WHAT BILLIONAIRES TASTE LIKE

He waved his hand and his aide brought close his phone and dialed in some numbers. After ringing for some seconds the receiver on the other end came on and he said in a more cheerful voice, “Good evening, divisional police officer. Yes it’s Mr. Ziu. I am fine and you? Ok, I am calling in respect to my business in California. I don’t feel safe anymore, officer and I would need your help. Ok I will be in your office tomorrow.” He thanked him in Chinese and smiled until the furrow on his face was like a million earthworms. “Hmmm what would it look like if I save myself the hundred million dollars and still have the software?” He smiled. “If I can tell a lie to the police they stole my billion dollar software and have them wanted with their pictures on the walls of the streets then I may be on my way to acquiring the software to myself without spending shit. The police will believe me because I will put out a stake of ten million dollars for anyone that catches them. Who doesn’t know ZIU TECH, the parent of modern ICT invention in Kowloon of China? I am legit and they are band of uncivilized criminals. I have got the connection and immunity. They have got only shit.” He laughed out embarrassingly, sipped his beer and kept staring at the pictures. “Bastards,” he cursed again in Chinese.

***

“Happy New Year!” Ferguson said throatily to Opula after handing her a flute of whisky.

“Thank you,” she said coldly and had her first sip. She could feel the threshing of fear in her brain – the threshing at the thought of Azuaka Jnr. and his cauldron of lies. She thought of falling in love when Ferguson’s green eyes blinked; a bowl of love was dished out each time he blinked at her. “The message you sent me crucified his dishonesty,” she said, cupping her jaw.

“Yeah,” After a sip he said, “I came in this course in New York. The three of them seized it way back on campus. I don’t know if your boyfriend told you that.”

Her soft voice cut in, “He never told me anything except fuck.” He wanted to say further but he sipped it back into her thought. She argued inwardly if she could open up and blow it up to Ferguson that Azuaka Jnr. sent her to spy on him. “I have Azuaka not a boyfriend.”

As Ferguson lit his Roi Tan his heart thoughtfully vented roses; something about her tone was pressing him not to leave nothing to chance and possibly web her into his life. He tapped his phone to gallery and handed it to her to see through his collections of porn stars. He didn’t just want to keep her as busy as a bee but to consume her with his openness, the sweet taste of openness she had been denied by Azuaka Jnr.

“Red when you were young,” she said, looked at him and returned her gaze to the screen.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

“Yeah, hustling brought me to California to chase one crown.” He puffed. “The software is ready.”

She paused and nodded. Her mind awoke to breathe in as much as it could.

“It’s ready to render the world broke,” he emphasized and coughed repeatedly and smoked on.

She cleared her throat for him, “Take it easy, Ferg. I don’t like the way you smoke.” Oh my God I’m in love with this guy. She just wished she could pretend they hadn’t met before and remain strictly formal, at distance-pleasure and porcupine against his green eyes.

He cleared his throat and took a draw with dimming eyes. “The software runs at five seconds baud. Every five seconds the world goes broke.”

She glugged the whisky, grinned and snorted. “And you think I wouldn’t report you guys to the police.”

He sighed and mumbled a laugh. He stood up, walked and puffed to the window.

“I’m not joking. How could you entrust me with such information?”

He dropped the stompie in the saucer close by and eyed her. “Because I’m not your boyfriend who doesn’t trust anybody including you. You could wake one morning and find yourself in hell’s broth.”

I’m happy to disappoint him, she said in her thought and looked down to her gown to fondle its hem.

Plop, plop, plop; Ferguson was pouring her a mug of pineapple juice to chase the whisky. He wouldn’t want her to get drunk, not even tipsy. He would want their love making to be tingly and engaging. Whisky-free breath and conscious, guilty of moan and sweat.

“Thank you,” she said and then a quick sip at the juice as he handed her. “I never knew four idealists could render the world broke, especially when one of them loves porn stars.” She faced the phone to him.

He corrected, “I love the money not the bitches.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Money.” He smoothened his beards. “They gave me money when I lost my gold chunk at Washington Daily.”

She gave an inquisitive scowl. “What did you do? Made passes at your boss’s wife, fucked his daughter?” She asked.

“It’d have been better than the porn stars photo leak.”

“I can see.” She showed him a picture of a camera over his neck while he posed with a black porn star. “I can see,” she emphasized and nodded and when she looked up to him her hair gave way for her to see through the other eye. “How did you survive with these Eves?”

“”Kept my dick where it belonged and made money. I knew someday I would be blessed, possibly not among Eves.”

She wondered where his green eyes were on her body.

Opula sneezed; thought of Azuaka Jnr. “She wiped her nose.

Ferguson was dragged to her side by the string of desire. His ordinariness couldn’t have done that. He squatted and had a close stare at her face battered with frown. With bated breath he waited for his intention and strengthened herself with his green eyes that searched her face. Like a determined nanny goat, he sank into her face and started kissing her. The table drifted and the flute and mug followed through. The tinkle of glass breaking on the floor made her flinch from Ferguson.