The Keepers by 1PUNK1 Page A

only two offices: That of the president and the
vice president. And the seventh floor looked as every bit as
presidential as one would expect. There was nothing to tell that is
was a record label, no, it looked like a hotel, with sculptures of
Greek art lined on the wall up the president’s office and, beneath
his feet, a Silk Isfahan Rug. The most expensive. Large windows on
one side meant to bring in only the morning light and in the
afternoon, lighting from the ceiling meant to simulate morning
light. He wondered why they would not just have used the conference
room on the floor beneath. He passed The first door, which was closed and headed down to the last
door of the floor.
    He entered and found them
waiting.
    The president,
sitting behind his African Blackwood desk comfortably on his
leather chair. He held a cigar between his thick index and middle
fingers both of which were adorned with large gold-rings, and some
of the ash from it had f a llen onto his
grey business suit jacket. He had a wrinkl ed dry face: tell tales of alcohol and substance abuse. The vice
president, on the other hand, was the complete antipodean of his
superior. He had a smooth, clean-shaven and hydrated face. His
suit, black, fitted both comfortably and appealingly. He was a man
of style and fitness. Wearing his diamond encrusted digital sports
watch, with no rings on his perfectly manicured fingers, and his
easy going pose and composure; His was not only to give an
impression of wealth but also of style and exquisiteness, much
unlike the people whom he worked with. Abigail sat on the chair
next to the vice president.
    “ Rikki, my
boy, unlike you to be early ,” t he president said in the sort of tone of
pretended joviality but which, when paid closer attention to, held
something condescending in nature.
    “ Hello, Mr.
President Johnston. Mr. Vice President.” He refrained from greeting
Abigail.
    “ Don’t worry,
Rik, this is not going to be long. Actually, it’s just the boss who
wants you,” the vp said charmingly and boyishly “No, I’m not gonna
be here to have your back. I best be leaving
and- ”He looked at Abigail, she flushed, “-
well darling, for a creature of your delicateness, it would be
awfully sinful of me to leave you with
these two bull-dogs. Shall you come with thee? Mr. President,
seeing as there is no need for me, I shall be leaving.” The
president nodded. He had tried to make it sound charming and
unexpected, but he and the president had already discussed before
that the meeting was to take place privately between Rikki and the
president. The best way to let of f a
person is the private way. He stood first, then Abigail and they
both left, Abigail walking behind the vice president.
    “ Close the
door Rikki and please take a seat.” The president opened his drawer
and took out his leather cigar case. “They are Cuban,” he said and
took one and handed it took Rikki.
    “ Thanks,” he
said biting the cigar.
    “ I understand,
your being uncomfortable at being summoned on a Sunday afternoon.
But we need to talk.”
    “ Talk then,”
Rikki said, striking a match and lighting the cigar. The smoke went
into his mouth and out through the room, radiating out suspense as
if a movie. This was not his intention and he decided to halt smoking until the business of why he was
‘summoned’ was cleared up. He held it between his thumb and index
finger. He realised, by the sound of the air-conditioner humming,
that it had been quite a while since either of them spoke. He
sighed away the intrigue.
    “ Rikki, what’s
wrong?” the president asked, finally.
    “ Nothing is
wrong ,” h e
said.
    “ Don’t come
with that. Take off your glasses, there’s no sun in here. Now
you’ve been off the radar this past month. Abigail- ”
    “ Abigail knows
nothings,” he said, by chance holding back from roaring but
angrily. “She knows nothing,” he repeated more calmly. He did not
take off his sun-glasses.
    “ I don’t