Vincent felt his grip tighten on the steering as he drove away from the mine. He stepped on the gas, not minding that he was already driving at a dangerous speed. He had to become chairman as soon as possible, he told himself. Cyrus was ruining his company, he wasn't going to sit back and watch the old fool get away with it.
He had gone to inspect one of the mines and had been disappointed by what he had witnessed. The working conditions of the workers weren't up to standard. The mine had become a death trap. That explained why workers kept quitting.
He insisted on routine checks by the board, but Cyrus had claimed it wasn't necessary.
"Lying bastard," he muttered, driving through a bend.
He had planned on stopping by each mine, but changed his mind after visiting the first. Something wasn't right, he thought, bringing the car to a sudden halt. Officials from the government do routine checks in the mines, which haven't been reported? Was Cyrus paying them off?
He picked up his phone, his lips curled in a tight-lipped smile. On second thought, he placed his phone back on the passenger seat. Making hard decisions right now wasn't a smart thing to do, he would wait and focus on becoming chairman. Cyrus struck him, willing to do anything to get what he wanted. He wasn't doing the company any good by confronting Cyrus right now.
"Patience, Vince, have patience." He reminded himself.
He took two deep breaths before starting the car.
********************************
Genesis pushed her way through the busy street, careful not to bump into anyone and drop the box of cakes she held. They were running late, thanks to Chelsea. She had insisted they dress all classy and glammed for the meeting; according to her, first impressions mattered. She could hear Chelsea babbling as she struggled to keep pace.
"You don't often wear heels, but you're so good on them," she noted. "How do you walk so fast in those?" she asked.
Genesis shrugged. "I just do it," she replied
"He looks so good, his girlfriend's gonna be lucky," she breathed
Genesis frowned, "Who are you talking about?" she asked. Chelsea stopped in her tracks. "You haven't been listening, have you?"
"I'm sorry, I'm kind of nervous," she smiled as she turned to Chelsea.
Chelsea drew closer, "Everything will work out fine," she assured. Genesis pursed her lips. "Thank you, you're so sweet," she muttered.
"I know," she replied
"Well, I was talking about Vincent Morales." They continued walking to the address the bride had given her.
"A friend of yours," she inquired.
Chelsea gasped "Don't tell me you don't know Vincent, the infamous Vincent" she said, stressing the name "do you live under a rock?" she retorted "his family is one of the richest family in country, they have the biggest gold mining company in the country. They've been mining gold since it was discovered in the country" she sigh longingly "that's what we call generational wealth"
Genesis bit her lips; she had heard about them some years back. They had died. Was it a plane crash or a helicopter crash? She thought. She couldn't remember; it was so long ago. She didn't know they had a child. He's lucky. She thought. Imagine growing up with nothing to worry about and having a planned future. But losing both parents on the same day, no, that was sad. She couldn't imagine losing her mother.
"The local gossip site said he's in town," Chelsea said, startling her out of her thoughts.
There were visible lines on her forehead. "The town had a gossip site." She was visibly shocked. Chelsea slumped her shoulders. "I can't believe this. What do you do with your free time?"
They walked into the drive-through of a French-style bungalow. Its lawn was well taken care of, one could tell whoever took care of it was devoted. The flower beds looked breathtaking, with so many flowers blooming. Genesis was quick to notice the cosmos, she loved them so much. She resisted the urge to pluck one.
She rang the doorbell as soon as they got to the front door. A lady in her mid-twenties opened the door. She had a slender figure, she could pass for a model, her auburn hair was long and wavy, and it matched her pale skin. She was pretty. She was casually dressed in a way that screamed wealth and had a friendly but sassy aura.
"You must be Genesis," she assumed, her voice soft. "I hope you're not usually late," she added, not waiting for a response. She let them in. Genesis took a deep breath when they were in the living area. It was luxurious, which made Genesis feel small; she was glad Chelsea had made her dress the way they did, and everything intimated her. She led them to the terrace, which was well-decorated with many flowers.
A lady was seated, talking to someone on the phone while flipping through the pages of a wedding magazine. She ended the call as soon as they got to the terrace. "Edna, I think I've found the perfect decoration for the venue." She said to the bride.
"Genesis and Chelsea met Star, my maid of honor," she introduced.
They all said their hellos before taking their seats. They went on to taste the cakes.
"Damn!" the bride exclaimed, "they are perfect"
"They are incredible," Star agreed
"You have a deal," she paused, "hope you will make the main cake as good as this."
"You get what you pay for," Chelsea replied.
Genesis nodded in agreement, "The proof is right before you."
"I can't stop eating these," Star said between bites, pointing at the Lavender Earl Grey cake.
Genesis hummed Little Queenie to herself as she listened to their compliments; she didn't expect to receive such a beautiful review. She will go to the river to bask in the taste of victory. She told herself.
"My P. A will wire you the money first thing tomorrow morning." The bride was informed. "I'll trust you with the cake design, do something I will like."
"I prefer you pick the design." Genesis suggested
"I'm not as complex as I look, dear."
"I insist."
The bride sighed, "Okay, Star and I will come up with something by tomorrow morning." She gave in.
**********************
Vincent watched in admiration as he listened to the lady sing "Little Queenie" perfectly. He had never seen anyone sing the song with so much passion and familiarity, trying hard not to be creepy, he forced his focus to the river, and he didn't want to be noticed. Yet, he couldn't help it. This was his favorite song; her long, dark hair swayed as he moved her body to the rhythm.
He smiled when she yelled, "I'm the girl standing by the record machine." The sun was already setting, her skin glistening as rays kissed it. She was barefoot; she had kicked off her shoes when she arrived to dance. To his dismay, he found it cute. He picked a pebble, pondering if he should talk to her. He had stopped to recollect himself after his visit to the mines. He threw the pebble against the water, it skipped three times before sinking.
He slipped his hand into his pocket and started walking toward her. Talking to a stranger might just be the highlight of his day. He was going to give it a try. She seemed cool, and he was curious to know if she was a fan of his kind of music.
Genesis watched the strange guy walk in her direction. She had noticed him fight so hard not to stare at her while she sang, and was irritated with how he tossed the pebble at the river. Was he showing off or what? She mentally made a note of the pepper spray in her bag, sitting on the ground.
"Hi, I'm Vincent," he greeted, hoping she won't recognize him, keeping a distance between them.
She pursed her lips, "Genesis"
"I was curious," pushed his hair back, "you must be a fan," he asked, "you sang 'Little Queenie' so well I couldn't help but…"
"You're a fan?" she smiled
"Yeah," he said with a slight nod.
She motioned for him to join her, "Finally, someone who doesn't think I'm weird with my choice of music."
"It's not weird," he replied in protest.
"A lot of people think so."
He hummed in response, closely looking at her face, "Which is your favorite?" he asked. He swallowed. he had to leave. He told himself. Her beauty drew him in, which made him uncomfortable. He followed the direction of the pebble she tossed into the river with his gaze.
'Little Queenie, ' she replied.
He listened to her talk about how she felt she was being referred to in the song. He should leave, he kept reminding himself, but his limbs betrayed him; they wouldn't move.
"People come here for various reasons. I'm curious to know what's yours," she said, pulling him out of his thoughts.
He folded his hands and furrowed his brows.
"It's okay if you don't want to speak of it." She paused. "We all have bad days."
"I guess so."
They stayed in silence, as the night took over the earth. It was comforting, the kind of silence that makes you forget about the world, that makes the world stop for a few seconds.
"How do you handle bad days?" Vincent inquired, breaking the silence.
She shrugged, "I go to my favorite spot." She took a glance at him. "It's a karaoke bar, it strictly plays old music."
He nodded, "You must love this place."
"It has a way of making you feel better."
"Really"
"Though my best friend also helps make me feel better," She contemplated for seconds. "I can show you, you'll love it," she offered.
Vincent studied her; he loved her aura and didn't mind spending another hour with her. He could hear the alarms in his head telling him to leave. "If you think I'll love it, I'll love to find out." He replied, ignoring the alarms for the first time.