Turner's chance

It was in his right that he received that sort of treatment. The primness and air of seriousness that accompanied him where ever he went was not all for show. It set the bar for how he was treated, referred to, regarded and most importantly, respected.

So the urge to be uptight and the fear of the possibility to falter that was evoked in all people when ever he was in a building was not surprising. It would surprise a stranger though, why a fellow human - he at least seems human enough - was treated as though he were a demigod. The stranger would soon come understand, minutes after being in his presence.

Young Turner, as he was called, was not the everyday man. And the young man knew it. He acknowledged the fact that he was distinct and he played by it, all the time, day in, day out, all year round, summer, spring, autumn and winter. You would not find regularity in his poise nor in his looks. You would not even find it in his demeanor that elicited suspicion from people.

Cold as winter, caleb stepped into the elevator, ignoring the scurrying of men and women his age and father's age, hastening to their jobs, muttering, carrying fear in their faces and in their minds, at his sight.

He knew. Of course, he knew the turmoil that was raised in all of their hearts for he had been there but now, he was wont to it, accepting of it. He was not responsible for how they felt or what they did because of their feelings.

Oliver was on his tail, bearing a briefcase. His brisk wall fell in place with that of Caleb's and it told of his job.

Soon, they stepped into his office. It was a spacious area of brown and cream. In remote places of the world, his office occupied would serve as housing for a family of seven. It was beautiful, all of the interior, as it was untelling. Caleb took a sit behind his large table that looked like a butchering table in an abattoir. Only, it was made mainly of glass, with the edges in a rich finishing of soft wood. He drummed his fingers as olly took his place in front of him and read out his schedule, reclining on the chair.

Caleb ignored everything else Olly said and asked directly, "What time did you say we could go see Edwards?"

"In an hour." Oliver glanced at his watch. "We still have forty minutes left until we can go. Is there anything you need me to do?"

"What do we have next?"

"The board meeting. Finance and architecture met to look over estimates, drafts and then make plans. They need to present to you and the board."

Caleb nodded. "How is Azure handling that sub contract? I should be on site myself today. Kings corporation would not have even the slightest of mistakes."

"And so do you, sir. I will fix it right in, although Mr. Shaw did say he would go have a look soon." Oliver punched in alphabets on his tablet, his face contorted. "After the inspection, you have your schedule cleared." Caleb gave him a blank look, his eyebrows relaxed, his lips unmoving. He gave oliver nothing to read of him so the aide said, "Alright. if you will excuse me." oliver gave a slight bow as he made to exit the office.

"What are you up to right away?"

The voice was sudden, putting oliver even more on his toes. Calm but collected. Powerful but in a a soothing manner, Oliver would not be able to understand what he was, who he was and why he was. He could not understand when he became so unusual. Caleb talked softly, especially to him, in direct contrast with the loud blabber and manly huskiness he used to know.

Caleb's voice was still husky, but it was soft too. It was scary soft that his aide can not but prefer if he did not even talk at all, or how can one be soft-spoken and loud at the same time? how can a voice be penetrative, reaching down into ones deepness?

"I have the secretaries meeting to be at. they should be awaiting my presence. Why? you need something, sir?"

"No, go on. I will see you in thirty minutes. Have Ms Smith bring me some coffee. With a little milk."

Oliver gave a nod and went away.

Caleb stood up and went to the window side. It was not necessarily a window, for it was a wide space, like a balcony, barred by glass. It was wide and it revealed a breathtaking view. The city of Manchester laid before him, covered with sleet. He looked down at the smaller buildings and the big ones, like the one he was in. They looked like they had erupted from the ground and went all the way up, unending. Commercial buildings. Enormous towers. Elevating positions.

Buildings elevates a person, Caleb has always believed. He stood there, on the 31st floor of a structure made of concrete, bricks and gravel. Beneath him lied everything else. People inclusive. Not only was he 500 meters above ground level, he stood firm at such height without falling.

When he was six and officially came to work with his father, Caleb was frightened to take the elevators. It was in the winter of that year, like now and old Turner had brought him alongside since he was on holiday. He had bugged his father a lot, about coming to where he worked. Caleb remembered how he clung to his father's coat through out the elevator ride. He almost cried and while his father gave him mocking smiles all through, he still held his hands in the end.

It was that age that he officially resumed duties as the heir to the Turners group of companies, which had constructions at the fore. Now, The empire had expanded into several other small annexes. For years, he was under the guide of his father and he learnt first hand, how to be responsible for one's business.

And he impressed old Turner. Overseeing the operation of the company, answering to the board of directors and making decisions that affected the day- to- day operations of the business. All that, at a young age. Turner was impressed. Until it happened.

Now, he was just the director in charge. Nothing more, nothing else.

Caleb was unbothered. If anything, he simply was indifferent. As long as he could command the people and the tools and materials to life, so long as they were erecting buildings, raking in profits and expanding their forte, Caleb was unconcerned. Anything else could happen. The skies could let go of their stars and he won't be moved.

All he needed was the command. The power to effect things, bring them to life. And he needed the compliance of people while at it, whether it was forced, cajoled or willed.

Caleb stared for a while.

When he returned to his seat, he summoned Beatrice, his originally assigned secretary. She appeared in a jiffy, holding a sauce plate.

"I am so sorry sir. I was just on my way to bring you the coffee when the disk rang." Beatrice said, out of breath.

She was a young lady in her late twenties, beautiful with brown hair that fell to her back when she let it. She had the hair in a high bun now and her heavily made up face told of her goal to mesmerize all of the males at work, which she mostly did.

Beatrice wore a tight fitted pant and a folded-neck long sleeve and to Caleb, she looked better than she had the past few months. It was not the prefect attire Caleb desired but they could for a start, begin with it. She at least looked like she worked in a construction company as a secretary and not as a hooker in a secret club for teens which was why he queried her months back.

"Sir."

*Good morning Ms Smith. I called to ask about what we discussed the other time. Am I getting a good response or do I need to ship you all off this floor?"

"Mr. Turner, I talked to the team and I assure you of their compliance. It will take time though, to adjust."

"Time is not a possession of mine that I can give freely, as you demand."

Beatrice kept quiet. Caleb looked at her too mum. He kept a look on his face that said he was bored. He could easily get them all of the floor so he wondered why he was being hesitant. When Beatrice finally talked, her eyes were on her feet averted from that of Caleb's. It was a known thing that one could not be under the gaze of young Turner any longer than you can hold in your sneeze.

"I will talk to everyone again sir.*

Caleb gave a nod and the young woman hurried out.

He rarely initiated reforms or asked for specifics around his working space. Why then was it so hard for them to attune to this one thing he wanted? He did not think he was too calm. In fact, he knew he was feared, even more than he should be feared as a person. Maybe it was just difficult to have people change their orientations with regards to their habits and usuals. Especially when it came to dressing.

He put on his reading glasses and turned on the computer before him. Relaxing, he began reading contract forms from Bays and Co, a sub-contracting company that is also involved in the retail sale of building materials.

Bays and Co was a top company in construction. Their job complemented that of Turner's and they went hand in hand. As much as they have been suppliers for the Turner's, Caleb wanted them to sit this particular project out. Old Turner however, was insisting. This would be the last time they did business with the Bays, he said. Besides, they were the lead supplier in the state and even in the region.

Caleb disagreed. There surely were other retail suppliers that would deliver better in quality and cost. It will also be refreshing to have the company work with a different partner for a change. But his father was pressing. He was pressing really hard. And oh, he needed to. Caleb did not yield to anyone. Not even to old Turner, who in Caleb's life, was the only person that was seemingly an open subject of power over him.

He would look at it though, and see if it was favourable. He was one to always be logical so he was going to refrain from setting sentiments in the way of his judgement. If it was feasible, then they would work with it again. Getting the contract with the Chinese was a lot more important than whatever it is he felt towards Bays and Co.

Caleb was still flipping pages in deep concentration when Oliver stepped into his office again.

"We best be on our way, sir. It is only five more minutes to ten."

" Already?"

Oliver nodded, even though Caleb could not see him.

"I brought you a change of clothes." Beatrice moved from behind Oliver and forward, with the trolley full of different suits and shirts.

"I did not request a change of clothes."

"I thought you might need one, seeing as we're going for a formal meeting."

"Well, you thought wrong. Have the car ready. We're getting late."

Caleb rose from his seat and discarded his glasses. He walked around his table and waved Beatrice away, who turned, glad to be out of his presence. His golden hair fell over his face and was only parted to the side.

"Are you trying to jeopardize this meeting, sir?"

"Well, if I could Olly, I would. I am still very capable though, keep your eyes open."

Oliver answered his phone. When he dropped the call, he said, "The car is ready. We may leave now."

Oliver fell behind Caleb,as they made their way out of the office.

It was the end of her world.

At least, that was how it had seemed. The universe crumbled to her feet, leaving her amidst a pile of rubles, anguish and clulessness. But she had come out of it, and pretty well too. She had excelled after screaming out loud. She had screamed a second and then a third time. Then she let it go.

This was however different by way of the impossibility of letting go. She would be broken beyond repair and beaten. Life would then have done her a number. So she hoped, with all of the openness of hope in her heart, that it turned out well, this meeting of hers. This meeting that will determine if her scholarship will be granted life for a year more or it will be mauled to death inconsiderately, by the rashness of man.

Aanu mouthed a "thank you" to the taxi driver when she alighted. Her grip on the file tightened as she walked into the enormous building, through the swinging doors. The young man at the reception had a true smile on his face, atypical to the faux and well learnt smiles most receptionists present their guests and costumers. He seemed to aanu, to enjoy his job greatly. That, or he was able to buy her for a true-like fake smile.

"Good morning".

"Good morning miss. Welcome to Bay and Co. How do I help you?"

His gaze was warm and Aanu thought he would be the type to make a great confidant. His black hair was neatly swept back by possibly, a handful of jell. It shone nicely and assisted in the welcoming of people.

"Uhm, right. I am here to see Mr. Edwards."

"Edwards who, please?" She looked on puzzled. "Oh," he added quickly. "there are about a hundred, more or less, edwards here so i was hoping you would be a little bit more specific."

she sighed. " well, the edwards i am searching for has asked to see me. there must have been a notification or something."

"ma'am, give me anything else you have got. I will be of good service, I promise."

She starts to flip through the file. it must be there somewhere, the name of this being that is making eforts to impede on her growth. she flipped and flipped. forms of nationality, photographs, application forms, liers...

"Right. he must be Edwards bey. he is in charge of ..."

"What is this about?'" a fair milk-skinned lady interrupted. " how can we help you?"

Aanu noticed her off tone and her informal address of her, as though she were a regular disturbance, one was willing to fend off hastily. she was wont to it but it always amazed her.

"Well, the young man was just getting around to helping me. until you intruded, that is."

it was brewing, the silent disagreement. the male receptionist must have figured, as his eyes darted between the two women.

"Uhm, excuse me ma'am. the young lady wanted to see Mr. Edwards..."

"Edwards Bey. yes, I am here to see his." Aanu cut in.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I do not. I was supposed..."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Edwards won't be able to see you. You may leave now."

"Miss Cheryl, we're yet to confirm which of the Edwards she is here for. Perhaps, we should.."

"What difference does it make Zik? Huh? And if you think that there are other Mr. Edwards other the toppers that random folks come seeking, then you must be dumber than I thought.

Zik, as aanu has now discovered, bent his head in shame. His dejected expression elevated the irritation that had begun to grow at the pit of her gut.

"If you'd just listen, I need to see Mr. Edwards. It's urgent. Judging from my books, he is a big fish and apparently, he has summoned me for something important. His name is Edwards Bey. Please."

"Judging from my own books, strangers do not walk into Bey and Co., seeking a to have a meeting with the director without a previous appointment."

"You could request a confirmation. Look, I don't want to go back and forth, just check."

"You do no have an appointment and right now, you really need to leave. I will call security otherwise."

"You could even look at my summon letter, it had the signature of the.."

"Miss, do not push me."

Zik was mum. Aanu turned away, file in hand, disoriented. She walked around the reception, looking to find a seat. She would sort out her documents and maybe in the process, find a number or something, an email perhaps,with which she could reach Bey himself. So much for a morning decorated with pep talks and zest. She had promised herself to be calm and calculating but it wasn't noon yet and she was used up. Her stomach grumbled and her legs ached. She reached down to massage it a little, looking around still, hoping to find a seat amongst the throng of humans milling about the area.

Her head, egg-like, made contact with a hard surface when she made to rise. She winced and let go of her file.

"Oh, my good Lord.what in your name is this morning about?!"

"I am so sorry miss, I didn't see you there."

"Yes, apparently. Either I am so tiny you could not see me or your eyes are faulty."

The man chuckled. "I would prefer the former, obviously. There's no way on God's green earth I will admit to faulty eyes."

"What?"

"Yeah,I know. But seriously, do not mind me. I honestly didn't see you there. You should watch where you walk though, it's a rowdy place."

"You're one to talk." She massaged her head. Even her mass of hair did nothing to lessen the impact of the hit. "Get you a contact lens or something. Helps you see tiny things. And people too." She began gathering her papers, moving after one that kept on flying further from her with the wind.

"You agree you are tiny then? Interesting." He helped her gather the papers, after stopping the guy behind him from going after them. "Aanuoluwa...what's that?"

"Non ya goddamn business. Now,move along man. I have got a pressing morning and I do not need an additional charge."

He was going to say something but the guy behind him, tall as a bamboo tree with a face taut like a thug's, began. "You need to hurry, Mr. Turner. We're going to be at least ten minutes late at this pace."

The Turner guy sighed. Aanu watched. She was just only beginning to take him in. His sigh was depressing. She didn't think anyone was having life any more difficult that she was right away. Maybe the Syrian refugees or the orphans back where she came from but not anyone in the United kingdom metropolis. It could be insensitive but she did not care. At least,not right away. This guy's sigh however, was depressing.

He waved at her and moved along, leaving her wondering what could make him sigh in such an agonizing manner. She turned away after a while, continuing her seat hunt. She claimed one soon, immediately it was deserted by a plump older woman. She took to sorting her papers again and found nothing still, with which she could access this Bey guy.

She had thought it through. She wasn't educated for nothing. She printed the letter after she got the mail of summon and she had gone straight to the welfare officer. Mr. Brown, who has been nothing short of nice and welcoming told her he couldn't do anything about it. She had to go to the authorities with it. And here she was.

To the fore, Aanu could see the reception. Zik stood awkward beside the mean lady and her red thin lips even projected her meanness. Zik would have been of better help, she imagined, had the woman not intruded..she didn't want to cause a scene. By default, she will be considered the offender until proven otherwise. So she watched men and women go around their business, wondering why it was so difficult to be alive. She wondered if death was easy and if it was safer, providing solace.

The wolf cut of a man's hair pulled her. It spiked a feeling of familiarity and she watched from afar, hoping to gain recognition. It came,this recognition and it bothered her, for why would a stranger,who she met minutes ago, elicit a feeling of familiarity from her? He stood, beside the thug guy, looking away, on a queue of three persons.

Aanu collected herself. She reminded herself of her policy of no attachments. Humans were as unreliable as they were were replaceable. There was no use getting attached. And that too, within a miserly span of time. She stood up and headed towards the counter. One more try and she would give up. Life shouldn't be as hard.

She creeped up behind the thug guy, wanting to make way to the front. His talks were whispers to the bone but she, with her ears win to the antennas of a cockroach, she listened in. A certain Mr. Brooke was refusing to see Turner. The thug then made a few calls.

"Ma'am, you're here again"

"I suggest you take a chill pill and look at this," she handed her summon letter over. The receptionist refused to take it. "please, really. You should. I need to see him."

*I told you miss, you can't see Mr. Bey right now.*

"But he did summon me. And if you'd just look," she pointed at the paper, "he said to meet him today. Here. I have never been here and it was such a trouble navigating the area. I can't go back empty headed. It is really important that I see him today."

"I repeat miss, please..."

Aanu's book got snatched. It was a mild but crisp snatch.

"What do we have here,hmm?" You're a student? Interesting. Are you seeking inter...oh, scholarship. Not seeking, protecting." He turned to his aide, "I didn't know Hey had a hand in the state scholarship. Bey says it is his way of giving back to the society, that old sly."

"Can I have it back?"

"The young lady said to see Bey. Let her."

"You can't come in here and tell me how to do my job, sir. She hasn't an appointment with him and it follows that she can't see him. I can't demean procedures."

"If she says it is urgent, must be urgent. Not everyday recipients of scholarships come in here, wailing to see the director. Must be really be pressing."

His tone was quiet. Admonishing and forceful, but quiet. The lady held his gaze for while, then took the paper from him. She confirmed the purpose of her visit with the director's office seal and then, reluctantly touched the dial.

Turner looked to aanu and his expression eased to a small smile. Aanu returned the smile, grateful.

"I hate to say but he says he has been awaiting your visit. The director's office is in the 33rd floor." The receptionist said, the boldness in her eyes turning down a shade.

"Thank you. What office?"

"His office. " Aanu raised a brow. "Only his office occupies that floor."

Aanu shook her head. "Thank you again. " She took her papers back and on she went. At the entrance of the elevator, she had a rethink. She approached Turner to thank him.

"Oh my goodness. I am so sorry Mr. Turner. I failed to recognize you. The receptionist said to Turner. The latter simply nodded, agreeing. "I will inform him right away that you are here to see him. Would you please sir, like to have anything?"

Zik looked at his colleague amused, probably at how fast she switched her style of reception depending on the person.

"No, thank you. It's fine. Or you'd love something, Oliver?"

The thug behind him shook his head. His affinity for small words seemed to be appreciated by his boss. It was then he caught Aanu's eyes.

"Hey choco, why are you still here? Suppose you have some urgency to catch up with?"

"I ugh, I just wanted to thank you. For your subtle intervention."

"You spend on more minute thanking some guy and you will mayhaps, have bigger issues to sort. Off you go."

Aanu nodded. Just before she disappeared into the elevator, she heard the receptionist ask why Turner didn't introduce himself earlier. She further stated she would have let him up with immediate alacrity.

"Procedures," he said, with that small mischievous smile. "You don't demean procedures."

Aanu smiled, the feeling of familiarity doubling up in her insides.

Bay was going to remain a persistent rival, Caleb concluded, as he exited Bay's spacious office. He would be unending in his requests and persistent in his mischief. But Caleb was not going to let him have the last of it.

It was a given that the old man was a crook, his expertise polished by years and years of being in business, mingling with even more sly people and perfecting the game of wealth and how to accrue it. He had struck deals and knew the art of winning bets. It was one of such deals the man was offering and Caleb, to save himself, could not bring himself to agree. That his company was a start up did not in any way, retard it's potentialities.

Oliver looked to his tablet as they stepped outside the building.

"You have a meeting in an hour sir. The board is to discuss the plant resort plan being developed in Wales."

"How long have we got?"

"An hour and six minutes precisely, sir."

"Think we can make it to the chairman's condo and back?"

"That would depend on how long your seeing him goes. I suppose, though, there is only a way to find out."

Caleb chuckled.

The valet rode his car to the front and handed Oliver the key. The latter gave him an approving nod and preceded after him, to open the back door for his boss.

Caleb sat, his hand pulling out his phone in the process. The engine reeved and In a smooth run, began to move.

"I know you're curious so ask away."

Oliver smiled. "I was going to wait till you told me. What did he say? Bay, that man."

"The deal is requiring certain conditions be fulfilled before being looked at. A minor one albeit, he said. Everything else is in order."

"Well, we can certainly hope he doesn't play one of his old tricks this time. The chairman is going to brief you on these terms and conditions?"

"You sound like it's going to be a lot of requirements."

"You never know with the old folks. They make you constrained, such that you don't have a way around anything they say or do. Although, I do not know what the chairman has got to do with AZURE. It's not an annex of Turner's construction."

"You of all people should know that you can't make a head way in the construction sector without the aid of a construction godfather. The chairman serves as one in this case. About their constrains, we will see about that."

Oliver sighed. He decided to focus on driving. Such a sustainable conversation with Caleb was uncommon and he didn't want to push him to a close off.

"I know you're looking at me. Just focus on driving us there early enough or Sahil will have to man the board yet again."

Oliver stepped on the gas.

An hour and some minutes later, Caleb came out through the huge doors of the chairman's home.

"Postpone that meeting, Oliver. And hand me the keys."

"I could drive you where...."

"The keys." His tone was severe.

Oliver handed him the keys in resignation. "Here."

Caleb got in the car and in a second, the car was screeching down the path, away from the chairman's large premises. Oliver made a quick call and dished out instructions. He dropped the call and placed another. Then he waited.

**

It was a cold day to drive. It was March and the cold wind came at the inhabitants of Manchester gusto, hitting hurtful and hard blows, the sorts of Muhammad Ali's punches, to the face.

Everyone was clad into several cold clothes, seeking warmth in their pouches and neckties, hands and love of spouses, and in fires. Caleb himself could feel the ferocious bite of the wind on his unpleased face and he struggled to see through his squinted eyes. Purposely, he had left the windows open and welcoming.

He came to a stop, stepping on the brakes forcefully, such that he jerked with the car. He had been running at over a 100km on a busy road on a busy Monday. Not that there were any busy-less Mondays.

A quick glance at his watch informed him that in ten minutes maximum, Oliver who was the quintessence of a modern secretary and good friend, would be with him.

Caleb tried to gather his thoughts before his secretary arrived. He drowned his hands in his large deep pockets, saving them from the cold.

What his father aimed to achieve by putting together such an unbelievable plan disturbed him. The old man had promised to stick to his business. Caleb agreed to stick to his own end of the bargain. He had not even been bothered when the chairman announced Jake as the heir to Turners construction, abandoning Caleb in the folds of management. He was to manage the company until Jake was ripened enough with sufficient guide and the right know-how of the construction business. He would then be discarded.

Caleb anticipated all of these. The chairman stopped at not naming him heir in the public but it was a something he awaited with a great awaiting. Which is why he co-founded AZURE with his friend.

He had just stayed put to earn enough money and connections, while navigating the network of the wealthy, garnering experience. Peacefully, without qualms or problems, he had hoped to leave when he was finally discarded and take up the responsibilities of his own company. The chairman was not supposed to meddle. He had absolutely no business with his brainchild and if he dared, without the littlest of considerations, if he dared to cause ruin to and kill his start-up, he was going to defy all restrictions and respect and give him a piece of his own shit.

Caleb was only beginning to wonder how the meeting at Turner's was going when a Hyundai Elantra screeched beside his car. Oliver emerged from it, devoid of the coat he wore earlier. His big frame pressed against the blue dress shirt he had on. Caleb wondered if the biting cold wasn't getting to him.

They shared a glance and Caleb when back to thinking. A picture of the mortified expression the chairman will have on his face when news reaches him that he was not in attendance of the board meeting formed in his head and the young man gave a smirk. Wet for his pains, that transitional heart ache the chairman will feel.

A flower resort in Wales was albeit foreign, nothing the company could not handle. They had done even severer jobs and executed meaner projects that the monstrosity of this one shrank in comparison. However, the peculiarity of this one was that Bay and Co was the major supplier of building materials. And the site was quite at a distance from the headquarters. Logistics would be mean and he did not trust the Bays'. This resort was to cover a humongous area of land and to be ready within the year. The deals Bay was setting up with his father made things a lot more suspicious.

"I suppose we are done for the day yeah? Now we can switch back to pals from secretary and boss so you can tell me what the hell that was about earlier. Huh?"

Caleb looked at him.

He had all the answers to Oliver's queries. What he did not have though was the will to share it. So he looked on, at the empty space ahead.

They were in an isolated area in Kentish town. A blacksmith's shop or work area their current spot must have been, with all of that ink on the ground. Perhaps, a car repair shop or a vulcanizer's space.

The black stains on the deserted grounds took semblance to the dark blotches staining his life. It seemed the ink, named insatiability, was poured into a perforated pipe and sprayed into his life, bismirching every angle with pain. The one holding this spray was none other than his father, taking up the position of former friend from a bad fall through.

"Are you going to tell me what the chairman said or not?" Oliver asked again. Caleb stayed mum, unmoving. "Alright then, I'll go first. The meeting is going on well. The chairman freaked out though upon realizing you were not there."

At this, Caleb laughed. It really did play out the way he had pictured it. "What are they saying?"

"Oh, so now you talk? Talk about what is going on with you, nope. You prefer to go dumb and I proceed to work stuff, and your fuckin' dumbness disappears? That's about the most difficult thing I have had to deal with in the years past."

Caleb laughed again. "The day isn't over yet. Officially, Turners construction is not closed for the day so brief me on how the meeting is going."

"Fuckin' hell it is not over. Standing in some abandoned shade on the street of Kent on a Monday, talking about the work day not being over."

Caleb's gentle laugh made Oliver realize his chastity was not reaching home. He then opted for the brief.

"Bay and Co. brought in their estimate. It runs into about a hundred and five billion Euros but finance is trying to see if they can break it's back. See if it can chalked down to a workable size. Head of architecture is putting plans together for a visit to Wales for the observatory. It is imperative you be there." Oliver looked at Caleb's face contorted in attention, his eyebrows almost touching. "That was the themes they were going to hold the meeting upon. So, they were assigning dates and drafting out schedules."

"See if we can work around the dates they come up with and fix my schedule. Something unusual might come up in a bit so we have to clear out my schedule."

"How unusual is this upcoming thing? With you, you know, one can not tell."

"Very unusual. Do not worry, it's existence might be squashed before it's even taken it's first breath."

"You really were gonna wear combat pants and that frizzy hoodie to the meeting?"

Caleb took a look at himself. He shrugged. "I look fine. Most importantly, I am comfortable. Fancy Monica not recognizing me?"

"Who's Monica?"

"The receptionist at Bay and Co."

"An old flame?" Caleb shook his head, repulsed. "Where did you know her from then?"

"From ten years back when I interned at Bays and Co. She used to be full of life and her eyes still holds the boldness of a predator. Must be why she is still situated at the reception."

"I didn't know you interned at Bay. And I don't think Monica couldn't place you for lack of you being properly dressed. Even her literally bold eyes won't be able to place a teenager from ten years ago anymore. And you don't look like a secretary in a book company, talk more about the owner of a construction one."

Caleb eyed him. He had a subtle dislike for Oliver's straightforwardness.

"I was not a teenager ten years ago. I was a young adult. A budding promising man."

"I don't think your old man would agree with the last part. I mean, you did not turn out exactly as he wanted but okay, what ever helps you sleep at night."

Caleb laughed again. "I turned out well by my own terms. And yeah, it does help me sleep at night. Soundly even."

"You stay outdoing yourself with your strange ways. You're going to tell me what earlier was about or I can move past it?"

"I don't want to talk about it as it might end up being inconsequential. You nag like a damn woman."

"Yeah? And I clean after your ass, wait on you and sweeten up to you. Like a damn woman too!"

Caleb laughed again. "Alright, alright. I am calling halftime on this one. The day ain't over yet so out with the informalities. What's next on my schedule?"

"You have lunch with the media house agent. There is a date with Francisca, the housing agent. The chairman of Fey foods will see you briefly at 15:00 hours for the signing of their land document. I called Mr. Brookes in. You said you'd be at the site for inspection. Nothing afterwards. Today looks light."

"Can't you go to it for me? The Media house one."

"For the 16th time on this particular one, no sir. You have to be there yourself."

"Let's get going. Easier to be done with it all earlier."

"It's past noon. I could drive you down town so you do your thing and we could go for your lunch meeting afterwards."

Caleb looked at him fondly. Oliver was the one who stayed out doing himself. "You drove your own beast down here,man."

"Right. I will tail you then."

"You know, on a second thought, the day isn't over. Have your car towed and drive me."

"Alright sir." Oliver said, pocketing his keys.

Caleb laughed loudly. "Gotcha. Get in your car man, let's head out."

Oliver shook his head at his mischief. He took out his keys again and made for his car.

"I might be getting married."

Oliver was stunned and Caleb heaved a sigh of relief, taking comfort in the shocked expression his secretary's face carried. It resonated with him for he wore the same expression for more than ten minutes earlier, the stun of the news shaking him, coming to him first as gibberish a toddler spouts and then, forceful, as orders in the US Marines.

"Married?"

Caleb nodded. "Married."