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[Rose Church – Second Ballroom | Date: 24/12/2019 | Time: 22:05]
The second hall of Rose Church had shed its usual identity as a humble lunch space and now glowed with seasonal transformation. Gone were the wooden tables and chairs at the centre of the room instead, a section to the side was prepared. On it, a variety of snacks and drinks were prepared, from cakes to warm punch.
White and Golden paper strings with varying shapes of snowflakes and stars that the kids had made hung from the ceiling beams. A small sound system played a playlist of jazz-infused Christmas instrumentals, creating a warm backdrop to the quiet buzz of conversation, laughter, and shuffling footsteps. Volunteers in cheerful holiday sweaters drifted through the space with trays of warm fruit punch and sugar-dusted cookies.
One corner of the room was cordoned off for the Gift Drive Station, where wrapped parcels of every shape and size were being collected into neat, labelled piles—"Children (5–10)," "Teens," "Warm Clothing," and "Family Packs." Above it all hung a white banner in looping red font: "A Season of Giving – For Those with Less, From God's Children."
"Mum, just how many gifts did you prepare?" Rakim questioned as he made his third trip from the car, clutching gift boxes in his arms. "It's almost like a clown car, just with never-ending gifts."
"This is just the last of it. I've made around four trips to the church already," She responded with a thoughtful look as she patted her son with a you can do it expression, motioning for him to get the next load. "The gym's profits have been rising, and my finance people told me I needed to donate to something I care about or help Uncle Sam finance another Rocket. So, I worked with a Christian charity called the Heart Foundation to sponsor gifts and initiatives across different churches and places in need."
"You know, I think my first thought of this being a family of Angel's way back then was spot on," Rakim mumbled with a bright smile as he lugged another gift box that was likely a Keyboard, not the computer kind, but the instrument.
Lisa gave a modest shrug, though her eyes gleamed with pride. "If I'm going to be mistaken for an angel, I might as well act like one now and then."
As Rakim set the keyboard box down gently beside a pile marked "Teen Activities", he noticed how meticulously the volunteers were sorting each donation. Nothing felt haphazard. There was reverence in the process—every item handled with care, showing just how much every little bit was appreciated.
Luckily for him, his dad came in with the last of the gifts, allowing him to excuse himself and join the festivities. He walked around the room, greeting a few familiar faces like Max, Damian Green, a few of his old school teammates and Lexi, who was with a group of his old classmates. Since he had left before his junior year, it felt weird seeing kids he had shared a classroom with.
They kept things cordial, though probably prompted by the atmosphere and the fact that they were in the house of the lord. People tend to be on their best behaviour when they know an all-powerful god is among them. "I think Emma and Liv and her went to the garden with a few of their old classmates who are back for the holidays." Reece had told him after he caught him, Bennet, and a few of their friends huddled over a kicker table. 𝒏𝒐𝒗𝒑𝒖𝒃.𝙘𝒐𝒎
"Cheers and good luck, Eagles for state," He responded, earning a few 'Yeah' in response from the teenagers who were likely part of the team. Walking out of the side hall, which was the most efficient path to the garden, he stepped into a dark corridor illuminated by LED lights.
At the end of the corridor, there was a right turn before the turn on the left side of the corridor, there was a glass door leading to the courtyard. However, just as he opened the door, a familiar voice drifted into his ears, causing him to come to a stop. He looked around and managed to catch the figure's appearance in the reflection of the window further down.
It was Victor May's father, but unlike how he usually carried himself, his mask was gone. The look on the man's face was one he recognised all too well as it drew a surge of memories of his past life that he thought he had forgotten. It was the look the leaders had when they knew they had fucked up colossally and had to answer to a bloodthirsty warlord who sniffed the happy powder with his breakfast.
"...No, listen to me—Langford doesn't have the full picture, and if you trust me, making a 20% profit is the minimum. I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but I have a guarantee from a friend, and it's a sure deal." He heard him say on the phone before pressing a button to mute it with practised ease.
Flicking over to his left, he had answered another call whilst whoever was on the first call rambled on. "Mark, my friend, Merry Christmas, thanks for calling me... if this opportunity wasn't pressing, I wouldn't bother you so late, but the time crunch on this deal... like they say money doesn't sleep even on Christmas."
"The more the better, but we can get you started for just 30, which would only get you a small bite of the cake, but it's still better than nothing, right?" Victor said, looking every bit the snake oil salesman he was as he channelled his Jordan Belfort. He muted the call as his friend responded and went back to the other phone.
"I knew you had the guts to play the long game... You sure you want to add another 25 million... It's not that I don't trust your guts, but maybe you should check in with your wife first, Ok, ok fine, you are the man, just wire the money and I will put you down," he told the man before promptly ending the conversation to deal with the other caller.
For a good 10 minutes, Rakim stood there in silence watching as the man lied through his teeth as he managed to gather more than 250 million dollars. He wasn't done, though, as he picked up yet another call. "No, no, Frank—I promise you; this isn't like last time. That deal had… unexpected variables. This one? Locked in. Institutional backing. Think WeWork but without the PR mess, and I'm giving you early access."
Sighing, Rakim decided to leave, regretting the fact that he had borne witness to this. The man had seemed like a winner in life for as far as he had known him, totally unrecognisable from the desperate expression of a gambler who was scraping money from all directions in order to place that last bet that would fix all his worries. However, just as he was about to gently close the door behind him, he heard him say something that piqued his curiosity.
"I've been expecting your call, Donnie. How are things on your end?" he said in a much calmer yet still serious tone. "Good, I've managed to gather 550, just enough to cover the deficit if I add the two trust funds, making a total of 950m. I just need to have that money back in by April."
"There is no going back, it's already in motion, so let's just execute and make sure nothing gets in the way so close to the finishing line," Victor said with a determined expression, not willing to heed the hesitation from Donnie. "Talk soon, I gotta go, I've been gone for too long, and if I don't make the rounds, I'll have a riot on my hands."
Rakim closed the glass door behind him, not minding whether he was being quiet anymore, as his pulse hammered in his ears. Nine hundred and fifty million dollars? The number rolled through his head like a shockwave. He had never seen so much money as he had never bothered to care about such since he had enough to comfortably live.
To date, he is still unaware of his parents' net worth, only chalking it up to being a lot. It wasn't the fact that Victor was scamming people with false promises that caused his heart to tighten, but the mention of trust funds that did. He had figured the man was desperate from what he had picked up, but emptying his children's trust for what is obviously a gamble wasn't something he ever imagined the man doing.
Now that he thought about it, the signs had been there throughout the year. The biggest clue should have been his lack of pushback when May moved to Germany to be with him and attend the University of Cologne, despite being insistent on her attending Brown after she got accepted. 'Hey Eva, what am I supposed to do with this information?' He inwardly asked as neither his brain nor his heart could come up with an answer.
{...}
'Sounds about right,' he thought to himself as his legs carried him forward quickly, reaching a small burning fire pit where a group of young adults were gathered around with their own special punch.
"Babe, you're finally here. I was just telling them about the snow in Leverkusen. Didn't I almost call the hotel staff about someone throwing fake snow on our balcony?" She exclaimed the moment she spotted him skipping to his side and promptly wrapping her hand around his neck pulling him into a hug, acting like she had missed him for years. Seeing her bright smile, the words got stuck in his throat, and he lost the simple ability to form speech.
"What, cat got your tongue? I know I'm pretty, but if you keep staring, they're gonna think you're a perv."
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To Be Continued...
