Into the Starry Night

Eight

“Two more retailers have indicated an interest in having at least twelve shipments of Lavender Skies the minute it comes out next month. Adding them we have a total of six hundred and forty stores worldwide that are going to be stocking our unique fragrance.”

Taylor's voice was filtering through my Airpods as I sat in the cozy cafe.

“Just six hundred and forty?” I asked, astonished by the report I was perusing on my laptop. “That's not good enough. I want that list to reach a thousand before the end of today. They should be the ones breaking our doors down to ask for the chance to display the perfume. Make it happen, Taylor.”

I heard Taylor sigh on the other end of the device inserted into both my ears. “Alright, I'll get right on it. What are you going to be doing? I mean, I've got everything covered at this end and there isn't much left to do, so . . .”

“Work, Taylor,” my eyes shifted to the window beside me where the tall skyscraper just across the street dominated most of the view. “I'll be working. I'll always be working.”

As I stared at the steel-and-glass exterior of the magnificent edifice I realized that I could've very well lied to Taylor.

Even though I was one of the founders of the research institute I was looking at, I had been away from it for two and a half years and now I wasn't even sure I had a job to go back to.

I had been in this cafe for up to three hours now, guzzling coffee and trying to gain enough courage to walk across and confront my two former classmates and colleagues.

They weren't Kenny. The possibility of instantly forgiving me for leaving them high and dry all these years was next to zero.

And Sam? How could I ever face him after the last time?

That was another reason I was hesitant to go back.

There were a lot of things I needed to confront and they were all in the building across the street.

“Amara, you really should consider taking a break,” my assistant's whiny voice sounded out. “Fred the scumbag has gotten his comeuppance, you're finally free.”

A waitress in a pink apron walked up to me with a pot of coffee. “Would you like another refill?”

This would be my fifth and I could tell from the way her practiced smile was slipping that she wished I would say no and get the hell out of her place of work.

To put her out of her misery I shook my head.

I didn't miss the relieved sigh as she went off.

“No be you go tell me wetin I go do. Translation? Mind your business and only call me if you have good news. Ok?”

I didn't wait for an answer before I cut the call.

I gathered up my laptop, counted out some money, and stood up. I adjusted the white belt strapped around my mid-region as an accessory to my white maxi dress, picked up my white handbag, and left the cafe.

Outside I put on my sunglasses and decided Dua Lipa's New Rules would be the perfect instrument to block the noise of the people milling about.