Page 42

Story: Lookin’ for Love

forty-one f

Party Night

E very night was party night now that our friends had joined us. Theodore, the night manager, was a frequent visitor at our door, asking if we could please keep the noise down. Although he always left with a handful of American dollars, I suspected he wanted us gone.

“Mr. Mike, if it is up to me, you and your friends can make noise and have fun every night. But many of our guests are not happy. My boss asks every day why so many people complain,” Theodore said.

“We’re your best customers,” Mike replied. “We spend more money than anybody else. You’re gettin’ rich off us, too. Watch your step or we’ll be checkin’ out.”

“Mike, chill out,” Maurice said. “He’s just doing his job.”

“If they don’t like the noise, they shouldn’t rent the suites on either side of us,” Mike said.

“Maybe we should think about moving out,” I said.

“And what—find a Holiday Inn?”

“Maybe find a house,” I suggested.

Five pairs of bloodshot eyes stared at me.

“A house! Great idea, doll. We’ll show these hotel assholes. See how they like it when our money’s gone,” Mike said.

Mike must have been wasted that night if he actually listened to something I had to say.

Mike, Maurice, and I met with Waititu the next day.

“You are tired of hotel living?” Waititu asked.

“Yeah, man, we wanna make Kenya our home,” Mike said.

From Waititu’s expression, I knew he wasn’t taken in by Mike’s lie. He had to know about the trouble we’d been causing at the hotel.

“What sort of house do you want?” Waititu asked.

“Big enough for all of us,” Mike said. “Money don’t matter. We got plenty and more whenever we need it.”

I shot a warning glance at Mike.

“Let me see what I can do,” Waititu said. “I will call you soon.”

After Waititu left, Maurice turned to Mike. “Where are we gonna get money for a house?”

“Ben, where else? Lemme call him. What time is it in Florida?”

“Middle o’ the night. Better wait. You don’t wanna piss him off,” Maurice said.

“Ben’d never get pissed at me,” Mike bragged.

Then why are mercenaries following you?

“Mike, honey, let’s go upstairs and figure out our strategy.” I snuggled up to him, giving everybody the impression I wanted more than a consultation.

“Can’t say no to you, babe.” Mike winked at Maurice. “Catch ya later at the pool.”

I managed to distract Mike until after lunch. I sat next to him when he called Ben. To my surprise, Ben loved the idea and called it an investment in The Crew’s future.

“He said make sure it’s a place he’d wanna live. Y’know what that means, doll!”

“A real home!” I smiled.

“Not just a home, a palace!”

I’d settle for a bungalow with a white picket fence. Anything to bring some peace and sanity into my life.

Waititu connected us with a realtor who drove us north from our hotel through winding streets in gorgeous residential neighborhoods. For the first time since we arrived in Africa, I sat in an air-conditioned car. It was heaven.

“I think you will like this property. It has everything you need: six bedrooms, gardens, a pool, and privacy.” The realtor pulled into a circular driveway in front of a grand two-story, stucco villa with a red-tiled roof.

“Mike, this is perfect!”

“I was hopin’ for somethin’ more,” Mike said.

You greedy SOB .

“Let’s take a look,” I said.

“We are in luck. The owner is here. He is a prominent attorney in Mombasa,” the realtor said.

The minute I stepped onto the property, I felt at home. Massive trees sheltered the house from the midday sun. I imagined myself sitting on the wraparound veranda sipping an afternoon cocktail.

A fifty-something Indian man greeted us at the front entrance. “Rajiv Devi. Pleased to meet you.”

He shook hands with Mike and the realtor, then nodded in my direction.

“Come, let me show you my magnificent home,” Rajiv said.

Ceiling fans and cross ventilation brought the outdoors inside without the intensity of the tropics. My high-heeled sandals made a pleasant clicking sound on the parquet floors in the rooms on the first floor.

“It comes furnished, though if you prefer your own furniture, I can arrange to move things out,” Rajiv said.

“Furnished is perfect,” I said, before Mike had a chance to speak.

Each of the six bedrooms on the second floor came with its own tiled bathroom.

I nudged Mike. “I love it!”

Mike shrugged. “Nothin’ like Ben’s house.”

“But a lot nicer than Gary Nielsen’s condo.” I could see my comment got Mike thinking. Gary was Ben’s second in command. If Mike lived here, he’d have one up on Gary.

“Let’s see the outside,” Mike said.

The dining room opened onto an enclosed backyard with a garden, patio, and pool.

“The pool’s bigger than Ben’s,” Mike said.

Always a competition with you, isn’t it?

“What about the landscaping? We can’t take care of this ourselves,” I said.

“The house comes with a cook, housekeeper, and gardener. They live behind the fence.” Rajiv opened the back gate and showed us two small shacks.

My heart went out to the poor families who cared for this magnificent home.

We went back inside and sat with Rajiv and the realtor.

“The price is $250,000.” Rajiv and the realtor exchanged glances. I suspected Rajiv had just raised the price.

“No problem,” Mike said. “We can give you a $50,000 deposit. I need to wire my partner for the money.”

Rajiv’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. “You are very easy with the money, sir. May I ask your business?”

Mike hesitated long enough to raise suspicion. “We’re into ah—commodities.”

“That is a very broad term. What sort of commodities?” Rajiv asked.

“Gemstones and ah—diamonds. We’re lookin’ to start a diamond mine here in Kenya,” Mike said.

The corners of Rajiv’s mouth tilted upward. “Excuse me, Mr. Ambrose, but Kenya is not known for diamonds. May I suggest you consider rubies or other colored stones?”

“Been there, done that,” Mike backpedaled. “My sources told me diamonds are next.”

Rajiv held his hands in prayer in front of his heart. “I’m sure you will succeed, sir. Now, let us discuss the sale of my home.”