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Well, here's my contribution to the Story Baton. It's long. I know it's supposed to be a short story, but I apologise. I went a bit crazy with it. Hope you like it…

If you need the background to this, please read:

Part 1 by Theena
Part 2 by SpectralCentroid
Part 3 by Parthi
Part 4 by Azrael
Part 5 by RD

All of you have done a great job. It's been difficult as I think we didn't set out a clear framework for a story. If I was to do this again, I would establish a proper setting, and stable of characters for people to work with. For example, I could say something like; imagine "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air" set in Colombo - and write around that premise.

But I really do think everyone has done a great job so far. The writing styles showcased have been awesome. I hope this experience inspires all of you to write more stories of your own. 

The baton now passes to Indyana! Good luck!

==========

(Remember Glengarry Glen Ross. “Always Be Closing.”)

 “I’ll tell you what Mr Johnson. I’ll give you a written guarantee that we’ll deliver your solution on budget, and on the deadline date, and if we don’t meet the commitment, I’ll pay for the whole project myself. That’s how confident I am, Mike. Can I call you Mike? Well, Mr Johnson, I am willing to bankroll this entire thing if we don’t meet your requirement in even the slightest way.”

(Try a little reverse psychology.)

“Look Mr J, I’ll level with you. I have already sold this solution to twenty major corporations, and we don’t need this business. You came to us, Mr Johnson. We can do the job, and we have a proven track record of not letting our customers down. Ever. If that’s not enough, then I’ll have to bid you good day.”

(He’s on the fence. Get him back on track.)

“You speak to your Board, Mr Johnson. You do that. I’ll be waiting. Hell, I’ll even fly out to meet them! This is a no-brainer, Mr Johnson. You can’t lose. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about. This will mean big kudos for you all round, Mr Johnson. This decision has ‘Upper Management Material’ written all over it, you know what I’m saying?”

(Got ‘im. Reel him in.)

“That’s great, Mr Johnson. Okay then, ‘Mike’! Remember, here at IDS we never meet the customer’s expectations. We exceed them. Yeah, sure, you can quote me on that. Take care, Mike. I’ll await your call. Have a great weekend.”

Shan put down the phone. All in all, it had been a pretty damn good day. He’d engineered a small coup in the morning with a bunch of Japanese venture capitalists looking to invest in a small software start-up like his, and managed to squeeze fifteen million dollars out of them. He’d delicately solved the problem of two employees who had been caught in flagrante in the copy room. He’d greenlighted the developers’ idea on how to double their productivity by installing a Coke machine in the computer room. And now it looked like he was gonna get the AccuTex account, after all.

Not a bad day’s work, he thought to himself. Yep, things were looking up. And if things went as planned, this evening was going to put today’s office triumphs in the shade.

Shan clicked on the Start menu, and started to shut down his laptop. He smiled. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been looking forward to doing that all day. He clicked through to his private secretary. “Roshi, I’m done for the day. Is everything ready?”

“All done Sir. A dozen roses are in the car. The caterers will deliver the dinner at seven - sharp. With someone to serve and wait on you. Incidentally Sir, if they are deficient in any way, please let me know tomorrow. I told the manager that I will personally visit their premises and place his head on a plate if they mess this up. The violinist should arrive at seven, to coincide with dinner. Oh, and the choker you bought her this afternoon is on the front seat of the car, with her card.”

“What a team, Roshi! Whatever would I do without you? Good night, see you Monday. Thanks for everything.”

“Good night Sir. Have a lovely weekend. And Happy Anniversary.”

He’d played it perfectly of course. Woken up in the morning, gone to the shower, dressed and changed, following his usual routine. Never even given the slightest glimmer of remembrance about what day it was. He’d found it excruciatingly difficult not to bring it up at all over the last few weeks, seeing the growing frustration in her eyes. This morning she was frostier than he’d ever seen her. But it was all gonna be worth it. Soon his little plan was going to come to fruition.

He slid into the seat of his two-month-old BMW 535i. Mmmm. Heated leather seats. They never failed to give him a jolt of satisfaction. Hell, if a man can’t spoil his buttocks, what was the point in living, he thought to himself. He fired up the engine, slid her into Drive, and eased out onto the street.

As he drove, he mulled over his plan. How it must be rolling into action as he drove. That morning, he’d waited until she'd left for work, and had left cryptic little post-it notes all over the house. She should have got home, and would be finding them right about now. He smiled, imagining her pretty face lighting up with that million-dollar smile that was the one thing he lived for, and would gladly die to protect.

He overtook the car in front effortlessly, breezing past him, noticing out of the corner of his eye that he had startled the slow-moving driver. He scythed his way through the traffic, darting in and out of the gaps made by less perceptive roadgoers. He really did love driving - it was a part of him that had never changed, since he took to the wheel in his teens.

In a way, he wished he was at home right now. He really regretted not being able to see the look on her face as she realised that he hadn’t forgotten. That he’d planned all this from the start. That he wasn’t the slimy jerk she thought he was. That he wasn’t like all the rest of them. That she was special to him. That he loved her.

He gunned the engine and let the Teutonic masterpiece stretch her legs a little. It was like driving a piece of beautiful poetry. He leaned her into the bends, hugging the dashed lines, and feeling the suspension adjusting to maintain the car’s natural air of grace and poise.

His mind drifted back to home. He imagined her finding each note, one-by-one. Trying to figure out what they meant, each one giving her a clue to the purpose of the whole game. If he had calculated her reactions accurately, she should be finding the dress right about now.

He braked gently, feeling the gearbox down-shifting so very seamlessly and smoothly. It was almost imperceptible. He signalled to the left, and turned onto their street. Not long to go now.

She’d be getting ready now. When she was excited she got ready quickly. She’d be racing to meet him downstairs as he pulled into the drive. She’d be waiting for him in the foyer, looking coy and demure and beautiful all at the same time.

She might be hiding, waiting to jump out and surprise him. Or standing with arms crossed, pretending to be angry with him, only to melt into his embrace. Or leaning against the open doorway, her smooth black hair tousling across her face in the evening breeze.

He couldn’t wait.

Shan switched off the car, and walked up to the porch. Her car was here, but there was no movement or sound coming from inside. He unlocked the door, his heart in his mouth now, the butterflies in his stomach going crazy, anticipating what was behind the door.

He had a last-minute pang of panic. Would she be mad? Would she be angry? What if he’d totally miscalculated, and screwed things up? What if she’d had a bad day and he’d just made it worse? What if? What if? What if?

He walked into the foyer and shut the door. He sighed, a little because he was relieved, and a little because he was overwhelmed.

There she was. Her back to him, wearing the backless black cocktail dress he’d specially picked out. He savoured the moment, taking in each and every little detail. The perfect contours of her back, her intoxicating shoulder blades. The way she’d tied her hair up, just the way he liked it. The way she was standing, hands on the sofa, with one of her stilettos slightly cocked upwards. She looked beautiful, stunning, sexy.

Shan felt dizzy. He’d be okay. He should have expected to be light-headed. No, wait. This wasn’t a normal dizziness. His vision was blurring. The woman in front of him turned, slowly, as if in slow-motion. He felt the whole world fading away, as he tried to make out the features of her face. He was falling now, falling downwards, into darkness…

Shan woke up with a start. Blinking back into consciousness, he suddenly felt alarmed. Where was he?

Hmmm. An airport. He remembered getting pretty drunk on the flight over. Something about a superhero called Catman, and a nun called Dominic. Or was all that a surreal dream too? Hmmm.

He needed water. Or maybe a little hair of the dog. He checked the screens above. His connecting flight was still delayed.

He thought back to his dream. Who was the woman in the dream? Who was his wife? He strained to remember. But it was all just a dull blur.

Who was it? It looked like… But it also kinda looked like… Maybe it could’ve been… Well, let’s narrow it down…

No. How could this be? It could only have been one of two people…

Try as he might, he just couldn’t figure it out.

Was it Keshini, or Zolena?