Diary of a Jumoke: Episode IX

This is the ninth episode of Abduwahab’s Olajumoke’s “Diary of a Jumoke”. Kindly do give it a read and let me know what you think of it in the comment section below.

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Two weeks passed and my contract with Dr Bassey ended. He traveled out of the country last weekend after depositing a breathtaking amount of money in my bank account.

I mean five million naira for two weeks of being his side chick! If you ask me, I’ll say that’s good business.

Shade’s birthday was coming up soon and I planned a small party for her. It was the least I could do. The lady was like a sister I never had.

My head was all wrapped up in the birthday preparation that I forgot totally about Chief Ike’s invitation. When I remembered, it was way too late and I figured I had to devise a plan to make it up to him.

The day came and we were all prepared for the celebration. Shade had pestered me into inviting Dapo for the party.

She was hoping he would come with one of his friends or he could hook her up with one of his friends. Shade who was notorious for changing boyfriends like clothes told me she was a changed person and was down for love. Well, every girl deserves a second chance.

It was meant to be a small party, but the number of people who turned up was crazy. Even those people we had not invited came. Even Tega too came and she was acting this “goody” too nice girl to me. That girl’s stupidity is just beyond me.

I decided to wear a casual micro mini grown and a leather pam sleep on. I packed my braids in a ponytail and as usual, I was looking ravishing!

The party was already bubbling and everyone was having fun. Shade was all smiles.

I was busy with a plate of grilled meat when Dapo arrived. I was so into it that I didn’t notice he had been taking pictures of me chewing a mouthful of meat.

I was highly embarrassed when I finally knew what had happened.

“Hello Barbie, enjoying the meat?” he asked with a mocking grin on his face. I swallowed hard.

“Hi Dapo” I replied with a smile, standing up to give him a hug.

He was dressed in a red polo T-shirt, a short knickers and matching snickers. He looked completely dashing. I couldn’t help but stare at his lips. He caught my eyes on him and he winked.

 

***

The party was a blast. I was really tired and my neck was hurting. God knows, I nearly twisted my neck, made silly faces and replicated model like poses all in a bid to take perfect selfies with the celebrant.

It was late in the evening and almost everyone had left except for some of our neighbors and then Dapo. He stayed till the end of the party to keep my company. Thank God I hired a caterer; the whole place was a mess. Shade and I could not have cleaned it up in two weeks.

“I like your shorts” I complimented gesturing towards his khaki short.

I was slightly tipsy – and well, you know what happens when a girl is tipsy.

“I like your gown too”

“You look like a fairy!”

He picked his phone and asked if we could take a picture together. I gladly agreed.

The picture was beautiful and he joked about how my eyebrow looked like a Nike symbol.

At one point during our conversation he held my hand. His hands were warm and I wished he could hold me forever. Suddenly, he drew a bit closer and took my mouth in his (and there goes my kiss!). I was slightly shocked. I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me.

And as quick as he began, he pulled away and mouthed a silent “I am sorry; you are just too beautiful”.

Hian! Which kain I’m sorry? [What kind of sorry is that!?]

I replied by kissing him back. I had always wanted to do that. His lip was just as I had fantasized – soft, sweet and … (I kennat explain)

My hand was under his shirt in no time but we were interrupted when Shade cleared her throat loudly. We pulled away from each other. I could see the flush on his face.

“Sorry for interrupting” Shade teased.

“I just wanted to thank you for showing up Dapo”

“And Jumoke, thank you so much for this party”

“I feel so honored”.

I gave her a tight bear hug and Dapo took a picture of us.

Few minutes later he was in his car ready to go home.

“Take care of yourself Sweetheart”

“See you soon” he said his full blown baritone voice.

I gave him a wide smile and waved as he zoomed off.

I started missing him the moment he left.

“The guy is just a “potential customer”, don’t start catching feelings” I mused, trying to talk myself out of the idea that I was falling for him.

“Lover girl! When did you guys started dating?” Shade asked with a mischievous grin.

“Obashade! Please don’t start with me” I replied and headed straight into my room.

“No one is dating anyone” I added.

“Sha tell him to hook me up with one his friends Shade shouted after me.

I entered my room and crashed on my bed replaying the day’s event in my head. I was still in Disneyland fantasizing about how cute a couple I and Dapo will be when my phone rang.

Chief Ike was at it again.

 

***

Lexicon:

 

*sha – just

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Diary of a Jumoke: Episode VIII

This is the eight episode of Abdulwahab Olajumoke’s Diary of a Jumoke. It is quite a short one. Read and let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.

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I lay sprawled across the bed wearing only a bum short and an alter neck. Arianna was pulling my weave frantically in an effort to style my hair. It was painful, but I allowed her.

The little thing seems to be having fun. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the notification light on my BlackBerry was blinking. I picked it up and saw that a text message had come in.

In my mind I thought it was one of those “If you want to be happy, send 1 to 3205” messages MTN was always sending.

I opened it and saw that it was a credit alert. The amount I saw made me gasp for air. Someone had transferred a whooping sum of 1.5 million naira into my account.

I guessed that was why Mr Ibu (make that Chief Ike) had been calling me nonstop for some hours now. I allowed his calls to ring off the hook. I was not ready to let him engage me in one of his boring tales.

Really, that man can talk for Africa. He promised he would “furnish” my account and he actually “furnished” it to the fullest. He deserved an Oscar.

“Awwwhhhh! Arianna you are going to pull off my scalp. Oya please leave it. Its fine already” I pleaded.

She examined the hair and she seemed pleased with what she had done.

“Lemme go and bring grandma’s mirror” she said in her regular singsong voice and raced out of the room.

I decided to see the mess she left on my head as I fetched my makeup bag and removed a mirror. My reflection made me roar with laughter.

Even the witch of Oz doesn’t have a thing on me.

I had been very close to my daughter these few hours after Noka’s resurfacing from God-knows-where. When I saw him earlier, I felt thousands of unexplainable emotions rushing through me.

My heart was beating so fast I thought it would bust open. All this while and I still felt that way for him. I was furious though. I would rather die than allow him back or even allow him touch my child.

My mother instincts had been resurrected.

I was having a strong urge to go clubbing to get his selfish ass off my mind. No sob stories abeg. Hitting Club 44 was the first item on my to do list.

And come to think about it, I had been considering letting Chief Ike into the honeypot too. That was the best way I could appreciate him for his kind “furnishing” gesture.

And there was Dapo again,

“I really still wanna kiss him” I thought with a mischievous smile on my face.

 

***

“Is she asleep?” I whispered silently.

Arianna had been tailing me since forever and I had to wait until she fell asleep before leaving.

I was sure she would cry her eyes out when she wakes up and discovers that I had left.

“Jumoke wa joko” [Jumoke, have a seat]

“We need to talk about something before you leave” my Mum said.

I sighed loudly. This was one of those reasons why I always shy away from visiting her. Her long talks about life and all could squeeze life out of a living person.

I had no choice this time or else I won’t hear the end of the matter.

“That guy I saw with you the other day…. I didn’t allow her to finish, I knew where the whole issue was going.

“Mummy, Dapo and I barely know each other”

“Please don’t start this marriage talk. Please I interrupted.

I knew my mum; she would never back down. She pretended as if she didn’t hear what I just said and continued.

It doesn’t matter oko mi.”[my dear]

“You people can start from somewhere”

“I can see he is a nice and cultured boy” she continued.

“Okay Mum, I heard you”

I had to agree with her if I wanted the matter to be laid to rest.

And just when I was thinking I had gotten off the hook, she dropped the bombshell.

“I think you should forgive Noka”

“He realized his mistake and came begging”.

I have had enough!

I stood up, picked my bag and gestured that I was ready to go.

Before she could think of composing another speech on how I was supposed to be a responsible woman, I dashed out towards my car and I entered with the speed of light.

“I’ll call you when I get home” I said and zoomed off without waiting for her to reply.

 

*********

“Who is this person that parked in my spot” I yelled angrily to no one in particular.

I arrived at my house and helped myself with the gate only to discover that a black Camry was in my spot and there was no more parking spaces in the compound. I had to leave my car outside.

I rang the doorbell and Shade answered it, only for me to enter the house and find her witch friend Tega sitting on the couch as if she owed the house.

Sitting beside her was Sam, Freddy’s Latino son. The bit*h had brought the child to spite me.

I mouthed an unfriendly hi to her and she reciprocated my unfriendliness by keeping mute.

I’m still gonna bitch slap that silly brat one day.

I dropped my bag and pretended as if I didn’t see the boy.

“Shade, is there food in this house?”

“I am starving” I asked with a yawn.

“Yes babe, check the microwave” she answered.

Without wasting time, I walked briskly to the kitchen to fetch my food.

“Sam really looks like Freddy”

“They have the same nose” Tega said loud enough for me to hear.

“This girl is really foolish” I said to myself.

“His skin is nice too”

 “I hope he doesn’t follow your footstep and bleach in future” I chipped in.

The words hit her like a brick. Bit*h wasn’t expecting it. I gave her an obvious side eye, picked my bag and went straight into my room.

Few minutes later I was dressed in a jumpsuit, ready to hit Club 44. I couldn’t stand the presence of the silly girl for one more minute. She should better be gone when I come back.

 

******

Rukky was in a middle of a lap dance when I got to the club. If I was the man she was entertaining I would be praying fervently that one of her bones should not detach and drill a hole on my face.

I saw a couple of friends and I sat with them, a bottle of booze in hand. I was planning to get high.

I had been dancing for a while and then decided to take a break when I noticed someone was standing behind me.

I turned and there was Noka!!!

There goes my new stalker.

Diary of a Jumoke: Episode VI

This is the 6th Episode of Abdulwahab Olajumoke’s “Diary of a Jumoke”. This episode is a quick read. Read and let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.

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The look on Shade’s face was priceless when she entered the living room and found Dapo Badejo sitting right there. She had been sleeping when I arrived.

After staring at him for what seems like ages at the door, I finally invited him in and he was sitting comfortably on my favorite couch. I wanted to ask him like a million questions. One of which was how he got to know where I was living. Noka’s issue was laid to rest for a while as the anger I was feeling earlier had dissolved into something I couldn’t understand.

“Dapo, this is my mumI introduced.

I was actually expecting him to do a casual “Good Morning Ma”

But to my surprise, he dropped his phone and did a full Yoruba greeting by prostrating. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Ekaaro Mummy” [Good morning ma] he greeted.

Kaaro oko mi” [Morning my dear] my mum replied with a wide smile and a face that showed she was making up funny ideas.

“I hope she won’t start one of her long marriage lectures later” I thought.

“Jumoke, I’ll be in the room” Mum said and left, giving me and Dapo privacy.

“Erm, how did you locate me” I asked, not knowing what else to say.

“I have a friend living close by”

“And I was visiting”

“I was on my way out when I saw you”

“You were still wearing the same cloth from yesterday, so it wasn’t so hard recognizing you” he pointed with a mischievous grin.

I shifted on my seat. His remark about me still wearing the cloth from yesterday made me slightly uncomfortable. I studied his face from the corner of my eyes. He had a plump round face and I couldn’t help but notice his pink lips. I was fighting the urge to grab and kiss it.

We chatted for a while after he caught me staring at him and I covered up my embarrassment by offering him a glass of fruit juice.

He was fun to talk with and we chatted as though we’ve been friends for a very long time.

“I think I should be on my way now” he said out of the blues.

“I have to be in Abuja by noon” he added.

I gave a curtly nod and smiled nervously. His presence was somehow giving me goose bumps. I didn’t know if it was because of the fact that he was a celebrity or because I was crushing head over heels on him.

I followed him all the way to the gate like a lost puppy.

“What on earth is wrong with you Adejumoke!” I asked myself silently and gave myself a mild knock.

I was really acting out around this guy.

He asked if we could exchange contacts and I gave him my phone number while he did the same.

“See you soon Barbie” he said jovially as he brought his car engine to life and zoomed off.

I found myself fantasizing on how to nail him the next time we meet. His cute pink lip was just too sexy to ignore.

***

The loud buzz of my phone woke me up. I had crashed in Shade’s room immediately Dapo left. I picked the phone to check who was calling but I couldn’t recognize the number. I rubbed my eyes sleepily and I was about to continue my peaceful sleep when the phone rang again.

“Hi, who goes there??” I said into the phone, slightly irritated.

I really hated being disturbed when I sleep.

“Omalicha my pretty baby”

“How are you dear?” the caller asked.

I was lost for a while.

“Who is this alien calling my phone?” I thought.

Then my brain booted and I picked the Igbo accent. I had totally forgotten about this gaped tooth man. Chief Ike or whatever his name was.

But wait, I didn’t remember giving him my contact.

“Hello Chief, good afternoon”

“I hope you are okay?” I asked.

Few seconds passed without him saying a word, he seemed to be struggling with what to say.

“Biko, Ada send me your account number, let me furnish it” he said finally.

I busted out in laughter. Did he just say he wanted to furnish my account??

Is that even English at all??

“I want to make you happy baby” he added.

“I’ll send it very soon Chief. Thanks for the kind gesture”.

“You are always welcomed Omalicha

“Biko keep that face smiling” he replied and the line went dead.

This man should stop calling me these silly Igbo names abegi. I thought I told him my name. If he wanted to furnish my whole life I’ll let him. It is not kuku my money.

Meanwhile, Freddy had been calling me ever since. It seemed he was craving for a delicacy from the honey pot; nothing good comes easy though. I won’t just throw myself at him like a cheap girl. He would have to beg me with something big. A new car would do or maybe a trip out of the country. I yawned lazily and sat up in bed. Mr Ibu or was it Chief Ike had disturbed my journey to dreamland.

I was about stepping into the kitchen when I heard the doorbell.

I walked lazily towards the door and answered it before the bell rang the second time. Standing at the door was Mike’s chauffeur and a lady who I couldn’t recognize.

She was holding the most beautiful evening gown I had ever seen in my life.

“Good day madam. Oga talk say make we deliver this gown to you

Him also talk say make you get ready by 6pm”

“I go come carry you” he said.

I couldn’t help but admire his Warri inspired Pidgin.

“Dude must be from the creeks” I thought while I gestured to the lady to hand over the gown.

I had to think of a way to steal out of the house without my mum’s knowledge. I don’t want her asking questions about where I was going.

 

***

Lexicon:
*abegi – please

*kuku – none

*Omalicha – sweetheart

*Oga – boss

 

Diary of a Jumoke: Episode V

Thank God it is Saturday. I love the Lagos weather today. So sunny and nice. So here is a lovely post to go with the lovely weather. This is the 5th Episode of Abdulwahab Olajumoke’s “Diary of a Jumoke”. Read and let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.

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*Five Years Ago*

“Babe I really miss you and I want you so bad”

“Noka I miss you too. But I really need to talk to you. I answered in a very tired voice.

I had been feeling funny for the past one week. I wake up almost every day with a dizzy spell. That morning I had decided to confirm my fears by having a urine test.

The result I got threw me off balance. I discovered that I was pregnant. My mind was in deep turmoil.

What was I going to do?

I was so confused that I called my boyfriend Noka to tell him that I was pregnant. But when he picked the call and I heard his fruity voice at the other end of the phone, the words got stuck in my mouth.

All I could manage to tell him was that we needed to talk very urgently. He agreed and promised to pay me a visit the following weekend.

Noka was a guy I met when I traveled to Abuja to visit an uncle. He was in his mid-twenties and a bit older than I was. He was handsome, light skinned, with a tawny physique and an impressive athletic feature.

We met at the cinema, started talking and we ended up making love on our second date. Since then we had been sweethearts. I fell madly in love with him.

We met during his NYSC and he was stationed at Abuja. He didn’t go into much detail about his life, but he told me that his father was an Urhobo man and his mother an American.

He said they both live outside the country but they come to Nigeria occasionally. He also told me that he was likely to travel out of the country too, after his youth service. He had promised heaven and earth and I was so gullible then that I believed he was my knight in shining armor.

As he had promised, he arrived in my school that weekend. We had fun, went to the pool to swim and we ended up lodging at a hotel later that night.

I was still a bit scared. I didn’t know how to relate the news to him. So we had slept that night with me holding the news till the next day.

We had an early breakfast the following morning because he was leaving as early as possible.

I couldn’t eat.

The rice we had ordered smelled like raw egg and all I wanted to do was throw up. He noticed my clumsiness but I told him I was feeling a bit feverish.

He was all set to go and he drew me up from where I was sitting and enveloped me in a tight hug while he planted wet kisses on my face.

“I’ll miss you sugar bush he had said in a modulated voice.

I knew I had to tell him now or I’ll never be able to tell him again.

“Noka, I have something to tell you”

“I am pregnant” I finally said in a quivering voice.

The smile on his face disappeared.

“Jummy, you are what?” he had asked in a very worried tone.

At that moment, I wished the ground would open and swallow me up.

“How? When?” He asked.

“What are you going to do about it?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I can’t abort it. I am scared” I answered.

He dropped my hand instantly.

“Jumoke, I don’t have time for this” he had said in a shrilled voice that sent shivers down my spine.

Before I could say more, he bolted out of the room, leaving me all by myself.

That was the last time I saw him – the last time I heard from him. He had walked away from my life, leaving me to bear the burden myself.

My mother was devastated when she heard the news. We had both cried our eyes out. She expected more from me and I had disappointed her.

My Father died when I was just ten years old and since then she has been trying her possible best to give me a good education.

We were not rich, but she had always given me full financial support with her petty trade. I had dreams also. I had an ambition.

I was going to be an Economist; a very successful one. And I was so close to realizing that dream. I was in my 200L in school already. And now the pregnancy was threatening to shatter my dreams.

I had resolved to make the best out of my predicament. I was going to pull through no matter what it takes.

Few months after I gave birth to my baby, my mother’s shop was razed to the ground. Not a single thing remained.

Things began to fall apart. I had to man up and take up the responsibility of feeding myself, my mother and my 5 months old baby.

So in my 300L, I joined the clique of call girls in school. Don’t blame me, I had no other choice or else I’ll just drown in poverty.

Money began to roll in from all angles and by the time I was on my youth service, I had bought a house for my mother and my child.

The life I was leaving was tempting though so I had continued my “business” after university and stopping was the last thing on my mind. I had promised myself that I would be independent and I would never let any man take advantage of me again.

***

Present

I was still busy cuddling my daughter when my mother appeared from my room.

The shock on my face was evident.

“Maami e kaaro” [Mom, good morning] I greeted not knowing what else to say. I had not seen her and my daughter for the past 8 months.

She looked different, a bit older.

She walked towards the couch and answered my greeting with a nod. I knew I was in for trouble because she looked upset.

“Ma, why didn’t you call me before coming? I could have come over to pick you” I added knowing fully that last statement was a big lie. If she had called, I would have lied about being out of town or busy.

She sat on the couch without answering. I sensed something fishy was going on so I told Arianna to go inside my room.

Maami ki lo sele?” [Mom what happened?] I inquired.

“Why are you doing this to your daughter?”

“You left her all these past months without a single visit”

“What kind of mother are you!?” she thundered.

I felt a rush of emotions as she spoke and I was trying hard not to cry. I knew I had neglected my daughter, but I had my reasons. I was working my head off to give her a good life. I had been so busy.

“She was pulling tantrums”

“She wanted to see you badly”

“So I had no other choice but to bring her here”.

“And after what happened yesterday, she started asking questions”

I was alarmed.

“What happened?” I inquired in a worried tone.

My mum sighted heavily and shifted on her sit.

“Adejumoke…”

 Wait! She just called my name in full. Whenever she does that some serious banters was about to follow.

My heart skipped a million beats.

“Noka came looking for you” she said finally.

I felt like punching someone.

“Noka did what?”

“How did he find me?”

“What does he want?” I asked angrily.

I was pacing up and down now.

“He just appeared with his oyinbo mother”

“I asked who he was and he introduced himself as Noka” she continued.

“He prostrated and was begging me with tears”.

“Your daughter witnessed the whole thing”

“She has not allowed me a moment of peace since then”.

I was in another world already – the world where I was planning a million ways to kill Noka if I ever lay my eyes on him. I was not going to allow that beast get close to my daughter. She’s mine and mine alone.

The doorbell jolted me out of my thought.

“Who the hell is that?” I blurted out angrily.

I dashed toward the door as if to give the person there a beating of his/her life. I could really be over dramatic when I was angry

I pulled the door opened and I was transfixed.

“Please kill me already” I thought.

Today is really going to be a long day.

“Good morning Jumoke” he said in his regular baritone voice.

“Hi” was the only thing I could manage to say.

Dapo Badejo was standing in front of me life and direct. I must be dreaming.

 

***

Lexicon:

*NYSC – An acronym for National Youth Service Corps

 

Diary of a Jumoke: Episode IV

This is the 4th Episode of Abdulwahab Olajumoke’s “Diary of a Jumoke”. I am sorry for the belated post. It should have been published yesterday. Kindly read and let me know what you make of this episode in the comment section below. You can read Episode 1 here, Episode 2 here and Episode 3 here.b9565334-2a5d-4d71-9f13-c7c36d94dd7e

Soft bed, a lilac duvet and a man with traces of grey hair on his head was the first sight I took in when I opened my eyes.

At first, I couldn’t remember where I was but when my eyes fell on the scattered furniture in the room and my bra which was hanging on the door knob, the memory of the previous night came flooding back.

I had left Club 44 with Dr Bassey after he led me to his Limousine and ordered one of the most expensive champagne. I had giving him a very exquisite lap dance and by the time I was through, I discovered he was as hard as a rock.

He told the driver to take us to the hotel where he was staying and on our way I had added to the fun by giving him a blowjob he would not forget in a decade. He came in my mouth like a tsunami and I could see the pleasant shock in his eyes. Dude has never experienced anything like that ever in his life. I was proud of myself and my skills.

Never did I know that he was still caging his killer sex spirit. I was going to get the surprise of my life later that night.

We entered his suite and he called room service to bring us our meal. I had ordered almost half of the food on the menu,i was starving already. He had also ordered a plate of wheat meal.

He was engaged in some series of phone calls to his business partners while I chosed to freshen up. The food was ready by the time I entered the room wearing nothing but my bra and thongs.

I could see the greedy look in his eyes as he took in my body.

“You have a nice body.” he had commented and I replied with a thank you and placed a kiss on his lips. I could feel the alcohol in my system. I was slightly tipsy from the champagne I had taken earlier. I wanted him to do things to my body already, but first I needed to eat.

Everything about this man displayed elegance, even the way he eats. I was impressed as I watched him transport his meal with easy strides from the plate to his mouth. He caught me staring and he smiled.

“Please eat your food dear.” he added in perfectly accented English.

We were through with eating within few minutes and he excused himself. He said he needed to take his bath. I got on the soft bed and picked my phone. I had loads of unread instant messages.

My mentions on Twitter were the highest. Hian! What is it with Twitter Nigeria and silly banters? If I had known, I wouldn’t have joined this Linda Ikeji and Wizkid’s fight. Everybody is trying to seek attention in their own ways. I don’t have time for that biko. Everyone knows I hate Wizkid though.

I was so engrossed with my phone that I did not notice when Dr Bassey entered the room. I was lying on my tummy and I guessed the sight of my bum must have turned him on.

The way he grabbed my booty from behind made me shiver with pleasure; before I knew what was happening he had torn my thongs off with the speed of light.

Pinning me to the bed, he trailed his hand through the inside of my thighs like a pro. Dammmmnn!!! The pleasure I felt was too much to describe.

The tickling sensation was tantalizing as he worked his hand in and out of my wet honeypot. Watching me with a masculine smile as my leg vibrated with each thrust, I was moaning as loud as my voice box could allow me.

If the occupant in the next apartment were listening I was sure they would have heard the Shiiiiit, ahhhh, ohhhh, yeah babyyy! I was screaming, urging him to do more.

When he saw that I was close to exploding. He guided me over to the chair and instantly I got down as low as my back could allow, giving him unrestricted access. He plunged into me with force like a plumber trying to dig a borehole.

I could swear that I felt his dick stretched from my honeypot into my throat. But again, I could just be exaggerating.

I was surprised by his length. I was not expecting to see that kind of “weapon of mass destruction” on a man of his age. I climaxed few minutes later and he did too.

I crashed on the bed immediately because all my strength had been drained by Oga Spartacus. I didn’t know when I slept off.

It seems he carried me from where I was because when I woke up, a pillow was propped under my head and a huge duvet covered my naked body.

I got out of bed to take my shower. When I came back, Dr Bassey was already awake.

“Good morning sunshine. I hope you slept well” he said.

“Good morning Doctor” I replied

“Please call me Mike” he added.

Then he told me he would be having a meeting very early that morning and that I was free to go home for a while. He also said his chauffer was waiting down stairs to take me any where I wanted to go.

Few minutes later, I was fully dressed and ready to go. Mike handed me fifty thousand naira in cash. I mouthed a quick thank you and hugged him before I left the room.

His chauffer was waiting as he had told me. The journey to my house didn’t take long. The SUV moved as swift as a bird.

I got down in front of the green gate leading to my compound and walked with gentle strides towards my flat.

I was still slightly tired and I needed to sleep.

I concluded that Shade was around because I could hear voices inside my flat. The door was opened and I let myself in, heading straight to my room.

“Mummmmmmmmy” I heard a tiny voice call out.

I turned around and I saw Arianna my daughter staring at me with her blue eyes.

“What the hell was she doing here?” I thought as I enveloped her tiny body in a bear hug and called out to Shade.

***

*biko – an Igbo word for please

Diary of a Jumoke: Episode 2

Hi, everyone.  This is the second episode of the new feature series, Diary of a Jumoke by Abdulwahab Olajumoke. Look out for Episode 3 next week Tuesday. Do give this a read and let me know your thoughts in the comments section.

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Three Months Earlier

I met Freddy at a beach party organized by my flat mate’s friend. Actually I hated the girl somehow. She always acted superior, like she owned the entire universe. She was not even as pretty as I am.

Shade my flat mate had convinced me that the party was going to be fun. Besides I could meet a lot of rich guys there. Meeting rich guys was what got me to agree to come. I won’t be so stupid to pass a chance of swimming in a pool full of wealthy fishes because of one stupid girl who had bleached every part of her body, including her brain.

We were half way into the party when he arrived. He was tall and muscular and I would have mistaken him for Vin Diesel if not for his dark skin tone.

I had been watching his every move since he arrived and I noticed the way the muscle in his back moved elegantly when he walked.

“His name is Freddy. He is Tega’s cousin.” Shade whispered to my ear when she saw how I was gawking at him.

Tega was the name of her friend who was having the beach party; the one that I disliked.

Not that I was a fan of muscular guys but then this Freddy guy was Tega’s cousin. That meant only one thing; he was definitely going to be rich.

Without wasting time, I stood up from where I was sitting and walked towards him flaunting my killer bikini body as I walked. Many eyes were on me, or should I say many eyes were on my booty.

Yes, I was aware that any guy would drop dead to touch my booty but this time I was not in for any kind of stupid hookups not when I had a candidate in mind.

“Can I have a seat?” I asked with a perfected British accent.

Anybody would have thought I was born and bred outside the country.

As Shade would put it, my packaging game was hyper tight.

He looked up from his phone and I could swear his eyes were squarely on my cleavage.

The sharp girl that I was, I tilted my body to an angle closer to his face giving him a full view of my assets. Instantly, he gestured to an empty sit beside him.

“Have a sit babe.” he mouthed as his eyes surveyed my drop dead physique.

He seemed to be pleased with what he saw.

I could see the loathing look Tega gave me when she saw that I was with her cousin. I cared less though. I was going all the way down with this one.

We talked for quite a while and all through I had worn my Victoria secret model look.

During our conversation, I learned that he was an only child and the sole heir to his father’s fortune. That piece of information inspired me more to stay in the quest.

After a while, he told me he wanted to be on his way home.

Seriously?

I was not going to allow him leave without giving him a delicacy from the honey pot. He was too valuable not to have a taste.

I stood up and pulled on his hand seductively, pressing my booty against him intentionally. I told him I wanted to see his car and he seemed to have gotten the message.

Five minutes later, we were inside his car tearing at each other like angry birds.

Damnnnn!!!

The dude was a perfectionist. He knew how to do his thing and I was impressed.

The fact was that he had gotten deep into the honey pot and he was sure going to come back for more. So we became a regular. He was a bit older than i was but not old enough to be called a sugar daddy.

On my last birthday, he had gifted me with a Range Rover. I was slightly annoyed though. I had actually thought he would buy me a new car instead of him giving me the one he had been using before.

But as the saying goes half bread is better than none. I had accepted the car in good faith.

Freddy on the other hand is a hard core womanizer. He kept women of all shapes and sizes. I won’t blame him, he’s just too handsome not to womanize and besides, as far as I am concern, all guys are womanizers. Every single one of them.

I was in for the money though so he could sleep with every girl on the planet for all I care. As long as the money keeps rolling in, I’ll continue to be the best sugar baby he had ever met.

 

Present.

The cherry fragrance that greeted me as I entered the car made me remember my Mum’s room back home and I missed her for a split second.

It was his deep voice that jerked me back to reality.

“You seem to be in a hurry.”

“Where are you heading to?” he asked.

“Club 44,” I replied.

“Hope you don’t mind dropping me there?” I added.

This guy should just shut up and drive joor.

I didn’t have time for small talks. As it was, I had numerous missed calls on my phone already. Rukky had called me like a million times and then there was Freddy. The idiot had been calling me nonstop for the past five minutes. His womanizing sense should tell him to follow the directions I sent to him and pick his car.

His calls are just annoying me. I had planned to bounce back on him later but first I need to get to Club 44 as soon as possible.

The guy was saying something about the traffic but I was not listening. I was oblivious of my environment that I even forgot to finish my survey on him to determine if he was worthy of hanging on to.

I was relieved when he finally pulled over in front of the famous Club 44. I rushed through a thank you speech that I was barely conscious of.

My mind was elsewhere.

I alighted from the car and was about going when he stopped me and gave me his complimentary card.

The name I saw on the card squeezed the oxygen out of my lungs. My eyes instantly did a 360 in their sockets.

Dapo Badejo, the owner of Swanky Cloth line, had given me a lift but I was too occupied to even notice.

What on earth was I thinking?

Before I could get over my shock, he had zoomed off and I just stood there staring like a scarecrow.

I had caught a big fish without any effort.

Rukky’s call came in again making me sweep what had just happened to the back of my mind.

“First things first,” I thought.

I have business to handle and Dapo Badejo could wait a while.

 

*****

Lexicon:

*joor – a Yoruba word that indicates please

***

Abdulwahab Olajumoke is a Mathematics and Statistics student from The Federal Polytechnic, Ilaro who just concluded her National Diploma Program. Her interest lies in reading articles and novels of all kinds which has in turn prompted her to keep pursuing her career in writing.

Diary of a Jumoke: Episode 1

Hi, everyone. I am sorry this took longer to post than I thought. This is the first episode of the new feature series, Diary of a Jumoke by Abdulwahab Olajumoke. Look out for Episode 2 next week Tuesday. Happy holidays.

 

***

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I dialled his number and it rang for the second time in a row. Where the hell is Freddy and why was the mumu not picking my calls? I had been standing by the roadside for almost an hour. My Range Rover had broken down and I had no idea what had happened to the silly car. It had been working perfectly earlier today.

Gosh!!!

My leg had started to hurt due to the fact that I had been pacing up and down in my 5’’ tall Zanotti heels. Dialing Freddy’s number again, I opened the car, got inside and waited for the idiot to pick up. I was so going to give him a piece of my mind. I just hope he was not busy banging any cheap punani.

The call connected…

“Hello babe,” he said in a shaky voice, like he had been running a marathon. I was actually right; the idiot must have been banging a chick while I was here suffering.

“What on earth is wrong with you? I thundered. “You abandoned me here with this second hand car. You refused to pick my calls. Are you mad already?”

I was really boiling inside and when I’m angry I tend to over react. Freddy mouthed a quick reply into my ears and before I could say jack he ended the call with a “Babe I have to go. Send me your location and I’ll come pick you up.”

 What the hell just happened? Did that broke ass dude just ignore me?

 I was still thinking of a way to get out of the mess I got into when my eyes fell on my nails. What I saw fueled my anger. One of my neatly manicured nails had fallen off! This could not be happening! I spent two hours fixing those nails. I paid fifteen thousand naira for them. And in a bid to open the car’s bonnet when it broke down, one of my nails fell off. This is not happening.

I checked the time and it was past noon. I was really running late and I was sure Rukky would have my head if I did not get my ass down to Club 44 very soon. She was giving me an offer of a life time. I must not mess things up but again I was still stuck with this godforsaken car.

As if controlled by a higher power, I picked up my Gucci bag, my phones, dropped the car keys on one of the chairs, got out and banged the door after me. I would not let any car wreck my plans. The idiot would come and carry the yeye car himself. I was going to get someone to buy me a new one later.

Not minding the scorching sun, I elegantly stood like a queen beside the road, waiting for a “Mr Charming” who appreciates beauty to stop and pick me up.

Yes, I was beautiful! I knew it. I had everything a guy wanted in a lady – long legs, a contoured face, a banging booty… What else could a guy ask for?

I had everything I wanted at my beck and call. Money was not a problem; I changed cars like clothes. I flew in and out of the country whenever I wanted. I did not really have a fixed income or job. I had been “self-employed” ever since I graduated from the university two years ago.

As the saying went, I was using what I had to get what I wanted. I was a proud sugar baby. People talk but arrghhh! Money must be made and I had the perfect tools to use – my body actually. My area sister Rukky, would be connecting me with some real sugar daddies later in the day and I was not going to mess it up for anything.

Just when I thought my legs were finally going to crack, a Land Rover parked in front of me and I did a super Shoki inside me.

The driver rolled down his window.

“Can I help you sweetheart?” he asked in a baritone voice.

I did a quick survey of his face; dude looked cute and rich.

He looked like a potential “investor”.

“Yes please, I need a lift,” I answered flashing him a Rihanna-inspired smile.

***

LEXICON:

*mumu – A Nigerian slang used to describe a person who acts daft.

*punani – Jamaican slang for vagina.

*yeye – useless

*Shoki – a type of West African dance

***

Abdulwahab Olajumoke is a Mathematics and Statistics student from The Federal Polytechnic, Ilaro who just concluded her National Diploma Program. Her interest lies in reading articles and novels of all kinds which has in turn prompted her to keep pursuing her career in writing.

 

CLUELESS – EPISODE 2

Happy Friday, guys. Here is Episode Two of Clueless by Tomi Adesina. Enjoy.

Clueless

Clueless

Sharon arrived at Woworx Hotels and Suites with hope in her heart. She hoped that her looks and carriage might grant her some favour. In all honesty, that was all she could cling to at the moment. She had lost all means of identification during the robbery.

“Good evening.” She greeted the attendants at the reception.

The receptionist struck her keyboard with alacrity and welcomed Sharon with a smile. “Good evening, ma’am. What suite would you like?” she asked, sliding a brochure across the desk.

Sharon cleared her throat as she feigned taking interest in the brochure. She stared at the receptionist and then smiled. “I… I erm, I have a situation. I know you might have heard this before and I am hoping you haven’t.”

The receptionist stared at her companion and then back at Sharon. “Ma’am, what room would you like?”

“I understand you are wired to only ask the basic questions but I just got robbed.” Sharon replied. Her heart raced fast she watched the receptionist’s eye register contact with her companion who stepped away from them towards the back of the hotel. “It’s only normal that he has gone to get the manager.” Sharon added. “I would get the manager too if I were you, but all I am asking for is an opportunity to stay here till Monday morning and I’ll ensure you get your money with a good tip too.”

The receptionist smiled. “I am afraid, Ma’am, we do not offer such services here.” She said, maintaining a courteous smile.

Sharon watched the door open into the reception as the man who was the receptionist had now returned, but not without a woman, she believed was the Manager. Sharon firmed up for another round of appealing smiles. She grinned at the woman. “Good evening, Ma’am.” She greeted. “Are you the manager?”

The woman nodded. “How may we be of assistance?”

“I… I got robbed on my way here and I would like a favour.” Sharon replied. “Could I please get a room and I’ll pay my full bills on Monday morning once I get access to a bank.”

The manager smiled. “I am afraid we can’t help you if you do not pay the initial deposit as required.”

“It’s pretty late, ma’am. Are you going to kick a young lady who is new to Lagos to the streets?” Sharon asked, hoping she could appeal to the woman’s sentiments.

“I am sorry, Ma’am. Housing homeless people isn’t one of our social responsibilities. We can’t help you.” The manager replied and started looking through some documents on the receptionist’s desk.

Sharon gaped as she absorbed the insult. She had just been tagged homeless by a manager whose wages she was sure she could afford to triple in one breath. She had to make it through the weekend to Monday when she would have access to a bank one way or the other. She couldn’t afford to call her mother and grandmother who would enjoy nothing than to gloat at her misfortune… or maybe she was being unnecessarily proud. She needed help and if going back home was it, then it was valid to live to fight another day. Sharon wanted to fight this day. She had not come this far to chicken out. She took a deep breath as she stared at the exit and thought about what awaited her outside the safe walls of the hotel. She was scared. She turned away from the receptionists and looked ahead as she approached the door with a thumping chest. She had no idea where she was going and that worried her but she would find a way. She had to find a way.

Sharon slowed down on getting to the door, the onrushing man approaching her wouldn’t slow down. Someone had to be the ‘man’ and show some courtesy but since it wasn’t the one naturally moulded as a man, she would just play the role for him. He brushed against her shoulder as he made his way past her forcing her to shudder at his insensitivity.

“Sharon Ifesinachi Amadi.”

She stopped and turned to the man who had just rushed in past her. He smiled and walked back to her. Who could he be? She was sure she had never met him before. So how did he know her name and most importantly, why did he have to mention ‘Ifesinachi’?

“I knew it was you.” He said as he stood before her with a smile. “Whoa!”

Sharon blinked. The man spooked her with his familiar gaze. He was the only one who knew who both of them were and was having a ‘Whoa’ moment. She wasn’t.

“How…How have you been?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know who you are.” She said bluntly.

He nodded. “I am sure.” He started as he clutched his bag against his arm with a smile.

Sharon thought he was flushing carelessly, especially for a tall hunk with beards. She didn’t expect that from him.

“I sat behind you in primary school.” He said.

Primary School?! Christ! Who remembers anyone from their primary school?! Sharon took two steps backward as she stared at him trying to place a face. There was no way she could place his face. She didn’t even keep in touch with most of her classmates from high school; she definitely couldn’t remember the mister standing before her claiming to know her from way back in elementary school. “Okay…” she said, bulging her eyes at him, expecting some clarity.

He took the initiative. “I used to wear glasses. Really big frog-eyed glasses.”

“Now I see why I don’t remember you.” Sharon replied, getting into the conversation. “You don’t look like someone who could have been wearing those types of glasses.”

He nodded with a chuckle. “Oh sure, I wore them. But people say I have changed a lot. And… and you have too. You are now so beautiful. You used to be really beautiful then but now you—”

“—I get it! Now, I am stunning and it’s clear you used to have a crush on me.” She said abruptly, curbing his enthusiasm. “But, why did you have to call my name in full and how do you even remember the face?” she asked, folding her arms.

He smiled. “I have always known your name, so I guess it stuck and for the face, I… I have been your friend on Facebook for some years now.”

Sharon nodded slowly. “I don’t even know you are my friend on Facebook, how is that possible?”

“Well, I guess ladies like you just accept all requests, yeah?” he said with a grin. “Anyway, it was nice seeing you. I’ll see you around.” He said, turning towards the receptionist’s desk.

Sharon stared at him and then walked towards the exit. She stopped walking and turned to him in an instant. “Mr. Facebook friend!”

He turned to her. “Dapo. Dapo George.” He corrected.

She cleared her throat and joined him. “Dapo, I…I have a situation and I need your help.”

***

Mama stared at her phone as she had breakfast. She had not heard from Ifesinachi all night and it had her worried. Her daughter had told her not to worry about it but she couldn’t help it. Her granddaughter’s number had been switched off for way too long. She knew Sharon could be a deep sleeper on a good day but it’s not as though she had been travelling for too long, she had no reason to claim being jet lagged. She stared at Jane who had her breakfast quietly as she tapped on her tablet occasionally and sighed. “Have you heard from Ifesinachi yet?”

“No.” Jane replied, turning to Mama. “It’s Saturday, Mama and I am sure she is still in bed. That girl can sleep!”

Mama shook her head. “Jane, I am worried. She didn’t call us last night and her phone is switched off. What if she never got to the hotel?”

“Come on, Mama! What could possibly happen to her?”

Mama clattered her fork into her plate. “Many things! She could get kidnapped for a start. She could lose her way. She could even get killed, God forbid!”

“You seem to forget that this girl is twenty-five years old. At twenty-five, I was one year into my marriage and pregnant with her.” Jane replied.

“And so? Does that mean we should be so nonchalant about the fact that Ifesinachi might be in trouble?” Mama asked.

Jane exhaled. “She is not a kid anymore.” She replied, picking her tab.

“And how would you know that? You were barely around to see her grow up so you shouldn’t assume that she is all equipped because her age says so.” Mama retorted. “I am worried about her and if you are not worried about your own daughter because you are too engrossed to look up from that thing in your hand, then I believe you still don’t know a thing about motherhood.”

Jane took a gaze at her mother and rose to her feet. “I am meeting up with some friends at the salon, do you want to come?”

Mama looked away.

“Alright, have a good day.” Jane replied. “It could get really boring around here without Sharon. We should start getting used to it and maybe we could finally bond as mother and daughter.” She added, heading out of the dining room.

“Jane, is there something you are not telling me?” Mama asked.

Jane turned to her with a smile. “What could I possibly not be telling you?” she asked and walked out.

***

Dapo kicked his foot against the wall as he tried to stop himself from falling asleep. He turned towards Sharon who was sleeping pretty in his bed; the bed he had a paid a fortune for while he sat in a chair by the window. He shook his head as he thought about how he had believed her story of being robbed and having no place to go. She had always been the smart mouth from primary school, winning debates with words; he wasn’t surprised she had worked her way to getting him to give up his bed for her. It was only for last night, he had promised himself. He would set her off on her way as soon as she opened her eyes. He had no idea what she would have been doing in the hotel that night with nowhere to go, but it was none of his business.

He tapped on his laptop and stared at what had driven him to the hotel the previous night. He had a job to deliver to a client by Monday and he was far behind. He had no idea of how to get around the project and the dude he typically contracted for it had gone AWOL. He hoped for some peace in his house but it was not habitable, hence, he took the easy way out and avoided the constant drama that plagued him at home.

“How long have I been asleep for?”

He turned to Sharon who was stretching her arms out. “Long enough to be on your way.” He replied, placing his laptop on the table. “Would you like me to run you some hot water?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.” She replied and watched him walk across the room towards the bathroom. “Dapo, can I please get a shirt?”

“I… I am sure my shirts would not fit.” He said. “Why don’t you just get one from the mall downstairs?”

“Is being a complete gentleman against your rules?” she asked, getting off the bed. “Plus, I don’t have any money on me, remember?”

He nodded. “I should have something that fits.” He replied, thinking about the financial implication of getting a new top from the mall.

“Thank you. Can I use your phone?” she asked.

He pointed to the phone on the table and stepped into the bathroom. He watched her as she dialled on the phone. She turned towards his direction, prompting him to look away.

“Hello, Mama.” Sharon said, as she stared at Dapo’s laptop screen. She took a seat in the chair, crossing her legs. “I am fine, I had a great night.” She started. “Lagos is just great! I had the best night ever, Mama. You should see my suite, exquisite stuff.”

Dapo shook his head as he listened to her lies. He was surer than ever that she had lied to him about being robbed. She was so comfortable deceiving whoever was on the other end of the line about a fantasy night when all she had succeeded in doing the previous night was scamming a gentleman into giving up his bed. It was not like she had put a gun to his head coercing him off his bed, he was willing to give up the space for some company but she had been a terrible roommate the previous night. As soon as they arrived in the room and she said her thank you for the umpteenth time, she crashed into the bed and only just woke up this morning.

“Thank you.” Sharon said, placing the phone on the table. “Sorry about that. If I didn’t tell my grandmother something soothing, she’d be flying down here to save me.”

Dapo returned into the room. “Don’t you need saving? You are in a room with a man you barely know, you should be scared.” He guffawed, trying to sound intimidating. He was anything but intimidating. If anything, he was intimidated by people…and especially by his fiancée, Jadesola. She was the reason he had to leave home and sleep in the hotel to get work done. She was his nightmare and still the reason for his smile. It was intriguing to see how anyone could be both personas in one person. For now, Jadesola wasn’t here and he had to bully someone. “You should be scared.” He reiterated.

Sharon chuckled. “You don’t scare me, Dapo.” She replied. “I am a walking STD disburser and I have got nothing to lose.” She added. “So, jokes on you.”

“No, jokes on you.” He said with a laugh. “I have not said I wanted to sleep with you and if you think every guy you get holed up in a room with wants to sleep with you, then you have a problem with your mentality.”

Sharon could feel her heartbeat racing fast. She was getting scared.

Dapo took his seat on the bed. “That STD trick doesn’t work for a serial killer or why did you think I gave up my room?”

“Serial killers have motives and you don’t have any reason to kill me.” She replied. “They usually have a vendetta of a sort or a weird mission they hope to carry out or crusade or something.”

He chuckled. He could hear the fear in her tone. “You are beginning to take this thing too serious.” He said, reeling in the excitement of getting her frightened. “You should go and shower so you can be on your way.” He said, pulling his laptop towards him.

“I have no place to go. I have no access to money and I need you to help me.” Sharon replied.

He turned to her. “You don’t have to keep lying.”

“I was robbed on my way from the airport, okay? I don’t have to lie about that. It’s my first time in Lagos and I don’t know where to go.” She replied.

He cleared his throat. “You have never been to Lagos?”

“No. I am here for personal reasons and I just have to make it through the weekend so I can go to a bank on Monday and withdraw some money over the counter. The guys who robbed me took everything from me. I am stranded.” She said. “If I go back to Abuja because of this incident, I would have failed…again.”

He took a deep breath. “What’s your story?”

***

Mama stepped away from the window as soon as Jane’s car pulled up in the driveway. She had thought about going back to the east in the few hours she had spent alone at home. She was worried about what she’d find back there. A good number of her friends had passed on. Jane made her feel lonely; that was a feeling she didn’t have with Sharon.

“Mama, shouldn’t you be upstairs?” Jane asked, sinking into a chair. “I will call the stewards to get your drugs.”

“Why don’t you get my drugs, Jane?” Mama said, taking a seat opposite her. “Did it occur to you that I might have been extremely bored all day?”

Jane nodded. “I know and I am sorry Sharon is not here but there is nothing we can do, she chose to go to Lagos and even chose not to call us, we have to start getting used to her absence around here.”

“She called me.” Mama replied.

Jane blinked. “She didn’t call me.”

Mama shrugged. “Is that a surprise?” she asked.

“No, Mom. But if my daughter is calling you before she calls me, that is not fair.” Jane replied.

“Or maybe that is because I have been more of a mother to her.” Mama replied.

Jane scoffed. “You are trying to make up for your sins. Don’t use my daughter as your cleanse, okay?”

“Jane, what do you want?” Mama said. “I might have made mistakes with you but that is no reason for you to put Ifesinachi through the same cycle. Be there for her. Show up for her. You don’t get these memories twice.”

Jane nodded. “I won’t dispute that but I would make progress if you could also step out of the way.”

“Inasmuch as I want to go back home, I won’t be running away because my daughter doesn’t want me around my granddaughter.”

“Technically, your granddaughter is gone. She lives in Lagos now.” Jane replied.

Mama stared at her. “Sharon didn’t call me from her phone. I am worried.”

Jane shrugged. “I wouldn’t read much meaning to that.”

“Why not, Jane?” Mama asked. “Why couldn’t we reach Sharon on her phone and now she’s calling from another phone?”

“Maybe she needed to switch her lines. Fresh start. Mom, we don’t need this discussion.” Jane said, rising to her feet. “I am going to rest.”

“What did you do, Jane?”

Jane exhaled sharply. “Mama, do you want me to confirm what you already know? Yes, I had Sharon robbed.” She replied.

***

Sharon smiled at Dapo as she held out two tops before him. “What do you think of these? I think this colour is pretty loud.”

“I am just here to pay.” He replied with a shrug. “And you are going to pay me back too.” He added quickly.

Sharon managed a giggle. “By Monday, you’ll have your money back.” She replied. “So, what do you intend to do about your job?”

Dapo shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I am not you who can just quit her job because she is unhappy and thinks her purpose is elsewhere.”

“Now you are using my words against me, that’s really low, Dapo.” Sharon replied.

He immersed his fingers in his forehead. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”

“Of course. Nobody ever means what they say.” She replied. “Anyway, I would let it slide. Now, how do you intend to meet the Monday deadline?”

“If you would let me sleep in my bed for a while, maybe I would have enough strength to pull an all-nighter.” He replied, as they walked over to the cashier.

“Good day.” The lady at the counter greeted.

Sharon handed her the bag and turned to Dapo. “What if I help you? I could do some while you do the rest. I have a little knowledge of Architecture.”

He shook his head as he thought about his truth. He had evaded that when she asked him about his story. He had gone on to tell her how much he had to do under little time but couldn’t come around being honest with her. Maybe it was time for him to take advantage of the fact that she could actually help out. She was an Architect and he could use the help. “That’s the problem.” He said.

“What problem?” Sharon asked.

He swallowed. “I am a fraud.”

CLUELESS – EPISODE 1

Hi Haroldwriters! (is that even a thing? Sounds d*mb. I know, I know. Can someone please help me out with a better catchword? The Pen Whisperers? Yeah? Nah).

It’s been a minute. Following from the huge reception “Guilty” got, I have been contemplating writing a sequel to it. A lot of people have asked me to, anyway. Thing is, I am not really a sequel writer. Time and experience has taught me this. I would rather do flash fiction…Well, maybe if I was paid a million dollars, I could write sequels everyday.  Hehe.

So while I  cook up something as a follow up to “Guilty”(by the way, I got this badass idea whilst having my bath last night. You will love it. Eureka!), here’s a work by my very good friend Tomi Adesina. In the coming weeks, I’ll publish episodes of “Clueless” by Tomi Adesina. I know you will enjoy them. This Episode 1 already got me on the edge. Kindly let me know what you think by dropping your comments in the comment box below. Thank you.

***

Clueless

Clueless

Sharon woke up on her new year feeling a little less clueless than the last one. It was not as though she had everything all figured out this year…the truth is, she never had anything figured out and that did make her quite the ‘most-clueless-25-year-old-of-the-year’. She slipped into her slippers that always sat pretty by her bedside; that was one thing she could always rely on to be there for her. She took in the calm breeze that sieved into the room through the window and smiled. It was going to be a good day. She could feel it in her bones. It was a new year for her and it was going to be the start of new things in her life; this she knew…or better still, she hoped for.

“Happy birthday, Princess!” Her Mother and Grandmother chorused in unison as they flung the bedroom door open.

She smiled at the loveliest women she had known all her life; she had indeed met many women and if she were to choose the women who would play a role in her life again, it would be her mother and her grandmother. Her Grandmother practically raised her from when she was five. Her parents were diplomats who worked for the Government in different countries as ambassadors; so she barely knew them. On her twentieth birthday, her mother had resigned to spend ‘some time with family’. Such good timing. Her father, on the other hand, had taken up another job which took him farther away than when he was a diplomat. Technically, her grandmother was the only parent she knew. Still, she loved her mother. She was a workaholic whose success inspired her. This was not because of the wealth she had amassed down the years but because she found fulfilment in what she did. But who wouldn’t find fulfilment in travelling the world in a private jet?

Sharon was searching for fulfilment. She was not sure it was in her Architecture Degree and it definitely wasn’t in sleeping and waking up in her parents’ Asokoro mansion until she found someone to marry and whisk her away from that life. She had decided to do something different that year and when her father made the ‘King Herod mistake’ of telling her to ask for anything she wanted for her 25th birthday, she played the prodigal son’s script and requested to leave home and start her life elsewhere. Today was the day she had waited for, she was going to start her life all over…in Lagos.

 

***

Mama watched her granddaughter pack her bags with so much enthusiasm. She was on the fifth bag and wasn’t looking to stop. She was cleaning out her wardrobe, squeaky clean. Maybe Ifesinachi, as she loved to call her, was right about never coming back. Sharon never liked being called Ifesinachi and that made Mama love the name more. She had given her the name during her christening as it was one very dear to her. The name had been passed in their family. Sharon Ifesinachi Amadi was not going to be the exception.

“You still have to come back, you know?” Mama started, breaking the silence between them. Sharon had found joy in cleaning out her closet while the older woman was becoming bored with everything around her…maybe even the air she did breathe. She found purpose in Sharon – she had spent the last twenty years watching her grow from a girl into a woman. She had not changed much. As beautiful and adventurous as ever; By God, she loved Sharon as though she had carried her in her own womb. She was sad to see her leave and was afraid that her life would be purposeless without her. Sharon was not only her granddaughter, she was her closest friend. Both women spent time at the salon together, fixing their hair and gossiping about other women in their lane. They went to the mall together, picking out groceries and checking out the cute men in the stores. They went to church together and carried on with their petty talk about pastors’ wives and their ‘hats’. Mama was not going to be fine without Sharon. She didn’t even have this bond with her own daughter!

“Mama, I don’t want to come back here.” Sharon replied as she folded a gown. She settled the cloth into her box and stared at her grandmother whose evergreen smile had started to fade since the day she told her that she was leaving. It came as a rude shock to the one woman she had told all her secrets but she had managed to keep this one away from her. Mama was one person who had a hold on her; she knew telling her about her plans could only mean that she wasn’t serious about ever getting to know Lagos. She had read about the town. She had seen pictures. She was fascinated by it; but she had never been there. Since her twenty-fifth year on earth was all about new beginnings, there was no better place to start over.

“How could you be so insensitive?” Mama asked as a tear broke down her left eye. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t attack Sharon for wanting to leave but now she couldn’t help it. She had to play the blackmail card. “Who is going to do your ponytail? Who is going to go with me to the mall? Who is going to write letters with me to your grandfather? Who is going to play with me?” she continued as the tears flowed freely, now from both eyes. “Who are you going to tell about a new boy? And maybe your first job? Who is going to cry with me?” She asked.

Sharon looked away as Mama’s nostalgia got to her. She hated seeing tears fall from her eyes but her grandmother knew how to melt her heart and she did it effortlessly too. She ran into Mama’s arms and hugged her tight. “It’s okay, Mama.” She whispered softly as she stroked her hair.

“No, it’s not.” Mama replied as she pulled away from the hug. “Stay.”

Sharon shook her head. “I want to go away…far away.”

Mama smiled. “Lagos is not so far.”

“Traffic makes it far.” Sharon said.

Mama chuckled. “Traffic in the air?”

“You have been to Lagos before, Mama. The traffic is not a myth. You’ll get tired before you find me.” Sharon replied.

Mama took a deep breath. “I am not going to be able to make you stay. But can I come and play with your kids once you start having them?”

“You’ll have to kill me first.” Jane Amadi said as she joined them in the room, her eyes firmly fixed to her tab as she typed on it. Her daughter and mother were not going to be thrilled to have her around but she was Sharon’s mother and didn’t enjoy her mother playing that role. “I’ll just send this mail.” She said to herself as she pushed the send option. She dropped her tab on the side table and pulled out one of the folded gowns from the box. “If you take all your clothes with you, which one would you wear when you come home for weekends?” she asked, staring at Sharon.

“It seems you didn’t get the full part of the memo, Ifesinachi is not coming back.” Mama said, yanking the gown from her daughter and tucking it into the box.#

“It’s Sharon.” Sharon corrected. Mama grinned back at her. She knew it was pointless correcting her grandmother but still she would try. Someday, she had to call her Sharon. Was she ashamed of her roots? No. Or maybe she was just overtly colonized and loved her foreign name. Why couldn’t Mama understand that?

“Is it true that you wouldn’t be coming home for weekends?” Jane asked her daughter.

Sharon chuckled. “Of course. I am not going to a boarding house where I get to come home on weekends.”

“Don’t get married without telling us.” Mama said, rising to her feet. “I have to go and take my drugs now.”

Sharon blinked. Mama took the drugs whenever she wanted to sleep for hours. “Mama, aren’t you coming with me to the airport?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“No. I can’t. Do you want me crying my eyes out there?” she asked. “My heart can only take so much. I can’t watch you leave.” She added and then stopped at the door. “Have a good life, Sharon. I’d probably be dead before you are back.”

Sharon swallowed. “Mama.” She mouthed softly as she watched Mama walk out of the room.

“I guess this is a sign that Lagos isn’t for you.” Her mother said, picking her tab from the side table. “I don’t know what your father was thinking when he gave you that option.” She continued as she focused on her tab. “You’ll be back in no time, I’m sure.” She added.

“I am not so sure.” Sharon replied.

Jane smiled. “A mother knows these things, Sharon. We always do.”

***

Sharon couldn’t wait for seven p.m. Her flight was for seven p.m and that meant she still had another couple of hours in Abuja before heading to the airport. Was she nervous about her new adventure? Yes. But it was one worth taking. She had studied Architecture just to get a degree and several attempts at stability in a firm had proved abortive; not like she couldn’t have stayed but she knew she wasn’t made for it. But what was she made for? That, she had no clue about and that was what the journey to Lagos was all about…rediscovering herself. She hoped to find something there. Hopefully something much bigger than her.

Luckily, she had few friends in the Nation’s Capital city. They were just buddies she downed Vodka over some fish with. No attachments. She had no need to say her goodbyes. It was not as though they added value to her. They only enjoyed maxing out her credit card; she had no problem with that. Money was not a problem. She wanted something much more than money. Of course, that’s easy for a girl who has had a lot of money…try telling that to a broke man.

She absorbed her empty bedroom and exhaled. Her bags had been carried downstairs by the stewards. She would try again to have a conversation with Mama who was making a fuss about her going away. She drummed lightly on the door and waited for Mama to tell her to come in. No response. Maybe Mama was right about using those pills after all. Still, she would check. She turned the door knob and stared at Mama sitting in her chair with the Television on. She walked over to her and took her seat at her feet. “My ponytail, please.”

Mama scoffed. “It’s Brazilian weave, child.”

“It can do a pony, Mama.” Sharon protested. “Please.”

Mama nodded and started to weave the pony as she hummed to one of her favourite tunes. “Remember when we used to think your Mom was uptight?” she said, starting a conversation.

“I still think she is.” Sharon replied with a laugh. Her mother went about the house in tailored skirts and chiffon tops and her tab as she controlled her other businesses. Sharon often did wonder what lightning of conscience struck her mother and forced her back to Abuja five years ago. She loved her but didn’t miss having her around because she never had the feeling of what it was to have her around.

“I think you are going to be just like your mother if you go to Lagos.” Mama continued. “You are going to start wearing those silly skirts and white shirts and maybe a ribbon around your hair.” Mama scoffed. “A ribbon. Maybe polka dotted.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. Her Grandmother was not going to stop. It was so typical of her to go on and on about a topic until she had the last say. Sharon’s chest thumped. She was beginning to reconsider her trip after all. Grandma did tell her that her daughter, Jane, used to be so free spirited until she met her husband in Lagos; both decided to create a dynasty that would outlive them and unfortunately they forgot how to live. Lagos made them. And eventually, the Government asked for their contribution nationally which rewarded them with appointments that further enriched them with better connections. Sharon loved life. She loved Friday night fun and she had heard Lagos was better in that aspect. She was going to see that for herself and draw a conclusion. She wanted to go horseback riding and listen to good Jazz music while she figured her life out. That was her great Lagos plan!

“Your Lagos plan is quite dumb!” Mama said as though she had read her thoughts. “Everything you want there is here.”

“I want a fresh start.” She said, turning towards Mama sharply. “I love you so much and I am going to miss you but don’t make me feel bad for my choices. I want this. I don’t know what I am going to meet on the other side, but I want to try something out for me. I just want to do something different.”

“What is it?” Mama asked calmly.

Sharon shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You are really clueless, Ifesinachi.” Mama said with a soft laugh. “But it’s alright. You are daring, I have to give you that. So I am sure you are going to figure things out.” She added. “I hope it’s not when you are forty.”

Sharon chuckled. “I hope it’s a little earlier than that. Maybe thirty nine?” she asked with an eyebrow raised.

Mama nodded. “Thirty nine sounds just right. And, I hope you meet a man that you won’t end things with you six months after.”

“It’s three months.” Sharon replied with a smug look. “Three months tops.”

Mama smiled. “I don’t understand how anyone dates for three months and ends things.”

“Mama, we are not talking about my love life.” Sharon replied. “Let’s just leave my love life out of everything.”

“You don’t even have one!” Mama retorted and then took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s get you set for your rediscovery mission.” Mama continued as she finished the ponytail. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“I am absolutely beautiful.” Sharon replied.

Mama nodded. “You are vain and clueless about a new life you are about to start. What a combo!”

Sharon laughed. Her Grandmother had quite the sense of humour. It was quite a marvel why she never passed any of those traits to her own daughter who, on the other hand, was stoic and could hardly force a laugh…except of course, it was something cynical.

“You are going to do just great, Ifesinachi.” Mama said.

Sharon exhaled. “Thanks, Grandma!” she replied, hugging her. “Now would you please come with me to the airport?”

“No. I have seen too many goodbyes.” Mama replied and planted a kiss on her granddaughter’s forehead. “Now, run along.”

***

There’s always that airline that cancels on you the last minute! Sharon stared at her wristwatch as she wondered why she had not further exercised her rights as an only child to ask for the private jet. Well, that would be overdoing it. She tapped her feet nervously as she watched the hour mark approach eight. The new flight had been rescheduled for nine pm. She was sitting in the airport alone as Mama had made good on her threat not to go with her to the airport. She knew her mother wouldn’t be coming with her anyway, so she didn’t ask. She had more important things to do. Quite frankly, she couldn’t guilt trip anyone for not coming with her to the airport. She wanted to start her new adventure alone and this was the right way to start. She looked around her and hoped for something familiar. There was the want for something that filled her soul; it was the want that had made her leave Abuja. She wanted to be something more than what she was. The same girl she had been in the last years stressed her. She had a routine. Wake up, eat, take a drive to the mall, receive monthly allowances from her faraway father, take Mama to the salon, weekend getaways, date and break up with men, party till she was stoned, the list was endless. She quit every job she got after six months and eventually decided that Architecture was not for her. It was not as though she hated Architecture, maybe if her father didn’t think she could do better as an Architect than an Artist, she could have found some more joy. Maybe if she started off elsewhere without much, she’d understand what it was to have a drive and own a dream. Yes, that was it. She wanted a dream of her own.

Two hours later, Sharon was standing on Lagos soil. She pushed the trolley carrying her bags out of the airport. She was approached by several taxi drivers and eventually had to go with one who promised her a space bus which could accommodate all her baggage. “Woworx Hotel and Suites” she said with a smile. It was the most successful hotel business in Nigeria, and she was sure that even though she had not booked a reservation, she would have a suite to sleep in regardless of the time. She settled into the back seat and pulled out her phone, she sent a message to her grandmother and mother informing them of her safe arrival to Lagos. She would send the next message on arrival at the hotel, that way, her folks could rest easy.

“Ma’am.” The driver started.

She looked up from her phone into the rear mirror. “Yes?”

“I would like to take a leak, please.”

She exhaled. “Of course.” She replied as the car pulled up by the side walk. She focused on her phone as the driver went to the back of the vehicle. She looked around and absorbed the city she was going to live in for the next year. It looked beautiful from her view. She tapped on her phone and checked for the direction to the hotel. From her navigation system, they were only ten minutes away from the hotel. She couldn’t wait to get into her room, take a shower and sleep. She had plans for the next day. It was a Saturday and she was going to attend a music fest and on Sunday, she’d just sleep in and make calls to a realtor. By Monday, she would be sleeping in her own apartment. The plan was sleek. The driver’s door opened simultaneously with her door and the passenger’s door. Her heart raced fast. She was joined by the driver and two other men. Everything was happening so fast. This was looking dangerous.

“Can we have your phone?” The driver said. “Do it fast.” He added.

She assessed the situation as a gun was pointed at her head. “Sir, what is going on?” she asked, trying to remain calm.

The man who was in the passenger’s seat laughed. “What did you think this is? A party? You are getting robbed.”

As the man by her side cocked the gun, she immediately passed the phone to him. “Y…Yes, Sir.” She said, stuttering.

The driver started the car. “Get out.” He said.

She blinked. “Wh–what?” she said, without thinking. She swallowed as the driver’s cold eyes met hers.

The man who had settled in beside her didn’t do much talking. He grabbed her by the hand and tossed her out of the car into the road. She watched the door of the space bus close and the car speed off raising dust in her face.

She looked around her. She had no idea where she was and no clue on how to get to her intended destination. Her handbag was taken from her along with her phone and the luggage in the trunk. “Savages!” she hurled as she picked herself up from the floor, examining the bruise to her hand from the fall. Thankfully, it was just a scratch.

Maybe her mother and Grandma were right after all. Maybe she would be going back to Abuja sooner than she thought. She ran her fingers through her hair as a thought resonated through her mind. The thought that she would never be able to figure out what she truly wanted from life. Maybe she was silly for even thinking Lagos held the answers to her questions. Much ado about it! She walked back and forth, trying to get a grasp of the situation and eventually took her seat on the sidewalk. Lagos hasn’t especially been welcoming.

She looked into the city ahead of her and cried.

 

Amicus Curiae 3: Press Release

Police-Officer

Folayemi, her male colleague on striped suit and the man in denim pants rode in the man in denim pant’s Mercedes Benz V12 G65 AMG to the Police Station located along Obafemi Awolowo way at Alausa, Ikeja. The Police station was a ten minutes’ drive from the office.

“This should be fun,” Folayemi’s colleague whispered to her as they walked in through the gate of the Police Station.

Folayemi shook her head mildly in disbelief of her colleague’s excitement. She did not bother herself with a response. Instead, she fetched her Law School log book from her bag and tried jotting a few points from her experience so far.

“You brought your log book along?” her colleague asked. “Why don’t you wait until the day is over so you can have a more comprehensive report to make?”

Folayemi shrugged.

“And why write while walking?” her colleague continued.

“Duhh. Why talk while walking?” she retorted.

The man in denim pants was ahead of them. He waved at a few Police officers who saluted as they walked past. It was obvious he was a familiar face. They arrived at the counter at the station. Boldly pinned to the counter was a cardboard cut-out with the inscription: THE POLICE IS YOUR FRIEND. On the mutilated walls of the lounge hung another cardboard cut-out with the inscription: BAIL IS FREE.

The dirty walls of the lounge were defaced with several ragged posters and loose electricity cables. The damp stench of body odour, faeces and cigarette oozed from the adjacent hallway which held the cells. Folayemi used her log book as cover for her nose.

“Oga Bee, welcome,” a haggard-looking officer in faded uniform saluted the man in denim pants.

“Joe, how far?” he saluted back.

“Oga, I dey kakaraka,” the officer responded. “Wetin carry you come here again?”

In a few minutes, the man in denim pants disclosed the reason for his visit and requested that his client be brought to him. His client, a young man in his mid-thirties was ushered into the lounge. An aura of affluence hung around him. He was dressed in a beautifully tailored Ankara outfit and had a gold Rolex wrapped around his wrist. Folayemi was surprised that, the man was allowed to keep his personal belongings. His aqua-scented cologne filled the air in the lounge. He looked wealthy, but he also looked scared.

The client, the man in denim pants, Folayemi and her colleague in striped suit were ushered into a small private room close-by on the request of the man in denim pants. In there, the client relayed the reason for his arrest. He was calm and soft-spoken as he gave detailed, unwavering account of what had transpired. He looked tired. He looked weak. He looked lost.

“Has your statement been taken yet?” the man in denim pants asked.

His client – Bamidele Odusote – shook his head.

A policeman who stood by the wall kept focused eyes on the other four occupants in the room.

“I told them I wouldn’t do so until I saw my lawyer. So I called Nwachukwu, but he directed me to your law firm. He said you are the best in these type of cases,” Bamidele said.

“Oh yes. Nwachukwu and I were colleagues both at the University of Uyo and at the Law School, Abuja Campus. He brings impossible briefs to us….”

“Tell me you can get me out of this mess,” Bamidele cut in. His shirt was getting soiled with sweat. He looked scared. “I did not kill my girlfriend… I have done terrible things in my life,” he said in a whisper. “Yes, I may have meddled in corporate fraud, forgery, manipulate financial standings of my companies… Just about any corporate sin you can think of… But murder? To kill a human?” A ball of tear welled up in his right eye as he spoke. “I had only just delivered a lecture last night… and Bimbo was not even with me… I have not seen her in three weeks… Who could want her dead? Who could want her dead?” he asked rhetorically. “Please tell me you can get me out of this?”

The man in denim pants looked assuredly into Bamidele’s eyes and said, “We’ll give it our best shot. We have never lost a case and this won’t be the first…. This isn’t even a court case yet. It’s just a Police matter…”

“I swear to you, I did not kill her,” Bamidele pleaded his innocence, his voice breaking. “I loved Bimbo to dea…I loved Bimbo to bits. We were soul mates. I wouldn’t …” He squeezed his hands like he was strangling an imaginary neck. “I wouldn’t ….”

“I know,” the man in denim pants said as he held Bamidele’s shaky hands. “I believe you.”

Folayemi and her colleague in striped suit looked surprised. How could the man in denim pants possibly clear Bamidele Odusote of any guilt without proof? What if Bamidele Odusote was putting up a show?

Folayemi did not have the guts to ask the man in denim pants. Neither did her colleague. Both students kept taking as much notes as they could. They could not wait to share the excitement of their first day of chambers attachment with their colleagues. Then, they heard some noise in the hallway. Sounds of footsteps approached the door. A corporal burst into the room and shut the door quickly. He signalled silent pleasantries to the other Policeman in the room and said, “Oga, you have to write your statement now.” His words were directed at Bamidele Odusote.

“Why the hurry?” the man in denim pants asked.

The corporal, panting hard, replied, “the press is here.”

Silence.

“What has that got to do with my client?” the man in denim pants asked.

The corporal looked at his colleague. “Oga said he would appear before the press,” he said, pointing at Bamidele.

“Oga? Which Oga?” the man in denim pants asked, looking confused. “My client will be paraded? What?”

Silence.

“Who ordered this?” the man in denim pants broke the silence. “Who is your Oga?”

“Oga DPO,” was the short reply.

At this sudden turn of events, the man in denim pants was hit hard with deep thoughts. He could not wrap his head around the reality that a man who was only just arrested on allegation of committing a crime, would be thrown to the press to be devoured, just a few hours after his arrest and before investigations were concluded. He knew the Police sold sensational stories to the press, but he could not understand how this could happen so soon. From experience, he knew that most suspects who were usually paraded before the press were those who refused to “cooperate” or “drop something for the boys”. Did the Police ask for bribe from his client?

“Did the Police ask for a bribe upon arresting you?” he quickly asked Bamidele.

“No,” was the quicker response. “Why?”

The two Police men in the room scoffed.

“Never mind.” The man in denim pants turned to Folayemi and said, “I need you to go out there and disperse the press men.” The instruction was very direct and unequivocal. “Now.” It needed no questions for clarification.

Folayemi scuttled out of the private room and walked sheepishly into the open visitors’ lounge at the station. The terrifying presence of quite a number of media houses was heavily registered there. The haggard faces of the journalists brightened up when they saw a figure walk into the lounge. But the excitement blotted out from their faces as soon as it had appeared when they noticed it was just a girl. A young looking girl.

One of the journalists – a woman – beckoned to the Folayemi. “Pssssss, do you work here?”

“No,” Folayemi answered.

The journalist heaved a deep sigh. Folayemi could spot the inscription “ChannelsTV” on her microphone.

“We heard Bamidele Odusote of Bamz Holdings was arrested. We had hoped he would be brought forth to confess before camera,” the journalist said with a giggle. “Do you know what cell he is?”

Folayemi looked at the journalist without saying a word, thinking of an answer. She did not know how to address the journalist, let alone the crowd in the room which she would have to face in no distant time. She was just a law student on chambers attachment who had hoped the chambers she was posted to would cut her some slack and allow her study for the bar finals. She never expected to be thrown into the fray of Police matters on her first day of attachment. She never expected to work at all during the chambers attachment period. Prior to the commencement of the attachment programme, she had heard news of how most law firms treated law students who were posted to their firms for the compulsory chambers attachment. These law firms would rather have the students study their books each day of the attachment period in preparation for the bar finals. Folayemi did not expect OakTree Partners to be any different.

“Hello?” the journalist jolted her out of her reverie. “”Do you happen to have an idea which cell Mr. Odusote is?”

What do I say to these journalists to keep them away? Folayemi thought, anticipating her next move for the crowd in the room.

Think! Think!

“I think he is in a cell far away,” Folayemi heard herself say.

“What’s that?” the journalist asked. “What cell? How did you know?”

“I’m a student of Mass Communications at Unilag.. Currently doing my industrial attachment with 123 Media…. I came here because I heard some story…”

“Oh,” the journalist nodded her head. She then pulled Folayemi to one corner in the lounge. “So you have heard about Mr Bamidele’s arrest?”

Folayemi nodded.

“Umm, why was he arrested? Any ideas?” the journalist pressed.

Folayemi shook her head. “I really don’t know… but I heard…” Her eyes roved round the room as her partner listened with rapt attention. “I heard…”

“Come on, you can tell me. I promise I won’t say a word.”

Folayemi swallowed spittle which had formed in her mouth. “I heard he has been transferred to Zone 2 at Ikoyi for questioning.”

“What? We heard he was detained here,” the journalist asked in a whisper, looking surprised.

“Yes. He was arrested last night and brought here, but was taken in the wee hours of this morning to Zone 2 for questioning…”

“Why would they do that?”

Folayemi shrugged. “I guess orders from above.”

The journalist nodded. “That’s true. He is a powerful man after all.”

Folayemi nodded. She remembered how Bamidele shivered like a baby while recounting his story in the private room.

Powerful man indeed.

“So tell me, how did you hear of his arrest?” she asked the journalist.

The journalist smiled. “Ordinarily, I shouldn’t be telling you this but since you’ve been of help to me and you are a young colleague in the profession I’ll give you a tip. Make friends with the Police and wet a few palms. Once an arrest is made and the story is quite interesting, you will be the first to know of it.” The smile broadened on the face of the journalist. “I hope you understand?”

Folayemi nodded even though she would have wanted more explanation on the “wet a few palms” part of the sentence. “Thanks,” she said instead.

The journalist nodded, then, brought out her complimentary card. “Modupe Fagbohun is the name. Give me a ring. Whenever.”

Before Folayemi could respond, the journalist scurried out of the lounge in such haste. Other crew members who had the “ChannelsTV” tag on, joined her. Folayemi noticed that the remaining media houses personnel also joined the rush. She wondered how they knew where Modupe Fabgbohun was heading to. Then a press man with a “Punch” badge on his chest turned around and said, “Thank you. Your whisper was loud enough.”

Folayemi smiled. Her loud whisper was deliberate. Now, there was only one place the press was heading to.