I was done addressing the residents of the Suburban Estate. They were excited to have me as their new landlord after the government of Rio Hondo promised to privatize the estate so as to cushion the adverse effect the poor economy was having on the state.
About now everyone had shades of smiles on their faces as they noticed none of their houses were marked for demotion. While almost everyone dispersed only one person was left behind; he was seen being restricted by my security that stopped him from getting close to me. All the while Mr. Kenny had been chanting my name at the tops of his voice and trying to catch my attention.
“The world richest man! Mike Don!” that was the clamoring voice of Mr. Kenny. He stared around, settling his gaze on the group of bulldozers that were already steaming by the corner and ready to resume work.
The moment the bulldozers started drifting towards the houses I just marked for demolition, his panicky voice intensified.
“Oh no, please Mike Don! Please I need your attention! The world richest man! Can I have your attention, please!” he shouted at the tops of his lungs now, daring to move closer but my security restricted him vividly like a chained dog.
Already I was drowned into the discussion with the chief engineer who was explaining to me the future plan of the estate. I gave Mr. Kenny the cold shoulders and pretended not to hear his clamor.
As soon as the chief engineer parted my side and joined the rest of his boys to demolish the five buildings, Mr. Kenny resumed his shouting, “Mike Don! Mike Don! The world richest man! Please can I have your attention, boss!”
All the while I had my sunshades on my sea-blue eyes and pocketed my arms with a deep grin decking my face. My heart pounded with wrath as I recalled all that this man did to me.
“Please don’t demolish my houses! The five buildings you just mentioned belong to me! Please have mercy on me, Mike Don!”
I raised my hands at my security and they got the message and allowed him to advance to me.
Upon getting to my side, he pulled on his knees, bowed with rare humility and remained bowed.
“How may I help you, Mr. Kenny James Rodriguez,” I called his full name and with the corner of my eyes I stole a glance at him and observed the shock that roamed his face.
Mr. Kenny felt despair of assort. He dragged a frown across his face as he wondered how I got to know his name let alone his full name.
Through grinned face he replied, “Oh my God! Mike Don, you just called me by my full name. My subjects and associates call me Mr. Kenny. Only those that know me too well call me by James Rodriguez. You seem to know me too well but I don’t know you other than the fact that you are Mike Don, the world richest man…”
I forced a smirk across my face and subsided to a huge grin. “Today the table has turned, Mr. Kenny. Today is the day of reckoning and I wish every poor person that was ill-maltreated would witness true destiny like me.”
He dragged a furrowed brow, jaw sagged and hands clutched as he thought briefly about my words, “What do you mean, the world richest man? I am stunned by your words. You speak mysteriously. Have we ever met?” he queried and shot a striking stare at me as though he wanted to strike recognition.
Through clenched teeth, I sounded, “Mr. Kenny, I want you to pull your thought down the memory lane. Take your thought three years ago. When one Mr. Patrick was your tenant at Suburban Estate, in one of your houses…” I paused and gazed down to him through my stylish sunshades.
He snorted, lowered his gaze, and dimmed his eyes and thought at length. “Mr. Patrick…Mr. Patrick?” his voice shivered as he could recall, “Yes… Yes, I used to know one Mr. Patrick. He was poor and could barely fend for his family, let alone pay his rent. He was one of my tenants.” He placed a finger on his thick lips and explained yet further, as imaginary pictures of my late foster father struck in his thought. “Mr. Patrick lost his wife at a time…” his voice died away with the wind, when he returned his gaze on me.
I shook my head in confirmation, “Good, Mr. Kenny.” I forced a grin, “You seem to have retentive memory.” He smiled back at me, thinking I was bluffing, “Now I want you to go down memory lane again. Do you remember his son, Brian Patrick, the one you often referred to as a criminal son, huh?”
This time around his grimaced face thickened as one defecating a hard stool in the toiler; obviously he was contemplating deeply.
His finger returned to his thick lips again, “Brian Patrick , yeah…yeah…yeah…, that criminal son, who siphoned fifteen billion dollars from Community Bank and brought shame upon his family ?”
It really hurt to hear him say that yet I grinned. I tossed my head in confirmation.
Mr. Kenny who was yet to know who I was blew even hot at a furious manner, “That good for nothing criminal son of his, hmmm, even at a time , after I sent them packing, I heard he lost his father, Mr. Patrick, and his wife and father-in-law divorced him because of his abject poverty. I wonder where that bastard criminal son-in-law would be now…”
I couldn’t retrain the tears that had welled up in my eyes now. Already warm tears were trickling down my red cheeks the moment he mentioned the latter.
Once he caught sight of my tears, he queried fearfully, “Oh my God! Mike Don, why are you all tears? And why does the series of questions about Brian Patrick make you shed tears?”
I sniffed, took off my sunshades and groaned, “Mr. Kenny, I am Brian Patrick!”
He stared at me, gaping in shock and profuse sweat gathering on his brow now.
Trouble ahead….