I look at Usman questioningly. “Selling his lands?”
My lawyer nods. “That’s why they’re so confident with their offer. If we don’t accept it they’ll request mediation again, and by the time we reach to a conclusion, Skyline will be nothing but a name that Ahmed will happily hand over to you.”
“Sneaky.” I comment.
Usman purses his lips, disappointment clouding his face. “They’re playing it smart.”
I cross my arms on the desk. “Are they?” Usman nods. “Do you really think if Ahmed wanted to sell his lands he wouldn’t have done it by now? That man has been trying to find a way out for six months now, if he wanted to recover his investments he would’ve done that and handed over the company to me way too long ago.”
Ahmed can’t do that. And he won’t do that. That man has spent his entire life working his ass off to gain what he owns today. He won’t just sell it off because his nephew decided he wanted it as well.
Then there’s the corruption. Uncle dearest has fed so much money to officials and ministers that if he decides to pull back now, he will have to pay thrice his company’s net worth just to stay alive.
“So you think he’s trying to trick us?”
I look at Usman, and a thought crosses my head, making me smile. “Do me a favor Usman, tell my secretary on your way out to come talk to me.”
He stares at me, perplexed. “Okay… anything else?”
I nod. “Make a new contract. Lower the price we were offering Skylines by two percent.”
Ahmed was right. We do need to have a heart to heart conversation, just me and my uncle.
×——–×
The rest of the week is pretty monotonous, even for me.
I’m mostly at the colony, since it’s the beginning of the project, or at the hotel being built near the sea. It’s either too much sun or too much water, and the excess of these elements isn’t doing me any good. My head starts to thrum at random instances, and the pain is so bad sometimes that I start to vomit.
At this point I’m just vomiting water, because I’ve only gone home twice this week. Granny isn’t impressed. My absence at home has her convinced that the solution to all our problems is marriage, which is why tonight is the night we’re going to Mansha’s house to fix a wedding date.
It’s supposed to be a happy occasion. And now, staring out at the vast sea, I wonder what it would have been like, if I had allowed myself to be intimate. If I did not fear it, then maybe I would have loved someone, and today I would be happy too, excited at the thought of getting married.
But the only thing that has excited me recently is meeting my uncle. The rush of anger gives such a boost of adrenaline that it’s thrilling.
A huge wave rolls up in the sea, sending the water plummeting towards the sea shore. I quickly rush a few feet back, but not quick enough, and water splashes onto my boots.
“Fuck.” I’m supposed to wear these to my meeting with Ahmed, and then to Mansha’s house as well.
“Everything alright?” I turn around to look at Saleem, standing a few feet behind me. My gaze drops down to his boots.
Dry. “Why are your boots dry?” I sound like a whiny child, but I don’t care.
Saleem looks down at them too. “Because I didn’t stand so near the water.” He looks back up at me. “Why are you standing so near it anyway? You got sick because of it yesterday.”
I make a face. “I was saying goodbye. Because I am not coming near the water ever again.”
This place is fucking disgusting. The land owned by the resort owners is squeak clean, but one look across the marked outline and bye-bye dreamland, because that area is covered with trash. There’s garbage everywhere, on the sand, bopping in the water and swimming towards us.
Only cleaning the part of the beach that belongs to you is fucking stupid because you will still share the same water, and the water is filled with more empty chips and biscuit wrappers then with fish.
People will spend thousands of rupees to come here for a day, and will say they had the time of their lives by swimming in plastic.
“Let’s go.” I trudge across the sandy beach. My socks are soaked and squishy, and the sand is sticking to my boots. “Saleem, do you think I have an extra pair of shoes in the car?”
He shakes his head. “You only have that suit you’re supposed to wear tonight.”
Well, then there’s only one option left.
×——-×
I walk into Ahmeds office, sunglasses on and leaving muddy footprints in my wake.
His working table is at the center, and there are three couches at one corner of the room, and a refrigerator at the other.
I take off my glasses and greet Ahmed with a smile, walking towards the couches where he was sitting. As I suspected, a huge, white, round carpet covered the area, and I step on it, grinding my soles into the wooly material before settling down on the couch opposite his.
I scan the entire office once again before turning to a very composed Ahmed. “A bed would’ve completed the look.” I comment, sitting back on the sofa.
He laughs. “I see you’ve come in a good mood.”
I stomp one of my boots onto the carpet, and chunks of dried mud fall out. “Yes, the thought of meeting you got me excited.”
Ahmed tugs his eyes off the boots and leans forward, a broad smile plastered to his face. “Tell me you haven’t had lunch yet, I wanna treat you to your favourite dish.”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t had lunch yet.”
He claps his hands together. “Perfect.” He presses the intercom on the coffee table. “Sonia, could you please bring in two plates of Chowmein?”
“But my favourite dish is coffee.”
Ahmed looks up, perplexed. “What?”
“I don’t like Chowmein anymore Ahmed. I like coffee.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Coffee is a drink.”
I scowl. “It’s the twenty first century, you can’t give labels to things.” I eye his finger still pressing the intercom. “I’ll take a coffee.” He purses his lips, but nods and places the order.
When he sits up straight again and sees me staring at him, he laughs nervously. “Anyway, so much has changed son. You no longer like chowmein-”
“Yes what a drastic change that is. I’m a whole other person now aren’t I?”
Ahmed grins, showing his white, straight teeth. They weren’t like that six years ago. “You are! Whenever we talk you’re so reserved, I never got to know how much you’ve changed since coming back from university.” His smile broadens. “I’m so proud of you. Honestly.”
Eyes can lie. Eyes do lie. Because Ahmed’s eyes are gleaming with pride. But his right thumb scratching his left palm tell another story. “Well, I don’t know about personality, but I have changed financially.” I look around the office and scrunch up my nose. “And quiet honestly, Ahmed, mine is better.”
He laughs again. “I’m sure, son, I’m sure. But one should never forget their origins. You once played in this same office.”
“And you once cleaned it.” I snap.
He nods, and closes his eyes as if in rememberance, ignoring my rude tone. “Those were indeed the days when I worked for your father, may God bless him and my sister. It is truly amazing where fate brings us in the end.” He smiles again. “Who knew I’d grow you up like one of my own children, and spend money on you as if I would on my own. And who knew you would be where you are now, on such a high post, due to those humble spendings.” He let’s out an abundant laugh. “Those were quite the days, when your semester fees used to cost me a fortune.”
I nod, willing myself to wait just a little bit longer. “Glorious days indeed. I did enjoy sending you into bankruptcy.”
He chuckles. “You were a naughty child from the start. But prison shaped you into an even more wicked creature. Mom was always so worried, thinking you’d turn into a rapist or something, spending so much time with those prison buddies of yours.”
This time I laugh. “How many times do I have to tell you to not mention my grandmother?”
His eyebrows rise in amusement. “She’s my mother, Khizer, I can-”
I lean forward. “I told you, you can not.” My carefree tone turns sharp. “Don’t take her name, don’t try to talk to her, and don’t you fucking ???? try to meet her.” I give him a cheeky smile. “Just saying, ’cause a lil birdy told me you’re trying to dig up our address.”
His lips thin and beard twitches. “You cannot deprive family from meeting each other.”
I sigh. “Beggars can’t be chosers Ahmed. Which reminds me,” I point at the red spot on his chest. He looks down and freezes, which makes me smile. “What’s even the deal with your new offer hm? Why is it so demanding?”
He looks up from the dancing dot on his chest. “It’s my company, what you’re asking of it is-”
“What I’m asking of it is what I expect to be given. At first I liked seeing you try, but pretending to sell the company’s lands is doing a bit too much, don’t you think?”
He glares at me. “It worked if it’s got you scared. I wanted you to know what I could do. I could auction off all my lands tomorrow and hand over a bankrupt company to you, and you’d be non the wiser.”
The red dot plunges into his eye, and he squeaks. “We both know you can’t actually do that Ahmed.” I nod at the dot now hovering on his nose. “Stop wasting our time and do as I fucking tell you to do.” The red dot is now hovering near his ear. “This time my ‘prison buddies’ were just fooling around, for old times sake. Next time there will be an extra hole in your body, and non of us know where that could be.”
I stand up, rubbing the boots onto the now ruined carpet. “Don’t try to fucking play around and do as you’re told ok?” My lips twist back up into a smile. “I’ll get going now.”
I’ve taken a few steps, then remember something and turn back to look at him. “Your service is bad. We had an entire meeting with no sign of my coffee.” I shake my head in mock disappointment. “Oh well, I’ll be back here in about two weeks, hopefully my coffee will be ready by then.”
Ahmed doesn’t reply, too distracted by the dot circling around his crotch.
I let out a chuckle, before turning on my heels and leaving the room.