₦airaland Forum

Just the me soliloquizing: The scenes are panning out well at least..We should be done with the US aspects of the story very soon. Am trying hard to close all loose ends before we move into the main segments of the story. The parts we have above is like an introduction to the characters and we would be moving into the middle aspect of things where the plot of the story and a lot more about Sayo, Chris, Scarface, Kunle and Deola would be known.

I already have a chunk of that written out but I do appreciate reviews and important points. They make me write more better and maybe might just give an idea to spin the story a bit before reaching a climax. As for now the plot of the story Please this is just unraveling. Take it as an unusual multi plot story. Thanks.

I hope to update the other parts before the weekend God willing.

A part of this chapter is actually inspired from a Nairalander's experience at the Nigerian Embassy in New York.
Due permission had been taken before any part of it had been used. Thanks Jesoul once again. For others who want to read the full article/thread. Her's the link

DAY 2
CHRIS
NEW YORK CITY 10:00HRS

The next day Chris traveled to New York to get His Nigerian Visa. He had booked an appointment and was scheduled for that day. Although Chris held dual citizenship as his dad registered and secured a Nigerian passport for him when he was young but he had misplaced it and had never thought of reapplying for a new one since the need never arrived. Chris located a parking lot which was few metres from where his GPS pointed as the Nigeria Embassy in New York. He alighted from the car and carried an envelope which contained all the relevant documents that where needed. Today the sun was high and one could feel the energy of the bustling city of NYC. The consular office of the Federal Republic of Nigeria was located in the downtown New York and it was easy for him to locate as the building had a beautiful lettering "Federal Republic of Nigeria” in bright silver colour as you approached. Looks nice he thought.
Two men dressed in what seemed like Para-military clothing stood at the entrance checking new visitors before ushering them into the building. One had a stern look on his face and the other looked fatigued apparently tired from the strenuous job of standing all day to check different visitors who trickled into the building by the second. Chris was instructed to sign his name and drop his bag in a wooden cubicle with lots of lockers before he was ushered into the building. He turned the corner from the entrance, and opened a side door which led to the waiting room. As he entered the room he scanned the space in front of him. . The size of the room was not too large but was moderate with the walls painted white. There were sits arranged in rows which were already occupied by people. He walked forward and at the right hand corner of the room he located an empty seat. Out of habit; Chris looked for the nearest fire exit –and could locate one, but it was on the same side as the entrance and it was blocked by rows of connected chairs. Surely this would be a problem in case of an emergency. He thought to himself. He sat next to an old man who was deeply grained into what looked like a newspaper he was holding. The man shifted his bowler hat before he looked up when Chris settled into his seat. The man was wearing old and big rimmed glasses. He looked briefly at Chris before he adjusted his glasses and continued reading the newspaper. Chris stretched his legs trying to ease the pent up street from the long distance he had had to drive. He rested his back and yawned. He looked forward and scanned the room, there was a little age 7 or 8 who clung to her mum's clothe and was whispering words into her ear. to his right was a young girl who was in another world entirely as she pressed her iPhone with the earpiece plugged into her ear and she occasionally tapping her feet and singing the song she was listening to out loud. He shifted his gaze back to the old man who was sitting by his side and he noticed the man was still engulfed in with his reading. Chris stretched forward a bit and peeped at the contents of the newspaper. He couldn't remember when last he held a physical tabloid. It's the age of the internet and he received news by the minute and didn’t have to wait till the next day before he got informed about what was happening around the world Paper versions of newspaper were so old fashioned although he sometimes preferred to have them when riding the metro back in Chicago as it saved him from people dragging him into unnecessary discussions. The newspaper the old man was holding seemed odd to Chris and when he couldn't make out the words he moved a bit closer but still he was only able to pick up one word that loomed at the centre top of the newspaper page “Alarooye” with the O’s having dots on it and the A having a backward slash. He tried pronouncing the word in his head but couldn’t just go past the first syllable Ala. He stirred right and quickly looked away as the man turned right to look at him. Chris dreaded company today as he wanted to be left alone but his curiosity had brought him into trouble as the old man turned one eighty degree in his sit to face Chris. Chris knew the old man was looking at him but he kept his gaze away and feigned interest in the girl with IPhone.

“This is your first time?” The old man asked. Chris turned to face the old man and he could now see the pale blue eyes of the old man starring at him. He guessed the man to be in his seventies apparent stretch marks. He guessed.
“Yeah, my first time.” He shrugged before answering.
“But how did you figure it’s my first time?”
“I can see it in your eyes”
“My eyes?”
“Yes, I can read people’s mind through their actions or their eye movements. It’s something I have done half of my life”
“Oh really! So you some kind of Sikh?”
“Yes and no; in the professional way of saying it no, but personally am a self styled psychiatrist.”
“Interesting!”
The old man stretched his legs and yawned before adjusting his big rimmed reading glasses and turning to the newspapers on his lap.
“So is that book for self styled psychiatrists alone” Chris asked glancing at the newspaper.
“Where did you get that infor- ma- san from?” the old man responded pronouncing the word information with a thick ascent that Chris couldn’t place.
“Cause those lettering are strange to me”
“Strange?” He raised an eyebrow. “Young man; what part of Nigeria are you from? This is a popular indigenous Yoruba newspaper and I believe you might have heard about it”
“What part you said?” Chris seemed confused.
“Are you Igbo, Hausa, Ijaw or what?”
“I don't get you sir. Are those some kind of associations or cliques?” Chris asked quizzically.
“Oh sorry, you are so green” the man laughed in the process showing sets of brownish colored teeth.
“Green? I don’t understand you sir.” Chris asked.
“You know nothing. The Hausa’s, Igbo’s and Yoruba’s are major tribes in Nigeria although we have an additional of about 250 smaller tribes speaking different dialects.”
“Oh! Good for them then”
“So which is yours?”
“I don’t know sir”
“That sounds new”
“Yeah, am new” Chris shifted uncomfortably in his sit. This is getting out of hand already. The questions the man where asking were way beyond him. He had expected to be able to blend in with the crowd but just few words and this man had been able to single him out. He turned away and set his sights at the pavilion in front of him.
Chris sighed and looked at the small desk with stacks of passports and papers on it and a fat rotund woman sitting behind the desk shouting some instructions.
“If you hear your number just come forward”, she barked.
"ZERO WAN”
“ZERO TU"
"ZERO TREE" and then she switches from “Zero” to “O”.
“OH FOUR”
"OH FIFE”
“OH SIX"
“OH SEVEN”
“OH EIGHT”
“OH NINE”
“TEN”
The woman continued not even giving a break or pause between numbers to allow the persons with those assigned numbers to come up. In a few seconds the table ended up crowded as 2 or 3 people hurried to the front, both unrelated, both sitting down at the same time looking confused. Chris looked at the old man who was back reading his illuminati like newspaper and asked him.
“What is the number meant for?”
“It’s the number to identify when next it’s your turn to be attended to, you need to pick up one from the number dispenser” The old man replied.
“Where is the number dispenser?”
The old man seemed in the dark about the whereabouts of the number dispenser as he tilted his head both right and left with his mouth wide open but no answers coming out. Chris was about to stand up and go find it himself when the little girl who had overheard him asking the man finally offered the words "its over there, it is broken, you have to open it" she said pointing to a machine placed on a tall stood by the wall in the far left corner. Chris stood up and proceeded there to open it, he reseated the paper reel to the top of the dispenser so it works again and then he closed the machines.
As soon as the spectators see the machine working again, a new line immediately sprang up out of nowhere to take numbers from the dispensers. Chris picked his number and headed back to his seat but before he could make it to his seat, a young lady in her mid thirties wearing a sweatshirt with "I love NY" emblazoned on it approached him - probably thinking since he fixed the machine he probably works there at the embassy or knows how things worked.
"Excuse me sir, do you know how the online form works?" She asked.
"Sorry, I have no idea; didn't you ask the lady at the desk?" Chris replied.
"I already asked her but she was not much of help. She gave this paper containing the following instructions but I can’t make a way out of it."

Chris took the paper containing the instructions on it and explained what he thought it was to the lady who thanked him profusely telling him he was an angel before she sidestepped and headed towards the exit and disappeared. He headed back to his sit to wait for his turn but changed his mind and headed outside of the building when he checked the paper he was holding and saw that he had picked number 107 from the dispenser and the woman just called number 20 which showed he still had a long way.


Three hours later Chris was still sitting in the waiting room clutching his bag and steering at the ceiling and counting the number of black perforations he could see on each section. The number of people in the hall had thinned in contrast to what obtained few hours backed when it was filled with all sorts of people needing one service or the other. A group of three young college age boys sat in a corner talking in hushed tones and exchanging what seemed like cards and money.

Chris glanced at his wrist watch. It was 1:47 and he was feeling quite hungry as he had skipped breakfast and forgot to park enough snacks in the car while leaving for NY in the morning. He yawned and stretched his body.
A large hand patted him from the back and he turned to see who it was. The Old man growled in his face adjusting his big rimmed glasses as he spoke.
“Aren’t you hungry young man?”
“Like you were reading my mind sir, I am famished.”
“Common, let’s grab some bite from the cafeteria nearby.”
“What about if they called us while away?” Chris said pointing towards the official counter where the woman sat munching away on a hamburger under a bold sign “No food allowed in here” What an irony. Chris thought.
“I doubt if any new numbers would be called before we returned and it seems the officials are even tired out and having a timeout also.” The old man replied.

“Okay, let’s go” Chris said as he picked up the small pouch and followed the old man out of the waiting room. They exited the building and crossed the narrow road that separated the buildings on both sides before turning to a right footpath that led to another building. The entrance of the four storied building had a big banner displaying brightly coloured foods and the words African Kitchen in dark green. The old man led the way into the building proceeding at a speed and agility that surprised Chris considering the age of the man. He scanned the inside of the restaurant as they entered. The place was quiet big and was filled with lots of people sitting on white plastic chairs and tables eating. He followed the old man to a corner of the restaurant were customers were served their foods. He breathed in hard and the smell of something odd hit him. He held his breadth and trying taking in the smell of again. In that instant it hit, Okra soup! Yuck! He was about turning away when a big arm squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. He looked up to see the old man smiling back at him.
“Not all of us like the smell of okra soup you know but they sure have other sweet delicacy that would keep you asking for more if you tasted it once”
“Sure? So what do you advise I take?” Chris asked trying to hide his apprehension.
“Ever tasted Pounded yam and Egusi soup?”
“Never heard of that? How does it taste?” Chris asked.
“Heavenly” The old man said not waiting for Chris approval before asking the attendant to dish his friend some “Iyan” and Egusi soup.
Chris collected a mold of whitish food which was wrapped in white cellophane bags and the soup in a steel plate. The old man also ordered for same and they carried their foods off towards some empty seats in the far left corner of the room.
“We forgot to collect the cutleries” Chris announced. The Old man looked at him surprised then shakes his head.
“We need no cutlery for this. Just watch me” The old man rinsed his hands in a bowl of water before picking a mold of pounded yam, unwrapping it and placed it in an empty plate. He took a small chunk off and rolled it his hands before dipping into the soup before swallowing. He repeated the steps again as he continued gulping the food and forgetting the existence of Chris on the other side. Chris getting the clue that he was on his own washed his hands in the bowl of water unwrapped a mold of pounded yam and dipped it in the soup. He took a small bite and his tongue was immediately filled with something hot, sensuous and as well sweet. He took another bite and the feeling he had was thoroughly heavenly as the soup hit the back of his throat sending sweet rhythms all over his body. He closed his eyes to savour the sweetness of the food and in no time he had devoured three wraps of pounded yam.
After they had finished eating, the old man beckoned on a passing girl wearing an apron to come clear the dishes from the table while he brought out his wallet to pay the bill.
Chris interrupted “The bill is on me. That food was heavenly and I am filled to the brim. Please let me take the pleasure of paying.”
He brought a $10 bill and handed it over to the lady.
“Thank you. I told you and that is just one of the numerous delicacies we got in Africa.”
“Don’t tell me there’s other soul filling likes of that food. I might end up sleeping in here ordering more food” They both laughed out.
“Ever heard of Abang soup, Ewa Agonyin, Edi kai ikom? Look those are what we call real foods not just the hams and junks we keep on gulping down here” The old man said.
“Where can I get all those you just mentioned sir?” Chris asked.
“Since you are going to Nigeria soon, you will get that and much more”
“Thanks, if my Visa is granted I should leave by next week”
“Let me ask you this. Why are you going to Nigeria?”
“To visit my dad”
“Where in Nigeria does he stay?” The old man asked.
Chris hesitated deciding whether it was worth it telling a stranger he just met some few hours that he last saw his dad nineteen years ago and he was now on a mission to seek his dad out.
“I currently don’t know his whereabouts but I guess I should be able to figure him out once I get down to Nigeria.”
“Why don’t you call him so he can give you a description of how to get to him. Nigeria is very big and it is not that organised like you have here where you can look up people’s number in directories or yellow pages. Searching for someone is not going to be easy at all except you have an idea where exactly you are going.” The old man said.
Chris looked over at the table and wondered if he should just ask for help from this old amusing man. Maybe he might even know his dad and he could just point him to the right direction.
“I don’t have his contact details with me and actually, I last saw him when I was six. He returned to Africa and only communicated during my birthdays and the last messaged I received from him was during my sophomore year.”
“Poor boy” The old man said sympathetically.
“What’s the name?”
“I am Chris”
“No, I mean your dad’s name and what do you know about him?”
“Adetoro Akintola. All I know is that he left the US and returned to Nigeria after my parent divorced. I also once overheard my mum talking about him holding a traditional title in Africa when discussing with one of her friends”
“You are Yoruba then and your dad is if the name is anything to go by” The man said scratching his head.
“But why don’t you ask your mum for more details”
Chris looked up and tried pushing the tears that was forming in his eyes before answering.
“She is late”
“Am sorry to hear that”
“In that case the best option for you is to start searching through libraries and old newspapers when you get to Nigeria. Since he holds a traditional title, he is definitely a public figure and somewhere his name might just have been mentioned or maybe ring a bell to someone back home and they might be able to guide you in the right direction. Although he might be anywhere in Nigeria at present but I can tell you to limit you search to South West Nigeria which is where the Yoruba’s are mostly domiciled.”
“Thanks sir, I will do that” Chris said feeling a bit relieved that he has a chance of finding his dad. The old man reached into his pocket and brought out a cell phone. He held the device delicately while pressing and after some few presses he showed Chris a phone number on the screen.
“That’s Professor Emoruwa’s number. He is a good old friend and an academician of International repute. I would want you to meet him when you get to Nigeria. He is an Arts Professor in the University of Lagos and the last time I visited him he was doing some research into the traditional history of Yoruba Monarchy system. He might be of help if you show him your dad’s name.” The old man said.
Chris searched though his pouch and retrieved his pen and a sheet of paper before writing out the number on the screen.
“From whom should I say?”
“Just tell him his old time friend Prof. Ajala”
“Thank sir. I will do that immediately I get to Nigeria”. Chris tucked the sheet back into his pouch. Prof Ajala gathered himself picking up his wallet on table and putting into his pocket, he looked around at the restaurant before setting his sit aside.
“We should be on our way back to the embassy” The professor announced.

SAYO
OSOGBO, SOUTHWEST, NIGERIA. 19:30 HRS

It was quarter past seven. Sayo stretched and looked into the starless night and sighed. Could this day get any bad? She asked herself. Her mind wondered back to what had transpired that afternoon at the press conference with the tourists and her unnerving encounter with that scar faced man. The image of the man kept flashing in her mind and she believed the face seem familiar. She tried recalling where exactly she had seen him before. Something about him was quite unnerving and dangerous. She tried to push the thoughts off her mind before it festered and she started having nightmares with the scary face in. It is nothing she thought. He might just have been privy enough to know. Maybe he had stumbled on the information somewhere or maybe he was a close acquaintance of her former boss the Director of antiquities and research Chief AKintola Adetoro who had started work on the project but had died unexpectedly in a car crash three months ago leaving the huge responsibility on her young shoulder. She still remembered the huge files his P.A had come over to drop down in her office after she was promoted to the position of acting director. They contained hand written notes and memos of meetings he had attended, also included was a small diary all of which she never bothered opening them to read and the bulk of it which would be percolated with dust by now under her office desk where she had kept them. She remembered separately tucking the diary into her office drawer. I need to take a look at those files to see if there are any clues about who or what about from her research team who knew about the project.
She paced round the car and walked towards the main road looking at the horizon and searching for headlights of oncoming cars. Traffic had thinned considerably as it had rained heavily and most people had returned home to go spend the night with their loved ones. Her heart skipped a bit when she noticed the headlights of an automobile coming in the distance in her direction. She was praying silently for the automobile to be Kunle's only for the car to veer off the road and turn right to another adjoining street. Disappointed she walked back to her car and could hear Deola who was sat in the front of the car talking distinctively to someone and laughing over the phone. She opened the car door and inserted the ignition key again to try and see if the car would start and after a slow and tired revving the engine came to life roaring into the silent night.
"Oops!" She exclaimed
"It's working” Deola shouted. Sayo sighed and picked up her phone to call Kunle about the latest development.
At the entrance to the Culture House a car slowly made its way inside the Culture House building training it's headlight on the red Corolla sports car in the distance. He could make the silhouette of two figures in the car and he drove in the direction of the Corolla.

Sayo saw the car's headlight trained on them and she slowly alighted waving her hands to the driver. The Mercedes Benz S Class saloon car came to a halt in front of her. A handsome, tall looking man in a black suite and dark sun glasses alighted from the car flashing a smile at her. She stifled a yawn and briefly studied him. Kunle was the only son of a famous former Senator whose political carrier spanned over twenty five years before his death. He was in his mid forties but he still maintained a youthful and chiseled body. Kunle was raised in the United Kingdom and had returned after the demise of his father to head the strongman's business empire which spanned many vital sectors of the country's economic.

Depending on whom one talked tom Kunle Badejo was either a Philanthropist or a ruthless capital Opportunist. To the outside world he was a devoted, divorced, tireless and loving businessman who used his wealth to affect the lives of the less privilege. To those who worked under him or had a close contact with him he was a cunning, manipulating administrator-tyrannical and ruthless at times- who would or can sacrifice anyone to achieve his personal desires.

"What do we have here?" Kunle asked gesturing towards the Corolla.
"I can’t fathom it. One minute it was working and the next it won’t just start. Thanks so much for responding at such short notice”
"You are welcome milady. Even if I was deep asleep and thousand miles away, I will always be there." He said bowing politely to Sayo.
"Please don't flatter me; I really owe you on this."
"It's a pleasure Ms Sayo.”
“Good day maam” He greeted Deola as she stepped out of the car.
"Good evening sir" she responded. Kunle crossed over to where Deola was before gazing at her seductively from head to toe.
"It appears we have never met" He announced offering her his hands.
"It's a pleasure" Deola responded, shaking Kunle’s outstretched hand.
Sayo cleared her throat eyeing them both suspiciously as they held their hands for a little longer.
"I was just about to call you when you arrived here. The car decided to return back to life. It's a miracle you know."
"I see! That's good to hear. At least I would be speared the pain of transporting two beautiful ladies down to their homes tonight in my rickety car." He said sarcastically.
"You call this car rickety? If this is rickety, then mine is crippled and disabled. Anyways thanks once again for driving out in your rickety lion to rescue two helpless ladies" Sayo said laughing. Kunle walked back towards where

Sayo was standing and held his head out before mumbling something inaudible to her ears. Sayo smiled for a brief moment before her face turned expressionless. Kunle stepped back saying his good nights as he watched the two ladies enter the car, started the engine and drove out of the Culture House compound. He waved at them as he walked back to where his car was parked, started the car and also drove out as the rain started pelting it drops again.

CHRIS
CLUB BELIZIMO, CHICAGO. 19:20 HRS.

The outside of Chicago's Southside Club Belizimo was filled club goers especially young ladies wearing skimpy dresses and their male partners drooling after them. The neon lights of club house shone brightly in the evening night sky and one could notice a pack of four drunken youths on the balcony of the club shouting invectives at passersby. Chris and Alex alighted from the car and headed towards the entrance of the club. The sun had already set and the night was slowly crawling in to cover the atmosphere like a blanket. The air was calm and subtly cold. Chris and Alex wedged and walked sideways through the crowded night club. The club was well lit with dozens of rainbow colored neon lights flashing.

To his left Chris noticed a group of small round tables arranged near a small bar used mostly by the waitresses. On the right was a large hardwood dance floor filled with people dancing to music that came from a small disc jockey's booth. The music became much louder and Chris could make out the lyrics of Destiny Childs’s latest hit song Say my name. He started nodding his head to the rhythm of the song. Tonight the club was extraordinarily filled with lots of people dancing away on the dance floor. They passed a giant bay window that overlooked the street, and then came to a string of small tables. One of the tables was empty; Chris and Alex eased themselves into the sit and waved at a passing waiter.

A short waitress dressed in a white shirt and black pant approached them.
"What should I get for you sirs?" The waiter said smiling.
"Bud lights" Alex responded.
The waiter swirled round heading towards the bar and in a jiffy he was back with their orders.
"Here’s your order sir"
"Thanks." Alex collected the drinks and poured his ouzo into an glass with half water and watched it the foams cloud up in the cup.
The inside of the club was a bit warmer than the outside due to the crowdedness and Chris took off his blazers and place on the arm of the chair.
“So what did she say when you called her?” Alex said breaking the silence.
“Who?” Chris responded rubbing his bald head.
“Sarah of course”
Chris hissed before responding with a smirk on his face.
“Forgone issue”.
"Really?”
'Yeah, I have decided to move on and also she doesn’t want me again. So it’s mutual”
"That’s bad and you just accepted like that, you didn’t try to reason with her?”
“Look Alex, am more preoccupied with lots of thoughts now than begging a drama queen"
"Drama queen you called her, but you caused it"
"Under the influence of alcohol"
"I know, that is more reason you should plead with her and I know she would see reason when you talk to her"
“Not the Sarah I know, when she takes a decision she doesn’t back down. She made that clear to me on the phone.”
“Oh really, look at him.”
"Alex please can we talk about something else. Please?” Chris said as he beckoned to the waiter passing nearby.
"Ok, if that’s what you want.”

The club was more filled now as new people had arrived. The DJ had changed the song to a particular fast paced music and the dancers were raising their hands and following the rhythm. Alex suddenly burst out laughing. Chris looked at his friend perplexed to seeing what was so amusing. He traced his friend’s gaze to the dance hall and he caught what had caused Alex’s laughter. A black dude wearing what looked like a skirt and who was apparently drunk was groveling like a frog around the dance floor. Not minding how delicate and slippery the dance floor was he slipped hitting his big head against a Stripper’s dance pole. He fell backwards sprawling on the floor holding his head in pains. After a few moments he tried standing up and in the attempt grabbed the clothe of a fat man who was dancing near him and pulling the pants of the man down while struggling to stand up to display one of the largest and ugly looking underwear Chris had ever seen. What even made the scene more hilarious was the fact that the victim was oblivious of what happened as the fat man continued dancing and shaking his butt off to the sound of the DJ’s music. A small crowd was already gathering and enjoying the free show by the two men.

“Do the drill big man!” Chris shouted. His shout caught the attention of a blonde sitting a few chairs away from theirs as she faced where Chris and Alex sat waving her hands while smiling sheepishly at them.
Alex recalling the face of the lady, burst into another thunderous round of laughter.
“What the hell is wrong with you, what else is funny?” Chris half shouted at Alex.
Alex responded by just nodding his head pointing towards the direction of the blonde.
“Does that face ring a bell?” Alex asked him.
“Nope, what about her”
“Don’t tell me you can’t recall her?”
“I can’t”

The fat man on the dance floor was now aware of the show he was giving. He turned around to see the eyes of numerous onlookers who had stopped dancing and staring back at his knickers. Embarrassed he slowly pulled up his pants leaving the dance floor. Also the drunken guy was now on his feet and he stormed off towards the restroom but instead of entering the male restroom he entered the ladies restroom.

The blonde lady waved at them again and gave that same sheepish smile while Alex waved back at her laughing sheepishly back also. After a minute awkward of silence Alex broke the silence.
“Saw that scene that just played out? Yours was weirder. In fact you almost danced naked yesterday and that lady waving at us is actually the girl you did some nasty stuff with on the dance floor here yesterday before you took off with her yester night.
“Really?” The lady noticing they were talking about her started moving towards were they were seating. Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“She’s coming over. What do I do now?”
“Just keep it cool Chris. Let me do the talking”
The lady was wearing high heels and tight fitting brown dress which barely reached her knees. Her lips where deeply coated in red lipstick and her hair thrown seductively backwards. She swayed left to right as she approached their table smiling at Chris. She reached over at Chris and grabbed his head before planting a light kiss on his lips. Chris looked puzzled and dazed by her actions.
"Hello sweetheart" She whispered in his left ear before taking the empty seat to Chris left.
"What's the name again?" Alex asked her.
"Margarita" She answered.
"That's lovely"
She moved her chair closer to Chris and locked her arm around his. Chris pulled his arm away immediately. Margarita frowned for a slight second before giving her trade mark smile showing a set of yellow colored dentition.
"So what are you guys out here to do tonight?" She asked
"We are just chilling. Just wanted to grab a few bottles before heading out" Alex answered, Chris keeping mute all through.
"That's good" She looked at Chris before whispering in his ears “I had a swell time yesterday.
“Would you like to dance with me baby?" She asked Chris.
"I am not feeling too fine tonight" Chris responded.
"Oh sorry baby" Margarita responded rubbing his bald head.

Margarita picked one of the cans on the table popped it open before she stood up and announced she was returning to the dance floor. She moved round the table adjusting her tight dress as she stood up and made her way towards the dance floor swaying her hips at Chris and looking back to blow him a kiss in the air before she disappeared into the dancing crowd.

"Oh Shit, what in hell was that?" Chris screamed out. "Did I really f..." He said before keeping quiet mid sentence. The thought of what he wanted to say looking quiet disconcerting.
"Dude, you don’t want to recall what you did with that gal yesterday. Lets cut it"
Chris looked into the crowd trying to pick out Margarita. He spotted her dancing with a tall guy in a sweatshirt. He picked another can on the table, opened it and poured its content into his glass cup drowning the content in one gulp. He closed his eyes and took a deep breadth.

Alex shifted in his sit and picked up an envelope that had been lying on his laps and retrieving a set of papers. He had wanted to surprise his friend with this news and had kept the envelope from Chris all through the evening but now he thought it was time to let the cat out of the bag. He shuffled through them and passed it to Chris over the table.
“I got a new job opening for you in a company few blocks from my workplace." Alex said handing over the sheet of papers to Chris. “It’s an admin job with good pay package and flexible work hours. I already spoke with the HR guy who happens to be my school mate back and he said I should bring you in tomorrow." He continued.
Chris picked the paper up and scanned through for a few minutes before pushing it across the table back to Alex.

“Tell you what Alex. I am not interested”
“What?” Alex said sounding disappointed.
"This is way better than what you earned and there is even room from some extra commission here. Or wait you got some better offer I don’t know of already?”
“Not at all”
“Why turn this down then?”
“I am taking some time off”
"Taking some time off? That is new. Everybody takes some time off. But mind you this job doesn’t require you to start immediately. You can take two weeks from now off and start when you return."
"I am actually not taking time off to rest or ease the stress Alex; I am traveling to Africa"
"Africa?” Alex asked surprised.
"To do what?” Alex laughed out loud looking at his friend with disbelieve and amusement as if he just heard him declaring for the position of the president of the United States.
"You must be dreaming, or maybe you haven’t got off this hangover of yours yet. Tell me this is a joke Chris."
“Am not kidding” Chris said as he called on the waiter to get them more drinks.
"Thanks” he muttered as the waiter took his leave.
“I am actually going over to seek my father. Actually it’s something that just popped up. My dad as you know left when I was quite young and I feel like I should go in search of him. A part of me yearns for this adventure and I just felt I should go on check him out. If he is not willing to come meet me, I will go seek him." Chris concluded.
Alex looked away at the group of dancers pounding away on the dance floor with a fascinating synchronization. The dancers were now lined up in a straight line of five and were performing a dance choreography which seemed hard to him but he took a closer look at the steps and Alex could see it was simple and was just about taking one step forward, one step to the right and one step backward before turning round and repeating this same ritual. He pondered what next he had to say as he looked briefly at his friend sitting across the table.
He knew Chris had had it tough and rough growing up. It wasn't easy growing up to learn that someone that should love and care about your well being would just desert you and leave you for good without even looking back. He couldn't help but sympathize with him and understood his reasons for seeking his roots. We all yearn to reconcile with our loved ones. If one is out of touch with his roots, he has also lost focus of his destination.
"You sure about this?” Alex asked.
"Yap, very sure"
“But wait mate. Do you know exactly where he is? Chris for God's sake you have never been to this Country Africa....'
“Continent” Chris interrupted.
"Yeah, continent. You don't know anyplace on this Continent and you got no info about your dad's whereabouts. You can't just venture on a wild goose chase without proper and detailed information"
“I started work on that. I have been Googgling his name and trying to pin his whereabouts in the last five years to a definite location where I could travel to and continue finding his trail from there. I should be able to get substantive results in two days. Although my mum told me he is from Nigeria and last she heard from him was that he was been installed as a local chief back home. So I guess I just have to travel down to Nigeria and start my search."
"Anything I can help with?" Alex said picking a can of soda only to realize it was empty. He checked the other cans on the table but all were empty.
"I guess nothing for now, but I guess I can borrow your car to travel down to New York to go get my Nigerian Visa"
"No problems about that. You know you always have access to that, just promise you wouldn't run my engine down this time around like you did two years ago to my Explorer"
"I did nothing to that ride, that SUV was bad ass and had a lot of issues. I turned a service man as I had to open up the hood and pour water on the engine almost five times along the way before I got to my destination.
"I know, but you were partly to be blamed taking a ride on such a long journey without proper checks before embarking on it.
"Don't worry it won't happen to this. I promise."
Chris turned and looked around him. He noticed that some of the other sits were empty now. A black couple strode passed them and took sit next to them.
“Lets get out of here, we can't miss tonight's match. I got us two tickets to Chicago Bears match tonight at the stadium"
"That's superb. Let's hit it out"
Alex picked off his wallet off table and beckoned on one of the waitresses to settle their bill before he stood up straightening his shirt and followed Chris as they made their way towards the exit of the club.

Odd things happen when we least expect.