Revolt

5. The Undertaking

“I don’t want to do anything, that I don’t want to do.” He replied in an aggravated voice, his emotions getting the better of him. What was it with everyone highlighting the damned logic behind his father’s request? Did it change the fact that he didn’t want to be stuck doing something, he loathed for the rest of his life? Trimming down the pleasures of his life, to serve in another man’s legacy? Prioritizing his father’s wishes over his? He loved the way his life was at the moment, and he didn’t want to let in aliens that would colonize it into some extra terrestrial habitat, foreign to him.

“Really, Lekan?” Sultan met his gaze, and leaned forward—balancing his weight on his elbows, propped on his thighs. “You want to eat your cake and have it, and keep on eating it. So you don’t want to work for your father or do any reasonable thing for him, but you want to keep on living a privileged life, that’s only comfortable as a result of his money?

“And what do you mean by someone else’s legacy? You talk like he isn’t your dad. Plus, let’s assume you want to do your own thing—which you’re not in the first place, do you think you wouldn’t be working harder, than it’s required for the role your dad wants you to step into at the office? Sometimes you amaze me. I get it, we all love the flexing life. But you’re not even ready to make compromises in the slightest way.”

“I can make compromises!” He matched the hostility in his friend’s voice and rose from the bed. “I can work, okay? I’m not just going to work there and let him have his way all the time. He’s not the lord and overseer of my life, okay. I’m the one.”

Sultan gave him a pathetic laugh. “So this is only as a result of you standing your ground and insisting that he can’t control and boss you around? Yes, fine. That is sucky, but is he at fault here? Who has decided not to be independent? You’re fucking twenty six for Christ sake, and you’re still a trust fund, baby.

“Your dad still sponsors your expenses, and the job you do as a real estate agent—which you don’t even take serious in the first place—is still facilitated by this same man, you hate for controlling your life. So whose fault is it? If you want to be like the rest of your mates, who their fathers don’t control their lives, why don’t you get a job and take it seriously and sponsor your own life? But no, the man is imposing and a dictator but you can flex and enjoy with his money. Please, give me a break—”

“Sure, it’s all his money—”

“Yes, it’s all his money. If he decides not to give you, he won’t receive a heavenly slap from God. Okay?” Lekan started, but got cut off by Sultan again. “He works for the money, you don’t help him in the work of getting the money, but you have an entitlement over it, right? And now you have a chance to help, and you don’t. Sometimes, I wonder just how naïve you are. Do you even know how harsh the real world is out there? Do you know of the problems, regular people have to face, regarding spending money to meet their never ending needs—”

Lekan snorted, cackling and placing his hands on his waist just as Sultan rose to his feet also. “And you’d know about the problems of the average man?”

“I know, and understand better than you’d ever do because unlike you, I have an actual job.” Sultan shot back, venom and contempt in his voice. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s legit. Running a nightclub is no small thing and although I get help from my dad every now and then, I handle most of the expenses on my own and only get help for big, capital projects.

“I understand what it means to be broke. I understand what it means to plot a scale of preference, to easily identify my most pressing and important needs because money is ever enough. I understand what it means to borrow money and get loans, and feel the overwhelming pressure and anxiety of wanting to be able to deliver and pay back on time. And all this is just money based and has nothing to do with the stress and technicalities that comes with doing my job.