Say It Isn’t So (Part 2)
As the man walked up to them, a spotlight turned on, illuminating the stage, on which several burly looking men had formed an ensemble. Each of them had their own musical instrument to play and they started playing Duke Ellington’s Solitude, a 1934 jazz standard befitting the sophistication of the bar they were in. The man reached them, but before he could speak, Ferman interjected “Hey! Kee Thariq, my man! Come, have a seat!” he beckoned.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” began the man, nervously but sitting down at the chair Ferman offered him nonetheless. “Somethings happened, Ferman,”
“What? It can’t be that bad can it?” asked Ferman. “By the way, this is Yun Irma. We met on FB. We haven’t met in real life yet, but we will soon, hopefully, in a setting not unlike this one, I hope,”
“Nice to meet you,” said Kee Thariq, nodding at Yun briefly before turning to face Ferman again. “Ferman, I tell ya, things are bad. They know,”
Ferman frowned. “They do?”
“Yes. And they’re not happy. But that goes without saying,” replied Kee Thariq. “What do ya plan to do about it?”
“This calls for some careful thought, which means I need a smoke,” said Ferman, producing and opening a box of cigars he had brought with him. “You smoke, Yun?”
“Not cigars, sorry. I only smoke kretek,” replied Yun. He had a brief momentary flashback to his time in Indonesia where he lived for seven years of his childhood and where he first acquired the habit. He could use one just about then, but unfortunately he was out.
“Pity. Oh well,” said Ferman. “What about you, Kee?”
“I don’t mind one. Those Cuban?” came his enthusiastic response.
“Dominican. They make ’em better, actually,” said Ferman, offering one to Kee Thariq, who took it obligingly. Ferman lighted his and Kee’s cigars and they both began to puff away, deep in thought. Yun wondered. What were they referring to? Who knew what, and why was it bad? Hmm. Should I ask? But I don’t wanna be seen as a busybody, tho.
“Kee Thariq here is a lawyer, too, Yun,” Ferman said suddenly. “He also does charity work. Recently he was involved in distributing free food to the poor as part of his Ramadhan activities,”
Kee smiled. “Oh, that. Yeah thats just some shit that I do on the side, thats all. Its no big deal, really,”
Really?” said Yun, impressed. “What about you, Ferman? You don’t get involved in charity?”
Ferman laughed as he continued to puff down his cigar. “Me? Me and people just don’t mix in general. I’m an introvert. A rhesus negative. You know that, Tun,”
“But maybe if you did it would help you meet more people,” said Yun, pressing the matter, much to Ferman’s discomfort, which showed.
“Nah. I’m fine the way I am, thanks, “ his expression changed as he moved to change the subject “So, they know eh? Hmm….”
“Pardon me, but who are they and what exactly do they know?” asked Yun, at the same moment Aziema Osmond came back with the drinks in tray. The other two men ignored his question and looked at Aziema.
“Oh, someone new with you guys?” she asked, noticing Kee. “Drinks are on the house here tonight so what would you like?” As she surveyed the men she looked at Ferman with a hint of recognition. “Say… you’re the one who writes all those articles online condemning the Bar Council, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ferman said and bowed slightly. “Anything?”
Azeima gasped and as she did, she let go of the tray she was holding. Crash! The sound of the tray and the broken glasses that were hitherto on it hit the floor causing a loud din, causing the heads of other patrons in the bar to turn to look at them.
TO BE CONTINUED…