Turner's chance

It was in his right that he received that sort of treatment. The primness and air of seriousness that accompanied him where ever he went was not all for show. It set the bar for how he was treated, referred to, regarded and most importantly, respected.

So the urge to be uptight and the fear of the possibility to falter that was evoked in all people when ever he was in a building was not surprising. It would surprise a stranger though, why a fellow human - he at least seems human enough - was treated as though he were a demigod. The stranger would soon come understand, minutes after being in his presence.

Young Turner, as he was called, was not the everyday man. And the young man knew it. He acknowledged the fact that he was distinct and he played by it, all the time, day in, day out, all year round, summer, spring, autumn and winter. You would not find regularity in his poise nor in his looks. You would not even find it in his demeanor that elicited suspicion from people.

Cold as winter, caleb stepped into the elevator, ignoring the scurrying of men and women his age and father's age, hastening to their jobs, muttering, carrying fear in their faces and in their minds, at his sight.

He knew. Of course, he knew the turmoil that was raised in all of their hearts for he had been there but now, he was wont to it, accepting of it. He was not responsible for how they felt or what they did because of their feelings.

Oliver was on his tail, bearing a briefcase. His brisk wall fell in place with that of Caleb's and it told of his job.

Soon, they stepped into his office. It was a spacious area of brown and cream. In remote places of the world, his office occupied would serve as housing for a family of seven. It was beautiful, all of the interior, as it was untelling. Caleb took a sit behind his large table that looked like a butchering table in an abattoir. Only, it was made mainly of glass, with the edges in a rich finishing of soft wood. He drummed his fingers as olly took his place in front of him and read out his schedule, reclining on the chair.

Caleb ignored everything else Olly said and asked directly, "What time did you say we could go see Edwards?"

"In an hour." Oliver glanced at his watch. "We still have forty minutes left until we can go. Is there anything you need me to do?"

"What do we have next?"

"The board meeting. Finance and architecture met to look over estimates, drafts and then make plans. They need to present to you and the board."

Caleb nodded. "How is Azure handling that sub contract? I should be on site myself today. Kings corporation would not have even the slightest of mistakes."

"And so do you, sir. I will fix it right in, although Mr. Shaw did say he would go have a look soon." Oliver punched in alphabets on his tablet, his face contorted. "After the inspection, you have your schedule cleared." Caleb gave him a blank look, his eyebrows relaxed, his lips unmoving. He gave oliver nothing to read of him so the aide said, "Alright. if you will excuse me." oliver gave a slight bow as he made to exit the office.

"What are you up to right away?"

The voice was sudden, putting oliver even more on his toes. Calm but collected. Powerful but in a a soothing manner, Oliver would not be able to understand what he was, who he was and why he was. He could not understand when he became so unusual. Caleb talked softly, especially to him, in direct contrast with the loud blabber and manly huskiness he used to know.

Caleb's voice was still husky, but it was soft too. It was scary soft that his aide can not but prefer if he did not even talk at all, or how can one be soft-spoken and loud at the same time? how can a voice be penetrative, reaching down into ones deepness?

"I have the secretaries meeting to be at. they should be awaiting my presence. Why? you need something, sir?"

"No, go on. I will see you in thirty minutes. Have Ms Smith bring me some coffee. With a little milk."

Oliver gave a nod and went away.

Caleb stood up and went to the window side. It was not necessarily a window, for it was a wide space, like a balcony, barred by glass. It was wide and it revealed a breathtaking view. The city of Manchester laid before him, covered with sleet. He looked down at the smaller buildings and the big ones, like the one he was in. They looked like they had erupted from the ground and went all the way up, unending. Commercial buildings. Enormous towers. Elevating positions.

Buildings elevates a person, Caleb has always believed. He stood there, on the 31st floor of a structure made of concrete, bricks and gravel. Beneath him lied everything else. People inclusive. Not only was he 500 meters above ground level, he stood firm at such height without falling.

When he was six and officially came to work with his father, Caleb was frightened to take the elevators. It was in the winter of that year, like now and old Turner had brought him alongside since he was on holiday. He had bugged his father a lot, about coming to where he worked. Caleb remembered how he clung to his father's coat through out the elevator ride. He almost cried and while his father gave him mocking smiles all through, he still held his hands in the end.

It was that age that he officially resumed duties as the heir to the Turners group of companies, which had constructions at the fore. Now, The empire had expanded into several other small annexes. For years, he was under the guide of his father and he learnt first hand, how to be responsible for one's business.

And he impressed old Turner. Overseeing the operation of the company, answering to the board of directors and making decisions that affected the day- to- day operations of the business. All that, at a young age. Turner was impressed. Until it happened.

Now, he was just the director in charge. Nothing more, nothing else.

Caleb was unbothered. If anything, he simply was indifferent. As long as he could command the people and the tools and materials to life, so long as they were erecting buildings, raking in profits and expanding their forte, Caleb was unconcerned. Anything else could happen. The skies could let go of their stars and he won't be moved.

All he needed was the command. The power to effect things, bring them to life. And he needed the compliance of people while at it, whether it was forced, cajoled or willed.

Caleb stared for a while.

When he returned to his seat, he summoned Beatrice, his originally assigned secretary. She appeared in a jiffy, holding a sauce plate.

"I am so sorry sir. I was just on my way to bring you the coffee when the disk rang." Beatrice said, out of breath.

She was a young lady in her late twenties, beautiful with brown hair that fell to her back when she let it. She had the hair in a high bun now and her heavily made up face told of her goal to mesmerize all of the males at work, which she mostly did.

Beatrice wore a tight fitted pant and a folded-neck long sleeve and to Caleb, she looked better than she had the past few months. It was not the prefect attire Caleb desired but they could for a start, begin with it. She at least looked like she worked in a construction company as a secretary and not as a hooker in a secret club for teens which was why he queried her months back.

"Sir."

*Good morning Ms Smith. I called to ask about what we discussed the other time. Am I getting a good response or do I need to ship you all off this floor?"

"Mr. Turner, I talked to the team and I assure you of their compliance. It will take time though, to adjust."

"Time is not a possession of mine that I can give freely, as you demand."

Beatrice kept quiet. Caleb looked at her too mum. He kept a look on his face that said he was bored. He could easily get them all of the floor so he wondered why he was being hesitant. When Beatrice finally talked, her eyes were on her feet averted from that of Caleb's. It was a known thing that one could not be under the gaze of young Turner any longer than you can hold in your sneeze.

"I will talk to everyone again sir.*

Caleb gave a nod and the young woman hurried out.

He rarely initiated reforms or asked for specifics around his working space. Why then was it so hard for them to attune to this one thing he wanted? He did not think he was too calm. In fact, he knew he was feared, even more than he should be feared as a person. Maybe it was just difficult to have people change their orientations with regards to their habits and usuals. Especially when it came to dressing.

He put on his reading glasses and turned on the computer before him. Relaxing, he began reading contract forms from Bays and Co, a sub-contracting company that is also involved in the retail sale of building materials.

Bays and Co was a top company in construction. Their job complemented that of Turner's and they went hand in hand. As much as they have been suppliers for the Turner's, Caleb wanted them to sit this particular project out. Old Turner however, was insisting. This would be the last time they did business with the Bays, he said. Besides, they were the lead supplier in the state and even in the region.

Caleb disagreed. There surely were other retail suppliers that would deliver better in quality and cost. It will also be refreshing to have the company work with a different partner for a change. But his father was pressing. He was pressing really hard. And oh, he needed to. Caleb did not yield to anyone. Not even to old Turner, who in Caleb's life, was the only person that was seemingly an open subject of power over him.

He would look at it though, and see if it was favourable. He was one to always be logical so he was going to refrain from setting sentiments in the way of his judgement. If it was feasible, then they would work with it again. Getting the contract with the Chinese was a lot more important than whatever it is he felt towards Bays and Co.

Caleb was still flipping pages in deep concentration when Oliver stepped into his office again.

"We best be on our way, sir. It is only five more minutes to ten."

" Already?"

Oliver nodded, even though Caleb could not see him.

"I brought you a change of clothes." Beatrice moved from behind Oliver and forward, with the trolley full of different suits and shirts.

"I did not request a change of clothes."

"I thought you might need one, seeing as we're going for a formal meeting."

"Well, you thought wrong. Have the car ready. We're getting late."

Caleb rose from his seat and discarded his glasses. He walked around his table and waved Beatrice away, who turned, glad to be out of his presence. His golden hair fell over his face and was only parted to the side.

"Are you trying to jeopardize this meeting, sir?"

"Well, if I could Olly, I would. I am still very capable though, keep your eyes open."

Oliver answered his phone. When he dropped the call, he said, "The car is ready. We may leave now."

Oliver fell behind Caleb,as they made their way out of the office.