Cracked Sources - B03E07 - Young C.c

Cracked Sources – B03E07

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“Yes, you’re almost there!” Patrick’s therapist, Dr. Eniola,
exclaimed.
‘I am?” Patrick asked. He was elated at the possibility that he might
finally walk again without support-clutches.
            “Yes, you are,” Dr. Eniola said.
“Three more to go,” Patrick’s wife, Helen, added; she had joy written all over
her face.
This was their third week at the therapist’s office. Every appointment
before this one had ended in huge disappointments. There’s was something
different about Patrick’s spirit at the beginning of today’s session, and it
reflected in the positive outcomes they were getting.
            “One more,” Helen said. She gripped
Dr. Eniola’s hand: she could hardly contain her excitement.
            “Almost there,” Patrick said, to
join in their excitement. His joy got the better part of him; he missed his
step, and fell to the floor.
The
Doctor sighed in frustration. Patrick’s process of recovery was proving more
difficult than anticipated, it was going to take longer than he thought, but if
the initial happenings of today’s session was something to go by, a miracle was
possible.
Helen
rushed to her husband’s side, “I’m here baby,” she said, “I’m here,” she
reiterated.
Patrick pulled away the cravat over his eyes, and
clung tightly to his wife’s leg for succor.
            Elias caught Andrew and Glory having
sex at the church’s backyard. ‘How could
she?’
He troubled himself with nagging thoughts. Glory betrayed his trust.
She knew he was into Andrew, and was making arrangements to bed him, yet, she
put a block on his plans.
He
was angry; hence, he gave Andrew the silent treatment as he escorted her back
to the church’s main auditorium, where the prophet awaited him.
They
arrived the altar. The Prophet was already seated, with his wife beside him.
‘Thank you, Elias. You can go now.”
He
turned his attention towards Andrew and invited him to the altar.
“How do you feel being here again?” The Prophet asked Andrew, “Tell me
the truth.”
Andrew
scratched his unkempt beard ferociously for a while; “I’m fine, prophet.”
“Feel free. Talk to me,” the prophet seemed urged Andrew. He
toyed with the many rings on his fingers.
“I feel at home, prophet,” Andrew said, “Thank you for your
hospitality.”
“It’s nothing, my son. You’re always welcome here.”
Andrew
tried hard to not maintain eye contact with Lewis. Prophet caught his eye
movement; he ogled;
“Do you want my
wife?”

He asked.
The
question caught Andrew off-guard. He wondered how the Prophet could be so perceptive?
“I… I..,” Andrew stuttered. “I really don’t know,” he managed to
say.
Prophet
stood. He took off his large mantle that hid his flabby body. He beckoned Lewis
to come over. “Strip,” he ordered. Lewis obeyed, no questions asked.
Andrew was shocked. Anger had started to creep into him. It caused his
great sadness to see the pain that lingered on Lewis’ face.
The Prophet wanted a tag-team sexual conquest,
and it was taking Andrew everything he had to say no. It wasn’t until Lewis,
herself, summoned him, did he oblige. He only wanted to make her happy.
KC walked into
Abigail’s office clothed in a cream short, yellow tee, and a sky-blue face cap.
He looked dashingly simple in his multicolored appearance, and Abigail could
tell. She didn’t care for what brought him around her on his off-day, but that
for his bright presence gracing her day. She admired the hairy layer of his
feet, it was a guilt she indulged in whenever a guy wasn’t looking.
“Here’s the final draft, with the corrections you asked for,” KC said,
flashing a smile. Abigail took note. KC was making reference to the designs of
the conference room he’d been working on. After their last meeting, he received
a memo from her office to squeeze in a minibar in the new design; he was here
to make deliver on that notice.
 “Thank you,” Abigail said.
She stretched forth her shaky hands to receive his designs, his hands brushed
against hers, and she smiled at him: they both laughed.
KC felt relaxed in her presence, he enjoyed the company of the lady
most people at the firm criticize; he’d always admired her from a distance, and
now, he had the opportunity to meet her in person, he could tell her exactly
how he felt.
“Someday, you’ll be remembered for making this firm great again,” KC
said. He was at the door, about taking his leave.
Abigail
asked him to wait; he spoke with sincerity, and she felt his opinion mattered.
She wanted to know what he sincerely thought of her leadership so far.
KC wanted Abigail to own everyone,
because whether they liked it or not, she was the boss. As Akin’s only
daughter, she had unrestricted claim to the throne.
He claimed to have a way out of all her recent problems, including the couple
that created a scene because they wanted to see Andrew.
Abigail became as more smitten. ‘Why
isn’t KC on my team?’
She wondered. It’s was taking her time to recruit
trusted allies for her own Circle. Just
like her father, she believed she needed a circle of friends to function
better.
“I want you on my team,” she said, without a second thought.
“What team?” KC asked, oblivious to the severity of the position he
had been offered.
“The team that gets to decide most of the happenings of this firm.”
Realizing
what he had been offered, KC became dumbfounded; never could he believe he’d
rise up the ranks of ‘Lewis Chambers’. He didn’t have a Law degree, he wasn’t
Law inclined at all, and here he was being offered to rule one of the biggest
Law firms in Lagos.
            “I don’t know what to say,” he
managed to say.
“Say, thank you.”
Abigail
planted a kiss on his lips. It became obvious to KC that Abigail wanted him as
much as he did her; for the moment, they belonged to each other. He watched as
she returned from bolting the door, falling into his arms, they were for each
other now.
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