Hahahahhahahaha.....dis update is so sweet. Isimail and chuma no go kill me abeg. Safari love. Tnx a lot

Likes chuma's character, he is cool. Isi, you in for real trouble. Ride on Safarigirl.

Wow.! Another Non-Fictional fiction. Ride on sweets.. Following.

Some were marvelled, others wer
surprised and yet again some
wondered how but we knw it was
all by your kind courtesy. Dear
literaturelanders, the second
round is here and they cannot
win without your vote. Kindly
spare ticks of your valuable times
and vote massively for Adeh39,
mariamferanmi and Aipete to win
miss Nairaland 2015. The crown
must and will need to come here.
God bless u for ur votes. Pls vote
here ......


https://www.nairaland.com/2322733-miss-nairaland-contest-2015-elimination.

Happy Birthday Safarigirl!

Happy bday safarigirl God bless u

HBD babes#do hv fun#

Happy birthday maam

HELLO MY FELLOW LITERATURELANDERS, THIS IS ADEH39, SHE'S ONE OF THE LADIES CONTESTING FOR THE MISS NAIRALAND POSITION. I WANT TO SAY A VERY BIG AND SPECIAL THANKS TO YOU ALL....... YOU GUYS REALLY MADE MY DAY. I MADE IT TO THE THIRD ROUND!!!!!!!!!! I GOT THE SIXTH POSITION...... 122 VOTES. I DIDN'T DO IT ALONE, YOU WERE THE ONES THAT MADE IT POSSIBLE. I AM REALLY HAPPY. I REALLY APPRECIATE IT. YOU GUYS ARE ONE IN A TRILLION. PLEASE I STILL NEED YOUR SUPPORTS...... TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY! PLEASE PUT A SMILE ON MY FACE TOMORROW TOO. PLEASE LITERATURELANDERS ARE MORE THAN 122, KINDLY CAST YOUR VOTES FOR ME TOMORROW. 122 VOTES WON'T TAKE ME TO THE NEXT ROUND TOMORROW!!!! PLEASE I KNOW YOU GUYS CAN DO IT, YOU MADE IT HAPPEN LAST YEAR, MAKE IT HAPPEN THIS YEAR TOO. PLEASE SUPPORT ME BY VOTING FOR ME.

Safari gal,wot happened?no update 4m u in a long while now,pls update 4 us nau!

pls dear update na

@safarigirl !!!!!!!!!!! Where are you You've got me checking for a new post everyday. Please post. Pretty please.



PS: you're my fave NL writer

[color=#006600][/color]wow! wat a story..... nice1 safarigirl!!!

So sorry for the delay guys. I'll post another update by evening latest.

safarigirl:
So sorry for the delay guys. I'll post another update by evening latest.

amen, safari av missed you, wot about 'getting a life'?

*****

The church service wasn't as bad as I thought it would be....I still felt highly uncomfortable sitting n church though. There were a myriad of reasons for that. One, we had gotten to church fairly late and had made quite the scene with Chuma more or less dragging me to the front row where his mother was sitting. Now, this wouldn't have really pissed me off if it wasn't a very large church and if we hadn't interrupted the service with they mild raucous we caused. I surely did not want anyone knowing my name after the service, then there was the other issue that more than half the time I wass sitting more or less in front of the altar and locking eyes with thee priest, I kept imagining all the sick, twisted ways in which to end Chuma's life. I mean, I figured he'd put up more of a fight than the whimpering weaklings I had the unfortunate job of ridding the world of, but still, a dose of rat poison was sure to make my job a lot easier.

Once the service was over, I rushed out of the church like a bat out of hell and somehow managed, rather commendably if I may add, to reach the car without being accosted by By church member. And since we left, Gloria has not stopped gleaming about how I came to church, you'd think it's the second coming with the way she's been going on about it.

I won't even mention the smug smile my tormentor has been sporting the entire morning, whether that idiotic grin is on his face because he won me in a bet or his mother has been praising his genius like he just discovered the cure to cancer I really can't say, but i'm willing to bet it's the former.

We're now having Sunday lunch at the kitchen table. Gladys has gone the extra mule today and is serving her specialty- shrimp jollof rice, I hate to indulge myself though, as much as I love her meals, I also like to discipline myself by eating moderately. Ismail seems to have no issues with gaining some more pounds as he stuffs himself with the tasty meal rather greedily. I'll make sure to talk to him about proper table manners once we're home.

"You'll never guess what's in the news ma..." The Rock says as he walks into the kitchen. He was gone for about ten blissful minutes, but of course, all good things must come to an end. His deep voice washes over me, causing goose bumps to spread over my skin.....or maybe it's just the cool breeze that's suddenly moving through the room. Yep, that's it. I maintain eye contact with my food even as my ears are perked for whatever information he wishes to share

"What's in it?" Gloria asks, most likely out of courtesy. I know she reads the news first thing every morning.

"Some guy was found dead in an uncompleted building somewhere around Obalende...." I should laugh at this juncture because his pronunciation of 'Obalende' is hilarious to say the least, instead I take a casual sip of the guava juice next to me....the unfortunate part of visiting Gloria is that she has no alcohol in her house. He continues, "People around say he was an immigrant who used to beg for alms closeby before he died."

I freeze momentarily and my eyes dart to Ismail, he's still munching away without a care in the world, and for the first time ever I'm somewhat glad he hardly understands English else i'm certain he would look horrified hearing that. Well....now I know whose blood he had on him that day. Not that I didn't have a clue before, I just wanted a confirmation I have now gotten......this does not in any way mean I won't get a confession out of Ismail eventually. It's very important he speaks, I can't over-emphasize the purpose of speaking to someone about one's pains and fears on the way to redemption, you never truly heal if you lock your feelings up.

With that in mind, I return to my meal, failing to notice that Chuma hasn't spoken any further on the report. I don't even notice the almost 5 minute silence in the room until he breaks it, "Isi" he calls softly.

I literally pause with my hand hanging mid-air, not just because he's blatantly using the short form of my name, which I did not permit him to use, yet oddly enough it sounds so nice coming from him. I don't even know why it sounds different when he uses it, but it definitely does for some reason I refuse to explore.

I raise my head up to look at him and I notice for the first time today, his face is a ctually laced with seriousness, he doesn't even have a ghost of a smile on it and I'm instantly filled with a dread that I honestly should not be feeling, "Can I have a word with you for a minute?" He asks.

It takes me a while to understand those words, and like a remote-controlled robot, I find myself nodding in approval even as my brain is telling me to reject his request. Since this guy came to town, it's. like the rest of my body has been at war with my highly reliable brain and it's pissing me off. I hate being this way, I haven't been this submissive since I was a kid.

I watch him walk towards the entrance, his strides as masculine and authoritative as they come. You can tell he's one who's used to giv ing orders rather than anwering or following any, but I remain sitted. As though he's aware I haven't moved an inch, he stops and turns to me, "In private please" the tone in his voice is not only one of finality, but something else that makes me feel utterly dumb in a way I have never experienced. Who the hell is this guy really?

A part of me wants to remain seated, let's say the reasonable, intelligen t part of me, it's telling me that I don't have to obey this drill seargent. I should just sit as a silent phuck you to him for all his arrogance. That would teach him to treat me with a little more dignity and respect, the kind that's slowly evading me. But as usual, the cursed, extremely annoying part of me gets to my nervous system first and I find myself getting on feet I wish would remain rooted defiantly, but instead, even the darned feet move towards the entrance right after I give Ismail a pat of assurance.

I can see Gladys through my peripheral, gleaming like an expectant grandmother. The poor woman must think there's a chance in some realm that her two 'kids' will hook up and have little grandbabies she can smother, too bad that will never happen, it will be a cold day in hell before I will ever have any sort of intimate attachment to any man.

I follow Chuma to his mother's study....well, his dad's study actually. It's a medium-sized room with 3 shelves of books against a wall, a window where sunlight streams in is adjacent to the shelves, the room is a dark shade of red, almost ox-blood. There's a large oak desk filled with, yep, more books, two reading lamps and some stationery. I've only been in this room a couple of times, Gladys likes to keep it locked. Apparently, her son's arrival has changed her mind. She's probably allowed him free reign over everything in here.

"Looks nice, doesn't it?" The sound of his baritone startles me and effectively pulls me out of my thoughts.

I turn a cold gaze to him. "Looks same." I reply drily.

He smiles, apparently, a gaze I used to think capable of withering lesser men, doesn't even faze him. Maybe he can't see it, I mean, the room is a little dark, "I beg to differ. Made a little changes last week, can't you notice them? Unless you don't have a good memory of this room"

He's probably right, for one thing, the rug in the middle of the room used to be navy blue in colour, now it's ash, the curtains have been changed as well, and there used to be a framed, enlarged picture of his father against the wall which is now bare, but I'm not about to be led on by this smart alec, "I don't believe we're here to discuss whatever changes you made to this study." I reply tersely. I just want to be out of this room as quickly as possible.

He pauses from picking up something, I think an ashtray, I wonder who smokes here, he looks towards me and flashes a smile my way, he should really stop smiling, "You're right." He drops the item and walks around the desk, once he's in front of it, he leans casually against it, he looks like a supermodel in that pose, with his arms folded across his chest, my eyes briefly spy bulging biceps, but I'm quick to avert them and focus on something else- like the shelves behind him, "We're not here to discuss changes made to the study" he replies so casually I feel a nerve snap inside me. I will never understand how he manages to get on my nerves while I can barely ruffle a feather in his calm demeanor

I stand there and wait for his next words, like a child ushered into the principal's office for an interrogation, while he takes his sweet little time watching me rather intensely, I squirm just a bit under his gaze and that riles me up a whole lot, "So?" I snap at him angrily, sick of being calm and agreeable when I don't even want to be here to begin with.

He clicks his tongue at me dramatically, "Saucy little thing, aren't you?"

My eyes blaze at him- literally, "I'm not little" really? That was the only fault I could pick out of that statement? I can't even believe myself right now.

"You certainly are not" he says as his eyes take a cursory glance at my silhouette. I literally shrivel under his gaze. I should be sickened at the look of interest that sparks in his golden brown eyes, instead, a certain warmth passes through me that I just can't explain for the life of me. Before I can send a snide remark his way, he ends his little show and his eyes are once again on my face with a seriousness that defeats his previous look, it's as if my mind was playing tricks on me and his eyes never even made a trail down my body. Oh, he's definitely slick.

"So, you mind explaining the situation with Ismail?"

My back straightens at that question and I go into mama bear mode. He must think I'm one of the criminals he interrogates, there is no way I'm telling him anything about my son, "It's none of your business." I reply coldly.

He raises a well-arched brow at me, the only change in an otherwise straight face. He raises himself off the edge of the desk and walks slowly towards me, unconsciously, I take a cautious step back and then stop myself. I don't cower infear of anyone. I haven't done that in 14 years and I'm not doing it now, "Well, when there's an obviously abused child in my house, I think I deserve to know something about him" he tries to reason with me, but all I can see is a hulk of a man steadily approaching. I'm in no mood to reason with him.

"It's your mother's house, not yours" once again, I'm forced to applaud the dumb side of my brain, it's on a roll here. If things weren't so serious, I'd be laughing at my silly lines right now.

He smiles at me....or more like a smug grin, "I reckon you haven't seen the deed then?" He doesn't give me a chance to reply as he continues, "Anyway, we're not here to discuss who owns this house, are we?" He asks. Once again, I don't get a word in before he continues, "We're here because I want to know where you got Ismail, how you got him, and why you looked so pale when I mentioned a dead guy from the papers"

He reels out the questions so casually, you'd think he was asking if I had a date, but the last part sent a cold shiver through my bones, his eyes bore into mine, daring me to face him head on, if it's some form of tactic he learnt in Police Academy to subdue the guilty, it certainly works as for the first time in Lord knows how long, I look away from a challenge, "It's none of your business" I repeat words that are beginning to have a sour taste on my tongue, but I find there's no edge to my voice, no power and I curse myself inwardly.

"Did you kill him?" He shoots a bit too directly. No one has ever directed that question my way, not even when I do kill. So, I'm shell-shocked at that accusation and my widened eyes relay that which my lips are unable to speak, "Does my mother know you've killed? Is her sweet little angel really a despicable criminal?" He says under his breath.

I bristle with an anger I haven't felt in years, how dare he bring Gladys into any of this? He can call me whatever he wishes, but I draw a line where he chooses to poke me with words concerning my benefactor and the nicest, truest person to ever come my way, my eyes narrow into slits at his audacity, "How dare you?" I raise my hand to give him a well earned slap, one I've been itching to give him the entire day, but before I can reach that hard cheek, sharp reflexes catch my movement and my wrist ends up with a hard hand around it.

He archs a brow at me, from the smirk on his face, he probably finds my attempt amusing, if someone could explode from anger, I'd be in smitherens right now, "Let me go"

"Tell me what you know about that man's death."

"I know nothing..."

"Lies."

This must be the manifestation of that bad feeling I had of him, of course, he's nothing bur a brute. Such a far cry from his mother, "And even if I did, I would never tell you a word" I spat defiantly.

"The kid can barely sleep. He's always restless. Ge never sits straight in public, he has this look on his face like he's ready to jump at the drop of a pin. I notice those things if you don't Isi, and I can't do anything if I don't know what's going on"

I furrow my brows at him, is he concerned? Why should he be? What the hell does he know? He has this look of helplessness in his eyes, it's so genuine it rattles me just a little, but i'm no stranger to the cunning ways of the make folk. This is probBly just a big reuse. He doesn't really care. I use the opportunity to snatch my hand away from his grip while his guards are down, "You don't need to know anything." I reply firmly, this time, I hope he'll get the point andd stop fussing over things that don't concern him. He just needs to know his place around here and stop trying to force his way into our lives.

I turn around to walk out the door, but somehow luck evades me as persistent Mr. Investigator catches me by my wrist, "Wait...."

"What?!" I raise my voice this time as I turn around. Does he not realise when one isn't in the mood for his bullshit? He must think he's so smooth and lovable. People can't possibly tire of him and his antics.

"Why do you keep attacking me? Since i've been here, all you've done is attack me repeatedly, why?"

Well, i'm certainly glad he noticed my efforts, I was starting to think my efforts were going unnoticed what with the way he seems to find me amusing, "Just stay away from me." I retort. I turn to storm off again, conveniently forgetting a hand is still cuffed around my wrist. The result? Yep, I sort of lose my footing and trip with a yelp, a frakubg yelp!, can things get any worse? Oh yeah, i'm about to fall flat on my face. oh Lord, i'm not about to fall flat on my face with this man here.

Once again, that thought wars against the entire idea that someone has his hand on my wrist, and so, rather than end up on my face, a strong arm around my waist stops my fall and my precious face is buried in a hard chest with a woody scent. For the first time, my brain links to the rest of my body and a mutual agreemment is reached that this is the point where I beccone still as a statue. I don't even think i'm breathing as I remain frozen against him, the rapid beat of my heart that seems to have doubled is the only sign that I haven't collapsed and died. The rest of me is in shock......and he doesn't seem keen on releasing me anytime soon.


Breathe. Breathe. I tell myself repeatedly, it would feel so much better having air in my lungs if I wasn't inhaling Chuma's intoxicating scent. He slowly rises, his arm never leaving the small of my back. I find it odd that he dowsn't take advantage of the situation by copping a feel of my butt, I mean, that's what most men would do. Even as his hand is nowhere close to touching my behind, I can't help the sought shiver that passes through me feeling all that hard muscle beneath his shirt. He certainly is fit. I stop that train of thought as soon as it surfaces. Why the hell am I thinking good stuff about this man? He's a thorn in my flesh and should be treated as such.

We both stand straight up and he slowly releases me. I barely understand. He's not taking advantage?, "Are you alright?" he asks softly. He creates some space between us so he can lean down and look at my face. Of course, remind me I'm standing some inches away from a giant, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you trip"

Oh, how could I forget? It's his fault I almost ended up on the floor! He and his annoying persistence and I-must-know tendencies, I stare straight at him and then look away, I find the sincerity in his eyes unsettling, why does he make loathing him so difficult? Why can't he just be a man? What sort of decoy is this?

"I'm fine" I snap, my anger is borne out of the fact that I can't seem to conjure a negative feeling for him, apart from how annoying he can be, there is absolutely nothing to hold on to. And that is barely a reason.

He brings his face closer to mine, he's so close I think I can feel his breath against my skin, and in response, my breath departs from me. A smile dances along his lips, i'm supposed to be pissed off, instead, the palpitation of my hearts gives off some other emotion that betrays the entire point of my vendetta., "You need a holiday sweetheart. You're too tense" he says, as his hands, which I just realise are on my shoulders, begins to massage the nerves there.

I just stare at him, my brain is officialy on 'hibernate' mode, my voice somehow, has evaded me, and my senses too apparently. I don't even realise he's stopped massaging my shoulders till I feel strong fingers crawl against me skin and large hands clasp my neck. I momentarily think he's about to choke me to death, my pulse quickens, but rather than fight, my body just mellows down, I blank out as I programmed myself to do years ago when I was repeatedly abused. It's a method of blocking out the pain. It helped a lot 14 years ago.

I can't see past the white wall I find myself trapped behind. It serves as the guard that ensures I don't lose my mind to the pain that comes with a hand around my neck....somewhere in the background, I can hear my name, but the voice sounds so distant, so far away. I barely recognise it in my little sanctuary. Someone curses under his breath, a male voice familiar to the one that was calling my name just seconds ago.

He sounds.....scared.

the update was quite lengthy and d way I described d situation was just good.. save for some typos, u are good to go.. thanks and welcome.. twas worth the wait..

Long nice update auntysafari. Thanks a lot

Wow,welcome back ma'am.

I over enjoyed this update.
Thanks Safarigirl, u are still my best of the best.

Yaaaay! Finally. Thank you and welldone. Please don't starve us again

i need a seat @ op

Nice story, I know I will enjoy this. Grabs a seat

thanks for this

Chapter Three

I watch the tea intently, my eyes boring into the brown liquid as if I have laserbeams capable of steaming the contents of the cup. I'm surrounded by people, everyone's eyes are on me and I don't like the attention, I wish they'd look somewhere else or just leave this place totally.

So I emerged from my trance, only to find myself surrounded by Gloria to my left and Chuma to my right, tge first thing I did was....yep, you guessed right, I sat up and searched franticall for Ismail, I certainly didn't need him to see me in my 'weakened' state. I didn't want him to think that was a norm or that I was crazy. Fortunately, one or both of Gloria and Chuma had kept him busy downstairs and they assured me he didn't know what was going on. That sort of made me feel better.

Now, I'm sitting here and two pairs of eyes are staring at me, one with concern and the other with curiosity and I can't help but think, a hint of frustration. I don't know why though, what should he be frustrated about? It's not like he's the one who just looked crazy in the presence of a semi-stranger. His reputation is still pretty awesome- well, if you don't factor in how much of an annoying asss he is.

The silence is heavy with questions and uncomfortable, at least for me. I wish someone would say something, I would break the ice, but I really have no clue what to say. I drop the now empty cup which once contained some green tea and wipe my mouth just in case there are any residues of the liquid around my lips. That, and now that I can't busy myself sipping on the tea, I doubt I'll be given the reprieve I had enjoyed these past minutes.

As if on cue, Gloria picks up my cup rather quietly and walks out the room leaving me with my worst nightmare. I watch her retreating form almost longingly, I don't want her gone, I want to say something, anything, or at least find some way to follow her, but I just watch her as if knowing she'll express her concern for my state of health before rejecting my offer to follow her.

I look around the study aimlessly, just realising we never left the room, he's oddly silent, as if testing the weight of his words before speaking them. I wish he wouldn't speak at all, but even I know how impossible that is. I can feel his proximity, I'm yet to look his way, but I know he's close, hard to ignore someone that big in any room.

"So, you wanna talk about that little episode?" He asks, well, he certainly didn't take long to initiate conversation.

I shake my head, no, I never want to talk about it especially not to him.

He's blissfully quiet after that, and a little too quickly, I let out a sigh of relief, but if I should learn anything with my dealings with this fellow, it's that one should never breathe easy where he's concerned.

"I'm sorry, you mistook that for a question." There's just a tinge of humour in his voice as he adjusts his position so he's looking at me, "I want to know what that was about. Whether you choose to tell me that before you bring up the issue with Ismail or after it is fully up to you, but you won't be leaving this house until I get all the information I need to assure me that my mother hasn't been bringing up a criminally-minded psycho all this time." His voice is now rid of humour and I dare say, it's filled with all the seriousness I never thought he posessed.

It makes me nervous in a way I'm not used to and guarded. Even worse, I think I'm actually considering telling what I know....well, about Ismail. As far as my story goes, he won't get anything until Antarctica becomes nothing more than a mass of water.

I scoff at him, "Threats? You don't scare me." I shoot back at him, the strength of my voice impresses me, I do not feel that strong inside.

A sinister smile reminiscent of one sported my villains in many crime dramas, graces his otherwise handsome features, "Well, considering the amount of people I've tortured, maimed...killed, in my line of work, you should fear me. I would go into details, but I doubt you'll want to hear gory tales of surgically precise methods through which limbs are decapitated, detached and crushed." His sinister smile widens with every word so that at the end of his sentence, he's sporting a grin almost as wide as that of The Joker from Batman.

I swallow some saliva to wet my extremely dry throat as I re-consider my stance on this matter. Maybe telling him wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he could...help? I discard that flloish notion before it's fertilized, help? I can't be helped and certainly not by one of the people responsible for my current situation. How the hell can any man help me?

I briefly close my eyes and breathe deeply until I regain my jumbled up thoughts. When I re-open my eyes, Chuma is staring at me intensely, almost like he's reading my thoughts, thankfully, that sickening smile is off his face, but I'm still not courageous enough to face him, so I lower my head.

"Before your mother found me under the bridge, I used to live with mine....." I choose to begin with my story, get it over with before I go into that of Ismail. I don't like to go into details concerning my horrific experience, I've perfected my art so much I can narrate my horrific childhood experience in five words. It's basic, I answer the important five; who, what, where, why, how....brief, precise and to the point. No tears, no choking, no emotion.

I'm done with both stories in a record 10 minutes, thankfully, Chuma is smart enough to be silent throughout. I haven't looked his way since the narration began so I can't say his exact expression. Once I'm through, all I receive is a deafening silence as I await my verdict for what feels like hours. Will he judge me? I didn't add the part where I kill people in my spare time, he doesn't need to know that and I don't trust him enough to divulge such information. After all, he's still a law enforcement officer, what are the chances he won't turn me in once I out myself?

A loud sigh is the only thing that reminds me he's still in the room with me and I grow tense, suddenly wanting to hear his opinion, to get his approval. Why? I don't know and I won't give it any further thought.

"Have you killed anyone since your mother and this...other man?" he asks

I freeze momentarily and then immediately mutter a shaky, "No"

He's silent again, observing me, I feel his eyes on me and I school my features to ensure my face gives nothing away.

"How many of them?"

"What?" I ask, as my head shoots up to meet him and give him a look of surprise.

"How many...men, have you killed? And when did it start?"

"I don't....."

"Do you know how many years I've worked with the American police force?" He cuts in.

I stare at him for a while and then shake my head 'no', wondering why he's asking such. Of what importance is that information to me?

"Roughly 10 years, 6 of which I've been an investigator. Why am I telling you this?" He asks.

I wonder.

"It's not smart to lie to an investigator. You'll be caught in your lie. How many men, and for how long?" He asks the question again, slowly this time.

I gulp, wondering why my throat has been parched so many times today.

"Around ten to fifteen, for about 5 years now."

I wait patiently for the outrage, the condemnation. It's what any sane human being would do, I've probably killed more people than most who are on death row currently, but I have one more request before I receive what's coming to me.

"Please, don't tell your mother about the deaths, I beg you." For the first time since my revelation, I look at him again, his expression is unreadable and frustrates me even more, I would do anything to have him scowl at me right now. Unreadable is torture, "I...it would hurt her, very much, if she knew and I don't....please."

I watch him watch me, hoping he hears my plea and saves me the heart-wrenching wrath of a disappointed Gladys. I like our relationship, I like that she trusts and has faith in me, it would kill me if that faith is broken and this revelation that I've killed more men even while under her care, would ensure I lost that cherished faith.

As if on cue, the object of my plea bursts into the room, causing I and Chuma to break eye contact and simultaneously look at her. She pauses in her steps and gives us suspicious looks.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything" she voices out.

I shake my head, somehow forgetting my speech.

"No Ma'am. Isi is feeling much better now, maybe you should show her the brochures of those schools we picked out." He suggests casually. By the tone of his voice, you'll never guess we were just having an intense discussion.

Gladys raises her brows warily, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, right Isi?" He asks as he flashes me a smile.

I stare at him momentarily, I think it's sage to say Chuma's job may have gotten to him. I smile, recognising a cover-up for what it is, inside, I'm somewhat grateful for his demeanor, but I'm still nervous. He never gave me a reply for my plea concerning Gladys' knowledge of my less than noble acts. Will he out me or will it be our little secret?

"I'm better now. What brochures are you talking of?"

"Mum and I have been searching for schools for Ismail. We found a couple and thought you should look at them. They're right on the desk. If you'll both excuse me, I've got some things to do."

With those words, he leaves I and Gladys in the room. I don't know whether I should be relieved or worried by his actions. Just in case though, I don't plan to let my guard down

Wow Aunty safari thanks so much 4 dis update. Isi busted lol. Intresting story line

Team chuma and Isi love. Thanks safarigirl!

****
How does one act around a person who holds a damning secret of yours? What do you say when you meet that person? How do you remain in his presence without losing your mind? Do you play cool? Do you act anxious? Is it a good sign to be jittery? Should you be overly friendly?

If someone, somewhere was smart enough to write a book on How To Act Around A Person Who Holds A Damning Secret Of Yours, be it a best seller or going only as far as neighbours and sympathetic members of his community, I believe I'm in dire need of such a book.

I haven't been able to have a good night's rest since I told Chuma of my many atrocities....not that I had a good night's rest before, but my insomnia has gotten worse. How do I know? Because even alcohol hasn't been able to put me to sleep like it used to. I've probably consumed more of that harmful liquid this past week than I have in the last month.

I'm so nervous, I literally jump everytime my phone rings. I've had this dreadful feeling that Gladys will call and ask me the simple question of "Why?" In a disappointed voice. The worst part is, the person responsible for my current state of mind has made no attempts to ease my mind. It's almost like he's punishing me by keeping me in the dark.

Since Gladys is yet to call me with that damning question and has maintained usual relations, it's sage to assume she knows nothing of my actions, but Chuma is yet to tell me if I have nothing to worry or if I should prepare my lengthy defense. Fine, we haven't really been in any position to bring up the topic since it was initially discussed due to certain circumstances I refuse to peg as 'beyond our control'...I just have this gnawing feeling that said circumstances have been created by the chief of suspense himself.

Sometimes I have this urge to just go to the house and demand his audience, but it goes against my rationalism. I'm not one to just show up and demand explanations especially when I'm not in any position to get one, besides, knowing the person I'm dealing with here, he'll most likely just laugh in my face and proceed to slam the door....in my face. So I push back those urges like a wise person would and exercise much needed patience.

The only problem is....it's affecting my work. I've found myself back-tracking, missing meetings and acting like some lazy slacker. And that's not me, I'm no slacker. This is all Chuma Ugwumba's fault.

I'm taking a much needed break today off the site, I'm sick of dealing with the damned foreman and those nutheads who like to show me off as a damn fool whenever I'm forced to go there. I know what their real problem is...they're just pissed off that they have to answer to a female, it gets on their nerves and itches their flattened balls whenever they see me drive in. It's amazing how jealous men can get and downright vile whenever a woman wields power over men. You'd think they would be eager to prove their worth by actually doing as they're told dilligently rather than spending at least half the time looking for non-existent loopholes in my plan.

I massage my forehead as I go through a construction magazine, just looking for any new plans or projects. I've spent most of my morning starting up a new job and I'm due for a much needed break. I glance at my phone: 10:30 am...it's either time is really slow or I got here far earlier than expected....then again, that would explain the odd look I got from my secretary who clocked in late by my time...and Ismail's grumbling the entire drive to Gladys' place, and....well, let's just say it would explain a lot.

I'll be heading out for a much needed lunch break in about half an hour, hopefully, the sun and some food will give me a brighter disposition and a clearer head.

The sound of my office phone ringing startles me, I turn to the object with the offensibe sound, it's 10:30 am, I'm very sure I have no appointments scheduled for 10:30, so what is Sade's excuse for disturbing my line.

I pick up the receiver and place it against my ear, "Yes?" I answer sharply.

"Madam, you have a visitor." She speaks in a quiet voice. I like Sade. She's very sweet and calm in her mannerisms, she's friendly and has a soothing voice, understandably, she's not your candidate if you need someone to dismiss any unwanted entities. She's not particularly convincing when she needs to be....but, today, she sounds odd. Like she's...blushing?

"Doesn't he have a name?"

"Yes, he does. It's..." She pauses, most likely to ask the unwanted guest his name and I roll my eyes at her carelessness. Something tells me whoever is making an unscheduled appointment is probably an average or good-looking man with a charming smile and smooth words spoken with a deep, Kenny Rogers-ish voice. Even easier to dismiss for me then. Those are the worst of them; sneaky, slimy and appear trustworthy.

"Well?" I snap, when she takes too long to reply. She's probably flirting with him on my time.

"He says his name is Chuma, and it's very important."

What the hell?! What is he doing in my office? How did he get the address? Who...? I slam the receiver against the landline, grab my phones, stuff them in my handbag and grab my jacket. If I must see that annoying oaf, it will not be within my office premises. I would risk a lot of things, but my professional image is not something I'm willing to throw to the dogs, or most appropriately, a certain Hound dog named Chuma.

I stomp out of my office in my 5-inch Carvela stilettos, having worn heels the past 6 years, I can comfortably walk at any pace in them, no matter how long.

I fling open my door and sure enough, there is Chuma looking dangerously sexy in an extremely casual outfit of cargo shorts and a fitted navy-colored polo with a pair of loafers the only semi-casual thing on him....and sitting on Sade's desk! Did he not have the slightest idea how to conduct himself in a professional environment? What if someone walked in and saw him in that position? Even if he had no idea- which is fully expected of a doofus of his calibre- is Sade as clueless?

"Hi" he greets me with a large grin that should otherwise be able to knock the socks off of any lady...but I'm too busy boiling inside to succumb to such an effect. Sade 'acts' composed at my entrance, lucky for her, I prefer to pour all of my anger on some other person.

"Let's go" I reply tersely. I storm off, giving him no chance to reply, but just knowing he'll follow like a good little....hound dog. I shoot Sade my best death glare as I walk past just so she knows she's in deep trouble when I get back. I want to tell her to cancel all my appointments, but if I have to speak to her right now, it won't be nice. She knows what to do. We have an understanding.

I make it out of the office and make my way towards the parking lot, as fast as I am though, Chuma strides up to me easily, once again reminding me of his imposing height and long legs, I want to walk faster, but I know that any attempts to test the strength of my heels will end in embarrassment and injury most likely.

"If you walk any faster, I'll be tempted to think you're related to Flash" he jokes. I glance at him, but ignore him. I'm still boiling, it's not time to speak yet, "So, your car or mine?" He asks, totally ignoring the fact that I'm ignoring him. But it's expected

Just as I get to my car, I pause, remembering I'm yet to hear his purpose for invading my office unannounced. I mean, if I'm going to have an underdressed giant in my office, I at least deserve to know why he's here.

I whip my head at him, he's just staring down at me....arrgh! I hate that he's so freakin' tall. 5 inch heels, and he still gets to stare down at me. The next time I visit the shoe store, I'll be sure to ask for a shoe with at least 7 inches, then, we'll probably be eye level and I won't feel so...small. Plus, having to look up at him outside, means my eyes will unfortunately be subjected to the blinding rays of the morning sun. My eyes don't like the sun.

"Why are you here?" I ask.

"Well, since you basically trashed all the schools I picked out for Ismail, I thought we'd do something fun today and school hunt" he replies, he makes it sound like he thought up the cure to HIV and Cancer in less than 24 hours.

If he only knows how infuriating his idea is, really? On a Monday morning, he decides to drag me out of my busy work, to go school hunting? What is that anyway?, "And what exactly does 'school hunting' entail?" I ask with a quirk of my brows.

"Same as job hunting or house hunting, just different turfs."

I want to let out something close to a laugh, I believe it's called a chuckle, but like I've said repeatedly, I don't know how to, "So, you drive down to my office, dressed in..." I take a pause to look him down, my eyes speaking loudly of my disapproval of his outfit of choice, "...that. And you expect me, dressed as I am, to go school hunting, with you?" I ask incredulously. He's just staring at me with this annoying smirk on his face like I didn't just throw a subtle jab his way. So I choose to be more direct, "Do you know what people would say, if they saw us, as we are? You look ridiculous."

I give myself a mental hi-five at the dressing down I just dealt my arch-rival. Now, if only there were more people in the parking lot, that would have been so much sweeter

"Really? Do I look like I give a rat's asss what people think of me?"

I look him over once again, "Apparently not." I reply bluntly.

Another annoying grin graces his features, "Exactly." He replies simply. Sometimes I get the feeling he's the crazy one, "My car or yours?" He asks again.

As much as I would really like an opportunity to talk to Chuma about our discussion, I know we'll end up having more of a back-and-forth battle of the wittiest than an actual discussion. And I really can't risk dying in a car accident with his brainless self, once he irks me to the point where we have a struggle for the steering wheel....and I know we'll get to that point.

"We're driving seperately" I reply just before I unlock my car and get in. He doesn't even seem the least bit offended. He just watches me with his hands stuffed into his pockets and a puzzeled expression.

I slam the door shut and turn on the ignition only to hear a rapt knock against my window, I wine down the glass with a steely look, "What?!" I spit out

Once again, the straightness of his face is downright annoying, "Do I follow you or you follow me?" He asks.

I let out a grunt that is far from ladylike and wine up my glass. He can do whatever he wishes, I deserve the right to not condone stupidity even if for the next twenty minutes

I must confess, I really enjoy this story. Good job saffari darling

I luvvvvvvveeeee Chuma.
He knows how to get to her. [/color][color=#000099][color=#000099][/color]

This is a work of art...gone beyond mere literary piece. You are good.