Hello everyone. This is my first work of fiction. I hope you enjoy it. Feedback will be much appreciated.



Chapter 1

There was no city like Lagos. That was what Victor thought as the car zoomed away from the airport and into the city. And soon they were stuck in the 21st century monster that was traffic.

Drivers cursed and horns blared, exhaust fume danced in the air like dust. Hawkers scampered in between vehicles, different wares balanced on heads and hands.

The sun shone angrily through the clouds, reflecting every surface, from car hoods to the buildings by the side of the road. Poles, thick with wires strung up at every interval, like sentinels; the watchers of the city.

Eight thousand four hundred kilometres away it was two degrees Celsius and snow was already starting to fall. But here it was thirty six degrees and as hot as hell. How beautiful, he thought.

"How have you been, Segun?" He asked his driver/bodyguard while craning his head to look out the tinted window.

He was a huge man, Segun. His bulk filled the driver's seat, his bald head almost touching the car roof. The steering looked small in his huge hands, almost like a child's plaything. His biceps bulged through his black suit, threatening to tear the fabric. He had a jagged scar on the right side of his face that ran from eyebrow to jaw.

His face was always expressionless and he didn't talk much. Victor had never seen him with anything more than a frown.

Segun looked at him in the rearview mirror.

"Fine," he said.

Oh good, fine was a very fine conversation starter.

Victor sighed and sank into the plush leather seat of his Jaguar. The air conditioning whirred cold artificial air. He was tired. After spending eleven hours on the plane from New York and another hour of camera flashes and signing autographs, he was utterly exhausted. His head was pounding and his cheek hurt from smiling too much. He needed a drink badly.

He leaned over and turned on the car radio, surfing from channel to channel until he stopped at one where he heard his name.

"The Vic has been nothing short of phenomenal this year. He just signed a deal with Skybase Records."

"The deal of the year I hear,"another voice added, the second anchor.

The second anchor's voice was familiar. He tried remembering but it was stuck in his head, like trying to remember what you ate last night. Grasping but not grasping.

"Do you know that he is the first African to sign a deal with Skybase Records? "

"Yes, and that makes him Africa's number one export to the world."

Africa's number one export, it sounded like some exotic spice to him.

The whole record label thing had come and gone in a haze. From the negotiations to the proceedings to the signing. With the camera flashes and the blinding white papers. It all seemed like an alternate reality where things came and went at the speed of light.

"Do you hear that?" he asked Segun. "I am Africa's biggest export. That sounds like I should be in a can in a kitchen or something."

Segun shrugged.

They were almost at a standstill now. The sun rippled off mirrors. His headache was behind his eye now, pulsing like a second heart. He needed to drink and he needed to sleep. But only one could do him good. But why couldn't he do both? After all he was The Vic.

"Pemby," he said.

Segun turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Pemby," he pointed at the radio,  "she interviewed me at the loft, remember?"

"I remember, she was weird," Segun said.

"That she was." Victor laughed.

The interview he had done was thirty minutes of crystal clear sexcapades. Throughout she had giggled like she was being tickled. After which, off camera she had asked him to sign an autograph in a very compromising position.

The traffic cleared and the Jaguar sped on, engine purring.

"And to think that he's just nineteen.

"Yes, and he has been consistent all these years. Ever since the breakup of Black Division, he has been the most consistent artist this country has seen. Dropping hit after hit after hit. It seems like he is everywhere. And we just heard he would be releasing his third studio album soon."

Black Division. Black Division was his life, he wanted to shout out loud. Four years. It had been four years since Black Division and it still felt like he was incomplete. He felt hollow. He felt broken. The Vic was only a persona, a shell. The real him was lost in the past.

But Black Division was no more. Things in life never did fall as orderly and as mesmerizing as a pack of Dominoes.
No. When things fell apart, they fell hard, and sometimes there were collateral damages.

"Before we take any callers, let us give you guys a taste of The Vic's Grammy nominated song 'Let in my Love'."

"Stay Tuned."

His voice crooned through the speakers. Convincing listeners to give up their love and their bodies. It sounded like him, and at the same time it didn't. It sounded artificial just like how many things in his life was. It sang out crisp and dry, without emotion.

He closed his eyes and almost immediately, sleep came over him, like slipping into another skin. He fell asleep listening to his voice.

Following

Follow follow

Chapter 2

The beef was delicious and chewy, the rice white and soft. The soup was laced with just the right amount of spice.

Zara was a great cook, Cass thought as she spooned more of the white rice and green peas into her dish.

She would never be as good a cook as Zara was. In fact she felt more at home in a Chemistry laboratory surrounded by concentrated acids than in the kitchen.

The dining was a bright space. The chandelier that hung from the ceiling shone off everything, reflecting the glass dining table, the roasted turkey dripping grease in the centre of the dining table, glinting brown and delicious, the brown of the wooden floor and even the white walls. The dining table was long and rectangular in shape. To Cass' right sat her twin brother, Gabriel, stuffing his mouth as always while typing on his iPhone with incredible speed.

Her younger sister Hanna, sat two empty chairs away, twirling the ponytail end of hair in her finger while staring dejectedly at her food. She wasn't happy with the food Zara had cooked.

Their parents sat at the other end of the table, trying but failing to pretend like they were not arguing.

Michael McCauley was dark skinned, of average height and in his early forty's. His skin held the pallor of someone who worked a lot outdoor, but in fact the reverse was the case.
He was a car designer who plied his trade overseas. As a result of which he was rarely home. And when he was in Nigeria, he rarely spent more than a week before flying overseas again.

Alexandra McCauley was a former super model in her late thirtys. She now spent her time travelling round the world, holding seminars, making speeches and empowering young women and also making the occasional photoshoots. She also owned an orphanage.

Cass knew her mother's face like she knew the back of her hands. That face had graced several TV shows and magazine covers. Her mother had large brown eyes, long curly hair and fair skin owing to her biracial ancestry.

Michael McCauley and Alexandra McCauley weren't the best of couples. In fact they were miles from it. Cass had often wondered how the two of them had met. They were completely different people.

She used to ask them at one point, but she always got the same responses.

"We were young and in love," her father would say.

"Go and ask your dad," her mother would say.

So, Cass knew there was something more to their marriage.
It was like waiting for a noble gas to react with another substance. The spark just wasn't there.

Zara entered the dinning room with a bottle of red wine and two glass cups balanced on a tray, her white apron swishing in front of her dress. Cass gave her a thumbs up and Zara winked back.

"Alex," her dad was saying, "It's my work, I can't change my schedule."

"That is not the point. You know quite well what I am talking about," her mum replied, handling her fork daintily.

"Alex, if you would just listen..."

"That's what I've been doing all this while, listening," her mom cut in, uncorking the wine bottle and pouring it into the glass cup.
"You know, the other day at Hanna's school, they were having this Father's Day thing and were told to bring their fathers to class. I had to keep postponing it." Cass' mother gave a dry smile. "Why? Because her dad wasn't in town. I had to put them off for three weeks. Three weeks."

Her dad sighed. "What do you want me to do?" Cass' parents stared at each other for a long time. The room was eerily quiet, even Gabriel had stopped typing and was staring at them with a frown on his face.

Cass knew her parents had arguments, but they had never had one in front of them until now and watching them argue made her feel weird. Like catching a police man shoplifting.

"You know quite well what you should do." Cass' mother stood up, dropping her fork with a clang and heading for the stairs, the bottle of wine in her hands.

Her dad sighed heavily, loosened his tie and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. In that moment Cass thought he looked like he had aged a hundred years.

"Hello guys," he said, flashing them a wide smile as if seeing them for the first time.

***

Ancient kingdom in Southern Greece," the TV show anchor said.

"Macedon," Gabriel said, his eyes glued to the television set.

Cass and her twin were on her bed, knuckles on chin, watching the TV set that stood on a wall bracket a few feet away. The television glowed, casting the whole room into an eerie blue.

They were watching History Time. It was a TV show where contestants answered one line questions about historical events or personalities. They always did it every Friday night. It had become a sort of tradition.

"Macedon it is," Cass agreed, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"When last did we agree on something like this?" Gabriel said, a small smile playing on his face.

The contestant was a bald man with a white suit and a brightly coloured bow tie that looked like the Ghanian flag. The prize bar was by his side. A large blue column, the top reading ten million Naira. His prize bar was on the third; five hundred thousand Naira.

"Koffi," the anchor said. "Let me give you a hint, your last hint."

"Okay," Koffi said.

"Southern Europe. Southern Greece."

Immediately Koffi's face lighted up. "Macedo," he said.

"Finally," Cass said.

"Cut him some slack, he doesn't have your brain," said Gabriel. "No one does."

Cass punched his arm. "Well that took him long enough."

"Now to the final part," said the anchor. "The conqueror died, what did he die from?"

A series of drumrolls played in the background.

"What conqueror?" Gabriel asked, throwing his arms up. "That's not fair."

"No its not. Its perfectly straightforward," Cass said. "He said Macedon, so who was The Conqueror in Macedon and what did he die of?"

"That's so not straightforward," Gabriel said.

"The conqueror." Koffi scratched his head. He brought out a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. A timer up above his head, flashing red, read 3:00.

"So, who's the conqueror?" said Gabriel

"Are you seriously asking me that?", she asked in mock surprise. "Don't you get it? The Conqueror, emphasis on the."

"So what's the The?"

Cass sighed, Gabriel could be so dumb sometimes. "The the is a who actually. Who was the greatest conqueror of all time?"

"Me, in my fantasy league," said Gabriel.

Cass rolled her eyes at her twin.

"Okay, let me think," he said.
He closed his eyes and after a moment he opened them, a smile on his face. "Alexander, The Great," he said. "Died from poisoning."

Cass shook her head. "No, no, no. He died from Typhoid fever and Malaria."

Above Koffi's head, the timer read 1:03.

"That's crazy. Malaria? In Babylon?"

"Yeah, so?" Cass asked

"I cant imagine hordes of mosquitoes anywhere outside Nigeria ."

"Well, the answer is Typhoid and Malaria. I'm sure of it."

"Our man Koffi is in a tight spot right now."

The timer above Koffi read 0:00 and the whole stage glowed red.

"Well," said the anchor. "Mr Koffi is out of the History Time competition". He gave an apologetic grin. "But the correct answer was Alexander The Great. The results of the University of Maryland School of Medicine report of 1998, says that he died from Typhoid and Malaria."

"See?" Cass gave Gabriel a bright smile.

"You won this one, lets get to the next round," he scowled.

On the screen, Koffi made his way down the podium with a sheepish smile while the audience clapped. The next contestant; a woman, appeared at the podium.

"Our next contestant is twenty four years old Tobi, an Economics undergraduate from the University of Lagos. Are you ready?" said the anchor.

"Yes," said Tobi. She had a squeaky voice.

"Lets go."

The lights dimmed until it was a dull blue. "A former British Colony in West Africa," the anchor said.

"Nigeria," said Tobi.

Just then the door to Cass' room opened and her dad walked in.

"Hey guys," he said.

Immediately, Gabriel's face turned stony, he got down from the bed and made to the door. "I am going to the library tomorrow. I need to get some sleep. Goodnight Cass."

Cass just had enough time to open her mouth before he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Whats up with him?" her dad asked. He sat next to Cass on her bed.

Cass knew Gabriel and their father had some friction between them, but their relationship hadn't been any smoother lately. And she knew just why.

"Well, I'll say he is angry," Cass said, reducing the volume of the TV set.

"Why?"

"A lot of things. Like you not coming to his secondary school graduation."

Her dad closed his eyes and sighed.

"Where he was the valedictorian," Cass continued.

"I know I haven't been the best dad lately," her dad said. "But I'll make it up to you guys. I promise."

Cass nodded and wondered how relationships could turn sour when it was obvious something was lacking.

"So, are you and mum..."

"Its just a little misunderstanding."

"Well you guys weren't that subtle during dinner."

Her dad nodded his head. "Your mother and I have our... differences."

A lot of them.

"But everything is going to be fine. You guys shouldn't worry about that."

Cass nodded and nestled closer to her father. It felt good having someone to look up to, having someone to encourage you. It must be awful, she thought, being alone in the world.

"And how's school?"

"School is fine. I got a job."

"A job?"

"Yes, at this place that serves coffee, tea and snacks."

"And it doesn't affect your school work?"

"No, my shift is only Saturdays and Sundays."

"Oh, well. That's good, I guess. It will develop your entrepreneurial sense," said her dad.

He glanced at his watch, stood up and groaned. "You should get some sleep Cassandra, its quite late. I will be leaving for Brussels tomorrow."

"Brussels? Tomorrow?" said Cass. "But you just got back."

Her dad gave a tired smile. "I work for the biggest automobile manufacturer in the world. I am a very busy man."

"Can't you ask for a leave or something?"

"It doesn't work that way."

Cass nodded. She had never known anyone more hardworking than her father. Now he just looked tired, there were bags under his eyes, his hair was grey and thinning, and his eyes were heavy and red. Was that the price for being successful?

"I haven't forgotten, you know?" her dad said, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Forgotten what?"

He made a face. "My twins are turning eighteen, I wont miss it for anything in the world."

Cass felt a smile light up her face and she hugged her father. He smelled of lemon aftershave. It brought back memories of her childhood. She wondered when was the last time she hugged him. He felt warm and real. He felt like endless possibilities.

"Don't ever forget family, Cass. At the end of the day, they are all you've got."

Thanks for the update

Thanks 4d update next sooner

Chapter 3

Victor woke up at 8 a.m the next day with a head splitting headache, the kind that made him want to throw things at people or people at things.

He sat on the edge of the bed in his loft, holding his head in his hands, willing the pounding to stop.

The loft had a high ceiling that soared up above the marble floor, and tall, clear glass windows. He could see the whole skyline of Lagos, from NECOM to Cocoa House and several telephone masts and skyscrapers.

The sky was grey, the sun was disappearing behind dark clouds, staining them a dirty gold.

He knew who it was even before the Bentley hummed to a stop downstairs, before he heard the clop clop of her heels on the floor.
It was her strawberry perfume, it smelled so real and fresh, he could taste it in the back of his throat.

She burst in without knocking, he would have been surprised if she did. He turned away from the windows to look at her. She wrinkled her nose at him and said, "You look like shit."

"Hello Yvonne, so happy to see you," he gave her a bright smile even though his whole face hurt.

She had long black hair, cascading down to her shoulders in long wavy curls. She wore white leggings and some kind of scrunchy sweatshirt that stopped just above her abdomen, the diamond stud on her belly button glinted in the light of the loft. She had brown chocolatey skin and she was tall and graceful like a ballet dancer.

"You look like shit," she said again, pointing one perfectly manicured finger at him. Up close she looked almost edible.

Thunder rumbled outside, the sky was getting darker. It was going to be a wet day.

Yvonne was his girlfriend or friend with benefits, anyone that kept the gossip column writers busy. She was a model and a party animal, which was how Victor had met her.

"I've been asleep for twenty hours." Victor yawned. He truly felt like shit.

"Well, that's obvious. Davies told me not to disturb you," Yvonne said. "I thought you were dead or you were with some girl," she said, batting her eyelids.

"So you barged in here to check if I was with some other girl? How romantic." He chuckled.

"Whatever," she waved her hand at him.

She dipped a hand into her jewel encrusted bag, brought out a purple flier and handed it to him.

It read 'Industry Night'.

"Are you inviting me to the runway? I'll make a great model."

"No, dummy. You are going to perform," Yvonne replied.

Victor tutted. "I doubt Davies will approve."

"Who's the artist here? And besides there is going to be an after party, I don't think you would want to miss that."

"A party?" Victor raised his eyebrows. "Now you're talking."

A knock sounded on the door and a man came in. He was middle age, short, and with a bald spot in the middle of his head. He wore brown jeans and a tweed jacket. He held a rather large tablet in his hands.

"Davies," Victor called. "I'm performing at the Industry Night. Isn't that superb?"

He raised his head from typing on the tablet. "Industry what? No one has contacted me."

Victor pointed at Yvonne. "She did."

"Oh, OK. Stop right there." Davies frowned. "What do you mean by she did?"

"You heard him right, I did," said Yvonne.  She dipped her hand into her handbag and brought out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, handing them to Victor. He lit it for her and watched her smoke; cigarette smoke from red lips.

Davies heaved a heavy sigh. "You shouldn't do things like this. You are gathering momentum here, Vic."

Victor lit his own cigarette, sucked the smoke in, feeling the warmth in his chest and let it out. The smoke dribbled slowly to the ceiling. The effect was hypnotic. "Let it go, Davies, its just a party," he said.

Davies' mouth was drawn to a thin line, the way it always did when he was upset. "Okay. I just want to remind you that we have a very busy couple of months ahead of us. I called the producer who will work on your new album, he scheduled for next week."

"Good," said Victor.

Davies nodded. "Erm..." he began. Victor could tell there was something wrong.

"But..."

"We need to get you a band," said Davies.

"A what?" said Victor. He turned to Yvonne, hoping he had heard Davies wrong. Yvonne was studiously ignoring him, she was staring at the ashes of her cigarette, like it contained some secret.

Victor gave a short laugh and felt it die in his throat. "Are you... Are you joking or what?"

Davies raised a hand as if trying to pacify him. "I know this must be hard on you-"

"Hard?" said Victor. He felt the cigarette turn bitter in the back of his throat. He crushed the cigarette butt on the window pane. His hands starting to tremble. He squeezed his palms and tried to steady his breath which was coming in small puffs. Suddenly, his loft felt like a cage, a very small cage. He could feel it closing in, pressing him against the walls.

"I need to... I need to... erm... get out."

Not a band. Not another band.

"Its about to rain," Davies said, pointing at the darkening sky outside.

"I'm just going to..." He grabbed his jacket and his boots and headed to the elevator. He got in and fell on the floor, his head between his knees. He tried to steady his breath but it was like trying to catch the wind. The pounding in his head was now intense and his nose hurt, he tried breathing through his mouth.

The elevator shuddered to a stop and opened. He tried getting to his feet and failed. His knees buckled and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He fell on his back, halfway out of the elevator. He felt the elevator doors hit his waist as it tried to close then open wide apart with a mechanical whir.

He felt one strong huge hand lift him up to his feet and stand him against the wall. The elevator closed.

"Hey," said a deep, husky voice. It was Segun. "Look. Look at me."

Victor struggled to open his eyes. Segun's face was blurry and his voice seemed to be coming from a very far place.

"Calm down, calm down," said Segun, holding Victor's head straight. "Now breathe," he said, slowly.

Victor could feel the cold wall behind him and Segun's warm huge hand on his chest. His voice seemed to have had an effect and his breathing slowed.

"Good," said Segun. "Its all good."

Victor nodded and breathed in deeply. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly.

Segun nodded and stood back. He went back to his seat and took a newspaper. "You should go out. Go take some fresh air."

Victor nodded zipped up his hoodie. "Thanks," he said.

Segun didn't reply. He didn't raise his head from his newspaper. Victor was almost at the door when he suddenly spoke. "It never goes away," he said.

Victor stopped, his hand on the door knob. A flash of lightning made him flinch as he opened the door and stepped outside.

It never does.

Thanks for the update

You can also follow this story on Wattpad. My username is The_kiddler.