Ayaan Fadel.
Maroudi, Nigeria.
She took ostentatious steps, her fingers skimming over the rows of clothing there with scrutinizing eyes. Her lips were set into a straight line, however, it curled upwards occasionally in distaste when she comes across what I assume is not to her liking.
"From this..." She pointed a finger at a particular clothing on the rack, before shifting it all across to another rack. "...to that, bring them all to the dressing room." She didn't need to repeat those words twice.
Instantly, the workers there scrambled in an attempt to fulfill her request hastily.
A few were left with her, as she continued her action with whatever goal she has in mind. Turning around on her what I estimate to be six inch heels, she gracefully moved around to another row of clothing, observing them with hawk eyes.
One must've caught her attention. Because she reached her hand out to pick it out, before tossing it to the floor with distaste. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" She yelled out, turning around to glare at the poor workers there. "Are you dumb or something? I particularly told you that this section is reserved for the VIPs. Why in the world is there such a cheap cloth amongst it? Are you that stupid?!"
The workers flinched from the tone she used. And even I had to place a finger to my ear to tune it out because God, she truly has a screeching voice. She should seriously still to speaking softly—raising a voice definitely shouldn't be for her.
"I—I'm sorry, Ma'am. It—it must've been a mistake. I would have them fix it now." The woman who I assumed is the one in charge rambled, her hand in repetitive gestures as she tried to get the others to hastily take the outfit out.
"Don't bother." Basma cut them off, her tone icy. "You're fired."
Color drained from the woman's face almost immediately, her body shaking slightly. "Ma'am...Ma'am...please." She was quick to drop on her knees in front her now former employee, dragging herself to the woman's foot as she began to plead profusely. "Miss Basma, p-please I'm pleading with you. Please don't fire me. I-I don't have any other source of income and I'm the one--"
Basma didn't wait to hear the woman's response, as she called the security guards with a quick wave of her hand to drag the woman out. And so, they did. Despite the woman screaming her pleads at the top of her voice, and regardless of the tears she was profusely shedding, she turned a deaf ear and blind eye to it.
With the woman out of sight, Basma swiveled around to glare at the trembling workers remaining—probably already fearing for their jobs. "Fix this now. And if I see any more mistakes later, you're all getting fired. Do you understand?!"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Yes."
"Noted. Ma'am."
"Good." She huffed out a breath, crossing her arms over her torso. "Now get out of my sight." She dismissed them with a wave of her hand.
They all quietly strolled out hastily, no longer wanting to be in her presence in the woman in fear of even breathing the wrong way. I quietly watched as they watched past me, a few of them throwing curious glances at me but keeping the words to themselves.
Smart move I guess.
When there was no one else there aside from her, I decided to make my presence know. Straightening my spine, I took careful strides towards her. I stopped halfway, leaning out to pick up the clothing piece she had thrown away earlier in anger.
She must've spotted me from the corner of her eyes, because she swiveled around just in time I got back up on my feet. My eyes met hers, and I didn't miss the way her eyes narrowed even more, causing me to smile slightly though I'm certain it's only getting on her nerves.
I carefully placed it back on the rack where it was earlier, ignoring the glare she threw my way.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She gritted out, her anger evident in her tone. "And who gave you the right to come in here?"
My smile widened slightly, before I turned around to meet her gaze. I could tell she was seconds away from losing her calm again. "If I were you, I'd bring that anger down a notch." Though my tone came out light, I meant my words gravely.
We can do this the easy way—like I'm supposing. Or, we could do it the hard way. Her choice.
Her eyes narrowed even more if that was possible—seemingly offended by my words. She then dropped her hand by her sides, straightening her spine in the process. "Do you know who you're talking to?"
At first, I didn't say a thing to her mostly because I was taking my time sizing up the whole place. It wasn't extremely big, but it was big enough I guess. If she could utilize her resources well, she could expand in a year or two at most.
It's not a bad investment.
"Basma Ibrahim Wambai. Only child to Wazirin Maroudi, Ibrahim Wambai and his wife, Harira Wambai. Age, 24 and will be turning 25 in two months. Studied both Nursery and Primary in Capital College based here in Maroudi. And as for university, you studied at Al Sharjah, UAE. Recently moved back to Maroudi. If I'm being exact, I'd say you've been back for six months and have been working on opening this place for four months now before launching it two weeks ago."
Though I wasn't staring at her, I could see her expression from the corner of her eyes as I looked around the place. She was obviously dumbstruck—I would be too if I were in her shoes. It's creepy how a stranger can know so much about you.
That wasn't all though. I know quite a lot more that would leaving her jaws dropping.
The thought alone had me grinning slightly, and no doubt, it seemed creepy to her as well.
"—Two weeks ago, on Friday, the 16th of December at the after party of your store's launch which took place at Galaxy Hotel, you tried to spike Imran Hadi's drink and seduce him." I didn't need to see her face for that, though I was dying to see the speechless expression she's pulling. "He of course was smarter than you. And instead of taking the spiked drink," I looked over my shoulder, my eyes meeting hers. "You got knocked out instead."
Basma's mouth opened and closed, looking like a fish gaping. Her eyes were wide, and the blood had drained from her face. I don't think a lot has ever seen this side of hers before, and I would be lying if I say I don't enjoy it.
See, I basically live for these kind of moments.
You term using people's weakness against them a bad thing. I call it an opportunity that will depend on the one on the receiving end whether it'll be good, or bad.
I'm basically rolling the ball in their court, allowing them to do as they please.
She must've weighed her options up head, before deciding to go with defense.
I saw her visibly swallow thickly, before she tried to put on a strong front. "I don't know what you're talking about." She outright denied it. "If you have nothing sensible to say, you may leave before--"
"Room 14 on the third floor. That's the room you woke up in the next day, hammered, and alone. If I recall well, you had one hell of a hungover too. Must be your first time I see." From what I know, she could party with no care whatsoever, but never made the mistake of taking alcohol whatsoever talk less do other haraam things.
If there's one thing I've learned in this field, is to not judge people when it comes to religion. The one that looks holy might be the dirtiest of them all. And the one that seems not so religious, might be closer to Allah than you are.
So, I don't ever try to interfere in that no matter what.
That is a line I don't cross.
This time though, I couldn't help but wonder why someone like Basma would be willing to break those boundaries. Is it worth it?
I mean, she didn't get what she wanted but was it even worth it in the beginning? No matter what her case was, no man is worth throwing your dignity and religion for.
Luckily, Imran isn't like that either so it turned out for the best I guess.
Still, she wanted to deny it till the very end. And I'd admit, I admire her strong will in that aspect. "If you're done spewing rubbish, leave."
My smile widened slightly, "I have no plans of exposing you, if that's what you're worried about." I don't stoop that low whatsoever the case is. "I'm just letting you know the extent to which I know you. I know a lot more too."
I do my research. And, my connections are beyond that which you can imagine. Let's leave it at that for everyone's safety.
She was still wary of me, that much I could tell. Her eyes skeptically gave me a long once over, as if trying to see whether I actually mean my words or not.
"Trust me." I added, not really because I want her to, but because it would be useful to me if she did. I didn't come all the way here just to make an enemy out of her. Make allies mean no harm. If anything, they would be of immense use to me.
She's a key aspect in all this. I need her more than one can imagine.
She pressed her lips together, her shoulders squared seemingly still not convinced in the slightest bit. "How did you know all that?" She voiced out after a while, her tone still laced with wariness.
"Your background?" I quirked a brow. "Or that from two weeks ago?"
"Both." She gritted out, making my grin widen.
Clicking my tongue, I turned around and make my way back to her—though keeping a reasonable distance between us. "I'm certain you know finding your background isn't hard. Anyone with the right connection here could do it." At this point, I basically know a lot of people's background—a lot more than you'd assume. "All you need is the right connection."
"And the hotel?" Her tone dropped, expression yawing arctic cold. If it was someone else in my shoes, I'm certain they would've been intimidated.
But, I'm not.
If anything, I find it amusing.
"Oh, that? I own it."
Almost instantly, her brow quirked probably from casually I stated it. Others would make a big deal out of that, considering Galaxy Hotel is one of the top ten in Maroudi. I don't care though. At least, I don't attach that much importance to it.
"Since when?" She voiced out warily, still not seemingly placing any hint of trust me.
"Since that day." I bought it that same day. I'm always a step ahead. That's something people are yet to realize. "Don't ask how. Trust me, it would be in your best interest if you don't know." And that right there is the truth.
At this point, she wouldn't believe the size of my connection and power if I tell her. So, it'll be in her best interest if she doesn't know. Besides, it's not like I have any intention of sharing my business with her. I'm just letting her know the slightest bit of information concerning her.
"You own it, and still knew such information?"
"Nothing gets past me." It truly doesn't. Especially if I'm interested in that particular thing or person.
She held my gaze for a while longer than necessary—the wheels in her head no doubt turning. The action lasted for about a minute, before I saw her resolve visibly crack. "What do you want?" She questioned, seemingly finally on board. "And who are you really?"
I grinned, "Ayaan Fadel. Nice to meet you."
Her lips parted as realization dawned on her.
Now we're on the same boat it seems.