WHAT BILLIONAIRES TASTE LIKE

“Where are you headed?” the driver asked him.

“Austin train station,” he said coldly, still staring back to see if the two figures had dug out their guns to come after them. He expected the driver to be moving now. Otherwise if he sensed any attack, he would be the first to give him a daze punch in the face, push him out and drive away. Who knows? The driver could be a joint of the two figures and five million dollars was his life and after life now.

“Two hundred dollars,” the driver replied, wishing to see the face of his last passenger for the day; he turned on the inner light and looked back to behold a sweating face in the light and a black sack measuring up to his neck. “I said two grand. Can’t you hear me?” His beseeching voice sounded for the second time, perhaps thinking his passenger was deaf to bills.

Ready to explode, Azuaka Jnr. asked, “Are you carrying an airplane?” He just noticed tattoo running down the sleeveless arm of the driver and his bearded porcine face. He could be the age of his father, one of those countrymen that so much enjoyed life that they wished death could be bribed. “I have one fifty dollars.” Beneath his aggression came his voice.

The beardie turned off the engine with the oomph of someone that would drag him out of the car soon. “Passengers like you keep us at Polo Park, leaning on our cars and regretting this business. Since morning, buddy,” his stubby hand waved across his head severally. “You are my second passenger. You may have to find another taxi or you return home, OK.” His voice became strident and then he turned on the engine. “Are you in or out?” he asked.

Upon hearing that, he glanced backward again and saw the two figures had disappeared, the dark street behind looking ghostly with the assembly of frogs croaking into the night. When he peered at his watch it was 10:15PM. Impatience inspired his sweating palms and armpit. His usual brash tone gave way for humility. “Please, sir, I can add twenty dollars to it.” He emphasized further as he wiped his face of the sweat that rained down, “I am a jobless graduate who is on a journey.” As the beardie turned front he believed he had been considered.

“Jobless graduate,” he repeated. “That is what you youth of nowadays use in deceiving us.” He turned to Azuaka Jnr. again. “You will add ten dollars,” he said and spittle spurted on Azuaka’s nose with an accompanied peaky odor of rum. He knew the beardie was an alcoholic and had not been in his right senses. But that did not matter now; he had to travel against the clock. They were already driving out of Ford road.

“You will do me a favor,” said the beardie, breaking their brief silence. Azuaka Jnr. quietened, unwilling to talk so as not to delay his journey yet further. “We will drive through Beyer Road.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

He did not know when it burst out, “What! Beyer? That means we are going round Texas and I can’t remember telling you I am on a pilgrimage tour.”

Searching for the face of his bewildered passenger in the front mirror, he said, “I have to visit my hole.”

“Hole?” he inquired confusedly.

“My broad,” the beardie emphasized.

“Broad? What’s broad?”

“Are you a stranger in 042? Ok, my whore. I must fuck tonight, my son,” he said ‘my son’ with the sense of a bereft soul who never had one; a high breed street man that wanted to live life to the fullest.

“But, sir, I told you I was on a journey. You can do on to me as your son. I am already late. I need to catch a train.” He expected it but never knew it would come. Of course the five million dollars was not his yet until he achieved the Monkeys’ software.

“I wonder how stolen money could invite all the craziest people in the world. This driver is out of his mind,” he thought.

More hurdles on the way? – No, he was ready to lose the money and his life. And if the beardie would not heed, then he would use his fist on his skull.

“I will take no chances. We rather die together tonight than losing this money to a fool. Why is he taking Beyer Road if not to rob me,” he conversed within himself.

“Because you’re a jobless graduate I’ll do as you said,” he said finally, speeding through the scanty roads and still having an itchy mouth. “Yes,” he said, immediately his thought reminded him of what was making the news earlier in town. “My son, do you know what happened earlier today? A stupid, mad, foolish – ” he lost more words to describe his offender and then he shook his head instead and continued, “- boy stabbed his father twice in the neck and made away with his gratuity. His father was a retiree at the ministry, “Oh Lord!” he exclaimed in strong Mexican accent. “You know some batch of police officers have retired and in the month to come, hmm,” he hummed, “We will bury more retirees.” When he got silence for a response he hammered, “Can you imagine, my son? Youth of these days don’t want to exercise patience and work hard for true success. Arm robbery is the order of the day, and these days evil impregnates evil.”

Azuaka Jnr. cleared his throat; he hoped that gave him the right response, the response of a similar thief who would not want to discuss the art of stealing gratuity.

Oh Azuaka Jnr. is this me? He thought. Crossing his mind was thought of his father still snoring in the sofa. Who would believe that the police in his father could let him succumb to the drugged tea? At that moment when he came back with the money, he met Azuaka Jnr. sipping at his cup of tea while the other drugged one lay on the table. Given the awareness of his father returning home with his gratuity, drugged tea was the only possible bait he could throw. They had planned and discussed how to spend the money; running a wine stall and buying a house down town, before his father gulped the tea with the cheery approach of an achiever and zoned out.

“Oh thank goodness, we’re at Beyer Road,” he said in his head.

*****

The rowdiness of commuters dominated the terminal as murmuring bees and his thought snapped at the citified train terminal. The taxi came to a smashing halt and he alighted, stretching his hand to pay the beardie. “So you can’t add ten dollars, this boy, at least to buy rubber for tonight with my whores,” the beardie queried, giving a fascinating stare and bringing out a bottle of rum to sip.

“That is what I can afford, sir,” he frowned, shaking his hand impatiently. The beardie collected it and he did not hear the rest of his babble because he was already hastening to the ticket counter.

His seat was the last one at the back and as he sat, he thanked his goodness because he and the nearest passenger alone could perceive the notes. He studied his neighbors and the one very close was a light-skinned woman who was breastfeeding her baby. He would arrive the next day in California and unite with the rest of the boys; Agu who resided in California and the only software guru among them, Nku, who would arrive from New York. They had agreed each of them would contribute ten million dollars to the pioneering of the Monkeys’ software but he would plead with them and make them realize how chancy it was to get that sum.

“It is not easy to steal five million dollars from a police officer. I celebrate myself. So they must consider me and let me be a reaper of this great project. I must not die a poor man,” he thought.

Right after then, he would be squatting with his girlfriend, Opula, throughout the period of commissioning the software and launching it to render the world broke, and then he would surprise her with a mansion, a brand new car and a bulky account. His father would get double of his gratuity. He would never pick offence at him after all.

“I made it. I made it,” he intoned inwardly.

“Thief!” the nursing mother shouted and Azuaka Jnr. was startled, staring hostily at her, his heart banging. “You had better take this tea and leave my breast alone.” The nursing mother was scolding her baby in Spanish, squeezing her big breast into her black brassier and putting a feeding bottle to the baby’s mouth. But then the train had started clacking out of the park.

More mystery was yet to be revealed…