Glorious Sunset (13 page)

“She's liable to try something funny,” Gary continued. “She's liable to pull that gun of hers or something and I ain't having all that drama up at my wedding. I know she wants me bad but she's got to let go and accept the fact that I don't want her.”

Taka was drained of emotion. Sure, Ani had been talking, but it took this man, this maggot, to make him see. To make him feel. His wife wasn't buried so deeply after all. The heat of indignation for Violet washed over him.

Taka straightened. “You do not have to worry about Violet. She has moved on, and I suggest you do the same.”

Gary laughed while he responded, “Hey, I have moved on. That's what I'm telling you.”

“I think perhaps you haven't quite moved on yet,” Taka said. “You hope that she will make a scene because then it would show you that she still cares. It won't happen.”

“So you say. I know this; Violet's one of those women.”

“Those women?”

“Yeah, man. One of those women who think she's supposed to be treated special. Crazy, since she ain't come from nothing. She's one of those you gotta pull off her high horse. Cut her down to size. She's fine so I had to treat her like she wasn't. Some women you gotta break so they can be happy with a normal man.”

“And you're one of those men, a man who uses women to bolster his own ego. One of those men who only feels like a man when he is manipulating the emotions of women. One of those men who needs the constant turmoil, needs the women to make you feel like a man, always on the hunt for something better because you only shine in the reflection of a beautiful woman's adoration. But when she actually expects something of you, you run like a coward. Or hurt her by trying to make her feel there was anything she could have done to keep a relationship you didn't have the courage to hold on to. A word of advice: there is no woman on this earth who can turn a weakling into a man. I feel sorry for this Brenda person, for the next attractive woman to look your way will surely put her relationship with you on shaky ground. What will your excuse be then? Be sure to think up a good one. Remember you must be able to continue fooling yourself into believing it is all about the women in your life and what
they
lack.”

Taka was satisfied to see the man blanch, his face a mask as his words settled in. He then stood aside. “I assure you Violet will not provide entertainment at your special event. Now, it is time for you to take your leave.” He had no intention of listening to any more nonsense from this bug of a man.

Gary glanced up at Taka, gave him an expression rife with embarrassment and walked by, stopping just outside the door.

“Hey, man, I could snap my fingers and have her back in a second.” He looked Taka up and down.

“Get out before I hurt you,” Taka said. His voice had changed with his fury, deep and torn from his depths. Gary wisely turned and walked away, the slam of the door following him.

Taka flexed his fists in anger and frustration. He cared about Violet and the wedding-to-come was another betrayal waiting to happen. Even in the short time he'd known her he could tell she was used to glossing over pain and betrayal. She had made light of this act by her former boyfriend and best friend but she would have to deal with the truth soon, and he had no idea if he would be around to help her through the process. Just as he hadn't been around to help Zahara through the betrayal that had taken her life.

He sat down at the table, his head in his hands. He was useless. What was his purpose here if he could not help his beloved?

“Help yourself, Taka,” Ani said in his ear. Himself? He needed no help. He was perfect the way he was. Taka clamped his hands over his ears pointlessly as the sound of his friend's laughter filled his head.

“Fine,” he ground out loud. “So I am not perfect. I am as close to perfect as you'll ever get, angel man. You should be more appreciative.”

No response to that. Taka settled into his seat, grumpily. Maybe he was not perfect. What had he been accused of, again? Oh yes, arrogance, pride, unwillingness to accept change; those qualities had always been his weaknesses. And, of course, if past experience was anything to go by, the Almighty was still trying to teach him to overcome these qualities. Could anything he do have a positive effect on Zahara's spirit? Could he, in any way, change the outcome of her routine by changing his own? He didn't see how. In two days, how could he do anything that would make an impact on Violet that would free Zahara? He thought about the worm Violet had shared a bed with the night before and though his face twisted with disgust, he stayed focused long enough to think about what that Jerome-person had that he did not.

A job.

He put his cup down. If Jerome could do it, he could. He stood and took his coat from the hook, prepared to leave, when the telephone rang. He was torn about whether to attempt to communicate with the person on the other end when there was a click, then the sound of Violet's voice in greeting, and another beep, followed by a man's voice. Ah, it was a recorder of some sort, then?

“Look, Violet, if you're there, pick up. It's Skeeter. You know, from Skeeter's Antiques: your favorite place to get good new old stuff? Okay, okay, you got me. I'll give you five hunnert for the brooch. That's half of a thousand, Violet; you're not going to get a better deal than that! Look, call me.”

Then there was a click and a beep and Taka thought about the message. Someone asking about Zahara's brooch? He didn't know what the man was offering: 500 cowries, yen, pesos, drachma, dirham. Surely he wasn't offering $500 American. That would be an insult. That brooch had cost a hundred times that amount 400 years ago. The ruby alone was the largest found in the world, at the time. The brooch was priceless.

He turned to leave and the phone rang again. This time after Violet's greeting he heard Violet's voice tinged with amusement. The sound of it was like a cold drink of water to a thirsty man.

“Listen, King, if you're there, don't worry about trying to figure out how to talk to me. I just thought you'd like to know I got a call from Harold down at Harold's Hometown Eatery. Apparently you threatened to turn his kids upside down and shake the mischief out of them?” She broke up in pretty laughter and he could not help the upturn of his lips at the sound. “Devious munchkins, those two. The last time they delivered my food they lol-lygagged around for about an hour and a half. Of course my food was stone cold by the time I got it and you bet your behind I gave their daddy an earful that day. If the food came cold again save it for me and I'll take it back to that raggedy restaurant and teach that whole family what a hot meal should be.”

Taka belched a habanero bubble; he was pretty sure they already knew.

“Don't worry, King, I got your back. But you may want to hold off on the threats of bodily harm. In this day and age they'll throw you in jail for that. And the clink ain't no fun; don't ask me how I know. Take care, King. I'll see you later.”

Taka smiled at the talking machine, filled with unexpected warmth. Then, he left the apartment on foot and walked down the streets of the neighborhood, peering in storefronts as he passed. He walked until the terrain changed. The small shops gave way to larger strip malls and businesses. He was midstride when he caught a glimpse of the lobby of a company. Next to the front desk, behind which sat a guard, was a concrete lion. He had no particular affinity for the animal—it had killed plenty of his family's pets and food in his childhood—but it was the first signpost he'd come across that reminded him of home. He squinted into the glass of the advertising agency, and then strode to the door opening it wide. The eyes of the security guard widened upon seeing him.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes,” Taka said definitively. “I would like a job in this place. What is the manner of business in this establishment? I have a great deal of experience in leadership. I would like a job where I can lead.”

The security guard looked confused for a moment, and then hesitantly moved a clipboard toward Taka. “Sign in please, sir. Now, who did you want to see?”

Taka frowned and the guard moved back a little. Ah, the man was intimidated and Taka had not even done anything. People today were easily spooked. “Did you not hear me? Do you have some difficulty with the English language? I would like to find out what jobs you have in leadership. To whom may I speak?”

“Sir, I . . . I can't help you. I'm just the security guard. You have to know who you want to talk to or call the job line in human resources.”

“I have to use a telephone to find the information that is already in this building? Even though I am here, now?”

“That's right, sir. That or the Internet. Here, I'll write down the number.”

Taka suspected the writing of the number served two purposes: to satisfy his request and to get Taka out of the building. Taka could sense discomfort in lesser men as easily as he could breathe. The guard was scribbling furiously when another man stepped up to the desk. Taka looked at this new man, sizing up the white skin and balding scalp. He looked too young to lose hair, but Taka had seen younger man lose an entire head of hair after a particularly traumatic battle. He wondered what battle this man had lost his hair to.

“May I help you?” He was a smaller man but he had a firm voice and his eyes did not dip, even though Taka towered over him by about a foot. Taka liked this man. Perhaps he was one of the special people.

“Yes. I would like a job.”

“A job?”

“Yes. I am a natural leader and organizer. And I am a hard worker.”

The man seemed to weigh his words carefully. “Well, normally people apply for particular positions, but . . .” He crossed his arms and looked at Taka carefully. “What kind of experience do you have?”

“I have years of managing. I am very good at putting ideas into action.”

“Thinking outside the box?”

“Outside the box?” Taka thought of his home and the many years he'd been forced to live with only his imagination able to escape, sustaining himself on the promise of a future with the wife he loved. “Peculiar term, but accurate. Yes. That's it.”

“Well, I have to say, your approach is refreshing. You seem like a go-getter. Do you have a resume?”

“What is a . . . resume?”

A frown sprung up between the man's eyes but then nodded as an idea came to him. “I hear an accent in your voice. Where are you from?”

“Africa.”

“So you're bilingual?”

“I know seven languages.”

“An educated man, then?”

“I have put philosophers to silence.”

“Hard worker?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Team player?”

“I am more familiar with being the team leader.”

“Any marketing experience?”

“I do not understand the term.”

“Can you get people to buy things from you they didn't think they wanted?”

“In my experience they called that persuasion. If a king—I mean, man—cannot persuade others to follow his lead he will soon lose all himself. Persuasion is a skill I have well mastered.”

“That's impressive,” the man said. He seemed a very friendly man. In this time Taka had not run across many. “Well, Mr. . . .”

“Olufemi. Taka Olufemi.”

“Mr. Olufemi, if you'd like to fill out an application we might have a position for you. We'll just need to check your references and look at your prior experience. And, of course, a work visa if you are not a citizen.”

Taka stiffened. References he could get the gist of, but how would he fill out an application? He had no valid work experience. And he had not even thought of citizenship. He'd come to this country through a precious gem; no papers came with that. His dilemma must have showed on his face because the man blushed.

“Look,” he went behind the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper to hand to Taka. “Here's an application. Go home and think about it. When, if, you become able to work in the U.S. come back. Or, maybe if we can verify your references from home we can sponsor you to work here. You'd have to go through proper immigration channels, but it can be done.”

“And what type of job might I qualify for, Mr. . . .”

“Bellows. Jimmy Bellows. It depends on your experience.” Again, Taka's expression tipped him off. He went on hurriedly. “But certainly we can find something. Customer service, maybe. We have some jobs in shipping. A large man like you wouldn't have a problem loading a box or two.”

Taka fought the tremor in his hand. He was a king, an educated leader. This was an insult. And yet, looking at Mr. Bellows it was obvious the man was trying to do good. Then why did he feel so bad?

“Thank you, Mr. Bellows,” Taka said, raising his chin and holding out his hand to shake the other man's. “Thank you for your time.”

“Mr. Olufemi, whatever you need to do, do it. You carry yourself with a demeanor that is just not common these days. You have a forceful and determined personality, a born executive. You could go far with us.”

“In shipping?” Taka asked, with distaste.

“It's a start. It's a great way to learn the company from the ground up. Mr. Olufemi, I wish we could give you something more from the beginning but something also tells me there are some things you need to tie up. I was in the lobby and watched you walk in. Call it providence or coincidence, but something told me to give you a chance. I tend to try to listen to that little voice in my head, Mr. Olufemi. It rarely steers me wrong. Today, that voice told me to give you an application.”

Taka knew it was his Father showing him that there was a way and if he chose, it would be possible. If he wanted to try this new life with Violet, it would be hard, but it would be possible. “Thank you.”

Jimmy Bellows nodded and then headed back his way while Taka left. As he stalked down the street he became angrier and angrier. How was it that a king should have to beg for a job like a common man? How was it that he should be penniless when he and his warriors had procured countless bounties for the good of their people and their village? How was it that the Almighty could allow such a travesty? The treasures of his nation had not simply vanished from the earth; someone had plundered them just as surely as that man who lived next to Violet plundered her newspaper every morning. Theft, pure and simple. It had to stop!