Texter Eps53


Samora said the news was terrible!  Timmy could have counted a mole of trust on that word to know how terrible it was. The young boss felt he could have escaped an heart attack not asking. Nothing could have been more terrible than being told about the canceled flight from China to Nigeria. There was no way the trip could be made for the instrument to be brought in. Samora would not lie. The Papers made it clear and if that was on a flick of doubt the hundreds of popular blog picking it up couldn't have been arranged. 

"Thank you." Timmy said to him with his hands gripping the couch. He let it go as his fingers shock and he locked it into each other, watching Samora as he tried tendering more apologies. 

"In case if there is anything i can still get done sir."

"Nothing!" Timmy cut in,  with a raised finger and his other hands working his finger into wrapping his mouth. 

"Ok." Samora said firmly as he stood to his feet.  He stretched to pick up his paper and Timmy followed him to the door,  banged it close behind him and moved back across the living room.

He leaned on the sofa, depressed when another knock landed. He was going to yell at whosoever was at the door. He believed every flat had a systemic bell that could tell if one was at the door and this made him frown at the knocks. It wasn't that he was deeply asleep. He only concluded that the knocker had not knocked well. 

He moved across the living room and be pulled the door open, gaining exposure to a blast of cold air. Mike was standing outside drenched, making Timmy to wonder what had happen. 

"Whats up with the rain?"

"Don't know." Mike replied with a smile as he walked pass him. He pulled a zip here and there then he took his rain coat off. 

It was cold and wet with drops of water, getting away on the cold ties. 

"When did the rain start?" Timmy asked. 

"It's not even falling here. Met me few blocks back."

"Didn't stay in sea side overnight. Had to run some of the shit you talked me into. And the rain! I don't know what to say about it." Mike was saying as he used the couch. 

"One minute! How will you fix my flat Issues?" Timmy asked, looking away.  

"I am working on it now."

"What about the cooks?."

"Coming in soon. I already made the call before we left home. What did you eat last night?"

"Took bread and Tea." Timmy replied. He moved back and he adjusted his laptop. 

"Can I go to the peak now?"

"Yes! Of course. Do what you want. And I have a feeling you can tell me why?"

"Don't touch that!" Timmy frowned, making Mike let go of the Laptop. 

"You can touch, but not my archived file. And I have a lot of set up running in the background. Don't touch please."

"I get." Mike adjusted himself on the couch. 

"I would also need some clothes. I can't go to work like this." 

"I get! But don't let me help you fetch whatever you want." 

"No!" Timmy said firmly and he stomped out of the flat. 

The young boss had this habit of swapping apartment. He had a flat in every private quarter in Sea side. Except public apartment that was meant to be booked by top officials who came around for programs. Some were placed on rent and some were used to host cooperate bodies. They had a large scape stretching into the heart of sea side. 

The scam house (Main seaside) was at the extreme end of seaside. It was an high-rise building, looking like a mansion with an underground bunker. 

Timmy reached the peak of seaside in no time and he began to glide through his father's old journal. They were sets of hard covered poms and parchment eaten up by dust. They gave off an irritating smell that made the young boss think about being quick with the search.  

He found nothing. When he was done he used his father crystal library on the 3rd floor. Nothing useful was also reachable. Finally he made it to the store in search of his father's gambling instrument. He wanted something, maybe a contact. But all had been taken away. It was his father's way of keeping secret. He knew his father was the brain behind it. 

He got back to his new flat and he noticed the movement. The door was wide open and two men had a large shelf been heaved out of the flat. A truck was waiting outside to help with what was useless. Everyone in the apartment knew someone new was in but they don't know who it is.

Timmy walked pass the workers and some who knew and had seen him before, bowed as he walked pass them. Mike was in the living room inspecting the Man fixing the Tv. A bigger screen had been installed. 

"How many inches?" Timmy asked,  sizing the T.V with the side of his eyes. He rubbed his foster moustache with his legs apart.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes!"

"The instrument?"

"Yes!  The tech guy failed. He told me about that." Mike shrugged. 

"You have anything for me."

"Like what you went ahead to find." Mike sighed. "Your dad's old Instrument right?" Timmy nodded. 

"I knew that." Mike said. "Get changed, bring the fashion guy. He is setting up your wardrobe. Get done and let me show you where the whole store was emptied into, when your father's death was framed." 

Timmy raised a brow. Mike was knowing a lot and that was dangerous but beneficial. He wouldn't have to go through a bunch of stress on fixing things up. 

He moved from living into the hallway, and he reached out for the master bedroom.  He pushed open the door after he had leverage on the handle for a pull down. 

The bright light in the room flooded his retina so bad that he had to shield up with his palm. He looked around for the wall and he pushed a button. The light in the room got dimmed and he smiled in satisfaction. A thin tall dark guy with a blue tape rule around his neck and a thin framed spectacle was staring with his jaw dropping like the end of a chunky beards. 

"Young boss." He finally spilled. Timmy was liking that. He nodded in admiration as he moved closer to the guy. They must have met before. Yes they had. Not even once. 

The guy pulled closer an idle chair and he motioned Timmy to seat. 

"I have a bunch of Designers you might like. Few Gucci and... I heard about an outfit for today. Good!" The bespectacled guy raised a yellow polo with a gold Versace tag. 

"This would fit for today. I have a grade one Nike shoe. You would love it." Another search began and the guy came up with a funky Nike shoe. Timmy handed over the polo to the bespectacled guy and he checked the shoe. He smiled in delight. He nodded in agreement as the guy showed up more stocked jeans and chinos.

"Are you aware! The wardrobe." Timmy looked around the room. He found the wardrobe at a end he didn't like. 

"You have to fix it." The bespectacled guy nodded. 

"I don't like it there."

"OK!"

"Apart from that,  I want it stocked with the best of my choice, I want varieties...Get it stocked...I mean really stocked... Don't wanna repeat one outfit for a month!" The guy kept nodding as Timmy was speaking. He realised his hands from being trapped to his side with the help of his arm. 

"Done sir." The bespectacled guy said when Timmy was done explaining. Then he repeated all that Timmy had said to prove he had not miss a point.