Renegade
“You’re going to have to quit your job baby.” Luna declared shaking an imaginary piece of evidence in her hand as she paced the luxury penthouse in front of me
She was wrong, of course. I didn’t have to quit my job...I wanted to quit my job, and as per usual, I had a plan.
“You hear me? He’s trying to fuck you! Does that hijo de las mil Putas pendejo think he can just steal you from my firm and then fuck you?! You have to quit your job!!!” She hisses more desperately
The son of a thousand whores asshole she was referring to was my current boss, Lucas Roland, Earl of Whitlam, crown Lothario of all the whites of the Greater London Metropolitan area, the compulsory blonde heartthrob in all boy bands to have ever existed
“I’ll quit right after this commission love. Honest.” I swear, fixing my lippy and hair
I know it just sounds like pandering, I might be many things but I’m not a liar...
OK, I’m a liar, but I’m not lying about this yeah? I was actually trying to look like a responsible adult who had it together, I was getting ready for a huge meeting when peng ting hit me with drama. While working at Lucas ′ The Arc, I’d been (secretly) running a consultancy as a side gig, trying to build my name up for my own firm. Did it involve pitching my ideas to my boss’ clients any time I could to lure them to my firm and build my own rota of clients? Yes... but only because it was easier to steal my boss’ clients than it was to steal my girlfriend’s! I mean... what kind of bae would I be, I’d already quit working for her and gone to work for her rival! We were on shaky ground as is, and even though part of why Luna hadn’t dumped me yet is because she didn’t want me to suddenly start dating Lucas Roland, Earl of Whitlam, her arch-nemesis and business rival, I like to think I was more than just a pawn in their rivalry...at least to her.
“You promise?” She sarcastically says to me
“Mxm, allow it. He’s not even going to be at the meeting love. If I snag this commission...this one, darling... I’d be this much closer to being the youngest to ever get to the Venice Architecture Biennale.” I remind her, my excitement leaking through my words
Me, Funke Obatunde! I could already imagine the commissions and pavilions flooding my desk! Starchitect Olufunke Jamie Obatunde, a Dame or something!
“Mxm, it’s not like I can’t take care of us...” She reminds me with a soft pout, sucking her teeth at me
“I know you can, love...” I sigh moving sweetly into her arms, wrapping mine around her waist, and pulling her to me
“But this... this has always been Beyonce and Jay-Z, Ariana and Pete... Serena and Venus if they were gay, not related, and were into each other, yeah. I’m talking power couple, the Afro Latina and British Nigerian Ellen and Portia, That’s levels.” I vow, pressing my lips on hers and wiping the pout away
I smile up at her, she smiles down at me
“I’m Beyonce obviously.” Luna sighs with a smile
“I mean... JayZ cheated and is richer than her so...wouldn’t you... wouldn’t you wanna be JayZ in this case?” I argue grabbing my bag from the rack and racing for my shoes before she changes her mind
“Why would you bring that up?” She wonders, dazed as usual by my line of reasoning
“I mean you don’t want me to be JayZ because I’m the one working for the tosser you think is trying to fuck me...” I shrug snapping my shoes on and diving for the door
“OK, Love you, babe. I’ll ring you the second I sign this deal!” I throw at her as I head out the door
She shouts something after me but I’m too eager to hear what she’s said. I’m just going to assume it was platitudes, bars, and such about how much she loves me.
In case you were wondering what evidence she had that my boss was trying to fuck me, there wasn’t any. Lucas Roland, the Earl of Whitlam, the crown Lothario of all the whites of South London and the greater London Metropol, was not trying to fuck me. I knew this because I’d worked for him for almost two years and his type was coloniser, thin, WAG material with the orange spray tan, lip filler, the bushy 60s beehive cut hair, smoky or cat eyes, and faux fur. I was none of those things, and I was dating his main rival for three years now. I was a refugee to him, someone he’d rescued from a dead-end.
I used to work for Luna, but she wouldn’t let me grow, so I risked our relationship and jumped ship to work for Lucas, who had promised me plenty of space to grow, to try and fail, to get my name on some architectural drawings. And for all Whitlam’s more chaotic slightly older Justin Bieber had been good for, he definitely delivered on the promise, giving me more jobs and responsibilities. Of course, I was grateful for that, but I wasn’t trying to make partner at his firm, I was trying to start my own.
I think he’d decided I was lesbian, or black, or something completely undesirable to him. He hadn’t so much as looked at me funny since I joined his firm and I once saw him drunkenly chat up a mannequin at an art gala. Before you ask, yes, it was white with dark hair and a fur stole. His dick was permanently pointing in Lana Del Rey’s direction.
I on the other hand was closer to Lupita’s direction, so you can understand how safe I felt knowing he thought I was jokes. It allowed me several freedoms that I quite enjoyed. For example, every time he liked my pitch, I knew it was because the pitch was good, not because he was trying to get into my pants. Another great thing was that there were absolutely no rumours or possibilities of an office romance that was putting my credibility as a great architect up for questioning. No one thought I was giving sexual favours for project lead, there was no way in hell I was going to end up falling for my boss or whatever, and most importantly I didn’t have to deal with any of his insecurities. Ever. That’s why every time Luna was screaming about how much he wanted to fuck me I couldn’t be arsed to correct her. I didn’t want to tell her she was proper mad for thinking he’d even be able to get his dick hard given my aesthetic distance from his bevy of artsy/tragic Lana Del Rey types. I enjoyed it, kind of, that she was so in love with me that she thought Whitlam’s long-lost Hemsworth brother, Jake Hemsworth would even look my way.
The tosser that could change my life with one commission is none other than his Lordship Angus MacLeod. His offices were in Knightsbridge and he’d picked a restaurant that was close by so I could literally walk to it. He was a fine boy that one, money bags too and he was an ambitious developer. Only two of those facts were necessary for business purposes, but I’m a sharer, an aesthete, a purveyor of beauty especially in light and form and shape, and Angus MacLeod was a looker, a peng ting with all due respect to his Lordship. I mean sometimes I’d look at him and completely understand, I’d get it. I’d get how colonisers did it, I mean there’s foreign land I’d like to put on a face like that! I wouldn’t, of course, because I was with Luna, and he just recently got married or something, and well, because I don’t think my ancestors would be OK with it. Thankfully that wasn’t a bridge I had to sit my ass on, it was just business, just my first ginormous commission, just freedom. Finally, I could quit the Arc! Finally, my career wouldn’t be dangling between Luna and Lucas’ rivalry and their whims/strategy plays! Whew, the excellence of it all!
