes down too on his knees with joy.
"Are you not going to take a look inside?" Will gesticulates to the structure behind them.
Calmly, Michael sends the said structure a cursory look, tongue rolling in cheek. "Has anything changed perhaps?"
That instant, the light rays comes out with full force. The bright red tufts of hair glow from underneath the face-cap that Will has on and a certain redhead comes to Michael's mind admist his turmoil.
"No, but- Sir!"
Not waiting for him to finish, Michael continues to walk away.
What made me put on black today? Every Thursday is a dip in the sauna called West Texas, yet he still has not learnt his lesson.
The protest tumbles around in Will's mouth before he resignedly speeds up his pace to match Michael.
Wishing that he brought a face-cap, Michael trudges the rest of the steps. Behind him, the sands draws his tracks past a wired fence and stops right before a black Porsche.
Above the roof of the car, he scans the barren landscape, looking past the sprinkle of personnel surrounding their equipment like cacti clusters. The sun seems to burn brighter and his hands quickly go under to free his boiling shirt from his skin.
Should he try afforestation? What's to say that this sun can't start a wildfire from a crude oil kiss? The aftermath of a certain kiss can be mind blowing. He shudders then and opens the backseat of the car.
Blue sits comfortably with a warm smile of welcome. A portable fan is pressed to her dark neck.
"Move over," he says curtly.
The smile lingers sweetly as she does his command. Like she hadn't been the one who vehemently refused to set her flats outside the car.
"Here." She hands him a fan which he unashamedly accepts without hesitation.
Michael's vision swoons when he gets in, having been under the sun for too long; and the coolness that hits his skin, makes him groan inwardly. He is busy stretching his collar and unbuttoning when Will appears.
"Think you will be my colour by the end of this summer?" Michael asks when he catches Will squint to the sky.
"No," Will answers immediately.
Pulling out a bottle of water from his bag, he takes a long, refreshing swig. "How far is the water source from here again?" He inquires while closing the bottle cap.
"100 acres away from the last perimeter."
Blue gasps. The revelation takes Michael aback. That far. Shit! He strokes his chin roughly, the coarse texture grounding him. He is sure there had been no indication of that clause in the groundwork plans. Who am I going to blame for this?
"Mr. Will. Remit the rest of the correspondence to Blue here."
He doesn't look but he is sure that Blue must have a pout on.
"Sir -" Will starts and shifts on one leg.
"Mmh."
"I need an assistant."
"Noted? Anything else?" He had been working on that before. Looks like he'll be picking it up again.
"No," he looks pleased with himself.
"Keep it up," Michael pauses, "next time, use an umbrella."
Will's face breaks into a big grin. "You forget I grew up here."
"Oh, right." Michael takes in the bleak horizon. "But it's for me," he whispers.
"Oh." A bird squawks loudly in the distance.
"Oh," Michael echoes with a vigorous nod. Even the bird agrees with him.
"Take care," and the door firmly shuts by his hand.
Not wasting time, and as expected, Blue whips out an iPhone. "Seven missed calls."
Michael fully relaxes as the driver in front revves up the engine. "Most important..." He lets his eyes close.
"Janet," she says and stretches out the hand that carries the phone.
"Did I mention important? What does she want?" Blue rolls her eyes and retracts her hand.
"The usual."
In a show of exasperation, he lifts the pink blowing-air device to his forehead. Perhaps, it might clear the clutter in his mind.
"You should find your sister a hobby or something to keep her occupied."
His head turns to her for the first time since he entered the car. "Did I ask for your opinion?"
She meets his gaze defiantly. "No," She replies in a surprisingly gentle voice and purses her lips.
If she had just met his eyes and looked away cowardly, he might have felt better. But she is all of him in her.
Looking ahead, he sighs.
The black witch.
But, she's right. His younger sister can use a little development skill. The problem is... Will she agree? Janet has really been a thorn in his side. However, she is nothing that he can't pick out. If he wants.
The car hits a bump and it draws Michael to the observation that they have left the arid lands behind. A sea of trees rise up in the horizon and speed past like phantoms. It's only a matter of time before the buildings begin to show themselves.
However, Michael is too deep in thought to appreciate the view.
Janet stays with his parents. And, is he ready to see them? Absolutely not. Those folk will not miss the chance to arrange series of introductions to people - women. He just might murder someone if his mother calls him again to ask for a grandchild. He remembers the promise he'd made. That he'll give them anything they ask for that was in his power. Whipping up kids from nowhere? That is way far from his power.
"Miss James sent an invitation letter."
A moment is all it takes before it clicks.
"Melanie?" His usually deep voice has taken a dip. He clears his throat, a myriad of possibilities already racing in his mind. Is she getting married? It's been a while since they separated. Two years. Or, is it three?
"It's her birthday."
His chest deflates. "Birthday?" Melanie's laugh fills his ears and he remembers. Things that he should have forgotten but are strangely still there. Under his sleeves, his palms are making circular movements on his arm.
Getting invited for the first time since they went separate ways. He senses that she has something up her sleeves. What is it this time?
There's something in Michael's features that prods Blue. "Yes, why?"
"Why what?" He asks softly, eyes straight ahead. Unseeing.
"You seem surprised." She combs through the curls of hair that frames her face
"I am?"
Okay. Her boss isn't here anymore. She side eyes him, teeth working her lips in worry. His sharp jaw is all she can see clearly in this position and the occasional clench of it is enough to show her that he is down that bleary road called reminiscence.
Recalling the pink checkered envelope, her pretty face mars in a frown. She can't ignore that Melanie is climbing up again. It's not her place but it angers her to see it happening. She eyes Michael again. What a pity.
En route to the airplane, Michael's sudden instruction to accept the invitation catches Blue off guard. As she struggles to maintain her composure, she trips on the stairs. Her face burns with embarrassment under the gazes of the two stunning women she's been stealing glances at since she saw them standing by their luggage.
One of them steadies her, and it takes all her willpower not to pull away forcefully and stomp up the rest of the way. Michael is already out of sight, past the doors and oblivious to what he has caused.
Cursing under her breath, she straightens her dress and hurries ahead.
"What are you doing?" Michael questions when Blue attempts to settle next to him.
She glances at her card and is about to make a sarcastic comment when she sees that the number engraved on it is different.
"I uh..." She turns it over, looks at him and looks around.
"Go to your seat."
Her mouth falls open as she takes offence. On seeing his smug face and the shadow of a smirk, she huffs and and goes to find her seat.
Luckily for her, it's by the window. Unlike the one next to her prickly boss. It's a blessing in disguise.
"Like I want to sit next to your ass," she retorts. Not less than a second later, she rolls her eyes and plugs her ears against the cacophony of noise.
---
"And the press conference?" Michael asks, and shuts the door to his office. It makes a click sound.
"Thursday." Ah. No Texas next week.
Michael turns that in his mind. Two days time and he'll be convincing the public that he can run a telecommunications company alongside a refinery. It's not going to be an easy task because he needs more support.
Finally heading home is what he should have done as soon as the plane had landed. But thinking of that empty house made him stay back and bury himself into working overtime.
His back had begun to ache and he hadn't been able to ignore his body's demand for a bath. So, he had packed up and is going home currently.
"I didn't think he can be any colder," an intern whispers, catches herself and does an area sweep to make she's alone. A grey pillar covers her partially as she watches the CEO enter his car.
As if a peg squares in place, he stops, and looks right at her. A gasp tears out of her throat as she shifts urgently until she's well hidden by the pillar.
Michael blinks repeatedly. Am I hallucinating? "Did you see something up there?" He asks Blue who follows his line of sight to one of the grey pillars that carries the main building of Gild's enterprise.
She shakes her head.
He lingers for a moment, eyeing the spot like a hawk. Someone had been standing there, watching him.
Mortification fills him when his eyes falls on Blue's apprehensive gaze. She must think he's crazy.
What am I doing?
Sparing that empty space with a final glance, he enters the waiting car.