Good stuff, weldone bro kayo80:
The Midnight Encounter
By
Olumide Odusanya
© 2018 Olumide Odusanya
It was 5:35am on a Friday morning and traffic on Ozumba Mbadiwe road in Lagos was building up. Fancy air-conditioned company buses, public buses, and private cars kept switching lanes every now and then, trying to get to their destinations faster. Just by the bridge that linked Victoria Island and Ikoyi was a lifeless body, facedown. Even though it was an eyesore for this part of town, nobody took a second look at the sight.
A homeless woman walked past the body pulling her toddler son along. After walking a few meters away from the body, she stopped, assumed a squatting position and whispered something in the boy’s ear. He nodded and ran back to the body, knelt down beside it, and started going through the man’s pockets. He didn’t come up with anything, till he struggled to squeeze his hand underneath the jacket of the unconscious man. A smile appeared on his face as his hand came up with a small phone. Just then, the man grabbed him by the wrist, and he screamed, dropping the phone in the process. He ran off to his mom, and they hurried away from the scene.
The man rolled over and squinted as the street lights got in his eyes. Coughing continuously, he struggled to assume a sitting position. He dusted off sand from his face, as he moaned in pain. His face was a swollen mess, with patches of dried up blood here and there. His blue jeans was ripped on the right side just below the knee, and one leg of his white sneakers was nowhere in sight. Memories came flashing in rapid successions and then feared gripped him. He gritted his teeth as he tried to stand using his right hand for support; his shoulder hurt badly and he fell back on his butt. He took a deep breath, did nothing for a few seconds, and then laid his left hand on the ground for support as he sprang himself up.
His barefoot kicked something as he staggered off. When he turned around, he saw it was his portable Nokia phone. He went down gently, picked up the phone, and continued his walk to the bus stop just underneath the bridge. Pedestrians got out of his way, and people in their cars stared at him strangely. He dusted off the phone, and with shaky hands, typed in a code. A response text came in almost immediately. He closed his eyes for a second as if summoning courage, and then opened the text. A smile crept up his bruised up face when he read the content, and then he started laughing as tears flowed down his eyes.
6 Hours Earlier
David was speeding through the freeway in his Camry, bopping his head to some hip hop music; a smile on his face from the money he had just made. He was the manager of one of the hottest music stars in the country, and they had just scored their biggest gig to date; a two hour appearance at a senator’s birthday bash, and the pay was twenty thousand dollars, which was equivalent of seven million Naira. Standard agent fee was ten percent, so his share out of the money was seven hundred thousand Naira.
With his two hands on the wheel while singing along to Kiss Daniel’s No Do song, he pulled out his Nokia phone from the breast pocket of the shirt he had underneath his jacket. One eye on the road, he dialed the *894# code for his bank’s mobile banking, and followed instructions to check his balance. He got a message shortly that showed he had N7,035,000 in his account. Usually, with his other clients, the money was transferred to the artists’ record label account, before he got his share. But, Molano, his latest artist was a maniac drug addict with about a dozen goons following him to every show, and he didn’t usually trust himself with large sums of money when he was in a drug induced state, so he normally liked to have all the money transferred to David, and then have David take his cut and then transfer his lion share to him the morning after.
‘David, are you sure you don’t need one of my boys to drive behind you? This is a whole lot of money.’ Molano had told him as he was leaving the party venue a few minutes ago, but he reminded Molano that they hadn’t been paid in cash, and they both laughed.
As he made the bend from the Lekki-Expressway to join Ozumba Mbadiwe road, he put the phone back in his pocket, and revved up his car engine. He hadn’t gone far when the car wheel started wobbling in his hands, and he realized he had a flat tire. “Shiit!” he cursed under his breath.
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