The contract(2)
"I...I... Can I think about this, please? It's kind of absurd... I don't even know you, remember?" she replied.
"And the same goes for me.
I don't know you either, but trust me, this is the best offer you'll get, we both need ourselves here.
I'll let you think about it for a while, and will wait for your decision. Please, make it a positive one. Jackie said.
He handed Chanel his business card as she almost left the venue.
"Call me!" he said but Chanel had vanished from view.
She would not have heard him because she'd already ducked out of the building.
Chanel couldn't fall asleep that night.
She heard Jackie's proposal rang in her ears as she repeatedly replayed their last conversation and tried to devise a way out.
But in all versions, she was faced with the same result: Chanel had to rescue John, and Jackie was her last hope.
The next day, Chanel went to John's trial.
The high ceilings and black-gowned judge in his imposing courtroom created an intimidating atmosphere.
John was like a paid wretch, staring at the ground from the defendant's chair.
She sat down and watched her brother as he sat there, like a flimsy-looking fish in her own pond.
The prosecution argued their case, painting John as a professional thief.
Chanel tightly balled her hands.
The truth was the exact opposite of what they said.
The defense spoke but could not disprove it without remedy to evidence or funds.
The judge handed down his decision. John would need to pay a fine of 20 million naira or go to jail.
Chanel's stomach dropped.
There was no way they could come up with that fee, and she never wanted to spend any time at all behind bars.
After the court adjourned, John was marched back to holding, and Chanel stood in a nearly empty courtroom with her mind working overtime.
******
Chanel met Jackie at a peaceful cafe late that evening.
Chanel had earlier called to invite Jackie to inform him of her acceptance to his proposal.
"Mr. Blackwell," she said, her voice steady despite the storm within her, "I will. I will marry you."
Jackie only nodded; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
He handed his hand over to Chanel for a handshake.
"I'm glad you accepted," he said bluntly.
"Now, let's proceed to discuss the contract details." He dictated.
Chanel gave a forced smile, trying to wrap her head round the whole situation.
"Good."
Jackie sat up, his eyes fierce.
My Dad's will stated that I can't inherit his Empire unless I have been married for a year.
That's where you come in. You help me get the family Empire, and then I, in return, help save your brother from going to jail.
After at least a year, that's where you come in."
Chanel's eyes widened.
"So, this is about your inheritance?" she inquired "Yes," Jackie conceded.
"But it's about you and your brother too.
We'll both get what we need."
Chanel sighed, as this was really her chance to save John.
"Okay. When do we start?"
"Right away," Jackie replied.
"We'll fill out the forms, and you'll move in with me.
We'll have to make this look real.
No one should know about the contract."
The two drove to Jackie's office to write up the contract, and the situation felt composed and tight as they sat opposite each other in Jackie's high-up office with floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Let's just get this over with," said Chanel, trying to keep her nerves in check. Jackie, still inscrutable, nodded.
"It will stipulate one year for the marriage, no liaisons; as far as possible, we shall be completely separate.
It will stay that way till the end of the contract."
Chanel listened.
She had never seen herself like this.
It wasn't her. But John needed her. And it was the only way to save him. "Agreed," she said. "Absolutely."
"We will create the illusion of a real marriage by making joint public appearances," Jackie said. "You will move into my penthouse, and we will attend social functions as a couple."
The prospect of leaving the only life she'd ever known, the thought of Jackie's lavish penthouse caused her heart to tremble.
"OK," she replied in a near whisper.
"I'll pay your brother's court fees and fund your fashion line."
Jackie sounded as distant as the mountains that she had never seen as he talked, even though they were together.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Mr. Thompson cleared his throat. "So, shall we go through the particulars?" He slid a stack of paper towards her.
For an hour, he talked, changed, and revised the terms of the proposed contract, stating everything from the co-creation of a new mythology to the frequency of public appearances to who does the dishes.
It seemed like Chanel was signing away her life, but she had no other option. Mr. Thompson left Jackie's office when they were done.
He appeared with a pen in his hand for each of them.
"Sign here, please." He pointed to the line at the bottom of the contract. Chanel paused for a moment, her hand shaking.
This was it. No way back. She looked at Jackie, who signed his name steadily, and then she signed hers, signing the end of her life.
"Welcome to the family," Jackie said, his tone devoid of warmth.
Chanel managed a weak smile. "Thank you," she whispered.
His lips parted into a soft smile. "This isn't going to be easy, Chanel. For me, or you."
He admitted, Chanel bent her head in a little nod to show her gratitude. I hope so.
That word I hope she could do without.
After signing the contract, Chanel moved into Jackie's penthouse the following week was a bumpy transition for Chanel.
Jackie's house was expansive and spacious, with high ceilings and even higher windows that gave way to a breathtaking view of the New York skyline.
But even in the city of diversity, it felt barren and sterile, far removed from her little flat in Brooklyn.