So, I started writing this story months ago. It’s not finished from my point of thought, but I think it is absolutely readable as is and quite short too. Cheers.
They made the announcement on the third day. By then everyone already knew what they were about to say and they knew everyone knew and everyone knew they knew, yet, for official purposes sake, the two estranged (to be divorced) couple stood before the staff in the boardroom with grim faces and made the declaration.
“We’re closing down!” Mrs. Afolabi (soon to be Miss ‘something else’) announced.
Mr. Afolabi nodded in unison affirming that even if they couldn’t find common ground on marital affairs, they had found it on business affairs. “It’s really sad but we’ve had very little business of late…” To be very specific, they had had no business of late “…that we cannot afford the cost of operation anymore.”
It had been over half a year since they had gotten a real—profitable and one that wasn’t related to staff—client and four months since anyone in the establishment had received any form of monthly stipends. At this point, none of the regular workforce, which comprised of seven persons (Mr. and Mrs. Afolabi inclusive), still considered their being in the organization as a source of income. Except maybe Alex. But Alex, was another matter entirely.
Their establishment was named ‘A-List Event Management Cooperation’ but more popularly (in whispers) called ‘the Afolabis events’. And despite whispers by excessively myopic individuals, A-List’s current failure had nothing to do with the Afolabi’s marriage failure. As a matter of fact, they had so professionally managed to keep family matters aside for nearly a year while co-managing the company. The company was folding due to the simple fact that they just couldn’t get clients. It seemed everyone that knew them either didn’t have the resources to hire them or just concluded it was cheaper planning their events themselves. Thus, with a lack of any sort of client base whatsoever, the inevitable shutdown was here.
It would have taken a miracle for A-list to survive. A serious miracle like a mega event with their names at the forefront as the planners. A mega event like a wedding between two mega celebrity super stars. And in those times how many super stars were in meaningful relationships? You could count them on half the fingers on one hand. There was Maringla and that fashion designer Keylee, there was the musical lovebirds; the rapper Scant and singing diva Devoy. There was…
“Scant is here to see you,” the security guard announced to the Afolabis. No one had yet figured out which one of them was really in charge, and it was a testament to their work ethic that they managed to come to decisions without jamming heads.
There was a brief pause during which Mr. Afolabi gaped stupidly at the grinning guard.
“Scant, sir,” the guard repeated, smiling as wide as his lips could manage. “The rapper.”
The Afolabi’s shared a look and seemed to communicate with that single stare. Immediately, Mrs. Afolabi went to welcome their totally unexpected, high profile guest while Mr. Afolabi turned to his former (or current?) employees with the clueless expression of one who had no idea what he was supposed to say.
“Emm, so you guys can leave,” he proclaimed.
That was as useless a speech as there could be. He lost most of his powers to actually order any of them—except maybe Alex, but Alex was another matter entirely—months ago and none of the others seemed to have any intention whatsoever of passing up a chance to get up close and personal with the famous Scant.
It was so that when Scant was ushered in to the management office, he bypassed four people at the reception. He had the privilege of shaking hands with all the members of the about to be defunct A-List crew—all the members except Alex who was nowhere to be seen.
It was also so that when Scant remerged out of the management office flanked by the two Afolabis on either side, he bypassed four people at the reception and shared farewells with each of them.
When the Afolabis returned, their four employees were seated, eagerly waiting for their arrival. Mr. Afolabi stared at them with a blank face, a face mirrored by his to-be-ex-wife. She shrugged nonchalantly while he cleared his throat, both apparently testing their skills at acting even though from the way Mrs. Afolabi’s hands were fidgeting with the hem of her blouse or the way Mr. Afolabi had stuck his hands in his pockets (which was a pose he only took when he was exceedingly emotional) everyone could already decipher that those two were super-excited.
“Emmm, so,” the male Afolabi cleared his throat. He was struggling to keep his voice calm as this façade of nonchalance required.
“So?” Ayo enquired, his patience running on end.
“We just signed… ehm, Scant just agreed…” another throat clearing procedure, “We’re planning Scant’s wedding.” Mr. Afolabi finally said, obviously as amazed at the news as the rest.
Then they all began jubilating at once in unison like though someone somewhere blew a whistle. Mrs. Afolabi let go of her hem and hugged the person next to her warmly and deeply. The person next to her, by the way, happened to be Mr. Afolabi. They hugged each other, spinning round and laughing, as romantic a hug as one could imagine. Not until they realized no one else was making a sound did they break apart, frowning slightly at each other while the others stared at them with an assorted mixture of amusement, wonder and confusion.
“When is the wedding?” Alex asked. And everyone in unison turned to look at him wondering where he had gone to or when he had returned.