The alarm pierced the tranquillity of the Hotel Hibiscus reception area. Nana started. “Ohhhhh! The alarm! I fell asleep. This always happens when I do filing at night. I knew I shouldn’t have changed to decaf!” She smacked the deactivation switch on the wall silencing the alarm, but her senses were now on full alert. A peek at the reception clock revealed the time – 2am! She had been asleep for two hours.
Nana was well aware of the incidents of theft locally in the Ikorodu Villages but here in Festac such events were not common. This fact had given her some comfort when she had secured the job of Front Desk receptionist six months earlier, a first step in her plan to own her own B&B. Despite the low crime rate, she knew she had to investigate the source of the disturbance.
She removed the black pumps she had bought the week before. Shoes in hand, she tiptoed across the carpeted office floor. The dancing fluorescence of the computer’s screensaver reflected in rain-drenched window frames. Nana was aware of every chirp, every croak from the nearby pond. A sudden, brilliant white flash pierced the darkened room, followed by the boom of thunder. A crescendo of deafening rain followed, battering the windows, making it difficult for her to see.
She crept towards the front door. Her pulse quickened. There was a familiar scent of muddy grass mingled with something else. Stepping more boldly toward the door, she inhaled deeply. What was it? Musk and … sandalwood – men’s cologne. Expensive – Chanel?
Bang! Bang! Bang! Nana screamed and fell to the floor.
“For God’s sake, will you open the door? I need to check-in!” yelled an angry male voice. “I’m getting drenched out here! Hello? Hello”
Her pulse slowed to a relieved steady pounding.
So that’s what set off the alarm. Explains the cologne too. A late check-in. Getting to her feet, she made a hurried attempt to tidy her appearance and put on her shoes. Why doesn’t the reception have a mirror?!
“I can see ya!’ called an American accent. He was growing more impatient with every passing second. “What’n the hell were you doing on the floor, girl?”
“Nana! Just give me a second!” she wanted to shout. Instead, she called out brightly. “Be right with you,” as she switched on the light and moved to unlock the door.
“Good eve…, I mean, morning, sir,” she said, correcting herself with a repressed giggle as she moved aside to let him in. She was greeted with a raised eyebrow and annoyed grimace.
The tall, dark stranger was soaked to the skin.
‘Good morning, indeed,’ he grunted. ‘Listen, could we dispense with the chit-chat and make this as quick as possible?’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Yes, of course. Here, let me help you,’ Nana reached for his jacket as he attempted to peel it off. His soaked navy shirt clung to his chest – he exuded masculinity. She gasped then cleared her throat to try to disguise it.
‘Let me get you a towel.’
‘No, really, it’s not necessary. I just want to check-in …’ Femi’s words were lost in the sound of thunder from outside.
He watched the receptionist walk towards a cloak room in the back. As tired as he was, she caught his attention!


https://chimmiboy./2018/03/23/take-two-episode-onetake/
Cc lalasticlala, Seun, mynd 22

Femi was exhausted. The twenty-six hour flight to Lagos from New York had left him frustrated. It had been fraught with delays, which resulted in him missing his scheduled connecting flight to Abuja. His late arrival in the capital of Lagos meant he had to hire a car at the airport and drive up to the hotel lodge, as the helicopter pilot had gone home thinking he was a no-show. The sudden flood – it certainly hadn’t been a summer shower – which had left him standing soaking wet outside a locked reception, while the receptionist snoozed cosily inside, had broken down his usual gentlemanly demeanour.
Standing in the dry reception, Femi took little notice of the décor. A pool of water developed at his feet and his clothes sucked at his skin.
‘Here you are,’ Nana said, handing him a pristine, white towel.
He wiped his face and the back of his neck before looking up. An apologetic smile greeted him.
‘Thank you,’ he mumbled handing her the damp hand towel. ‘Look, I’m really bushed, could we just do the necessary? I’d like to call it quits for the night.’
‘Yes, of course. Right this way.’
He watched as she retraced her steps to the front desk. She had an unusual gait – almost equine. Her skin glowed with a youthful exquisiteness unlike any he’d seen, and he’d seen many attractive women in his line of work. He couldn’t define exactly what it was about her but she radiated an ancient beauty. She was magnetic with the promise of feminine mystery and intrigue – he felt drawn to her despite his irritation.
‘Your passport please, sir,’ she requested as he strode up to the front desk, his wet shoes squelching on the wood flooring.
Femi placed his co-ordinated leather travel bags with first class Virgin Atlantic tags beside him as he removed his passport from his designer jeans. Nana reached for it, and his hand brushed hers. Her pulse raced but she swallowed and tried to focus on the document in her hands. What is wrong with me?! Probably caffeine withdrawal symptoms, she reasoned. She paused to study the passport as she began to process his check-in. American – Femi Coker Adebayo – birth date: 4 April 1978. Place of birth: Nigeria.
This was the VIP guest the staff had been gossiping about all week! The good-looking, unmarried, globe award-winning director with Nigerian roots. She stole another glance at him. With his strong jaw line and striking eyes, Femi looked like a man who belonged on a Hollywood action movie set – the kind female audiences delighted in seeing up close and personal on the big screen. It was obvious he took care of himself – flawless skin and perfect teeth. A gold Rolex watch, navy Gucci shirt, loose collar – a tailored suede jacket completed the celebrity look. Oh, get a grip girlfriend, she told herself as she forced her mind to concentrate. It’s bad enough that he caught you staring at him!
‘This is quite a late check-in, Mr Coker. You must be tired.’
Femi looked at his watch, before glancing at her again. ‘Guess that’s why I caught you off-guard catching a nap. I’d have appreciated faster service at the door!’
Outside, the storm had calmed to a light drizzle, unlike Femi who felt his initial frustration seep back under his skin. Why was he feeling so irritated? He’d been caught in storms before. He’d missed flights before. Must be the jetlag, he reasoned.
Oh, God! He knew I was asleep. Still, he doesn’t have to be so rude. Why are good-looking men with money like that? Throwing their power around the room like high school bullies. Nana swallowed hard. The late hours, long days and extra shifts she was working were making her unusually sensitive. Pull yourself together. Just complete his check-in and get him out of the reception area and into his room before this gets ugly. She took a deep breath. Her instinctive attraction to him had turned into annoyance.
‘There you go, Mr Coker, your passport. As requested, you’ll be staying in the Yakubu Gowon Suite.’ Nana rounded the desk, taking a peek out the window.
‘It seems the storm has cleared. Would you like me to arrange a porter for your luggage?’
‘No, no, I don’t want any more delays while you wake him up. I’ll carry them,’ he said, as he reached for his suitcases.
Nana motioned for him to follow her. ‘Okay then, right this way Mr Coker. I’ll show you to your suite.’

The crisp damp early morning air relieved some of her fatigue and helped her reason away her initial reaction to the Hollywood hotshot. She was conscious of his determined but exhausted stride behind her. He was watching her, judging her. She tightened her buttock muscles self-consciously, and then thought better of it. Why should I care what he thinks of my backside?! Nana had inherited her mother’s curves but her love of running had kept her slim and enhanced her natural hourglass shape.
Small lights set in rocks reflected in the pools of rain water that had collected along the brick-paved path that led between two rows of poplar trees to the suite. The perfumed scent of lavender growing on a neighbouring farm lifted her mood slightly. She was fortunate to work in such a beautiful place, she reminded herself. She would not allow this difficult guest to upset her any more.
Femi followed, observing her as she walked ahead of him – he couldn’t identify what he was feeling. I must get some sleep. He allowed his eyes to explore her curvaceous frame, trying to find a flaw – even her behind looked like it had been moulded by some master sculptor. She was gorgeous.
The Yakubu Gowon Suite, renowned for its unique location and exclusivity, had been featured in many local and international magazines. Named after a former Nigerian Military President, and reserved for the super rich, it stood in a serene and secluded part of the estate. Serviced by its own kitchen, it promised and delivered the privacy and luxury its guests sought.
Thuli took care to wipe her feet on the grass entrance mat before switching on the lights. She seldom got the chance to see its interior and it never failed to impress her. It was so different to the minimal hand-to-mouth existence she had known growing up in Ixopo.
‘I’m sure you’ll find everything is to your satisfaction, Mr Coker.’
The designer had created a Nigerian haven – ethnic yet functional. Grassy hues echoed the surrounding landscapes of the Midlands. Femi barely glanced at the three black-and-white photographs that graced the entrance hall wall, moving straight to the main bedroom with its handcrafted furniture. Commissioned from a local carpenter, the pieces added to the unique authenticity of the room.
He placed his bags next to the mahogany bookcase beside the bed. It housed first-edition autographed copies of books by Nigerian authors such as the Nobel Prize winner for literature, Wole Soyinka, as well as Chinua Achebe’s There Was A Country and Chimamanda’s Americanah. He ignored it. Not a book lover, Nana thought.
Nana watched as Femi made his way back into the lounge and to the drinks cabinet: he poured himself a Blue Label whisky – a double with ice. There’s a sadness about him, she thought. He looked up at the landscapes on the wall – two by recognised local artists, Rennie and Boyley, hung above the fireplace. He appeared lost in thought.
Should she leave now? She stood rooted, captivated by the overwhelming good looks of the man before her.
An unexpected draft carried the distinct aroma of his cologne mixed with the bouquet of the whisky across the room. Nana closed her eyes and inhaled. She had been born with a gift – an acute sense of smell. The sangoma said her father’s spirit gave it to her so that she could protect the community. And she had. Not long after her sixth birthday, while asleep in the family house, Nana had sat up in bed and screamed, ‘Walia! Fire! Fire!’ The village, woken by her screams, discovered their chief’s hut in flames with him asleep inside. They had given her a heroine’s status and slaughtered a cow in her honour.
She smiled, remembering life in the village, the Northern serenity. She missed home sometimes, especially at this time of the year when scents were stronger – in Harmattan. The cry of the old rooster on the hill, and barking stray dogs mingled with the stirring of the waking village. Crisp early morning dew, the lingering woody smell of log fires, and melting snow on the lower Drakensburg. Hot mealie meal porridge served with fresh, warm milk and the rustle of waking cattle in the kraal. A life so different – a simple life, uncomplicated by excessive wealth and city politics. It felt like a lifetime since she had left her home for hotel school. She was sure that this man, dressed in his expensive garb, had never experienced such beautiful simplicity.
‘Yes?’ Femi’s voice quickened her pulse.
‘Oh, excuse me, Mr Coker,’ Nana replied, ‘will there be anything else?’
Femi sipped his whisky and set the crystal tumbler on the coffee table. Silence.
‘Right, well, if I can be of any further assistance, please don’t hesitate to call reception by dialing 17.’
‘Hmmm,’ he replied as he waved his hand, indicating that she should leave, and barely glancing in her direction. Who does he think he is? Jagaban?!
‘Oh, there is one more thing,’ Femi said reaching for the television remote.
‘Yes?’ she replied.
‘Does the manager approve of your choice in hair ornaments?’
‘I beg your pardon, sir?’ Nana looked at him, confused.
Femi gestured towards the hallway mirror. Thuli regarded her reflection. Horrified, she noticed the coloured paperclips lodged in her braids. The filing! Oh, how embarrassing. Could this get any worse?
‘Excuse me, Mr Coker. I was doing some filing in the office when …’ Larry King’s guttural interrogation of a studio guest on CNN cut her off. Jake had turned on the television.
Nana paused in the doorway. ‘Good night, sir. Have a pleasant stay.’ There was a slight edge in her voice, her mind racing with thoughts of how stupid he must think she was. How rude and arrogant she thought he was!
The buzz of a disgruntled voice reverberated from the manager’s office, disrupting the habitual morning calm of the Hotel Hibiscus rreception.

That’s the end of episode 1. Remember to always catch this blog series, Take Two, every Friday by 12 noon! Also remember to drop your comments as well. What do you guys think of Femi’s behavior to Nana?


Source—https://chimmiboy./2018/03/23/take-two-episode-onetake/
Cc: Lalasticlala, Seun