×
× Digital News Videos Kenya @ 50 Health & Science Lifestyle Opinion Education Columnists Ureport Arts & Culture Moi Cabinets Fact Check The Standard Insider Podcasts E-Paper Lifestyle & Entertainment Nairobian Entertainment Eve Woman Travelog TV Stations KTN Home KTN News BTV KTN Farmers TV Radio Stations Radio Maisha Spice FM Vybez Radio Enterprise VAS E-Learning Digger Classified Games Crosswords Sudoku The Standard Group Corporate Contact Us Rate Card Vacancies DCX O.M Portal Corporate Email RMS
Login ×

How does a man become a bad boy?

By Jack | December 8th 2012 at 00:00:00 GMT +0300

Roguebachelor/By Jack

“You should be a bad boy,” Sharon had said. Then, casually, she had walked away. I had wanted to jump up and follow her to find out what the heck she meant by that. Instead, I just stared after her blankly, my train of thought momentarily scrambled.

The way she had said it clearly implied that anything was possible between us. I was sorry to disappoint her. She was gorgeous in a sexy, feral way. A bad girl. Yet, I was somewhat relieved.

I suppose I should explain. At the back of my mind, as I watched her derriere disappear around the corridor, was the vague notion that it was time I made an honest woman of the mother of my little toddler.

“Bite the bullet,” my very unimpressed old man had bellowed over the phone. “Or set her free man!”

Read More

I bit the bullet. Hot meals, sex on tap, consumption of less booze and more vegetables would make anyone healthy. I got healthy. A visit to the bouncing castle every other Sunday can make anyone happy. I was happy. I was beginning to save money rather than blow it. I was even thinking of buying a piece of land, becoming a landowner somewhere and getting a few cows. The good life was beckoning.

Nightmare

Then one short year later the dream imploded spectacularly. Now here I was, all alone in the kitchen, staring at my fingers, which had gotten singed as I attempted to make myself breakfast (coffee, laced with Tennessee Bourbon whisky and eggs). 

A month ago I would have had company for breakfast.  A month ago things like diapers existed in my shopping list. A month ago I would be taking tea with toast and some ham, maybe. Now here I was, wallowing in failure, nursing singed fingers and a mild hangover, the words “you should be a bad boy echoing around in my head”.

Then the phone rang. I stared at the number and thought I was going bananas. Members of the board don’t usually call junior managers. Heck they don’t even call senior managers.

Boardroom catch

Ten minutes later I was on the road to the head office.  As I sped down the highway my whisky addled mind played back the weird conversation I had just had with the powerful lady. Get to the office immediately! I had been ordered in no uncertain terms.

At the reception, I found a note telling me I was expected in the executive boardroom. So I strolled down the corridor, trying to act cool, took a left and walked through the doors. I expected to find the entire board waiting for me with angry looks.

I was mildly aware I had been slacking off on the job. As a consequence, the company had suffered a mild PR disaster recently, directly involving a director. Frankly, the sack would not be a shock if it came.

I walked through the doors and found the power lady seated at the head of the table. She was alone. And she was smiling.


 


Bachelor baby woman
Share this story

More stories


Take a Break

Feedback