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He looked so candid whenever he spoke that way. Yeni was always taken in by that mien. Amanda was no exception. This time around, she mellowed down.

‘It’s just that I missed you so much,’ she said softly.

‘I missed you, and I’m sorry.’

He patted her shoulder. She wished she could really make him understand her feelings better. You’re just being sentimental, she told herself almost in a reproach.

Lover boy was already married, couldn’t you understand that? Why did you start this emotional adventure with him in the first place? Sentiments. Raw sentiments. She wished she could brush aside emotions.

The traffic was light so it didn’t take them long to get to her place at Maryland. Now, she wasn’t so much looking displeased with him anymore.

‘I want to cook for you,’ she offered. ‘What will you like?’

He smiled at her. ‘That’s good of you.’

‘Be my guest.’ She went to the kitchen to prepare the meal. She was going to satisfy him tonight and have the best of him, she thought delightedly.


* * *


On Tuesday, Amanda breezed into the office looking very dazzling. For some yet inexplicable reasons, she was in a very good mood today. Her mood was certainly reflected in her behavior. She was dressed in a skirt suit that looked so cool and cute on her.

The black dress was made by Donna Karan and she had chosen it in a way of dressing to kill. The skirt was barely knee-length. It was ‘hot.’ That was very good, she felt, for it complimented her attractive legs.

When Jide got to the office, he was quick to notice her splendid aura. ‘You look so nice today.

That’s a cute dress you are putting on.’

She was delighted at his compliments. ‘Thanks, dear boss.’

‘And you look so happy. What’s the secret?’

‘I don’t know. I guess the mood just comes.’

‘Ah, good for you. Yesterday, the mood was so different. You look much better today.’

He realized that she even looked prettier than he thought. Her mood certainly added to her looks. Things went on smoothly that day in the office.

There was a total lull from Biyi as neither Jide nor Yeni had heard anything from him since the last time that he sent a courier-delivered message to him. Indeed, Jide had started forgetting about him. He had other things to contend with, and the bitter ex-lover wasn’t one of them.

At ten o’clock, he started attending to some visitors who had come to see him for various reasons. One of them was a gorgeously dressed man who introduced himself as Akin Matthew.

He was a debonair man with an air of affluence and authority about him.

After the introduction, Akin Matthew said he represented an oil prospecting company in Dallas, Texas, and had come to Nigeria to do business in oil distribution and marketing. His company, he claimed had gone into partnership business with some oil companies in Qatar, United Arab Emirate, Angola and Gabon.

He had come to see Jide because he felt the two of them could do some discreet business together and make cool money. Jide listened attentively. Events in recent times in Nigeria had shown that fraudsters usually operated in this suave way.

Many people had fallen victims of these fraudsters. They were so smooth and they looked so convincing that one would have thought they were indeed out to do genuine business. Jide had heard and learnt more than enough about them.

They were the same kind of people that would send bogus e-mails, operate spurious websites, and make illicit claims to having business of repute. The greedy and unwary ones, Jide believed, were the ones that fell for such fraudulent baits and scams. No, not him. He wouldn’t fall for it.

‘Why must the business become personal?’ he asked the man. ‘Why can’t it be done at the very official level between the company you work for and mine?’

Mr. Matthew was a little bit thrown off by that question. With the background information he had, he had thought this young and ambitious looking legal adviser and secretary would fall for his bait. Jide had not even waited to hear the explicit details of the very business he was proposing to him.

Neither had he waited to be told the aspect of expenses and the projected profits to be made and the sharing formula.

‘I was thinking that as an upward-moving guy, you would take the advantage,’ Matthew said.

‘If the business is viable, one doesn’t have to be young to accept it. Why not meet with my M.D?’

The man knew that was the end of the road. He stood up. ‘Thank you so much, Mr. Jide Akindele. We’ll see again.’

Jide did not offer his hand for a handshake this time around as he done when the man first came in. He only nodded and watched him go out, his expensive crocodile skin briefcase an obvious tell-tale of ill-gotten display of affluence.

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Jide did not offer his hand for a handshake this time around as he done when the man first came in. He only nodded and watched him go out, his expensive crocodile skin briefcase an obvious tell-tale of ill-gotten display of affluence.

Jide even thought of calling in the security guy to interrogate and hand over the man to the police, but he decided not to do so. Leave the little devil alone, he decided.

The next visitor was an official from Obat Oil company. Everything discussed was strictly business and official. After that came in Alhaji Dan Bature who also worked in the legal department of an oil company. Dan was a young ebullient man who diffused pure aura of wealth, arrogance and authority.

He was a man born of the silver spoon, but it would be right to say that his family background had more of the silver lining. Dan and Jide had met about two years ago. The occasion could be described as ‘oily’ affair and the two had remained friends ever since then.

They were almost the same age, but Dan Bature already had two wives and five children.

‘Alhaji Alhaji,’ Jide hailed him as soon as he stepped inside his office. The latter was all smiles. He was dressed – not surprisingly – in babanriga of white guinea brocade. The satellite phone he always went around with was in his left hand, as usual. It had become part of his dressing accessories.

‘Jide, the law,’ Dan replied. The two always exchanged greetings like this. Jide rose to his feet to give a warm handshake.

‘How are the worigidas?’

‘Oh, they’re fine. They’re doing very well.’

His visit was private, so they chatted briefly on private matters.

‘What can I offer you, Alhaji?’ Jide asked.

The latter shook his head. “Thanks. I’m okay as I am.’

After about seven minutes, Dan stood up to go.

‘Are you coming to the polo club this Saturday?’ Dan asked. ‘We’ve not seen you at that place for some time, now.’

‘Ah, I will try to make it.’

He accompanied Dan to the elevator, waved good bye to him before he returned to his office. His work resumed in earnest.

* * *

Nike was in her office, going through some artwork that would be used for advertisement. She worked as the Assistant Client Service Manager at MedNet Advertising Company. As an undergraduate, she had thought she would end of as a newscaster or a broadcast person, but here she was, working for and advertising company.

She had studied Mass Communication in the university out of the love she had for the media world. At that time, she had figured herself becoming a prominent newscaster or a presenter in the glamorous and famous world of the tube.

As far as she was concerned, in this modern global village, telecommunication industry remained one of the most viable. Then, she would watch CNN and MTV for hours, marveling on the power of intercontinental communication.

At the end of her degree and the national youth service, she found herself in the advertising sub sector of the industry, after some job search. She had tried as much as she could to be employed by one of the private television stations, but it appeared she had to wait for a while in this regard. She had taken her present as a tentative measure, but had come to like it.

It was not that she had totally abandoned the dream of working for the television, but as it was, she enjoyed what she was doing, though the money was not fantastic. She thanked God for the pecks she was making, nonetheless.

Besides, Captain Henry Damanchi, her lover and fiancée, had been proving to be a very worthy source of indulgences. He had always showered her with gifts especially after his return flights from overseas.


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It was not that she had totally abandoned the dream of working for the television, but as it was, she enjoyed what she was doing, though the money was not fantastic.

She thanked God for the pecks she was making, nonetheless. Besides, Captain Henry Damanchi, her lover and fiancée, had been proving to be a very worthy source of indulgences. He had always showered her with gifts especially after his return flights from overseas.

Henry was very generous so to speak. Nike had been living with him in his Ikoyi flat for the last one year. She wore a ring on her third finger to indicate that she was already engaged to him.

Left to her, she would have become his missus long time ago. All her friends and mates had married; she had told him.

Henry would laugh over that. It was a matter of time, he would tell her with a reassuring smile and a pat. Things had not been exactly easy. Her Client Services Manager was recently becoming a thorn in the flesh.

He had been making advances towards her and she had rebuffed him. He had remained undaunted and that had worsened the matters.

He claimed he saw her in his dream as his wife.
Nike wasn’t impressed. She had told him he must be hallucinating. The manager laughed off her rebuff and promised to persevere.

Next weekend would be her thirtieth birthday. God, she wasn’t getting any younger. Henry had promised that it would be a swell party.

Presently, he was out of the country but had promised that he would be back by Wednesday evening. That was tomorrow. Unconsciously, Nike checked her watch for the time as if that would guarantee that all was well.

She dropped the artworks she was looking at. Time was a few minutes after 1.00 p.m., and it was time she took a break. She left her office and went to the staff canteen. As she ate her lunch in the highly subsidized canteen, she thought of her present and her future.

The prospects were bright, she decided. She had every cause to glorify God that she was hale and hearty.

She remembered her room-mate in her final year on the campus. Mary had been quite close to her and they had developed a kind of sibling relationship. Then, suddenly, Mary had fallen sick. Typhoid fever, they called it. She was admitted into the university teaching hospital. Nike had thought it was a minor ailment which Mary would soon get over.

Then, Nike was shocked when she heard that Mary had died. Could typhoid kill? Nike asked stupidly. She had been bereaved for quite some time. How could such a terrible fate befall an innocent and sweet one like Mary? Mary was just twenty. Was that what life was about – being cut off so young and so suddenly?

That was ten years ago. Nike had lived ten years after her dear Mary. She thanked God for her life.
Ajayi, an office assistant in her department, popped inside the canteen and, on sighting her, walked straight towards her. He was holding her phone. Gosh, she had left it on her table.

‘The phone keeps ringing on and on,’ Ajayi said, stretching out his right hand.

Nike grinned. ‘Oh, thanks.’ She got the phone from him. It had stopped ringing. She checked who had been calling and realized it was from a foreign number. She had no doubt that it must be Henry.

The phone started to ring again.

‘Hello, Henry.’

‘Hi. I’ve been calling you for some time, now.’
‘Sorry, I went to the canteen to take my lunch and I didn’t bring my phone along. Silly me.’

He laughed shortly across the line. ‘It’s okay. I hope I’m not disturbing your lunch?’

‘Oh, no. it’s always good to hear your voice. How’s life over there? Where’re you now?’

‘In London, of course.’ He said it as if he had lived in London all his life. Henry was always that assertive.

‘How’re you doing? How’s the queen city?’

‘Fine, fine. Everything is swell. How’re you there?’

‘I miss you.’ She had said that in countless number of times. What else would you tell a lover that left you all alone while he shuffled across the globe in the cockpit? To her, that expression would never become a cliché.

‘I miss you, too,’ he replied. Each of them usually expressed the other person’s absence this way.

‘I’ll soon be back home. Tomorrow evening, I should be back, just like I said.’

‘Yes, and I’ll be right there, waiting for you.’

‘Any problem?’

‘None other than missing you.’

The door of her office opened as Becky, one of her colleagues, came inside.

He laughed over the line. His laugh was pleasant. She loved to see or hear him laugh. It always sounded pleasantly melodious.

‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured, ‘I’ll soon be with you, my dear.’

‘And I’ll surely long to be with you, Henry.’

He talked briefly more about missing her, promised her a swell time together when he returned and bade her bye.

‘Your heartthrob?’ Becky asked.

Becky was nice but was given to too much of gossiping. It was quite good that Nike was in a mood for chit-chat this afternoon. Nike liked her but was often pissed off by Becky’s talkativeness. All the same, they managed to get along well.

Interesting

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Becky was nice but was given to too much of gossiping. It was quite good that Nike was in a mood for chit-chat this afternoon. Nike liked her but was often pissed off by Becky’s talkativeness. All the same, they managed to get along well.

‘Yes,’ Nike replied. He has been dying to meet me.’

‘He travelled?’

Nike nodded. ‘He was on a flight to England.’

Becky smiled. ‘Aren’t you lucky? And he is even a captain!’

She said it as if she was talking about the heir to the Brunei sultanate. She knew a bit about Nike’s live-in-lover and seemed impressed about him.

‘Aren’t you lucky?’ she repeated wistfully.

Nike only chuckled. She liked the inferred compliment. It was very good. It made her feel she possessed something worth living for.

* * *

Biyi had not bothered Yeni or her husband for several days, now. It was deliberate. He had decided to give them some kind of respite.

This Tuesday afternoon, Biyi decided to go to the university campus at Akoka to pick Joyce, a girl he had become intimately acquainted with.

Freddy and Olu, his school days friends and one of those Biyi had made contact with as soon as he came to Nigeria, had gone to the campus before. They went in search of lady companions.
Freddy had shown him round and had introduced ladies to him.

Biyi had chosen the tall, lithe and pretty lady who called herself Joyce. After rounds of drinks and spiced suya at the joint on the campus, they had consummated their relationship in his – Biyi’s – house.

Now, Biyi felt like having Joyce again. The choice was purely for lust. She had proved to be very good in bed and Biyi did not mind replays of that act. He drove to her hall of residence to check her in her room.

He was told she wasn’t around as she had gone for lecture. One of her room mates who attended to him explained that the lecture might not end until 6.00 p.m.

Biyi caught something in her voice and on her face as she talked to him. It was something he would capitalize on.

‘What about you? Are you too busy you can’t come for some drinks?’ he asked in his disarming smile.

The girl’s face lit up. ‘Why not? I’m not too busy.'

He smiled too. ‘Alright. What are we waiting for?’

‘Just a minute. Let me dress up.’

‘Okay. My car is the cream color SUV in the parking lot.’

He nodded to himself at yet another conquest as he walked to his car. But then, it wasn’t really a conquest. All these girls, he thought, were of easy virtue.

They wouldn’t mind backbiting, mud-slinging, and even violence in excelling in the lust race. How decadent. If all women in the world should throw decency to the dogs and become sluts, he would not bat an eyelid. To him, that was their problem.

He played an R & B music on the car stereo, making sure that the vibrating music was very loud. After about five minutes’ wait, the girl he was waiting for walked towards his car. She was dressed to kill.

The micro mini left a lot to be desired; while the body hug was very skimpy. You could see the navel. You could see the top edges of the undies.

The clothes were damned revealing.

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He played an R & B music on the car stereo, making sure that the vibrating music was very loud. After about five minutes’ wait, the girl he was waiting for walked towards his car. She was dressed to kill.

The micro mine left a lot to be desired; while the body hug was very skimpy. You could see the navel. You could see the top edges of the undies. The clothes were damned revealing.

Biyi whistled in appreciation. He liked that. He liked those that had the gut to reveal all. She joined him in the car.

‘You look swell,’ he commented, grinning.
She mumbled her thanks and gave a smile.

‘You haven’t told me your name,’ he went on.

‘Because you haven’t asked.’ Again that daring look. ‘I’m Ekaette, but you can call me E.K. for short.’

‘Lovely name,’ he replied. It was a perfect answer from somebody who didn’t even understand the meaning of the name he had heard.

‘I’m Biyi.’ Now, this was great; he was not using an alias this time around. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’

She grinned. ‘Me too.’

He started the car and drove out of the campus.

‘We’ll have something to eat, then we’ll have some drinks in my place. What d’you think about that?’ He was trying to be charming. The prince himself.

‘Good idea. No problem at all.’

He drove to a burger joint at Ojuelegba. It was one place he had been with Freddy on a couple of occasions since he came back to Nigeria.
The service girl approached with a patronizing smile. They ordered burgers, chips and malt drinks.

‘So, what’re you studying?’ he asked his companion.

‘Sociology,’ Ekaette replied shortly.

‘Good course. Is it interesting?’ the assertion and the question lacked concord but none of them seemed to notice.

‘I think it is. I’m a level 200 student.’

‘Ah,’ he sighed.

She couldn’t be more than twenty, still a girl, but already wise in things of the world. Going out with Biyi and ultimately snatching him from Joyce was a triumph for her. She had no scruples about doing what she was doing. Joyce had wronged her by snatching Chukwuma, a wealthy Igbo guy from her. Ekaette had only gone out with him for few weeks.

Ekaette was not the type to allow things to happen just like that. She had given Joyce a good fight for it. At the end, Joyce won, pyrrhic victory or not. Ekaette had taken it calmly, waiting for her time.

Now, it was time for Ekaette to pay her back. Sweet revenge. She was having the last laugh, wasn’t it? It was tit for tat.

‘What do you plan to do when you leave school?’ he asked.

She laughed shortly. ‘I don’t really know yet. I may look for a job around.’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows, I may be able to do something worthwhile. If not, I may jet out to Canada.’

Canada again, he thought and smiled. ‘Lucky you.’ He allowed a pause. ‘I’m in business in U.S.A.’

She looked at him curiously. Just as he had thought, she was fascinated. ‘That’s interesting,’ she said. ‘What kind of business do you do?’

‘Over there, I sell computer software.’ He said it in a way to make Bill Gates proud. She looked blank. Obviously, she didn’t know much about that line of business.

‘That’s interesting,’ she repeated.

They finished their food and were ready to move on. He took her to his duplex lodge where they popped a bottle of brandy and drank as if there was something to celebrate. The heat was on.

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They finished their food and were ready to move on. He took her to his duplex lodge where they popped a bottle of brandy and drank as if there was something to celebrate. The heat was on.

* * *

Jide didn’t get home on Tuesday evening until about a quarter of an hour to ten. His lateness was becoming more and more pronounced these days and his wife was getting worried. He would come in late to complain about the load of work.

She hoped he would not be too tired to listen to her and see reason. Mama beat her to it. Right when Jide was taking his supper, his mother went to sit by the dining table.

From the way she looked, he rightly suspected that he was in for another grilling. He braced himself for it.

‘You’re coming home too late recently,’ mama started.

‘It’s my work. It’s becoming very demanding.’

‘You mean your work is keeping you in the office till ten p.m.?’

‘Not exactly. If I leave work, for example, at 8.00 p.m., I still have the traffic to contend with before I get home. That’s why it looks like I come in late.’

‘It’s not that it ‘looks’ like. It is. Look at the time. Why must you work till eight?’

‘I’m sorry. I’ll try to cut the working hours.’ There was never any way he was going to tell his mother that he was keeping a steady date outside and was spending some time with her after office hours.

‘You must do that. If the workload is so much, why doesn’t the firm employ more people? Why must they overwork you?’

His mother was on point. He nodded and ate on.

‘You know how terribly unsafe Lagos is,’ mama went on. All these armed robbers.’

‘I understand your fear, mom. God is guiding over me.’

‘Of course, of course. I know God is guiding you. All the same, you too must be security-conscious and must not do things that will give the devil a chance.’

He nodded again. I’ll cut the office hours, as I said.’

Childhood memories flooded his brain and he felt like a child again. His mother had not learnt to talk to him as an adult, who – though needed counseling from time to time – mustn’t be prevailed upon to take advice.

She was always the authoritative, loving mother who was giving directives to a loveable but petulant son.

Later, as he lay in bed, Yeni told him she had something very important to discuss with him.

She was sitting up on the king-sized bed and that meant what she wanted to discuss with him was indeed very important.

He looked at her closely. ‘I hope there’s no problem, or serious problem.’

She sighed and closed her eyes for some time. Her fears about his suspected infidelity was becoming more evident. She thought she could perceive some female perfume on him when he came home that night.

She had been feeling that way anytime he came home in the past recent nights.

It must be figment of her imagination, she had tried to dismiss in her mind. Twice in the last few days, she had called his office telephone line about seven p.m., the so-called time he said he was still holed up there working. The phone had rung on and on without being answered. He was obviously not in there.

‘It’s about your coming home late,’ she started.

He grunted and chuckled. ‘Is that why you look so disturbed? You know my work. That’s what delays me.’

‘It’s not your work,’ she declared.

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