WHAT BILLIONAIRES TASTE LIKE

Azuaka Jnr. stood on the veranda, his hands cupping his jaw, as he watched the two men whisper at the corner. Agu stood around the garage staring at the men and seething with frustration. Their delay was on to him one of bafflement; he was not happy selling his only inheritance to a big belly Mexican man, but Monkeys’ software deserved something much better.

A month ago he had put up the bungalow and Benz car for sale, hoping a generous buyer would stop by and fetch him the ten million dollars so he could secure his stand in the Monkeys’ software project. Buyers started stopping by and their increased number soon cloyed him. None of them was willing to bite out, at least, eight million dollars, their most offers were two million dollars and he remembered cursing a handful of them:

“Go and sell your father for fifty cent! Your stroke-eaten grandfather! Buy your mother’s breasts at five cent!”

With time he grew weary of upbraiding his buyers and took off the ‘for sale’ placard. Impatietly groaning inward, he went on telling as many money-bags as he could, mostly those away from his street, and they awed him with promises of buying it soon. It became a reverie about everyday: Monkey’s software was a huge ice to let melt away; rendering the world broke was his own end of the world and beginning of riches and wealth. Every night he said thoughtfully,

“When we achieve the Monkeys’ software, I would tour the world in my private jet, spend on luxurious fashion, drive in stretched limos, trade on diamond, visit my Indian girlfriend and propose to her.

“Em, my friend,” finally, the buyer called out, his hand gesturing at Agu. He thrashed the buyer, wondering if he was actually the one that banged on his gate this morning, looking all chummy and determined. Since morning he had refused to add to the Seven Million dollars offer, despite Agu’s unraveling of their selling points; he had reminded them the bungalow was in the heart of texas and Benz 4 Matic was still classic be found in the crowd.

“We want to patronize you and leave. The sun is blazing already,” said the other man, whose thunderous looks irritated Agu. He was the buyer’s lawyer, the first lawyer that earned Agu’s poison if he could set his hands on one. “Our final bidding is Seven Point Five.”

“Oh, the makers of Benz will not forgive you, sir. That is Benz 4 Matic. The engine is still alive.” He pointed to it, as though to show them something outstanding about it which they had not see. I beg of you add more money for the Ben.” he barely said, when the buyer cut in.

“Yes that is Benz .” His head shook on a thick, boneless neck. “I don’t like Benz. I am buying it for my servant, you understand me. I want to pay him off, you understand me.”

Agu saw a lot in his accent; especially around ‘you understand me.’ He looked like those Mexican that had spent half of their lives abroad yet more eloquent in their mother tongue than even a Mexican thug.

“Should I take my fortune elsewhere?” the buyer enquired. Agu sensed the eruption of anger, one that would curse him in his mother tongue soon and draw in the curtain against considerate buyers the moment he passed that gate.

“Deal or no deal?” the lawyer beamed and Agu glared at him like a watchdog, inwardly measuring his height for a coffin.

“Cut and nail lawyer! May God punish you! Idiot!” He cursed in his head. “Deal,” he mumbled beneath his breath and led them into the sitting room to finalize it; he handed them one title deed, car documents and car keys and in return the buyer fondled into his pocket and slid out a cheque.

Azuaka Jnr. was peeking through the window, wondering at Agu; how they prepared the cheque from home, how they might have agreed not to pay anything more or less. Agu gazed at his inheritance and then snorted; taking a bold step without seeing the staircase needed a snort; Monkey’s software had been my bold step and rendering the world broke my staircase; he said thoughtfully. He was 26 and he hoped to be rich and powerful at 27; having local and hard currencies in his pocket was worth dying for now. Way back on campus where he was brought into the project of programming a software, he had started seeing himself at the top; over there, he heard there was no much room to sit but with Monkeys’ software they would stare down at poverty and keep rendering the world broke through their it. It is possible. It is possible; he encouraged himself inwardly and his thought snapped when the buyer said something.

“I want you to vacate in two days. My daughter is celebrating her birthday tomorrow and I would be glad if she can access this place the day after.” He blinked powerfully at his beholder and Agu rubbed his snout, feeling how those words made through his face; how everything in this world could easily be converted into money in few seconds, and awareness of his homelessness just started seeping into his brain. Silence overtook him and he remained a watcher and less a doll.

“You know girls don’t joke with gifts, especially this.” The lawyer pointed at the bungalow, “So heed to our wish,” the lawyer said and borrowed innocence with his frown, as though he never made a comment.Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

Agu rolled his eyes at him. “Lawyers like you are the reasons our justice is lamed because you fight for your own interest. Stupid street lawyer,” he cursed in his head. He would love to slap the lawyer into the floor, even if not right away, maybe sometime out there on the street. He knew he advised the buyer against being generous and what more could be ruling over the lawyer than the legion spirits of street lawyers; they behaved like touts and prostitutes.

“Nice doing business with you.” The buyer pulled out his hand and Agu shook hands with him. “I wish you success in your chosen endeavor.” The buyer added.

“Do you know my reason of selling my inheritance?” asked Agu.

“I don’t know,” the buyer replied, throwing his away his gaze.

“Smelling Mexican,” Agu said in his head.

The lawyer brought out his hand for a hand shake and Agu snubbed him by leading them outside. The lawyer only stared with his hand stretched and shook his head.

Azuaka Jnr. adjusted himself from the window when they were going outside. They waved at him and he waved back. He kept to his gaze yet thinking; I am not alone now. If he and Agu were yet to get the complete ten million dollars then Nku would have no option than to consider them. He was not alone.

Earlier in August Nku had briefed them over a chat – their contribution would be refunded to the financiers in New York, who helped to source the bills he used in procuring gadgets and prepared machine codes for the software. Upon his arrival in California, he would collect the dollars and wire it into the financiers’ account.

Catastrophe was about to happen.