Chapter 9–The 13th Man

Following A Stray Cat


City lights are breath taking from a 29th floor view. I don’t mind spoiling myself a little with indulgence. It comes out of requirement more than luxury though. I need to keep my dungeon safe until last project is resolved.


One bedroom unit in Trump Tower hotel is modernized by black and white hues of fixtures and walls. Place is contracted for at least three months. It’s pretty convenient for a 10 minute walk away from my constant coffee shop, 5 minute walk from Glorietta mall and 15 minute cab ride from my old apartment. As part of role playing, besides picking out strategic place, it’s important to characterize a personality with no implications. Less threatening suggests vanity and limited capacity to communicate or understand the language. So tonight, a foreign socialite centers the stage bemusing cat in his own playground.


Clothes are organized in a sliding door cabinet by distinct colors and themes. Shuffling through hangers of cocktail black and varied prints, I pull out Guess long sleeve blazer to cover sleeveless mesh tucked in high waist capri shorts. Elegant Mark Fisher blue platform pumps is paired to accentuate skinny legs. Hair is casually pulled down. Wearing a recording device for information possibly divulged might not be possible tonight. Dating an aggressive and controlling man is quiet risky. Such has compelling tendencies to explore hands anytime, anywhere. I would have to rely on memory.


Phone installed in the room finally rings.”Yes, I’d be right down.”


Receptionist greets with a polite smile while driver stands next to her desk. He rushes to escort me into black tinted Luxury Sudan parked in front of the hotel. I’m busy glamoring up while driver quietly focuses on getting me there. The way he uncomfortably grips on wheel handle is a bitter altercation of locking horns with what we despise to keep one’s survival. He circles around modest architectural platform and finally stops at Shangrila Hotel. Five star grand is known to maintain luxurious rooms and restaurants for egocentric known philanthropists,. Trip didn’t take too long until I’m back tenaciously dragging my weight on this heels. Guy in designer coat who was obviously hired for bewitching smile lead me to a private lounge. A man late in his forties buried on his phone looks up and sneers as I gently pat a kiss on the cheek.


Mr. Sanchez is a widower who has been serving politics more than his people for over twenty years. His successful reelections can be credited to support from large religious dominions. To me, he’s just a cat licking off spilled milk. But he’ll be a good tracker to the source.


“Compadre, that’s a little too much. Watchers are burning access to my business contracts.” His jaw tightens from restrained annoyance. “I’ll see what I can do.”


He lightens gazing back at me, “I’m sure gona want to redeem my loss provided the stakes are higher,” Now laughing atrociously. “I’m sorry to say that today is an exception. I’m very much preoccupied right now.” Conversation went about bringing his muse to a private party without my confirmation. Men are such assuming. He turns to me gesturing gracious kiss on the hand reminding me of once tasteful experience.


“Azezi, dear, I’m sorry. It’s hard akhtar wa akhayer uh,.. uh, dress.”  Motioning a hand while figuring out words. ” Maybe I will shopping tomorrow.” Consonants are a little too rough on the mouth.


“It doesn’t matter dear. I’m glad you’re here.” His hand still caressing my right. He draws lady in vest to finally come near. She probably has been standing there right before I got in. “What do you want dear?”


“Ana hashrab wine. er,…white wine please,”.Lady attentively notes and left.


“So dear, we’re going to a private party tomorrow. They look forward to meeting you since you’re keeping me tied up to see them,” He’s teasingly surveying my look. It’s that kind of sensation that gives me chills.


“I go thursday Azezi. Haroh thursday.. uhm, to beach. I will go with friends, eh?” I needed to make sure I can get away when he gets drunk.


“We’ll see about that.” He was serious and dark, certain of what he wants. He then diverts attention to phone diligently answering correspondence. I’m not worried about his plans. It can easily be taken cared of as long as he can get me closer to my subject.

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Abby Mabb

Snarly female. Occasional book reviewer.

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