The Keepers (7 page)

I am Rikki. I am the man. F**k
everyone.

But it was
he
who was being compromised. He continued with his life. The stress
about losing popularity making him more perverse. Here is a
scenario where he is intoxicated by cocaine
:

The euphoria.
The bliss. I feel, I feel I am god. There is no one. I am here. No
one but me. Rikki! Rikki! Rikki!. You hear them. They are
joyful
. I give them w
hat they
want.
Yes I make humans more joyful than god.
god failed and I succeeded. I am god of all humans.

Then the
question that
went
too deep.

Then who is god?

And he could not decide whether
it was he who was asking the question or not.

I am god.

He answers. And the asker is
pleased. Very pleased.

Yes. You,
Rikki, are a god. Now worship me.
The Voice
said testing him.

Little does he know that gods
do not worship, for they are gods themselves.

I will worship if thee gives me
fame and money.

And he worships and is on the
road to self-destruction.

I have money.

He is still high on cocaine. He
is in love with the cocaine.

But, if I am god. Who is it
that they worshiped before?

The question which paves the
way to his death.

Who is it? Tell me. Dammit,
tell me. Cocaine!

He screams
at
’ C
ocaine
’
for
the answer. But it comes not easily.

Who was god Rikki?

And he does not know if he is
the one who asked the question.

Then if I am god, who is the
devil?

Those trying
to oppose you Rikki.
The badness replies
and Rikki is satisfied and high on cocaine.

Those who preach, those who
pray. With me, I am god, and all that the immortals need do is have
f**k, drink, smoke and all such.

And he speaks in full
words.

But
,
t
he question still
linger
s
on
,
If I
am god, then which god was before me?
Was
this god more intelligent, wiser, better in all ways? But I am
Rikki. Rikki! Rikki! Rikki! Yes you hear my worshipers rejoice at
me. Yes you do.

But the
question is
persistent
.

If I am god
now, who was there before me? F**k it, I’m tired of thinking
and he let the cocaine high get the rest of his
mind.

And he lay
there. In his smoky, hazy room, naked women full in the bed and the
house. Bed-spreads stained with alcohol. He lay there on the
bedspread and with the high, with the
drunkenness
, with the women working on him. It
was total bliss.

The sun shone
through the bedroom in the morning. Small
specks
of dust fused with cocaine floated in the
sunlight. He woke up and reached for his sun-glasses.

What a
life
,
h
e thought
,
n
o wonder they don't like me. Now to do it
all over again.

“
Wake
up
,”
h
e shouted
at the prostitutes.
“Wake up, get your
shit, and leave.”

“
What about
our cash
?” The whore next to him asked
seductively
,
“
w
e
can still stay and you can have your way with us again.”

He stood up from the bed,
reached under the mattress effort-fully what with the weight of the
women and his hangover. He gave up lifting and inserted his hand
searching for the money with the mattress compressing it. During
this exercise he uttered expletive comments about how everyone was
trying to take his money and how he would kill anyone who
tried.

“
Take it.” He
threw an excessive amount of money at the whores without counting
it. “I have had all of you. Now leave
,”
h
e said diabolically.

To say that he become more
sinister, viler, more aggressive and more misogynistic would be an
understatement. A void had been there within him, but now it had
grown too much depth. Cocaine and prostitutes were not enough
anymore.

Bad bitches is
the only thing that I like
,
h
e
thought.

The phone rang while he while
he was on the couch, ‘drawing lines’.

It rang three times and he
lacked the desire to stand, head to the kitchen and pick up the
phone. He went on the fifth ring.

“
Hello,
Rikki,”
The Voice
on the other end of the
line said.

“
What’s up?
It’s eleven o’clock in the morning and it’s a day of
rest.”

“
Yes. It’s
early and it’s a Sunday,” Abigail replied. “But to cut things
short. The record label has setup an emergency meeting this
afternoon at two. The vp says it is urgent that you come.” She did
not know what t
o say of the situation
either. “Honestly Rikki, I don’t like the sound of this
‘
urgency
’ thing
.” She
d
id not like it simply because it also threatened her
employ- she cared not at all about Rikki.

“
Yeah. Well,
don’t be like that. These fools need me. They probably want me to
go on tour and make more public appearances. That
’s probably
all there is to it,
”
he
said confidently.

“
Can I
ask?”
she asked

“
Sure.
Shoot
,”
h
e
replied.

Her sigh was audible over the
phone. It was a deep sigh. A sigh foretelling an uncertainty of how
the question would be answered.

“
What is wrong
with you Rikki?” She asked re
ally just for the sake of her
job.

“
What’d you
mean what’s wrong with me. Nothing can be wrong with me. Asking
questions like…I don’t know. You miss me?”

No. I
don’t
,
s
he said honestly and
I am relieved I am seeing your egotistic face
fewer these days.
But he was the boss,
still, and you had to say anything to please the boss.
So:

“
Yes, I miss
you Rikki. I haven’t heard from you since the trial and it’s eating
me inside. When will I see you again? No, don’t tell me this
afternoon at the meeting. I mean. Since the trial. When will I see
you Rikki?”

She
tried to
express some false emotion. Only if they
could get her
closer to him
.

“
You’s
sounding like a puppy. Grow some balls. With us t’was just a
passing thing. Thought we agreed about it. So don’t go caring too
much.”

Believe me, I
don’t
,
s
he said to herself.
I just want the benefits.
She thought about, next time, defecting the condom and
letting him impregnate her so she could sue.
I wouldn’t let him that easily as that bitch of
his.

“
Okay, then,
see you at the meeting.”

She waited for his reply, but
he just dropped the phone.

He smoked his ‘lines’. Took a
shower. Smoked some more of cocaine and at one o’clock he left for
the record label.

The day was
cloudy, however, the clouds saturated the entire sky but left only
a most appropriate space that showed the afternoon sun, which made
the nearest surrounding cloud
s
glitter and
shine golden and this golden light went on from the sky on the road
and the grass at the sides of the road, as well as the distant
mountains which on them, the goldenness took on a hue of purple.
The traffic was not much and it decreased much more, on this Sunday
afternoon, as Rikki entered the road which terminated at the
Galactic
Studios building. As he drove closer to
the building, questions started pouring in his mind.

Why on a Sunday, when half the
staff is off?

What could it be that is so
urgent?

Will the president be there?
Did I f**k up? Is it about the trail?

Yes, these people were the only
ones who could even come close to scaring him. Just close.

Whatever, I
have made them more money than any of their other pathetic artists.
They aren’t gonna do anything they might regret. They need
me
,
h
e consolingly
thought.

His car came
closer to the gate, and the security guard, having
recognized
his
car and confirming the identity of the driver, he waved his
hand, slid the large steel sliding gate open and closed it after
the car had passed inside. He parked, went straight to the sliding
glass doors which opened automatically and entered the reception
area, past it and the receptionist who tried to speak but thought
otherwise and went to the bathroom behind the reception area to the
left. Inside, he felt for the packet in the right pocket of his
pants, took it out and commenced making cocaine lines on the sink,
rolled a bank note into a straw and inhaled two lines
. He
did not even check the bathroom stall for occupancy.
He looked up into the mirror and checked for ‘tell-tales’ on
his nose and mouth. He looked again to check his apparel. He was
wearing his usual style. Bright green shirt reaching far below to
his thighs. Short denim pants ending at his knees and high white
socks and sneakers of green and yellow. As well as flat cap. He
looked at his face, and knew, even though bright in clothing, he
was dull and sluggish. A dirty looking face, even though he had
basically scrubbed himself that morning. He took out his sunglasses
from the left pocket of his pants and hid behind them.

“
They are
waiting for you in the president’s office,” the receptionist said
as he walked out to the reception area after leaving the
bathroom.

So, the
president is
here
as
well.

“
I would
escort you, Mr. Rikki, but I am a bit kept right now. I believe you
won’t get lost.”

He ignored her and went to the
elevator and to the top-most floor of the building.

On seventh
floor, there were 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.