The Love Job

THE CAR PULLED over at her father's house and she couldn't help but stare at the building she'd grown up in.

Everything was exactly as she had left it; the colour splash on the wall, the flower pots beside two huge pillars, the neat compound-It was as neat as her father.

The woman at the back seat of the car, sighed mentally and she rubbed her temples with her left hand, trying to soothe and rid herself of the anger that seemed to be brewing fast.

"Madam, we have arrived,” The voice of her driver tore through her thoughts like a hot blade.

"I'm not blind,” She sneered, not even batting an eye at him. Rather, her gaze were transfixed at the cars parked in the compound.

One was familiar; the plate numbers to be precise. The other was not.

Are there important guests in the house or did her siblings manage to find their way back here? She scowled her face in disappointment at her thoughts. Neither seemed like a good reason for her father to call her from work.

Tearing her eyes from the scene, she directed her attention to her driver and immediately furrowed her brows at his height.

While she remembered firing her previous driver, she couldn't remember hiring this one. He had made her wait an extra 3 minutes after a long day at work.

"When did you start working for me?" She mumbled and started arranging her already organized handbag.

"Yesterday, Ma,”

She paused. Ma? Who did he think she was? His grandmother?

She rolled her eyes and caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. His brown eyes met hers and for a while there, she felt disgusted.

"Did Patricia fill you in on the things I expect from you?" she looked away and fished out her phone.

"No Ma,”

That's it!

She whipped her her head up and held his gaze in the mirror. "I don't want you to call me that. I'm your boss, not your mother.” He averted his gaze, lowering his head. "Ms. Ivonne is your only option. If not, you're fired,” He turned back immediately. Surprise and disbelief fully settled on his brows. He openhis mouth to speak but she beat him to it.

"You will not speak unless spoken too. Whatever I discuss in the car-on the phone or with someone in here- is purely confidential, I must not hear it outside. You will turn a blind eye to my work and my private life…” She paused and he nodded, turning back to the steering wheel.

"I can see that you're elderly," she announced. "...maybe in your late 40's or 50's or whatever. Old people like to think they’re ‘experienced’ and try to give ‘advice’ and all that bullocks!" she rolled her eyes dramatically.

"When you're with me, you will swallow all that. I don't need advice from anyone, much less a driver,” There was no way one could miss the tone of disgust in her last words.

"Your job is simple: drive,” The irony of this was that she couldn't drive. It just wasn't her thing.

She had yet to find a teacher who would not flirt with, annoy, frustrate, or bore her. She even tried females and discovered that was a no-go too.They had terrible mood swings and would even raise their voices at her. Big mistake. One call to the agency and they would end up crying at her gate.

Stupid!

Then there were the ones that were calm. Too calm for her liking. They either tried to start a conversation with her or tried to cheer her up by telling horrible jokes and making goofy faces.

Then her best friend intervened by getting a 'hot' guy to teach her how to drive. He wasn't Ivonne's kind of hot, he was her best friend’s kind of guy; Fair, spotless skin, average height,

huge-and she meant huge-biceps, rock-hard abs, and a huge tattoo covering his back down to the band of his pants.

How did she know this? Because he was topless, like, the entire time.

When Ivonne eventually got the police to get him off her property, her bestie did it again.

This time she hired a brown-skinned man. High cheekbones, brown eyes, small lips. He had wide shoulders and chiseled a torso that women don't just notice, but grab.

But not her. Not Ivonne Johnson who would rather spend 24 hours in her office than have a man flirt with her.

He didn't flirt though. Thankfully, he had a ring on his finger, but his fiancé was a total pain in the ass. She called every five seconds asking ‘where are you?’

It was so much that they couldn’t make it to two days before he quit. Apparently, she thought he was getting down with some other girl.

Shaking the memories out of her head, she continued, “Punctuality is also necessary when you work for me. If you're even a minute late, you're fired, no two ways about that." she sighed "However, you do get days off every Saturday and Sunday. If you're having health issues, I'll let my doctor see you and no it's not coming out of your paycheck" she finished with snake-like shake of her head.

Her father's words rang in her head "I need to see you now. We have something very important to discuss.” And here she was wasting her time with a driver.

Taking out her phone, she proceeded to open the door of her car "Wait here,” He gave a nod but didn't say anything.

Good. Too much talking pissed her off anyways.

The sun beamed down hard on her back and she winced as she walked quickly. Her heels hitting the floor, announcing her arrival with every step.

Out of habit, she ran her hands down her tight black skirt paired with a pink-white striped top. She was already regretting her clothing choice and was about to lose her mind if she didn’t get from under the sun!

Not bothering to slow down to knock, she barged in and her nose caught the sweet aroma that lingered in the air. Her stomach rumbled, wanting a piece of what the nose had perceived.

One of the joys of living in her Father's house was that they had toe curling food that could rip an orgasm out of you. The chef was skilled and knew just the right amount of things.

Her Mother didn't enter the kitchen much, so Ivonne never learnt how to cook from her, but from Chef Elvis.

A man in his 50's by now. He had actually threatened to never make a sponge cake ever again unless she let him teach her the ways around a kitchen and looking back at it now, it was worth it.

She turned her attention to the noise coming from the dining table and headed there. The voices are all too familiar.

She might as well turn back now knowing that there were people she didn't want to see, but her feet didn't stop.

She emerged from the side and stopped just in front of the dining section. Her siblings were obviously enjoying their mother's company as neither seemed to notice her.

Not wanting to intrude- plus she was in a hurry to see her father-she turned to leave.

"Amaka?" Came a voice she knew too well. She turned to face her elder brother David and tried not to glare at him for using her native name.

"Well well well, look what the cat dragged in,” Now this one, this voice, belonged to someone she loathed.

Her face void of emotions, she faced her elder sister who wore one of her fake smilesas usual.

"Well,i always knew the bird never flew far away from the nest.” Her smile fell and Ivonne heard her brother chuckle.

Growing up around their old man was like living and dining with parables.

"Good one," David commended, earning him a killer look from Daniella.

Ivonne smirked. Turning her attention to where their mother sat comfortably turning a blind eye to their little…exchange, she placed her lips in a straight line.

Her mother stared at her with unknown intent, eyes scanning her from head to toe and she fought the urge to shudder.

"Good afternoon, Ma,” Ivonne greeted and watched her mother’s face birth a smile.

"Afternoon my dear,” Ivonne mentally scoffed. "I’m glad you’re here, hope all is well.” She spoke so calm and gentle like she was afraid of being heard.

"Yes. No worries. I'm just here to see Dad, I'll be on my way as soon as possible.” She meant that.

If her mother was concerned, it didn't show. "Ok, you look good. What have you been eating lately?"

Ivonne paused for a while as she stared at her mother with her brows drawn together in confusion. "Food,” she and David said in unison.

Daniella scoffed and waved her hand in the air.

Her mother threw her head back in laughter and Ivonne had to admit, the woman was beautiful.

"I don't have time to stay and chat," she glanced down at the glittering watch on her wrist "I'll catch up with you later, Dave." She said and hurried up the stairs.

For what she had in mind, was to speak to her father and maybe get back to the office real quick. But from the look of things, her mother had other plans as she was on her tail.

It couldn't be Daniella. Her sister knew better than to walk with her. There could be blood, a broken leg, and of course a ruined face. None of which would belong to Ivonne.

"What do you want now Mom?" She said with exasperation, not caring to slow down

"You will tell me where you're rushing to," Mrs. Johnson hissed, causing Ivonne to have a bit of mercy. Her mother caught up and they began to walk at a slower pace.

"You can’t just walk in here and out of here anytime you like. Like you own the place," her mother broke the silence.

Ivonne furrowed her brows, "Since when do I need permission to come back here?".

"You say it like you come here on your own accord. When do you ever show up without being summoned?"

"When I'm free," she answered truthfully.

"And when are you ever free from work?" It was a pretty obvious question.

‘Free' didn't just mean free from work, it meant free from staying home, shopping, and doing other important things rather than going back to her father's house.

What would she even be doing there anyway?

"You already know that answer," she replied nonchalantly.

"Anyway, how has work been?".

Ha! If she could, she would have run down the hallway laughing till her throat became dry.

Ivonne scoffed, "Oh please Mom, get to the point."

"You see, this is why I don't talk to you as often as I do with your elder sister!"

"Why? Because I see through your pretense and lies?" She snapped.

"Shut up!" Mrs. Johnson yelled. "You will not talk to me that way, I am your mother whether you like it or not,"

I don’t. Ivonne said mentally.

"Whatever you say Ma," she rolled her eyes.

"Apologize to me this instant!" Mrs. Johnson demanded and stopped walking.

Ivonne turned to face her, holding her gaze and arching her brow. "You know me better than that Mom. So why don't we drop the act, I haven't had the time for this and I never will. There's no else around so you might as well be real when talking to me."

One would hear her and say she was being extremely rude to her own Mother but this was a common thing between them. There wasn't any peaceful feelings between the two. At least not anymore.

A smile tugged at her mother's lips and she folded her arms. Leaning on one hip, she eyed her and Ivonne just rolled her eyes. It was a good thing she didn't look like this woman, she’d rather look like a monkey.

Her mother was short, curvy, and beautiful, but always had this cold attitude that encouraged Ivonne to search for her adoption papers when she was little. Sadly, she didn't

find any.

"Your father also called for Daniella, I think it's time he hands over his company to one of you."

She should be surprised that her Mother was telling her this, but she knew it was just to rub it in her face that the company won't be hers. Like that could ever happen.

"Thanks for the info," she said sarcastically and turned to leave.

"When she eventually gets that company, you should know that I’ll make her give you a part of it."

Ivonne arched a brow and turned to face her Mother who looked just about ready to eat her up.

She's not worth it.

She turned and made her way to her Father's room "Good luck with that,"

*****

Staring into space, Mr. Johnson lost track of time. He could hear his children's laughter from downstairs. Even though he didn’t know why they were laughing, he couldn't stop himself from smiling.

He would be lying if he said he didn't miss them staying home. But, sooner or later, they were bound to leave the nest and soar. Though they were more than 20 years of age, in his eyes they were still children.

His wife was having a good time downstairs as her laughter seemed to increase. He should almost feel guilty for not making her laugh this hard whenever they weren’t around. But he refused. He shut down every thought and feeling of guilt. He didn't have time to spend with her, his career was on the line. He needed to work to cater to her needs anyway. She turned out to be a very materialistic woman.

But the time has come for him to step down, to hand over the company to someone. He needed someone to take his company to the top. Someone who was honest, selfless, and of good

standing.

Mr. Johnson paced slowly around his room, revelling in his glory and success. Who would have thought a man like him, the son of a poor driver, would become a multi-millionaire one day?

He smiled and walked towards the huge glass window, enjoying the view below. A good example of his status in the county. He wasn’t seen as an equal, but now he could boast on top

of his success.

If only his father lived long enough to enjoy it with him. With the rate at which his company was progressing, coupled with his net worth, his father would have been proud.

At least he wasn't completely alone as his mother was around, though kept in some home for the elderly. Her

choice.

At last, he had cut the tie of poverty to his family name. Anyone who heard of Mr. Daniel Okoro Johnson, would tremble. He let out a laugh. If anyone could hear his thoughts, they would

probably say he was a narcissist. But to him, this wasn't pride. He liked to call it self-respect. He couldn't deny the fact that he was very rich and of course very famous.

Turning a bit, he saw a small table holding wine and two glasses. Mr. Johnson poured himself a glass, paused, then began to fill the other glass.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to come," he turned to face his daughter. It looked as though he was staring at the female version of himself. She stood with her back to the door.

"You know, courtesy demands that you knock before entering someone's domain." He sipped his wine while holding her gaze, reveling in the taste of it. He made a mental note to order more of this.