Lara stared at her trim figure in the mirror. The blazer hugged her waits tightly. She glanced at the shoe shelves reflected in the mirror and made a mental calculation on which to wear. Her faux locs were tied to a bun that sat firmly on top of her head.
She sighed and turned around to pick a pair of shoe to match her lilac formal dress. Finally, she chose a nice pair of white heels; she had not worn it since she purchased them on Konga.com.
She wore the shoes slowly like she practically had time on her side. She was to be having an important board meeting in the next two hours.
It wasn’t amateur hour!
She had to hurry, especially if she would arrive before her father – the Chairman of the company. It was her second year of working in her father’s company as the creative director and she still wasn’t used to it.
Lara always looked away and faced anywhere else but her father’s face during board meetings like the one she was about to have. She wasn’t used to seeing him as anything other than her big ol’ daddy.
Finally, she was ready to leave. She cross checked her files and documents, nothing seemed out-of-place. She scurried out of her huge walk-in closet and walked out of her room with her satchel in her left hand and her hand bag on the other.
She lived alone in her four-bedroom duplex and still she wished she had more space. She was contented with living alone. She enjoyed the solitude and her independence. They soothed her.
She locked the doors and soon was driving on the street of Abuja. Her mind was all in the presentation for that morning. Everything had to go as planned. She needed a win so few of her rivals in the company would actually believe she had a brain of her own and not receiving favours because she was the boss’s daughter.
Lara could argue anywhere that she worked for everything she had come to own. Her degrees, her income, her command for respect. However, she wasn’t the woman of many words. Instead she preferred her achievement speaking loudly on her behalf.
Fighing the eerie growl of hunger in her belly, she parked her car at the entrance of the garrage.
Benjamin, the valet, smiled and bowed his head as he collected the key from Lara and drove off. She walked into the elavator, accompanied by two young men dressed in black Tees and sneakers. Lara sensed they were from the IT department of the company. She could always tell; looking ordinary but doing the extraordinary.
Unconsciously,she checked her reflection in the mirror again and then she wondered why there were mirrors in elevators. She learnt once that they were often placed in elevators to stop people from feeling claustrophobic. She was one of those people who would often have phobias over confined space. She needed her space, everyone did.
Her usual minimal make up complemented her chocolate skin and she smacked her lips again to adjust her dry lipstick.
She walked into the twelfth floor moments later. Bimpe, her jovial assistant scurried off her seat as she sees her.
“Good morning, wow! you’re in early.” Bimpe said, collecting the satchel from her.
Lara smirked and looked around. The twelfth floor was designed for just four officials; the managing director, the creative director and their assistants. So there was enough space and the whole floor was free of noise and chatter.
Lara loved it.
“He isn’t here yet?” She asked as she walked into her office – a modern architectural design. She had the whole floor re-designed to her taste two years back. This woman was a lover of good work.
“No, you are the first to arrive.” Bimpe replied gently, carefully placing Lara’s document carefully on the large desk like the desk was designed to break if she acted otherwise.
They were both referring to the other occupant of the floor; the managing director. Lara’s old time competition – David Oyedeji.
Lara felt this might have been normal and natural; to know there is a competitive force pushing her to do more. To prove to everyone in the company that she wasn’t just a pretty face and a daddy’s girl.
There was nothing bad in David being so irritant and difficult, only if Lara could erase the memories of him from her mind; his touch, his thrusts, his empty promises and his fake acts.
Absurd isn’t it?
TO BE CONTINUED.
Photo credits / @asiko_artist
Piece written by Susanah Omohunola Ajiboye.