Chapter 3: RICHARD

"Are you alright, Sir?" Lanke, my driver, asked with that weird accent of his. " Of course I’m not," I had wanted to snap, but Lanke was one of those few people I’ve come to respect. He was a black man, advancing into his late fifties. Three years into the job, putting up with my outbursts, insults, and demeaning attitude, I respected him unlike those young bloods who always bailed after a few months on the job. The longest any of them had stayed was a year and six months before deciding that my attitude wasn’t worth the pay. I never expected that I would ever come to like Lanke, one, he was older and doesn’t get me at times, and two, he has a weird accent which he claimed was because he was a Yoruban. A trib, according to him, in West Africa, Nigeria, to be precise. The truth was that I’m far from alright. How could I be when each second, minute, hour, and day feels like a countdown leading to the inevitable? I may not take my situation seriously in the presence of others, but deep down I was scared shit of dying. I watched him look at me again through the rear mirror, his face a contour of worried lines, and reminded myself that I was Richard Wellington and I hate pity. Lanke knew of my condition, and that alone should be enough to fire him, but for some unfathomable reasons, I just couldn’t. "Lanke, what have I told you about that look?" I asked, catching him off guard. "Uhm... Sorry, Sir, as a father myself I..." "Just wipe it off your face and keep your eyes on the to," I interjected, not in the mood for his overly concerned. With a forced smile, he muttered, "Yes, Sir". A pang of guilt thrummed through me, and before it could spread to my cold heart, my phone rang. The number wasn’t one I recognized, and as I wasn’t in the mood for dealing with strangers or fans. I allowed it to continue vibrating. The urge to get high and simply float on the clouds of ecstasy tugged with desperation in my mind as the phone kept ringing. But I couldn’t even do that since I was with Lanke, and he hated seeing me smoke. It’s times like this that I miss my younger employees, especially Trey, who always got the good stuff. After the second ring, I was curious about the voicemail that came after. So I punched the button. "Hello," it began in a feminine voice I didn’t recognize., I almost dismissed it as one of those girls I had moved on from, but somehow was still stuck in the dream of getting me back, when it continued. "This is Beck from Falling Stars Hotel, if this is Richard Wellington then Sir, a certain friends of yours, hold on a minute, Sir what do you say it’s your name again" I felt the pause as if in that moment she had been holding the phone away from her mouth, a voice I would recognize anywhere grumbled in the background, "Chad Ramsey". The voice mail continued, " Okay, so Sir, your friend Chad Ramsey has been here for a few days now, and he has accumulated quite a debt. His credit card has been made, and according to him, you are the only one who can help him, so if you get this message, don’t hesitate to come save your friend." " Fuck!" I yelled after the beep at the end of the voicemail. I heard Lanke utter a curse in his dialect, and the car screeched to a halt. Without even waiting for a go-ahead order, he revised the car and sped towards the location. I couldn’t have liked him more than I did at that moment; the guy knew me and how I never play with those I care about. "Pick up. Pick up." I agitatedly spoke over the dialing tone. "Why are you calling this early?, Aaron Wald grumpily said after the fourth ring. "Hey, Wald, it’s Chad again. He’s been held at Falling Stars for accumulation of debt. I’m already on my way there. Could you get your ass there?" "For heaven’s sake, we warned Chad about that girl, and now you’re seeing it. How low love can hit a man, anyway, though I have someplace I need to be, but I will be there..." I think he had meant to say more before the voice in the background asked, "Baby, where are you going? You promised that you would be mine all day." ", O get over yours,e lf Ella,, or is it Bella... what’s tha,t your name again?" "It’s Keila, actually," I heard a gisay say, and Aaron flew as he zipped himself before continuing, "I know I hit that thing right, but is it enough to start calling me ’baby’. And I have to ask,’ Are you dumb or just stupid?’, thinking that I, Aaron Wald, was going to stay here with you all day, especially after Ihade had my fill of you last night. In case you didn’t get the clue, I just said that because I wanted to get in there." A chuckle, then there was a kiss, probably he had kissed her on the forehead before adding, "You were exceptional, darling, but Aaron Wald is always on the hunt for better. I will wire some money to your account, let it be my parting gift. Bye Leila" " But Baby... Aaron... Bab,y" and a door banged shut, fading away her voice. "Same old Wa,l,d," I thought, smiling to myself as I hit the end-call button. I loved my friends, we had met at high school, and years later we remain solid. We were sometimes called ’The Heartbreak Trio" by a certain news column. Others called us "BP’s" (Billionaire Playboys), that was until Cad Hoa, according to his name, its usage in the internet slang, seduction community, and incel slang. He was very handsome and tall. The kind of man whom women find sexually attractive, and he had reveled in such attention. Dating more girls than Aaron and I combined until he met Zara. Zara was an Indian model we met at one of the fashion shows. She had skin that glowed and dark hair so rich and long that it touched her bulging butts. I had liked her the first time I saw her; hell, we all liked her, and like every other time, we all liked one girl at the same time. The challenge to see which of us would sway her was instigated. I have never lost such a challenge; in fact, Chad and Wald suspected at the beginning that I would win, considering my charm, influence, and looks, though they never voiced such concerns. Zara proved to be very difficult. She was the kind of girl who knew just how beautiful she was, and she flaunted her assets like a whip. Lashing out at anyone who came close. After three months of no progress, we gave u, or I thought we all did. As a billionaire with sua ch rakish reputation, I hated for the news or gossip columns to carry something like; "Billionaire Playboy, Richard Wellingto, fails to sweep Zara Vishwamitra, the Indian goddess, off her feet." Or, "Zara Vishwamitra chooses her career over dalliance. Oops, Richard.y, Chad never did let her go; somehow, he had fallen for her more than the ’like’ category,y, and I don’t know if it was the consistency or the genuineness, but he got Zara. He got the girl we had failed to get. Their love story trended for weeks, with headlines like, "Billionaire Playboy, Chad Ramsey, is smitten." "Love arrests the cold heart of Chad Ramsey in the form of Zara Vishwamitra." "It’s a new dawn—Zara & Chad" They even had hashtags like - #Chadra #Zarhad among the rest. It lasted three years before Zara broke his heart. I don’t remember what happened, but it was after they had traveled to India–yeah, it was that serious. Our boy came back two weeks earlier than expected, all teary and gloomy. I think it was something about Zara’s parents and family members not finding him worthy of upholding their traditions and customs, or was it Zara herself? It’s been three weeks now, and my boy still hasn’t gotten over her. He had stuck with gambling, drinking, and clubbing away from dawn till dusk. To the extent that his card has been maxed. Thankfully, it was one. The modern skyscraper silver façade building of the famous ’Falling Stars Hotel’ appeared into view, shimmering like the night sky under the morning light, startling me back to the present. As Lanke pulled over, I promised myself again, "never to give a girl or love such power and effect over me."