The Tame (ON HOLD)

Of material matters

The four inch heels of Mrs. Kincaid tapped noisily on the white tiles of the upper floor that led to her son's office. She swiftly turned when she heard the elevator ding, expecting to once again see the crazed maniac she'd encountered in the lift to be after her. It wasn't him. It was a perky woman in a straight-black pencil skirt. She smiled and waved at Mrs. Kincaid before entering an office.

Mrs. Kincaid frowned as she tried to recall the woman's name. Florence or whatever it was. Everyone in the company knew her to be Brendan Kincaid's mother and they acknowledged her as such. Therefore it wasn't news to her that everyone hollered and greeted her, but that man's behaviour was simply crass and over-the-board.

Mrs. Kincaid shivered in mini terror when she remembered his whiny voice as they rode the elevator together. ''Are you Brendan Kincaid's mother?''

''Yes,'' she'd replied.

''And also the Dame Hyacinth Kincaid?'', he'd asked in glee.

''Yes I am.''

''Oh, please, please, please,'' he'd implored with his palms fisted together in a prayer-like embrace, ''I need your help. If you don't talk to your son on my behalf, I'd be sacked and I have no job offers too. Please do something.''

Mrs. Kincaid had stared at him curiously to ascertain if she knew him somewhere, because she believed that there had to be a certain level of acquaintance between two people for the other to ask for help. But there was no resemblance at all. She didn't know him from Cain, or Adam to be more precise.

''I'm afraid I can't be of any help to you sir,'' she'd replied, her eyes fixed on the operating buttons of the elevator. She fervently didn't want to spend not even another second with the guy. Mrs. Kincaid jumped when strong hands viciously gripped her shoulders. ''Help me you hard-hearted wench! ,'' the man had begged in a raged but suppressed voice, ''It seems the bastard took after the mother but I assure you that if you don't...''

''Now look here, you maniac, you will watch your tongue or I'll have it ripped out of your throat. If you had done your job well...'' her statement was cut midway as the car doors parted. She'd shuddered out of the man's grip and hurried out before he could come after her.

Sighing, she opened the door to Brendan's office assistant.

''Hello ma Dame,'' a woman said, rising up and straightening the lapel of her green suit ensemble. She offered her hand and Mrs. Kincaid shook it hurriedly.  ''How are you, Mona?'' she asked.

The woman smiled beautifully once more and replied, ''I'm fine my Lady. How are you too?''

''Actually I'm not here for pleasantries.'' Mrs. Kincaid's answer was straightforward, no bush-beating. ''I'm here to see my son.''

The smile of the office assistant faltered, a scared frown replacing it. ''I'm sorry my Lady. The boss is on a business call and he ordered me very strictly,'' she said, stressing highly on the strictly, ''not to be disturbed.''

''Well then, it seems I'll have to breach that law,'' Mrs. Kincaid replied and slid open the doors to the executive suite.

The OA shrugged and opened her laptop. She was in no position to defy her boss but she also wasn't in any position to stop the Dame Hyacinth Kincaid from seeing her son. That would be a total recipe for delicious disaster.

Mrs. Kincaid braced herself for any furious barks as Brendan swivelled on his leather chair and leapt off it. When he just trained his seething gaze on her, Mrs. Kincaid visibly relaxed and approached him.

''Yes Ancellotti, I'll speak to you later. And in no situation should you compromise my shares with Lintberg,'' he stated in a matter-of-fact voice and placed the phone back to its cradle, not bothering to consider his  partner's decision on his abrupt cut-off.