leatfabiano3681:

Thanks Writeditor...i'm actually in the process of hiring a proofreader, as i was working on a lean budget at the time, but thanks all the same, even though i will appreciate if you could highlight here some of this errors you have noticed.

I'm on the move now. When I get to sit down later, I will.

I often put UNVEILED in the AFRICAN CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE category, but in truth UNVEILED is actual a CRIME, MUSICAL, AFRICAN ROMANTIC ADVENTURE. This review by Africa's finest ROMANCE WRITER made my Monday. I will be posting her full review soon


I finished reading Unveiled on Sat. But I took ill and only got better today. What a very intriguing story. I loved it. Unveiled is different. I love the action, detective and dramatic plot, it kept my heart racing. I would give it a 5star in a wink....STELLA

CHAPTER FOUR
The sun was setting on the magnificent building, a three-story edifice housing the Epic, West-Africa biggest event center. Various posters showing a glittering Demuju with a huge saxophone hanging over his neck adorned the walls. People with varied appearance and age cluttered round one entrance to the Epic. The other entrance, for the very important persons, had first class crowd. Up mobile young men and women showed off their ticket to the huge, 7ft tall bouncers at the gate.
A few meters away from the entrance of the Epic, hoodlums gathered, strange looking, pierced, weird dress sense, crazy hairdo and weirder tattoos. They blew huge clouds of marijuana smoke into the air. Broken bottles of various alcoholic drinks littered the ground. The hoodlums seized up the twelve feet parameter fencing of the Epic.
“I love Demuju, but I can’t cough out two thousand naira to watch him perform.” A hoodlum said in Yoruba language.
“I would rather spend that on a bottle of my favorite beer and pepper soup.” Another inserted.
“You know how we do it. We will always have our way.” A third added.
A blue colored police pickup van pulled into the Epic driveway. The hoodlums hurriedly dispersed into different directions. The Epic bouncers greeted and nodded at Usman Abubakar, superintendent of police, the divisional police boss of the local station. A junior police officer jumped off the back of the van and opened the owner’s side door of the van; he held the door up as Usman stepped out of the van. Two other junior police officers with AK 47 riffles stood just behind Usman.
The Epic bouncers raised both hands in the air, and stamped their feet on the ground, military fashion. “Tuale sir--tuale,” They greeted in Yoruba. “Do we have your permission to bring down our hands?” The bouncers chorused.
“Keep the hands in the air.” Usman instructed. A bright smile crept into his face. “Bring the hands down boys.”
Usman dished out last minute instructions to the officers. He explained a point to them as he pointed towards the fleeing hoodlums. After a moment, Usman walked towards the long queue of crowd eager to get into the Epic.
“Where is your boss?” Usman asked the bouncers.
“He should be at the concert hall. I will go get him for you.” A bouncer volunteered.
“Don’t bother your head. I will go fish him out myself. How is the party going tonight boys?” Usman asked the bouncers.
“Great sir.” The bouncers chorused.
“Three days of music, I don’t envy you guys” Usman walked past the bouncers. He stepped into the Epic hallway, two police officers with riffles followed closely behind him.
The night was in full swing, the tables taken. Thick cigarette smoke filled the air. Usman glanced across the sea of heads. He bellied up and walked towards the very important persons section. With the massive crowd, there was no way he could pick Dare out in the crowd.
The stage lights went dim. Usman knew this occasion well, Demuju was coming up on stage. Usman pulled a seat. The stage spot light came on, illuminating the four feet stage. The light was on a pair of masculine foot on sandal, Demuju the masked singer, six feet three, Nigeria’s biggest export. He wore a multi colored African costume. His gap tooth and white eyes are conspicuous on the mask. Demuju blew the saxophone, the crowd on hearing the first chord from the saxophone screamed in glee.

“Three days of music, I don’t envy you guys” Usman walked past the bouncers. He stepped into the Epic hallway, two police officers with riffles followed closely behind him.
The night was in full swing, the tables taken. Thick cigarette smoke filled the air. Usman glanced across the sea of heads. He bellied up and walked towards the very important persons section. With the massive crowd, there was no way he could pick Dare out in the crowd.
The stage lights went dim. Usman knew this occasion well, Demuju was coming up on stage. Usman pulled a seat. The stage spot light came on, illuminating the four feet stage. The light was on a pair of masculine foot on sandal, Demuju the masked singer, six feet three, Nigeria’s biggest export. He wore a multi colored African costume. His gap tooth and white eyes are conspicuous on the mask. Demuju blew the saxophone, the crowd on hearing the first chord from the saxophone screamed in glee.
“Taking you on a journey ----” Demuju sang. The excited surge of crowd, struggled to touch Demuju. The crowd sang along with him, lyrics for lyrics, screaming and tugging. They could not hold back their excitement, the security officers had a difficult time containing them.
Other people in the crowd recorded proceedings with their mobile phone. A young girl broke free of the security, she ran towards Demuju, the security officers could not get to her early enough. They pulled her off stage.
Two dancers/backup singers had their back to the crowd. They shook their ass seductively to Demuju’s number. The dancers had put a significant level of hard work into their performance as most of the men in the crowd are bewitched by their swinging hips. A man in the crowd raised his hands to his head, as another shut his eyes and dreamily rocked an imaginary girl. A teenage boy in the audience screamed aloud. His female companion looked on, embarrassed.
The dancers/ singers turned to face the crowd. Funmi in her early twenties, beautiful, dark, tall with a wide flaring hip. Alice, fair, tall, equally cute. Sweat beaded the dancers’ faces. They dressed in mini colorful African fabrics wrapper. A tiny piece of clothing tied over the dancers’ breast line. A better part of their legs and stomach are exposed, displaying their feminine charm. Beads tied round their head, wrist, stomach, and ankle.
“Don’t leave me----” The dancers chorused.
The stage light made a quick one on the other members of Demuju’s band. Segun was on the drums, dark, in his early twenties. He seemed to love what he does. Wale was on the keyboard. David in his fifties, on the talking drums. Albert stroke the talking drum beautifully, while Shola was on the bass guitar, other less influential members of the fifteen-man band, their names inconsequential, stayed behind the light.

great

Good job fab! Demuju reminds me of Labaja,the musician

As you requested, here are the issues I spotted, looking at your Chapter One.

In some of the places I have simply made the change. In some other places I have made the change and written an explanation with the footnote number indicated after the referenced portion. In yet others I have made a notation for the change that you should consider without making the change myself.

Scroll on to the next post and open the attached file to see ALL the changes I made at glance.

_________________
CHAPTER ONE
Mabel Danzo drove through the dusty streets of Uzi Island [1]. It was another chilly November day. Her old, gray [2] Rover car, which she inherited from her late parents, had clearly seen better days [3].
The terrible roads on this West African island made driving one nightmarish experience. Most often, she preferred riding to her workplace [4] via the Island’s [5] green painted public buses, but her three-year-old nephew, Dennis, would have none of it. He sat next to her, sucking his thumb. Rebellion outlined on his little squared shoulders. Dennis had kept to himself throughout the entire journey.
Mabel pulled into his school driveway. “Sweetheart, you have to run now,” she began, “I’m running late for work.”
Dennis sat still, sucking his thumb. Mabel let the warmth of her love show through as a smile curled round her lips. She pulled his thumb out of his mouth, tilted up the downcast chin, and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Dennis is a good boy, eya, eya oh,” Mabel began to sing, hoping this would do the trick and put the little man in a happy mood. She picked up his water bottle and bag from the back seat. “Dennis is a good boy, eya, eya oh,” she continued, opening her car door and walking over to the passenger’s side where he sat.
“Be a good boy, okay.” She cupped his chin in her palm. “You want your classmates to make jest of you?”
“I don’t want to go to school,” Dennis protested, pulling away from Mabel.
“I thought you told me you like [6] school?” Mabel prompted. “You told me you would love to be a doctor in the future.”
“I want to be a doctor, Momma, but I don’t like school.”
Mabel held a smile in check at the vehemence in the little man’s voice. Dennis only began schooling over a week ago.
“You can’t be a doctor if you don’t go to school.” [7]
“But, Momma, please,” Dennis pleaded.
Mabel became overwhelmed with emotions whenever he called her Momma. Dennis was the closest relative she had, he was her nephew and adopted son. Only few people on the Island knew she wasn’t his biological mother.
Who is a child’s mother? She reasoned. She had taken care of the little man since he was three months old. A flash of total recall brought back to life that traumatic moment. It had been three years since her younger sister, Eva, Dennis biological mother died in that motor accident which also claimed the lives of her parents and Dennis’ father.
It was the day of Dennis’ dedication in church, she remembered vividly. Everything had gone well. Everyone overjoyed. Her parents were happy they had lived long enough to hold their first grandchild in their hands. Mabel was happy for her sister.
On the trip home, Mabel rode in another car with a family friend. Her papa, mama, Eva, her brother-in-law and Dennis rode in the family car. It was a 25 minute [8] trip back home. The journey was smooth, until they approached a bend on the road. The car skidded off the road while avoiding one of the various potholes and somersaulted a few times before bursting into flames. Dennis was the only survivor.
How she mustered the strength to pull through those periods, she still can’t fathom. Thinking now, she feels the innocent child her sister left behind was key in her survival. She couldn't stand watching Dennis suffer. He was her responsibility, her life and she must take care of him.
“Momma, can I go with you?” Dennis repeated, recalling Mabel from her thoughts.
“You can’t go with me, Honey.” Mabel carried the little man in her arms, ignoring his protests and stepping towards the school gate. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I will get you biscuits and chocolate when returning from work,” Mabel assured him as she wiped his face with a kerchief [9].
“Momma, will you be coming to pick me up from school today?” Dennis asked.
“I should, Honey.” Mabel began, then paused. She knew this wasn’t a possibility. “If I don’t make it, Nanny Gobe will come and pick you,” she added.
Nanny Gobe had been a part of the Danzo family [10] for the past twenty years. She was a close confidant of Mabel’s late mother and her trusted hand [11]. Mabel had retained her services after her mother’s death. She was more of a mother figure in her life and had been particularly helpful these past few weeks.
Juggling between her workplace and Dennis’ school was not an easy task. Mabel was the editor of FABS, a magazine run by a reputable and fast growing media organization ready to take the whole of West Africa by storm. Mabel’s workload had risen astronomically these past few months. She hardly had time for herself and the little man. She had traveled the length and breadth of the tiny Island, sourcing for contents for FABS. With doubting Thomases raising eyebrows when the mantle of editorship fell on her young shoulders [12], she was determined to prove them wrong.
As the gate flung open, she dropped the little man [13], kissed him on both cheeks, and watched him join his friends on the playground. They were excited to have Dennis with them. He had grown into a fine, likeable and brilliant lad. [14] Mabel had not fared badly taking care of him and she would continue to be there for him.
She walked back to her car and yanked the door open. Thick smoke filled the air as she turned on the engine of her Rover. The vehicle had been in terrible shape lately; visiting the mechanics had become more of a daily ritual.
Mabel drove down a dirt road, which was more of a path than a driveway [15]. She was pleasantly surprised to see a few strange faces on the Island. The Island was not so large so everyone knew each other. Uzi Island with its wildlife reserve was the perfect vacation destination for tourists. The peaceful and serene nature of the place held a huge attraction for people from all over the West African sub region.
Mabel applied the brakes to exchange pleasantries with some girls returning from the stream. The young women had on their heads huge pots of water of various sizes with wrappers tied over their bosom lines. With the harsh weather and dusty roads leading to the streams, the young women’s feet dabbed in petroleum jelly appeared shinny and clean.
She had admiration for these young women, some of whom were in her age bracket. Despite their relatively poor exposure and daily involvement in strenuous activities, they didn’t miss any opportunity to look pretty. With a number of young, handsome, well-to-do tourists on the Island, the need to look good was of uppermost importance in every single girl’s subconscious mind. [16]
A few young women have had mother luck smile at them, hitting it off with a young rich tourist. Quite a number of these encounters have led to the altar.
Mabel had not done much farm work. She could count the number of times she had been to either a farm or a stream on a single palm. She belonged to the Uzi middleclass, whatever that meant. Her late dad was an academic [17], a senior lecturer in the university. Growing up, her closest companions were her books. She had no time to socialize and mingle with other girls in the neighborhood. These have had an adverse effect on her as a young woman. She was introverted and had not friends outside of her work circle.

_____________
1. Is the town or village called Uzi or Uzi Island? If it is the former, that is, a town which happens to be an island, it should be “Uzi island”. But if is the latter, that is, like Victoria Island, it should be Uzi Island.

2. You’re using US English then? Ok.

3. This is a cliché. Clichés are structurally ok but sophisticated readers hate them and matured writers mostly avoid using them outside of direct speech.

4. This must be one word.

5. [1] above should apply here and throughout the story.

6. “Liked” would have been fine if the act wasn’t continuing or supposed to continue till the present time. For example, “Gani Fawehinmi said he liked amala.” “Gabriel Igbinedion said he likes amala.”

7. The rule here is that in a compound sentence, if the subordinate clause comes after the main clause, there should be no comma between them. If the subordinate clause comes first, there should be a comma. So you could as well have correctly written “If you don’t go to school, you can’t be a doctor.”

8. “Minute”, along with 25, is playing the role of an adjective here, so no s. You can write it “25-minute” but it’s okay to dispense with the hyphen.

9. This is so Elizbethan. I would use the contemporary “handkerchief” unless I had made up my mind to do a bit of Old English as a device or as a matter of style and intend to do so throughout the work.

10. “The Danzo family” or “Danzo’s family”.

11. Whose trusted hand – Mabel’s or her mother’s? It is not clear in the context.

12. When the word “shoulder” is used idiomatically to refer to responsibility, the “s” is added.

13. “The little man” - I think you’re overusing this phrase already. Readers tend to get bored with clever phrases quickly.

14. I think you should remove “He had grown into a fine, likeable and brilliant lad.” The “they” in the previous sentence refers to Dennis’ playmates, kids who have no perspective of anyone having grown into anything. Besides, Dennis is still a kid who hasn’t really grown into anything.

15. “Drive”, as used here, is British English. Since you have opted to use American English, you should say “driveway”.

16. This sentence should flow from the previous one. So you should consider changing it to:
That was to be expected given the number of young, handsome, well-to-do tourists who come to the Island.

17. “Academia” is a collective and cannot refer to a single person. You could also have correctly written “Her late dad belonged to the academia.”

Here is the file with ALL the changes shown. Unfortunately, it is impossible to copy and paste it here with the RTF.

Jennimma:
Good job fab! Demuju reminds me of Labaja,the musician

lol. Thanks for following Jennimma, for a moment i thought i lost you.

Writeditor:
Here is the file with ALL the changes shown. Unfortunately, it is impossible to copy and paste it here with the RTF.

Nice 1 Writeditor, Spot on.

leatfabiano3681:

lol. Thanks for following Jennimma, for a moment i thought i lost you.

nah! I'm always following up on your story...and i'm glad i was the first person to comment. You write so well,it seems i'm watching a movie. Kudos!

Prettyspicey
AudreyTimms
Repogirl
kingphilip
come and read this beautiful write up and encourage Fab. U'd love the story to bits

Jennimma:
Prettyspicey
AudreyTimms
Repogirl
kingphilip
come and read this beautiful write up and encourage Fab. U'd love the story to bits

why are you always inviting me everywhere, Jennimma? You be Campaign manager?

PrettySpicey:


why are you always inviting me everywhere, Jennimma? You be Campaign manager?

hahahahaha. Aunty mi,na so the thing be o.

Fab,please update. I'm always checking for new updates. However vote #TeamJennimma. Your best reader

The stage light made a quick one on the other members of Demuju’s band. Segun was on the drums, dark, in his early twenties. He seemed to love what he does. Wale was on the keyboard. David in his fifties, on the talking drums. Albert stroke the talking drum beautifully, while Shola was on the bass guitar, other less influential members of the fifteen-man band, their names inconsequential, stayed behind the light.
On the second floor of the Epic, Dare Banjo walked into the room, his towel barely wrapped his protruding stomach. He looked intimidating in his six foot seven heights. The bed quacked under his huge frame. Bianca lay on her stomach on the bed naked under the covers.
Dare’s phone rang. He glanced toward the table, where his four phones sat, ignoring the call.
Bianca laid a slender hand on his back, sensually caressing him. Her hand moved over to his stomach as Dare pulled away from her. He stood up and walked to the closet and pulled out a laundered shirt. Bianca slowly rose to a sitting position. “Where are you going?” She leaned with her elbow against a pillow.
“Downstairs, the day is far spent; I need to see how things are going.” Dare put his shirt on and stood before a mirror buttoning up his shirt. Bianca pulled the sheets over her breast line, a worried expression on her face.
“Will I ever get a chance on the band?” Bianca asked, making her face like daddy’s little girl, as she turned on her charm. Dare ignored her. He slipped on a cuff link, then a silk tie. Bianca moved to the edge of the bed, the bedspread pulling away, revealing her unclothedness.
“Do I stand a chance?” Bianca’s eyebrow tensed.
Dare stopped tying his tie and stared at her in the mirror. “What’s that saying again?” He turned around to face her. “That popular saying, the patient dog getting the fattest bone,”
“What do you mean?” Bianca fidgeted.
”Keep being faithful in your prayers.” He pulled a cigarette out from it pack and lit it. “You can never tell, but I’m hopeful you would get your chance if JESUS tarries before rapture.” He puffed on his cigarette. A tear slid down Bianca’s face, she crawled back to bed and faced the opposite direction.
Dare’s phone rang again. He stretched with his cigarette toward it, but before he could reach his phone, the ash from the cigarette fell on the sheets. He brushed the ash off the bed with his hand. Bianca sobbed. Dare stared at her for a moment, satisfied he got her where he had always wanted.
“Alright, that is okay.” He raised both hands up in surrender. “You start rehearsals next week.”
Bianca face lit up, she wiped her face with the bedspread and climbed out of the bed. She hugged Dare from behind, the bedspread now off her, revealing her unclothedness.
“Before too long I will be everyone’s favorite dancer.” She kissed his shoulder.
“This isn’t a dance competition, as a matter of fact.” Bianca picked her blouse and skirt of the floor and pulled them on. Dare stuffed light out of his half- length cigarette, he placed it on the ashtray, and started towards the door.
“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” Bianca asked, as she put on her blouse.
“I haven’t given hiring a bodyguard a thought; you might consider sending in a C.V.” Dare turned the key knot open and stepped out of the door.
“You treat me like a dog.” She pouted.
Bianca studied herself in the mirror for a moment, she shifted to get a good profile of her breast, then placed an errant her back with a spray. She applied lipstick, then picked up her handbag, a jacket, and a bunch of keys and stamped towards the door.

Jennimma:
Fab,please update. I'm always checking for new updates. However vote #TeamJennimma. Your best reader

where we go vote Jennimma. i don search tire oooo

“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” Bianca asked, as she put on her blouse.
“I haven’t given hiring a bodyguard a thought; you might consider sending in a C.V.” Dare turned the key knot open and stepped out of the door.
“You treat me like a dog.” She pouted.
Bianca studied herself in the mirror for a moment, she shifted to get a good profile of her breast, then placed an errant her back with a spray. She applied lipstick, then picked up her handbag, a jacket, and a bunch of keys and stamped towards the door.

Street light illuminated the roads; Mabel had been sitting in traffic for the past three hours. Okafor approached.
“Any luck” Mabel asked.
“They are done offloading the goods off the fallen truck.” Okafor said. He rubbed his eye in fatigue. “A few mechanics had been battling to fix the broken down truck.” Okafor climbed into his car. “We should be out in a few minutes.”
“You’ve got a few interesting names,” Mabel said. Okafor stared at her blankly “I heard your friend address you as a man of God.”
Okafor face brightened with a smile “Oh! That one,” Okafor paused and thought for a moment. “Few months ago, I had the rare privilege of gracing the front pages of major newspapers.” He smiled. “I was an instant hit, a celebrity.” Okafor said.
“Interesting.”
“I returned the sum of eight thousand dollars a passenger left in my cab last Christmas.”
“You did that? That is very noble of you." Mabel said in disbelief. She did a quick mental check, quite a huge sum, there were still good people here. She thought.
“Friends haven’t forgiven me afterwards.” Okafor continued. “I have been having series of nightmares.”
“You did well, coming from--”
Okafor has heard this a thousand times “A poor taxi driver?” Okafor finished the statement for her. “So everybody says.” Okafor continued. “I have won countless awards for the gesture.”
“Cheering news….” Mabel commented.
“I got bills to pay,” Okafor said. “Awards don’t put food on the table. You must have received countless lectures on how things work here.”
Several minutes later, Okafor turned into the access way leading to the Epic, the streets was jam packed with heavy vehicular traffic and human movement. Mabel was surprised to see the huge crowd hanging outside the Epic. The frustrated crowd cursed and rained abuses on the organizers of the festival as they headed back home. They looked dejected and disappointed they didn’t have an opportunity to watch their beloved Demuju.
Okafor found a space and pulled into the parking lot. A fight broke out between two rival gangs, as broken bottle flew freely in every direction. A cold tremor moved through Mabel’s spine. Mabel sat debating for a moment. The Epic was living up to its billing.
Mabel heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of police siren from a distance, the hoodlums began to disperse. She leaned backwards and dipped her hand into her bag to make sure her camera was intact. She tucked her bag under her arm, then pulled out her identity card, pinning it to her white blouse top. She climbed out of the cab. Mabel maneuvered her way through the sea of angry crowd, as she stepped towards the Epic.
“How can we help you miss?” A bouncer asked, as Mabel approached.
“My name is Mabel, I’m a journalist.” She pointed to her identity card. “I have an appointment with Demuju tonight.”
“I’m sorry ma.” The bouncer began. “We are under instruction not to allow anyone into the hall.” The bouncer stated.
“Can I speak with Mr. Dare Banjo?” Mabel was determined.
He considered her request for a moment, his eyes sizing her up and down before finally settling on her beautiful face.

Dare watched Demuju perform for a moment, he was impressed with the turnout and performance of Demuju and the rest of the band. Months of hard work put into the festivals had paid off. Twelve years ago when Demuju and himself took the bold step of setting up the band, they didn’t expect the huge success and followership. What intrigued Dare most is, Demuju does the hard work, and he gets the attention from the women. Demuju identity had remained a mystery to the world. The women extended part of the love they have for Demuju to him.
Usman signaled to catch Dare’s attention. “Officer Usman.” Dare held out his hand for a shake. “What a pleasant surprise, you were the last person I expected to see here tonight.”
“I came to unwind as well, are there laws forbidding officers from cooling off after a hard day’s job?” Usman said.
“The people aren’t comfortable with your men lurking.” Dare pulled a chair and sat, a bartender placed two glasses of wine on his table.
“The Police is your friend. Moreover you should get use to seeing us by now.” Usman said. The crowd screamed, distracting both men for a moment. “Impressive, the crowd keep trooping in, how do you do it?” Usman changed the subject.
“We try our best to make everyone happy. We keep raising the bar, when it comes to event hosting. The people want their money’s worth; they know few better singers in the world.” The dancers had their back to the crowd as they shook their behind to the ripping Afro-beat number.
“What about that for a sitting allowance.” A man in the crowd shouted.
Dare sipped from his glass of wine, Usman glass remained untouched. Dare noticed. This made him uncomfortable. “This is what they paid to see, they never get tired of seeing them.” Dare’s phone rang. He pulled his phone out and stared on the screen for a moment. The call was from an unfamiliar number. Dare hardly picked anonymous calls. Many of Demuju’s fans bombarded him with calls daily, asking ridiculous questions. Tonight he was in the right frame of mind. He punched the receive button on the second ring.
“Good evening sir.” Mabel said at the other end of the line. “I’m Mabel Danzo, am I speaking with Mr. Dare Banjo of Leat entertainment.”
“Speaking.” Dare had difficulties listening, the loud music from the speakers and screams from the crowd made hearing Mabel an uphill task. “Hold on, let me walk away from the music” Dare suggested as he gestured to Usman with a finger. Dare walked away from the music into a private room. “I can hear you now.” Dare said finally.
“I’m Mabel Danzo,” Mabel repeated “a journalist with ‘FABS’ magazine. We are based in the Uzi island-”
“Interesting, Demuju is billed on stage in Uzi in a forth night. What can we do for you, Miss Danzo“
“I have an appointment with Demuju tonight,” Mabel continued. “But your bouncer won’t let me into the hall.”
“I’m sorry Miss Danzo; Demuju won’t be in the best frame of mind for an interview after his performance tonight.” Dare was polite. “He should be fatigued.”
“What of an appointment early tomorrow,” Mabel inserted. “Will that be okay by you?”
“That should be fine” Dare ended the call. Dare stepped back into concert hall and strolled to his table. Demuju danced to the beat from the talking drum, a great dancer, his steps strange but intriguing and electrifying, holding everyone spell bound. The crowd couldn’t take their eyes off a second.
“Government can’t….” The dancers/backup singers chorused.
“I have to leave now.” Usman stood.
“Thanks for coming by Superintendent. I do appreciate your company.” Dare said.
“It’s always fun being here, I will love to speak with you in private.” Usman and Dare stepped out of the hallway, then into the parking lot. “Inasmuch as I love this place,” Usman began. “The state won’t hesitate to shut this spot, if you continue to encourage every form of criminal activities. My desk is overflowing with petitions.”
“I don’t get it, officer Usman.” Dare responded.
“I won’t take such pretense.” Usman countered. “Everyone is in the know of the criminal activities around here, thought I should look things over myself.” Usman continued. “We will make our visit more of a daily ritual, marijuana, petty thieves everything goes on here.”
“I assure you officer, nothing of such happens here, we got Zero tolerance for lawlessness and crime.” Dare defended. “No one in as much dares it….” Dare added.
“I saw things myself, next time we might not be having this conversation.” Usman growled. Without another word, Usman gestured to the police officers who hopped into the car. The car engines came on as they pulled out of the driveway, then out of sight, leaving Dare standing alone, as he watched the police van disappear.

leatfabiano3681:

where we go vote Jennimma. i don search tire oooo

don't worry,i will tag you when i put up the link. Thanks Fab.

very interesting

JeffreyJamez:
very interesting

How you dey JeffreyJamez. Nice to know you are still following. thanks

CHAPTER FIVE
The table in the dancers' private changing room was cluttered with bottles of nail polish, beads, make-up, and costumes draped over chairs, as the girls change into casuals. They went about this wordless, far different from the chemistry and synergy they exhibited a few minutes ago on stage. The air was tensed. The only noise came from a sputtering fan, which served for ventilation.
Funmi put on a pair of blue designer bra and stood in front of a mirror as she does a double take. Alice changed into a towel and walked into the bathroom.
Suddenly, the door opened. “Awesome girls! Awesome!” Dare walked into the room, halting the tube of coral lipstick from Funmi’s mouth. “I am so proud of you girls.” He walked farther into the room. His phone rang, Dare glanced at the screen for a moment then he ignored the call.
“This is a private room Mr. Banjo.” Funmi’s reminded him coldly.
“Of course,” Dare chuckled. He placed a hand on Funmi’s hip. “I know, this a private room.”
“It’s boldly written by the door, I bet you don’t bother to read.” Alice retorted, an angry smack on her face.
“I always do. I’m not blind.” He tipped his head to one side in mock inquiry. ‘Ladies dressing room, out of bound to non-staff.’ Dare said.
Dare took a cigarette off it pack and lit it with a matchstick, he blew the matchstick and placed it on the dress drawer. His phone began to ring again. Dare ignored it as he tucked his phone in his pocket.
”You have made a ritual of sneaking in while I dress.” Funmi said as she sat back on her sit.
“It’s okay, you girls got nothing I haven't seen before. You were teenagers when you joined the band,” He mocked. “Funmi, you need a man to take good care of you,” Dare caressed her arm. “Give me a chance.” His hand moved to her shoulder. “We can’t keep quarreling, it is leading us nowhere.”
“You just stay out of my way and we will be fine.” Funmi said. Her chin lifted fractionally to a defiant angle.
“Look, if I don’t want you on the band you will have been thrown out long ago.”
“I wish you could, you know you don’t have the power.” Funmi corrected. “You might have had your way with every other dancer, but I’m different. Demuju brought me to the band, only he can fire me.”
“I own the band.” Dare said, a little upset. “Demuju won’t object if I threw you out of the door.” His hand sensually caressed her shoulder. Funmi shut her eyes in displeasure, as he kissed her forcefully on the lips. Vehemently, she pulled away and hissed at him angrily.
"How dare you lay those lecherous hands on me? You animal."
Alice emerged from the bathroom. “Oh Alice you are done,” Dare moved away from Funmi “having a chat with Funmi, see you girls at rehearsals tomorrow.” With that he stormed out of the room.
Dare stepped into the private car lot and found Bianca who had been sitting on the passenger side on his car for about an hour. He climbed into the car and started the engine. Dare pulled out a stick of cigarette off his pack and lit it, blowing out smoke contentedly, as the smoke drifted across towards Bianca, she coughed and waved it off.
“If you keep sticking next to me, you will be visiting the doctor much often.” He blew more smoke into the air. Bianca coughed harder. “Innocent lungs, you will get used to it.” he added.
“You can’t wait to get rid of me, don’t you?” Bianca eyes filled with tears “You got me into bed with you,” she stared at him for a moment. “I bet you won’t get rid of me easily.”
“On the contrary, if I wanted you out, you won’t be sitting next to me.” He puffed his cigarette. “I somewhat like you, you are key to the future of this band, you will make a huge impact as a dancer. You are young and beautiful.”
“I will be twenty next month.” Bianca stated. “I can’t wait to join the band,” She brushed his arm with hers “When will you introduce me to the other band members.”
Dare glanced at her “Takes one step at a time.”
“I can’t wait to meet Demuju and the other girls. Cannot wait to show them how skilled a dancer I am. Do you think they will accept me?”
“That is your headache.” He replied non-challantly and drove off, cigarette hanged between his darkened lips.

Sorry guys, i wont be updating as often as i would love to, as i'm busy on set. I'm also in the process of converting yet another of my screenplays[EVERY GOOD THING MUST COME TO AN END] into a book. It's a christian fiction, endtime story. You can always follow the story here on Nairaland. thanks

leatfabiano3681:
Sorry guys, i wont be updating as often as i would love to, as i'm busy on set. I'm also in the process of converting yet another of my screenplays[EVERY GOOD THING MUST COME TO AN END] into a book. It's a christian fiction, endtime story. You can always follow the story here on Nairaland. thanks

uh uh...*sad*

Fab,please where are you?

My best story so far on Nairaland.Please,come and complete the goo work you have started.

nice sotry so far....buh i tink dis is a dead thread now

wao
what a storywao
what a storywao
what a story

humm.....enjoying

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