Hiring the Violinist who sells Weaves in Kinoo.
Phillip clutched his keys, his gaze taking in the quaint town Nyambura had chosen to settle in. Kinoo was small, out of the city, but still close enough to major hospitals and the hustle and flow. Having a major highway close was a plus. Nyambura’s shop was thriving.
She stepped out of the shop, drawing his attention. She always looked healthy and beautiful. He smiled. Her casual style far removed from the ultra modern women he met daily. No heels for Nyams, she preferred white rubber shoes. Comfort ruled her world. Her well-worn jeans hugged her hips to perfection, the white shirt she wore covered her curves but the mystery intrigued him.
Meeting her frowning gaze, Phillip smiled.
“What brings you here?” Nyambura asked, with a flustered smile.
“How are you?” Phillip asked, closing the distance Nyambura kept between them. “You don’t call or answer messages.”
“Phillip,” Nyambura started.
“I told you, think of me as your friend.”
“Yes,” Nyambura sighed. “I know you did. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with the shop and practice.”
“Excuses, Nyams,” He shook his head. “I’m not asking for anything else but friendship.”
“Yeah?” Nyambura leaned on the wall behind her. Her gaze on his car. “Why don’t you tell me why you came today?”
Nyambura was an escapist. She continued to avoid his attempts to get close. Shutting him down without effort, Phillip sighed.
“I have a gig for you,” Phillip said. “You interested?”
“What kind of gig?” Nyambura asked, finally meeting his gaze, her interest peaked.
Phillip hid a smile and folded his arms against his chest.
“My company has a formal party tomorrow evening. The main act cancelled. They’re stuck in Kampala doing another performance. We have important investors in town, the kind who need classy parties.”
Nyambura frowned. “How much?”
“Twenty thousand,” Phillip said. “Formal dress, our guests expect a real authentic show.”
“Twenty-five,” Nyambura countered, forever the business woman.
“Come on, Nyams,” Phillip said.
“It’s short notice, Phillip,” Nyambura said. “If I need to convince the guys to give up stuff they are doing for cash, I need a good payout.”
Phillip calculated their budget. The act that cancelled was to be paid thirty thousand for the night, and an early breakfast call. Their popularity dictated their price. Nyams and her quartet were classy, but unknown. Oh well, Phillip decided the payout was well-deserved. He’d get flack for it from the accountant, but—
“Fine, Twenty-five,” Phillip said.
Nyambura gifted him with her first smile and he stared. She rarely smiled. Phillip could count the number of times he’d seen her do it. Six times, to be exact. This woman with her hard shell and brown eyes that had seen too much. She intrigued him.
“Thank you,” Nyambura said. “What time?”
“Can you show up at five-thirty in the evening? Set up, and make sure everything is working.”
“Sounds good,” she nodded. “We need a room to keep stuff, and change clothes.”
“No problem,” Phillip smiled. “Dinner is on us.”
Nyambura nodded, and reached for her cell phone. She texted her fellow musicians in seconds, and got a reply back just as fast. Her excitement was hard to miss. It made him feel as though he’d helped her win the lottery. Nyambura’s music was important to her.
Phillip stared at his car keys. He wished Nyambura would ask him if he wanted tea. He’d scoped out the little shopping center and the tiny hotel across the street was perfect. Hell, he could eat a mandazi if she asked. Or even a samosa…
If she wanted, he could drive her to the nearest pizza place. While they ate, they would talk about everything from the weather, to planting maize…the music people were listening to these days…the possibilities were endless.
“Well,” Nyambura said, and he looked up, hopeful. “Thank you so much for thinking about us. We won’t disappoint you tomorrow.”
Yes, the let down was swift, fast. No room for doubt, Phillip sighed. Nyambura never dared to give him a hope.
He smiled at her, and she held out her hand for a handshake.
Phillip took her slender hand, squeezed it gently, then she let go, and he was left with no choice but to head back to his car. He shook his head and walked down the steps.
“What happened to all the courage, Phillip?” he murmured under his breath, and opened the driver’s door. Getting in, he slammed the door closed and sat watching Nyambura enter the shop with a final wave to him. He’d come to visit her with such fire, ready to make her hear him out.
Still stuck in friend zone, fail, Phillip scoffed.
Jeez, this was getting pathetic. His mistake though, he kept spouting all the nonsense about friendship. If he was ever going to get out of there, he had to confess tomorrow night at the party, he decided. Nyambura was always at her best when she was playing music, so he’d talk to her right when she was flying high from the performance.
Phillip smiled with anticipation and started the car.
to be continued…..Thank you for reading ^_^!
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One thought on “The Enchanting Violinist – 3”
Uh oh…I think Phillip’s plan may be a bit misguided…