One hour into the party and already Claude Baskin felt bored. He held a wine glass in his hand and smiled perfunctorily at the numerous foreigners, fellow expatriates and wealthy Nigerians who paraded about the lavish ballroom. He exchanged casual chatter with several. He pretended to take interest in whatever conversation flirted his way, but really he was bored. He hated attending such parties. Hated the peremptory invitation cards his secretary often left on his table. Most times he ignored them and only preferred reading them when his closing hour at his office was due. Some he responded with an excuse, but there were inevitably some he knew he just couldn't avoid. Not when you're a senior conglomerate company executive.
He turned away from the crowd and sought a means of exiting the room. He so much wanted to be away from the laughter and music he was hearing. He wished he was back at his pad, sipping tea and maybe spending time with his wife Joyce. Recently they'd been going through a rough patch. It was just the same as been back home in the States; to think that he'd intended her coming here would ease things along. Much of it was his fault, hence why he was trying his damn best to placate her however she demanded. He would return from work and let her indulge her time with telling him how her day had been. It was either that or suffer another evening of silence until they both retired to bed. In the bedroom he would see about coaxing her to make love. That often used to work, but things have been different lately. There was no one to blame except him. He'd gotten dumb and allowed himself to get caught. Her only means of exacting revenge now was to remind him about it.
Claude Baskin was a tall, dashing-looking fellow at 46. He loved his wife, but sometimes thought of her too naïve and dull to be around. Where he would have loved her being outgoing, Joyce preferred instead spending as much time with herself than with outside company. Claude considered that an excellent reason why he'd opted for this job months ago and especially glad that she preferred the comfort of home than venturing out into the world, unlike him.
Claude walked into a dark corridor away from the party room and found a balcony with a view of the westward section of the compound. He still had his wine glass in his hand and he drained its content and placed it on the balcony. From here, the ballroom music wasn't so annoying for his ears. He delved into his tuxedo pocket and pulled out a pack of Pall Mall. Claude inserted a cigarette between his lips before checking his pockets for a lighter. He was unaware of the man approaching him from behind. He turned his head when he heard footsteps and the man raised his hand as if declaring his harmless nature.
"Hi there," the man stepped into the light for Claude to make him out. "You mind some company?"
He was a couple of inches taller than Claude with a slender frame. He had a headful of white hair and so too was his beard; Claude caught the mid-western twang in his voice. The man held a cigarette in his hand and set fire to it from drawing closer to light Claude's cigarette. The man stood beside him as he blew a ring of smoke into the night's air.
"Quite boring back there, ain't it?" the man cocked a thumb at the direction of the party room behind them.
Claude nodded. "You can say so."
"Oh yes, I do. Way too many party functions to attend, sometimes it's hard keeping with all of them. I'm Jeffery by the way. Jeffery Boam."
Claude shook his hand and introduced himself as well.
"You're that new executive from that Atlanta-based company, aren't you?" asked Jeffery.
"Can't say I'm exactly new," Claude said. "I've been here three months now."
"Over here, you're an older expat once you've survived six months. Plenty I know can't hold on for three. No disrespect, though."
"None taken. No one's mentioned that to me before."
"I knew your predecessor though. He was a very friendly fellow."
"That's what everyone's told me already."
They fell silent for a moment. Each man smoked his cigarette and enjoyed the evening breeze.
"I remember my first time coming here," Jeffery mused. "Never thought I'd want to be anywhere else. Not even now."
Claude looked at him. Jeffery gazed at the distant city lights, not minding his stare. Claude couldn't comprehend what he'd said and reckoned it meant nothing to him. He couldn't help but wish he were alone. He had been feeling better by himself instead of with company.
"You live on Colonial Drive," Jeffery said. It was a statement, not a question.
Claude turned to him. "Yes, I do."
"A lovely place for us expats. My Master is there right now, attending to business."
