Watching him stumble out of the car, his knee straining, his brain calculating ever move, I appreciate he does not have years ahead of him. My employer has aged in the 42 years I have served him. The longer I work for him, the more he agitates me.
Oh! How rude of me, I did not introduce myself! I am Nick, 65 years young, handsome as hell and a woman magnet; just like my boss! I am married with five children, all young adults and a crazy wife in love with her Church and Jesus. Only good thing about her is her business acumen. Oh! and her commitment to our family and marriage. Other than that, she tires me. All that nagging about my nights out at the bar around the corner from our tiny flat. She is also so jealous, just because young women tend to find and flirt with me. Okay, I do not fight them off. A man needs to feel loved and appreciated. If my wife won’t fawn over my every need, then let these young women whom I can mould, serve my every whim. I am so done fighting for this marriage. My wife needs to know this is the way men are and she has no right to question me, m income or my hours. Whew! Other than that, I am the perfect son and father; a great lover of women, imbiber of those expensive spirits and devoted confidante of famous boss.
This man! He will not walk with a cane and cannot stand upright. I am watching him ambling painfully slow into a busy shopping mall, without any support. I no longer have the energy or desire to care to offer any. Our once close relationship has changed in the last two years, after he lost his wife and then his son. All he does now is yell and complain about everything, forgetting that I am the custodian of his deepest and darkest secrets. My boss is a natural born hardhead; stubborn and stoic. Worse, he is uncompromising and makes life difficult for everyone around him. He has become aloof, detached and selfish. He no longer wants to buy my silence. You see, this boss of mine made tons of money decades ago. By the time we met, when I was 19, he was already a shilling multi-millionaire in his late thirties.
There I go again, I did not introduce my boss. Meet Peter. Notice his stern face, sharp, glaring eyes and bemused expression on his face. See how he seems to look through you? That stare used to make me shudder but it did make me feel seen. Once we started talking, he made me feel heard. A true old school father figure; hard and often harsh but oh so smart with money. I admired him and felt we were destined to be partners in his conniving ways. I guess that is what made him money; his cunning and ability to outwit everyone he met. Peter still has an uncanny sense of foresight about things and especially with the most genuine of souls. Trouble is, he cannot read the wicked, selfish or crafty characters that hang onto him. Many of them only survive on the financial scraps he occasionally sends their way.
Peter and I have one thing in common, we put our wives and children in their place. We come first and then our immediate family members come as very distant seconds. It is the old way and our women and children must live with it. We know in our deepest parts that this is the way God or whoever runs the show would have it. True believers in a society run only by men. We both agree that women have the minds of children, so we ‘buy’ their allegiance or force them into our plans. This keeps us strong and ageless. Well, me more than him.
I mentioned Peter’s wife passed away? Well, here is what happened. Some years ago, their relationship became very strained because she challenged him about his mistress of 30 years. Yvette, his wife, had had enough, so she said and dared to demand a divorce and take half of all they had built together. Peter lost it and just did not know what to do, even though he had the country’s best divorce lawyers as friends. I was as mad about her gall as he was and decided to help. That is when I took steps into my own hands, with the help of the gardener and cook. Both men worshipped Peter and would do anything to help. So, I got them interested in a plan to slowly poison her, so that neither Peter or her children would get to know.
Part one of the plan was to share intimate and unpleasant details of their children, indirectly declaring their mother as unfit. Then I implied that as she travelled upcountry to farm, with her nephew as her driver, that there was a relationship between her and her farm manager. They lapped up my stories and declared allegiance to Peter over and over again.
I then got the gardener to ask for a weed-killing chemical for the grounds and urge the boss to buy it. He did. I instructed the gardener to sprinkle it daily, over the patch of grass around her beloved roses and onto the rosebuds. Every time Yvette sat in her seat near her roses, or cut some to put in the house, the gardener and I would chuckle and muse at the endless possibilities of how we would bring her end closer. It started with a short bout of cancer, then anemia and finally her heart gave in.
We watched her useless children struggle to care and cater to her health challenges. The cook, gardener and I would chuckle behind the scenes, pleased that we had toppled the queen from her kingdom. I secured our position by shining a light on the good work of both the cook and gardener, then made sure all the young women chasing the boss kept him well distracted and fully disengaged. Suddenly, Yvette died after 5 weeks of rapid deterioration in hospital. The joy and success was beyond description.
A few years before, we had managed to feed the boss with salacious gossip and lies about his son and daughter. The daughter took her life and his son died in depression, after falling ill. In both cases, my strategy to keep the boss stoic and disconnected, chasing after the string of young women and girls I sent his way. Now his wife was dead, I was closer to becoming the favourite and natural choice for a successor. Then his quiet and estranged eldest son and Peter reconciled. I now find myself back to the beginning, no longer belonging, with a new and uncomfortable distance.
My new plan was to use the cook, gardener and staff in the office to share gossip, strong suggestions to instill distrust and remind Peter of the son’s sins in detail. It took five long years of threats to the son, Jessie and intimidation. Jessie surprised me with his grit and integrity. Unfortunately, he was honouring and forgiving even in the worst episodes with his father. I managed to get Peter so angry with his son. So disappointing. This plan was not working. The next step was to have the office team imply impropriety on Jessie’s handling of company funds. Suddenly, Peter fired Jessie through the office manager. Utter humiliation and I waited too see how it would cause damage. Jessie left quietly. I hoped the hurt would kill him but he seemed to settle peacefully into life at home as a house-husband. What a wuss!
A turnaround in the father-son relationship came a few months ago. Peter fell ill and in what I assume to be weakness, he reached out to Jessie, sensing that the new weird, hedonistic wife was accelerating his demise. He could barely stand and his mind kept wondering. Peter seemed weak in mind and body, shaky and indecisive, often forgetful. Age made him soft and logical. He began to disregard me and my opinions. Peter chased off the financial hangers on. All the ones I sent his way kept calling me back, dismayed. Something was happening and for once I had no idea on how to stop the descent into the unknown. I began to despise this old person version of Peter.
The young and weird wife ran off with a younger version of Peter. She found her money font and raced away at barely any notice. She had no love for him and I admired her for openly chasing after the money.
Hopefully, this will make Peter confide in me once more. Peter appears not to like or need me and this makes me resent him. This is why I will not help Peter. He is of no use to me and I should be retiring wealthier and without resistance. He was my pension plan. So for now, I watch and wait, to take on Jessie in the next chapter. My undertakings must bring me results; more money equals more women equals more revelling. I will tell you how it goes.
Short Stories & Poems by WarmBreezeBliss 