Resurgence

17. Kill Switch

“Ideas pull the trigger, but instincts load the gun.” – Don Marquis.

•••

He wasn’t one for serene atmospheres, it exerted some effect on his subconscious and made his paranoia run wild. Possibilities of horrific events transpiring outside his peaceful vicinity would plague his mind, rendering him restless and pedantic resulting in his departure to the uproar of life outside. But now as he sat in the living room of the recently completed house of the Tijanis, taking in its teal velvet paintings, Louis XV–style plump sofas draped in Larsen linen and Turkish throw pillows, an Eden center table with a vintage aesthetic design, classical gold curtains and wool trimmed carpets—his calm wasn’t restless or worried. It was relaxed.

And proud.

They had done more than a terrific job in the execution of their initial sketch and game plan. His previous paranoia stemming from the fact that it was his biggest and most publicized project and so if it tanked or turned out to be lackluster—had the power to blotch a permanent stain on his dauntless, perfect track record. But now it was going to do the exact opposite. Project and catapult it to the next phase of acclaim and honor. Now all that was left was to prepare himself for the changeup.

“Ah, Mr. Ibiyemi can I have your autograph in advance?” A smile spread over his features, as his neck craned around to confirm the identity of the incoming visitor. It was Ose of course, in a black overcoat and black Chelsea camouflage boots—his eyes examining the living room, obviously impressed by what he was seeing. “When word gets out about the job you did here, there would be so many contracts from people and fans also. So before you attain celebrity status, how about you do me a solid and give me your autograph?”

Tari snorted, as his friend sunk into the couch across him in the room. “We both know that you’re not doing that because you’re genuinely fond of me. You’re just going to sell it someday that it’s really worth a lot of money and I don’t want anyone to make money off my autographs. They should all come from me. You know, community service.”

“Oh, c’mon like the number of people doing community service isn’t enough. Why do we have to join them?”

“Who does community service in this country aside from the people being paid to do it? And in that case it’s not volunteer work or a good thing, it’s a job where people make money from and the both of us already have jobs that we make a lot of money from. So why make money off my autographs? If your salary isn’t enough, you could sign up now to be my bodyguard so that when the fame rushes in, you’d have extra money to tuck into your pockets. So what do you say?”

Ose shook his head, his fingers dancing gingerly on the arm rest. “I gotta say that you did a great job, Tari. I’m really impressed and everyone at Sky is proud but of course you’re too busy locked up in your own business that you haven’t noticed the new worshipping gazes that the staff has been throwing your way.”

“It’s not about being locked up in my business. It’s about taking my business seriously, especially when it’s very big business. People don’t seem to understand that. Plus, how exactly am I supposed to be less about business? They say you don’t socialize and mingle, yet when you do it they don’t exactly encourage you. Most people would just give me this blank look like they’re terrified.”

“That’s because they are, and they think there is something else to you talking.” Ose replied. “Most people don’t know how to interpret the few times you’re jovial because they don’t want to seem unprofessional when you’re so uptight all the time and then they let it go.”

“And so they should let it go that I’d always be this way, since they’re not even going to give me a chance to proof otherwise in the first place.”