****


Vanessa had midnight shift and was scheduled to be at the hospital till midday the next day. Hence it was just Madam Bankole and Susie in the living room watching CNBC AFRICA. They had returned from their Abuja trip to the empty house a few hours earlier, freshened up, fixed themselves dinner and settled to a bottle of white wine and African business news.

Thus they were when Banks entered the house through the front door around eleven pm. He had noticed his mom’s AVIATOR parked in the garage and was aware of her presence but hadn’t expected her to be awake.

“Hey mom! Hey Susie!” The words were slurred. He’d gone drinking at a bar close to Jennifer’s house after leaving her.

“Peter, welcome. Good evening.” Susan greeted.

“You finally decided it was late enough to come home.” His mother said. “Are you drunk?”

Banks nodded. “A bit. Andy drove. He’s parking the car.”

“Is he drunk too?”

“Not as much as me.” Banks replied.

“What have I said about drinking, not to talk about drinking and driving? What if you got pulled over by police men, worse still got into an accident?”

“Mom! Seriously! I am tired and not in mood for a lecture. And we are fine. We know how to handle ourselves.” Banks snapped. He walked across to exit the living room.

Susan was quiet. She and the boy never really got along for whatever reasons. Not that they ever quarreled, but all they had for each other were polite greetings and passing remarks. However, she had never seen him snap at his mother. She focused her mind on the TV.

Madam Bankole sat up in her chair. “Peter!”

Banks stopped in his tracks and turned to glare at his mother. His patience was thin tonight. If he’d known she was awake, he’d have taken the back door in.

“This is what I was afraid you would say. Peter, you’re not a kid anymore. You have a lot going for you and with that comes a lot of obligations. Do you know how many people wish they walked in your shoes? I hate to think you’re getting even more reckless.”

Banks took a half step towards them, a curious look on his face. “Why do you say this mom? Has Vanessa been talking to you about me?”

Madam Bankole frowned with suspicion. “Why? Should she be worried about you that much?” She asked.

Banks shrugged, a bit relieved. “I’m fine mom. You worry yourself a lot about me. When was the last time you saw me like this? It’s not even midnight already, I remember I’ve been out much later than this, so don’t fuss much about nothing.”

“We’ll talk in the morning before I leave for work.”

“Fine! I am sorry for snapping at you.”

Madam Bankole sighed. “There is supper in the kitchen. Good night son.”

“Good night mom. Good night Susie.”

Susan pried her eyes away from the news and nodded at him. “Good night Peter.”

Banks exited the room heading straight for the stairs and his room. He had no appetite for food tonight. He had stripped to bossers when the all too familiar knock sounded on his door. He sighed. “It’s open mom.”

The door opened and his mother stood at the door way. “Peter.”

He had his face straight, ready for another lecture. “We started with just a bar of gold five years ago, remember?” His mother asked in her mildest tones.

“Yes mom, more than anything else.”

“Hopefully we’d be worth an honest billion by the close of this financial year. Thanks to your choice to entrusting your inheritance to me. Sometimes son, you should learn to respect decisions I make as head of this family in the absence of your father, God rest his soul. Do you understand me son?”

Banks nodded. “Yes mom.”

“Now, that is by the way. What I really came to say is this: I have so much experience in a lot of things. Any time you want to talk about whatever it is that is disturbing you, I’ll listen.”

“Thanks mom,” Banks replied. “I know that, but thanks still.”

Madam Bankole nodded and closed the bedroom door after her.

***


Lade was cutting fresh pepper on the kitchen table next to the gas cooker on which a pot of macaroni was boiling. There were other plates on the table containing chopped onions, shredded fish, diced fresh tomatoes, and the last with liquid eggs. When she finished with the pepper, she grabbed a clean frying pan from its place and lit the second burner on the portable gas cooker. She placed the pan on it and went for a satchet of groundnut oil which she poured into the empty pan.

There was a knock on the back door. “The door is open Cindy!” She put some of the chopped onions into the heating oil. It made a charring sound when Cindy entered the Kitchen with a loaf of sliced bread.

“Okay babe, you’re seriously going to start making your neighbours jealous from all this new you.”

Lade smiled. “What do you mean the new me? This is Nicky every day.”

Cindy laughed. She placed the loaf of bread on the kitchen table and walked past Lade towards the bedroom door.

“Why should I care? They’ve been envious of every little thing I did. Where are you going?”

Cindy dropped her jaw. “Oh…My…God! Nicky! Your bedroom is tidy!” She stuck her head in and sniffed the air. “Lavender!” She turned to Lade with a pleased look. “Room freshener! Really Nicky! I hope you’re not planning to invite Lover boy to this place. Gina and friends will love that a lot.”

Lade added more ingredients to the frying pan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cindy took out the indian hemp wrapped in a lump with rolling papers which she’d brought along. “Well, since after your date with lover boy, you’ve been…well, I hear the whole corridor smelled like you were baking turkey yesterday.”

Lade turned at Cindy with widening eyes, “it was just half a kilo of chicken I made pepper soup with. It’s been a while I treated myself to something other than staple.”

“Rub it in their noses while you are at it jare…You are the talk of the building as usual Nicky. At least, your bedroom is tidy…improvement in the right direction, if I should comment. We can high after breakfast.”

“Cool, thanks Cindy. Sting hasn’t called me since the other night. I’m running out.”

Cindy searched her pockets as it suddenly hit her that something was missing. “Shit, my phone…” she paused to think. “I think I must’ve left it on my bed.” She placed the drugs on the Kitchen table. “I’ll be right back.” Cindy said as she made for the back door.

“You better. The macaroni is almost done and I don’t know how to wait.” She heard the back door slam shut and shook her head.

Cindy got into her first floor apartment and found her cell phone on the bed to her relief. She was hungry and also wanted to puff at something. Anything. Out of habit more than sheer instinct, she walked to look out the window of her bedroom. It overlooked the gate into the apartment compound and was in time to see three black Hilux trucks suddenly pull up outside the gate. They were marked N.D.L.E.A in bold green paint.

***

Banks held a water-hose at his soapy Mercedes convertible rinsing the surds off when he heard the gates open and Vanessa’s KIA RIO drive in. she was behind the wheels. Banks frowned to himself. He couldn’t understand why his elder sister who was probably worth more than her bosses combined would bother to stress herself for a single day. It was a sore topic she never liked him broaching. He focused on getting all the soap on the two right tires.

Madam Bankole stepped onto the upper front balcony reading the morning’s financial reports from her SAMSUNG GALAXY TABLET. She held a cup of herbal tea by its saucer. She looked up to see the KIA RIO coming up the driveway and went to her favorite rocker chair glad that she would get to see her daughter before she left for the office.

Vanessa pulled up behind Peter's Mercedes and shut her engine off. She looked like it had been a long night. “Peter! I see Mummy is back.” She alighted from the car wearing a costly red jacket over her shirt and trouser.

“Yeah, haven’t seen her this morning though. Probably still in her room. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said with a yawn while she opened the door to the back seats to retrieve her overnight bag.

“Must’ve been a long night.” Banks observed.

“You can’t imagine. There was an eleven year old with a tumor in his brain. I scrubbed in with Dr. Nkrumah and have been on my feet for the past thirteen hours." She gave a long exaggerated yawn and shrugged. "Nothing a long dip in the bathe tub and a couple hours sleep won’t handle though.”

Banks turned off the hose. “An eleven year old with a tumor in his brain! Damn! How is he now?”

“Tumor was clipped off clean. I only pray, there will be no complications when he wakes up.”

“Amen to that! Apart from the God complex part…getting to save people’s lives except the…insignificant number that die under your care…I still wonder why you do it. I mean, you don’t have financial needs. You could pursue your hobbies and interests…have fun living your life; I don’t think you…”

Vanessa interrupted, smiling. “This argument again? Peter, I’ve told you. I do it for the same reason you go out every day to paint something. You don’t need it to earn money, but you love doing it. It’s your hobby and interest as you put it.”

“Hmm, so clipping tumors and saving lives during double shifts happen to be yours. Nice. Meanwhile how is Mike?” Banks wished the next instant that the question didn’t leave his mouth. He’d just invited Vanessa to recall the last time he spent time with them and ask after Lade. He wasn’t ready for that conversation. “I haven’t seen him in a while.” He continued.

Vanessa thought of brushing the question off with a simple ‘he’s fine’. “I was with him two days ago. He’s at Kaduna now…summoned to headquarters, he said. I’ll tell him you asked after him.”

Banks studied his sister. “What are you not telling me?

Vanessa sighed. “You ask too many questions, you know that.” She handed him her car key. “Help me put the car in the garage. Hopefully God will touch your mind to wash it as He did yesterday.”

Banks stared at the key in her outstretched hand. He wasn’t put off by her attitude. “Kaduna! That’s the Nigerian military headquarters, isn’t it? You’re suspecting he’d be deployed to a front…maybe ECOMOG stuff? This unending religious conflict in Senegal." He took the key from her, moved to another side of the car that was still soapy and turned on the hose to resume rinsing the car.

Oblivious to them Madam Bankole was all ears. She was no longer interested in the financial data showing on her tablet. Eavesdropping on her kids as she sipped her tea seemed far more interesting in that moment.

Vanessa was clearly startled at the thought. She hadn’t considered that. She had a more sinister fear – a remote reason why a strong woman like herself was coming down with morning fever, sudden dizziness and wobbly feet. She had vomited twice that morning already and had stopped at a pharmacy to purchase a pregnancy test kit which was somewhere in her bag. She clutched her bag tighter at the thought. Her mother hadn’t even heard not to mention approved of her engagement to Mike. And now the possibility that Mike could be flying out of the country to an actual war front… She shivered at the thoughts in her head.

And then there was something else. Something she’d been meaning to ask Banks about, when their schedules afforded them time to talk. Now was as good a time as any; something to change the topic with.

“Ehen! Peter! What did you later do about that girl you told us about? I mean Lade.”

He didn’t have any honest reply ready. Not even an answer to postpone or actually waive it. He looked away from the questioning glance on his sister’s face. There was nothing wrong with taking an old friend out on a date to play catch-up. Why then did he feel guilty like he’d committed a crime?

His silence only meant one thing. “You called her!” Vanessa blurted as if surprised.

Banks nodded. His throat felt dry and so he swallowed before replying. “Yes, I did. I asked her out on a date and she accepted.”

Vanessa’s jaw dropped with incredulity. “You did what! After what you said happened the last time?”

Banks turned the hose off and dropped it on the floor. “She’s my friend. I took her out a couple days ago Sister Vee, and believe me, she is still the Lade I know. Probably a different version, but deep inside I know.”

“What about the love-vendor that threatened your life the last time? I’m guessing he didn’t show up this time since you’re still standing in front of me in one piece.”

The tea cup almost slipped from Madam Bankole’s hand but she caught it with a nice reflex that almost sent her tablet flying off her lap. She set the tea cup on its saucer on the side stool beside her and listened. The conversation hadn’t stopped. They hadn’t heard her. Again, Banks was silent for lack of a suitable reply.

Vanessa decided to fill in the blanks. “Okay, maybe she slipped away from his attention for a few hours. How long will she keep slipping out to meet you before she’s found out and you’re in trouble again? In the meantime, what does she do when she is not with you? She is a hooker, regardless of whoever she was before. She has changed.”

“Only their priorities do. You’ve not even seen her, yet you’re so sure! People don’t change!” Banks replied.

“The scene you described at the bar is enough for a blind man to know what is going on!” Vanessa retorted. “I’m not even talking about the possibility that she’s a drug addict. Can you swear she doesn’t smoke cigarettes at least?”

Banks sighed. “You’re talking as if she’s an evil person. I know mom’s associates that smoke.”

Vanessa was very irritated now. “Mom’s associates! Seriously! This means you’ve actually seen the girl smoking. I’ve always known you to be very cautious for crying out loud! Always weighing the pros and cons. Now you’re nurturing a reckless relationship with a call girl…one with a love-vendor! I’m not proud of the choices you’re making Peter!”

Banks was at a loss. “You know, of all the people in the world, I thought you’ll understand better how I feel.” He bent to pick up his hose and go around the bonnet to resume his rinsing.

Vanessa walked after him. “There is nothing to understand. She’s a possible drug addict; and you’re condescending.”

Banks was surprised at Vanessa’s vehement judgment. “Well then, I guess condescending runs in the family!” Banks bit back.

Vanessa gasped. “What? I’m not condescending with Mike. He may be an ordinary private in the army, but I love him. I’m not looking to change him.”

“Right! Why then have you not yet told mom that you’re engaged to him?”

Whatever reply Vanessa had to that was interrupted by the sound of a chair screeching on the marbled floor. She and Banks traced the sound to the upper balcony where they saw Madam Bankole on her feet with her favorite china tea cup in her hand. They were both startled. Do walls have ears? From the look on their mother’s face, it definitely did.

***


Lade froze at what Cindy just told her over the phone. The next moment, she was cool and calculating. She turned off the cooker and ran into the bedroom. Her eyes swept over the bed room trying to remember where she put her stash. There was an unopened bag of drugs somewhere – under the toilet sink. She ran into the toilet and reached under the sink to take out a dirty purse. She unzipped it and shook out the contents into the dry sink bowl. A Ziploc bag containing her stash of cocaine, an unmarked cup of tiny yellow pills and a rolled up newspaper page containing her left over Indian hemp fell in. She carried the drugs over to open the clean toilet bowl. She tore the Ziploc bag and emptied the white powder into the bowl. The Indian hemp went in next followed by the pills. She turned the flush knob, an empty feeling washing over her as she watched the drugs disappear down the drain. What a perfect waste, she thought. She took the empty pill cup, the torn bag and the newspaper leaf with her and left the toilet, coming back for a quick peek. The dirty purse was on top of the sink and she quickly went to retrieve it.

A paid informant in the agency usually warned Sting ahead of any plans to raid any of Sting’s buildings and he in turn called them to clean out their closets. No warning had come this time.

In the kitchen, she found her lighter, walked out to her back porch to set the Ziploc bag and newspaper leaf on fire, holding them over the waste bin for the ashes to fall in. She could hear the frenzied commotion of neighbors running around to clean up while she waited to finish the incineration. She stared at the pill cup and wondered what to do with it. She went into the kitchen and began rinsing the cup while look around. Another thought stopped her. Cindy had brought something over. The smoking pipe was in the drawer of her dressing table. Lade almost panicked. She found three aluminum foil-wrapped rocks on her kitchen table and gasped, imagining what would have happened if her mind hadn’t unblocked the memory of their presence. She grabbed them and ran into her bedroom. Straight to the drawer where she kept her smack pipe. She opened it and found even more – a tourniquet and syringes and more hemp. Why Sting hadn’t warned them of this, she wondered. She swallowed large gulps of air to stifle the nauseating panic swelling within her. That was when she heard the inevitable banging on her bedroom door. The drugs would flush, she wasn’t so sure about the syringe and tourniquet. The knocked banged again. She could only hope, for there was no time.

***


Banks had bathed and gotten ready for the studio. That was over an hour ago. He paced the floor in his bedroom suite working on his courage to face his mother. It was fifteen minutes past midday and his mother hadn’t left for work either. Susan had checked on her when she didn’t come down for breakfast. She’d left for the office herself afterwards and so it was just the two of them in the Bankole mansion.

Banks made his way to her room and found the door open. He knocked and looked in. She was sitting on her bed staring at the TV screen hung on the wall. Since after he decorated the room, he could count the number of times he came into the room all those years. The suite was almost twice the size of his and colored white. He stood at the doorway for almost a minute before she noticed him. She smiled at him - an attempt at civility - a sad smile that reminded him of… of the look on her face the morning after his father’s burial. There hadn’t been much need for sadness lately.

Banks stepped into the room encouraged by that tiny gesture. A wall TV was showing figures of current tradings and worth of stocks of companies on the Stock Exchange. The numbers changed constantly like unstable NEPA voltage readings - Ups then downs; highs accompanied by lows.

“Which of the companies are you interested in?”

“Right now? None of them.” She got off the bed still in her night gown and went to sit on the couch at her small parlor. “Come son. Come sit with your mother.” She patted the seat next to her.

Banks traced the lines on his left palm with his right thumb. He looked up at his mother still beckoning, smiled and walked to her. She smiled back as he approached. She looked like she’d aged suddenly over the past four hours. The muscle beneath her eyes sagged and had dark rings. They held lots of worry hidden underneath. She took his hand when he sat beside her and resumed her blank stare, but this time at a painting on the wall. It was of his father. Banks had made it at her request from a photograph she gave to him. It was the painting of a handsome man in his prime – the way she best liked to remember him. She sighed and leaned her shoulder towards his.

“It would be eight years tomorrow, since we pulled the plug on him.” Banks frowned into perspective. He couldn’t read her demeanor as she wasn’t facing him. He put an arm around her.

“You’re not thinking yourself back into that depression we worked so hard to get you out from, are you? This is about the robbery?” He saw tear dropped down a cheek. She blinked the rest back and wiped the creepy misty corners off.

“Oh mom!” He squeezed her closer. He knew about her reservations, that her role at the family business left her unable to spend more time at home with her kids. But he and Vanessa were response-able and didn’t need a regular chaperone.

“He would be proud of you if he were here. I know I am,” Banks said.

Madam Bankole looked at him finally, a small smile appearing at one corner of her mouth. She still looked sad though.

“Sister Vee is too…which is why we are never happy when we know we’ve made you angry. We are aware you’ve sacrificed a lot to get us to where we are today.”

“Where is she?”

“She went back to work. She has called me twice since to ask if I’d talked to you.” He continued when his mother didn’t say anything in reply. He knew he had her attention and he had cued himself in somehow. He sighed like the discussion at hand weighed heavy in his lungs. “The problem is…the cause of your unhappiness is what makes her happy. Vanessa isn’t promiscuous. She really likes this Mike guy and has settled for him. But she’s afraid… and…and in need of your approval.”

Madam Bankole shook her head. The sad smile was back, tugging at a corner of her lips. “My mother used to say when I was little that whatever you do to your parents, your own children would do it to you…” She saw the bemused expression come on her son’s face and chuckled. “I know! I know! It’s what we parents say when we are so angry and riled up at losing an argument with our kid…and out of ammunuition.”

“I don’t understand. You married dad against your parents’ wishes?” He had never heard this version of their relationship before.

His mother exhaled, but not in relief. “Well, your father was a mere Keke driver and handy-boy when I was a fresher in the university. I made him join a polytechnic after which he chose to join the force.”

Banks was shocked. “Oops… condescending sure runs in the…” He thought aloud, then caught himself. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean that precisely.”

Madam Bankole chuckled. “You should see your face,” She said. “But unless these our genetic gurus have discovered a new gene for such, then I don’t know what you are talking about. Everyone is equal before God I was taught; so I never saw your father or anyone else as beneath me - even though my parents were quite wealthy.”

”Quite?” Banks chuckled. “Uncle Ben left me a gold bar! A gold bar!”

Madam Bankole shrugged.

“So they forbade you to marry daddy and you eloped with him?”

She nodded. "They cut me off and took away my trust fund leaving us to near poverty and squalor.”

“That is why we never went to visit them until their death…hmmm… I never thought you were a romantic.”

“Well, that was then. This is now. Now, I understand their worry then. All their careful planning…the life I was supposed to live…”

“Are you saying you regret marrying dad?”

“No! Far from it son! It was very rough…we had our struggles…but I like to think that we did alright. Now, you’re not a kid. I won’t lie to you, so don’t get me wrong when I say it wouldn’t have hurt either if he’d been in an occupation with less…hazards. He would’ve been here to help me control all this. I’ve been too busy spinning this family upwards. If he were here, I’m sure you kids won’t be spinning so out of control.”

The ensuing silence was deafening. Banks cleared his throat nervously as they stared ahead at the painting of Steven Bankole. Banks removed his arm from around her but she clasped onto it.”

“But I like to think that I married for love, to a man that made me happy. It was…very beautiful while it lasted. Not too many women at my age in this society can boast of that.”

Banks sat up to face his mother in earnest. “But can’t you see mom? The details might be different, but this is history repeating itself. I don’t know much about your own parents but I still entertain doubts that you’ve grown to be like them. I know you’d never disown any of us. We are all we have. But would you wait till she emancipates herself before you realize she loves that army man so much and has already chosen him?”

Madam Bankole frowned. “What makes you think she’d emancipate?”

“She’s doing double shifts at a hospital – a job we both know she doesn’t need. I doubt you still have power over her trust funds at her age. She won’t suffer if you kicked her out. She’s got your spirit mom, and has evidently thought ahead for herself.”

Madam Bankole released his hand and got to her feet to mentally deal with her son’s argument. She walked closer to the painting to touch the rough canvas on which the color paste had matted and splashed to create the pattern that was the image of her dead husband. She swallowed a wave of remorse and sighed, turning to her son. “You think he’s a good match for your sister?”

Banks got to his feet. "I’ve never seen your daughter happier with anyone else. Isn't that what matters at the end of the day?"

Madame Bankole nodded in acknowledgement. “I’ll have to meet him. A dinner perhaps?”

Banks smiled… then he grinned. “Really mom? Thanks! Sister Vee will be so excited.”

“What about you? She didn’t seem as excited at your choices, from the little the walls overheard.”

His excitement was gone like the wetness wrung out of the dripping clothes in a laundromat. He sat back down on the sofa feeling like a deflated balloon.

“I’m sorry but I have to ask son. Is she…is she a call girl like your sister suspects?” No mother ever had tougher questions spew from her lips, but like she said, she had to ask.

Banks sighed in frustration folding his arms and crossing his legs. “I don’t know,” he said, “not really…but whatever she does, she’s not proud of it.”

Madam Bankole struggled to keep a straight face. This was the bull-est-shit she’d ever heard. “Interesting!” Or not. Was she missing the sense his reply was supposed to have made? She went to sit opposite him. She never thought she’d ever have this sort of conversation with Peter – her boy in whom she was usually well pleased. Love may be blind sometimes, but there definitely had to be a limit to that awful, often misrepresented cliché. Why put yourself through the risk, especially in this twenty-first century society where personality, history, protecting one’s repertoire and keeping up appearances was mattered a lot? She was disappointed, but knowing Peter, losing her temper wasn’t going to achieve much. He preferred being talked to like the responsible adult he was – most times.

“What about drug abuse? Do you think…?

“No mom! Okay, I’ve seen her smoke a cigarette once but, no…no hard drugs.” His mind drifted to the rest room trips during their date at the resort.

Again, Madam Bankole sighed. She couldn’t tell if he was lying but she didn’t believe him. How long does he get to spend with her anyway?

The silence was moving from uncomfortable to nerve-wracking. Banks wasn’t sure his mother believed him. He had to say something. He had to make her understand. “You just told me that everyone is equal before God. I remember you once said we should see the good in people because no one was born bad.”

“Well, you gave me your vote of confidence on your sister’s choice. I don’t think she shares the same sentiment for yours,” she argued. She got to her feet with both her palms spread open. “Vanessa wasn’t just talking about a girl that hawks pure water and oranges on the street. This one’s a possible drug addict, maybe a prostitute too.”

“You’re talking possibilities and maybes mom. That’s mere speculation based on hearsay.” His protest sounded feeble even in his own ears.
She stamped her foot. “Mark my words! There is an element of truth in every speculation! There is a love-vendor in the picture for crying out loud son.” She pointed at him. “It is a dark, dirty world you have stepped into. It is criminal and insecure - everything I’ve been working hard, night and day to protect you and Vanessa from. It is the same world I lost my husband to. I don’t want to lose my son too.”

Banks squirmed on the couch. His mother was right. Did he really want to find out what happened to his friend when his nice and cozy life had already been threatened by her…boss? He put his elbows on the arm rests, leaned back and steepled his fingers thinking about her and everything he felt for her.

“You’re an adult Peter,” his mother continued, “and I can’t forbid you from seeing the girl. But at some point you’ve got to ask yourself if seeing her is exposing you and those that love you to any danger; especially, we your family. If it is, the next and more important question is, where should your loyalty lie?”

Now, that was a good chord and Madam Bankole knew she’d struck it square. On purpose too – she knew her son was all for family loyalty - judging by the way he narrowed his eyes at her. She nodded at him as if to say, ‘yes, it was that deep’. “I’ll take my bathe now. You’ll drive me to the office and maybe on the way we’ll talk about moving the calendar up on your studio going corporate. How would you like that?” She watched his eyes brighten at once. At last here was something he was more passionate about. His first love. Art - something he'd pestered her to do for a while now.

“I’ll…wait at the living room,” He said.

“I’ll be down in an hour,” She replied.

He was descending the stairs when his phone rang. He took out his blackberry and checked the caller ID. It was Lade. He remembered a poet once said ‘nine times out of ten, when you’re looking for a sign, they don’t appear.’ He couldn’t help but wonder at the remainder of the fraction.

***


Lade’s mind told her she was playing with fire when she placed that call to Peter Bankole. She sat at a corner of the police cell with six other female inmates, each looking wilder than the rest, fidgeting and waiting. This was her first time in police custody, and despite the fact that she knew they had no concrete evidence to hold her, they would, just because they could. She’d heard terrifying stories about her present environment. Spending any more minute here held no more allure than news of her arrest reaching Peter Bankole’s ears. But she’d had no other choice.

Sting or Spencer were the people to call when any of the girls found themselves in this predicament. An in-house lawyer would be alerted to post bail within the hour. Thus, when her arresting officers allowed her one call, she’d followed procedure, only neither Sting nor Spencer were available. She remembered they were out of town for a drug meet and would be back late, which meant she would spend the night in a cell. One look at her fellow inmates who were circling with grudging looks on their face and her guts left her. She was fresh meat in a den of tigresses. She didn’t want to imagine what could happen in the cover of night.

Fear led her to think of her other options. Option-Banks. He’d come to her rescue in a giffy if he caught wind that she was in such trouble. He cared about her that much if she read him right two nights ago. And so, she’d called him, backing thoughts of shame and embarrassment away.

If Sting found out… He would. There was no way he wouldn’t. The Q-question would be; who posted your bail? She closed her mind to the torrent of possible punishments that would be meted. Her initial fear was stronger than the latter one. She wanted away from her new neighbors on whose foreheads RAPE and ASSAULT were boldly written. She’d rather be weighing her options back under the sun and fresh air.

She heard feet approaching and looked up at the tall, bulky figure of a female guard in jailer clothes. She was built like an amazon and was middle-aged and had a punk haircut.

“Oladele Bukola Adewummi!” She read from a sheet in her hand.

Hope sprang eternal, as they say. Lade was up on her feet. “I’m here!” She walked from the darker recesses of the cell towards the cell gate. She heard a low growl from one of the corners of her cell. Someone spat at her.

“If you come back here, you no carry house rent ehn…I go rumple your fine face so tey your boyfriend no go sabi you again.” Someone else snarled. Lade shivered as the gate was unlocked and she exited. Commisere. She didn’t believe she’d ever use those words.

***


Banks called his lawyer as soon as Lade dropped her distress call and was impatient on the drive to the Lagos offices of Bankole Incorporated. He declined his mother’s invitation to come up to her office for a while. He too had an office in the building but had never been there. Not yet. Each time his mother asked for his reason that was his answer – not yet.

He had driven from Lekki to Apapa where the drug law enforcement agency had one of their holding cells. The entire conversation he’d earlier had with his mother was out the other ear and out of the window as he sped to the rescue.

The compound was manned by heavily armed guards. Each wore a green NDLEA jacket over white vests. He was given a pass by an armed guard at the security post was directed to a vacant spot at the visitors parking lot. There was the main building, a two story building about a two minute walk away from his spot at the lot. Two other buildings lay behind it, both with fences as tall as the two storey building itself. It would be impossible to look into either from the main building. They must be holding areas for their criminal suspects, Banks thought.

His lawyer Barrister Juliet Akande had called an hour ago to say that she was in. He was still chauffeuring his mom then. His lawyer had advised him to wait outside. There was no need risking getting recognized by a journalist who was hanging around for news. Thus, after alerting his lawyer of his arrival, he remained behind his wheels and waited.

Two hours went by. Two hours during which he shut his mind to flashes of his conversation with his mother. Lade was in drug law custody and needed someone to bail her out. That was proof enough. She used drugs. He should have ended the call and washed his hands off her. These drug law officers weren’t like the common police who arrested without cause or reliable information. These ones rarely arrested innocent people. Their information network was more solid.

He thought of Vanessa too. “look me in the eye and tell me she doesn’t use drugs…” No, Lade his friend, was in trouble and had called for help. Nothing scandalous in being a Good Samaritan - Was there? No! Unless there was something more to the friendship - Was there? Uhmm… well he cared enough to answer her distress call. Somehow, he realized that there would be more rushing to her rescue from now on.

At last he saw them exit the front exit of the main building in the wide compound. Both ladies walked side by side. Barrister Juliet was in her early thirties looking smart in a gray suit and matching trousers. Lade had navy blue shorts and a tank top on. Banks alighted from the Mercedes. He whistled and waved at them. The guards within earshot turned sharply and frowned at him in disapproval. Banks waved at them and smiled apologetically.

Barrister Juliet had seen the exchange and nudged Lade who was still scanning the wrong side of the compound for Banks.

“There he is,” she said.

Lade followed Juliet’s gaze and saw Banks standing beside his car and smiled. Her grin was infectious as Banks smiled as well. Lade started walking faster to go meet him. Barrister Juliet cocked her eye brows, and wondering at what the sudden urgency was about, she maintained her pace. Who was this beautiful girl to her client? Seven years post-bar, three years as Peter Bankole’s personal lawyer, she had never been to the drug law enforcement agency for any reason – personal or work-related. The people she represented had no cause to be caught up on this side of the law. Peter Bankole least of all.

Lade hugged Banks when she arrived at where he stood. “Thanks for coming at once! I was so scared!”

Banks hugged her back and then released her. He picked a stray lock which hung over her left eye and tucked it behind her left ear. “Are you okay? Did anyone touch you? Hurt you?” He looked her over.

“No one did. Yet. I couldn’t afford my commisere so… there were… intentions on the faces of my cell mates… verbal threats too.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh! I’m so embarrassed! But I’m fine.”

Banks chuckled. “It’s okay. If not me, then who? Hmm?” He asked.

Barrister Juliet arrived at this point. Banks released Lade and shook his lawyer’s hand. “Thanks for being prompt. I know you’re a busy girl.”

“That’s what you pay me for, remember? So don’t even mention. How’s Jennifer?”

Banks almost winced. “She’s okay.”

“You didn’t call to check back on that partnership agreement you asked me to draft. I wonder what happened.”

“We’ve been busy with our school project. Moreover, I’m not sure we’d be partnering anymore. I’d have to call you back on that.”

“Why? Sounds like a good business deal going to waste.”

“Cold feet. She’s joining her mother’s company for experience. That’s what she told me.”

“Aww!” She seemed disappointed and glanced at Lade standing beside Banks. There must be more to Bank’s explanations, she could tell.

Lade could tell too. Banks saw the look and introduced her to the lawyer as an old friend.

“Thanks for helping, Barrister.” Lade said,

“You’re welcome.” She turned to Banks. “The good news is that they have nothing to charge her with, so your friend is free to go.

Banks sighed with relief and felt Lade take his hand and hold on to it. He turned to see her smiling. “The bad news?” He asked.

Barrister Juliet smiled. “You’ve got quite a huge bill to pay for an ordinary Friday afternoon.”

Banks chuckled. He opened his car and reached for the dash board to take out a checkbook. He turned to Lade. “Wait in the car while I walk Juliet to her car,” he said. She nodded.

“I’m parked that way.” Barrister Juliet pointed in the direction where her ox-blood Toyota Matrix stood among another row of cars. She smiled at Lade. “It was nice meeting you Lade. I hope to see you again in circumstances more pleasant than this.”

“Of course,” Lade replied. “Again thanks for coming. I don’t know what I’d have done if you didn’t.”

“You’re welcome.”

Banks winked at Lade and smiled. “Be right back.” Banks and Juliet walked off to her MATRIX.

“Interesting,” Juliet said almost immediately they were out of Lade’s ear shot.

“What is interesting?”

“I finally meet your girlfriend in what I should call an embarrassingly conspicuous manner.”

“I’m not embarrassed. They had nothing to charge her with; you said so yourself. Moreover, I never said she is my girlfriend.”

“She’s not? All that fawning over each other came from being just friends?”

“Old friends.”

“Right. You’ve got to be kidding.” They arrived at her car.

Banks patted his pockets for a pen. “Lend me your pen Jules.”

She fished into her hand bag for one which she handed to her clients. She took one look at Lade who still stood by the car watching them. “I don’t know Peter, this feels like an itch at the back of my neck…”

“…that might turn into a boil if you scratch it!” Banks finished for her smiling. “Is this about Lade?”

“It’s none of my business, still…” She sighed. “I’ve seen her type a lot of times. Young women like her, very beautiful, looking like they won’t hurt a fly…”

Banks frowned. “Looking as opposed to being! In some circles, seeming is being you know?”

“My point exactly! Most times, they are actually guilty of what they are suspected of.”

“You think she’s guilty of something?”

Barrister Juliet almost backed off. She was surprised at what she saw sneak into his eyes. This Lade girl had a hold on this guy she did not like.

“I can see how close she is to you. Still you’re my client and friend. I’ll tell you what I think and leave you to your better judgment. I’m just saying that she seems smart. Very smart…smart enough to hide evidence…” she paused.

Banks shook his head even more curious now. Why was everyone warning him about her? He turned to look at her still standing by his car and keeping an eye on them. So beautiful in her cheap clothes. Very innocent. He turned back to his lawyer. “What are you not telling me, Jules? You said they had no evidence to charge her with.”

Barrister Juliet shrugged. “They found bits of aluminum foil floating in her toilet bowl when they raided her apartment this morning. I hear her landlord is suspected of drug trafficking, running prostitution rings among other crimes.”

“Sting,” Banks murmured to himself.

“What did you say?” “Nothing.”

Barrister Juliet noticed he didn’t seem surprised at the news and her suspicions deepened. Who was this girl really and how deep was her client involved with her? “Well…anyway, you can’t but beg the question. What were bits of foil doing in her toilet? Such stuff are usually disposed of in the garbage bag. Unless she was flushing it down for a reason. And foil is used by retail dealers to wrap heroin.”

Banks scratched the back of his neck. “What did she say when the police asked?”

“She’s smart or had been groomed with answers to typical questions. She said she’d been drunk the previous night and had taken one of these fast food moi-moi they wrap in foil for dinner. She must have eaten some of the foil too because they were there when she used the john this morning.”

Banks almost chuckled. “It’s silly yeah… but it happens. Ever stop to consider… that that was what happened?”

Her brows knitted in disappointment. What was she thinking, telling a love-stricken young man that the object of his obsession was a petty liar? “What’s the need anyway? No evidence, no case, right? Now can we talk about my bill so I can get back to the office?”

Banks placed his checkbook on her boot and opened it. “Five thousand for your transport… another ten for your services should do it, right?” He wrote as he spoke then tore out a leaf which he handed to her.

“I was thinking more like five grand,” she started saying, then read the check. She looked up at him with a puzzled frown shaking her head in confusion. “A hundred and fifty grand? What is this Peter? Some sort of mistake?”

“I want you to do something else for me. Consider this your advance.”

Barrister Juliet got curious fast. “I’m listening,” she said.

“I like that girl…a lot. But, I’m not a blind fool. She used to study English at UNILAG before… Class of two thousand and seven… I want you to hire someone to dig up everything there is about her - school records, police records, who she works for, everything about them. If the money isn’t enough, you let me know. I just want to know if she’s dirty.”

The Barrister was surprised “And if she is?”

“Well, you’ll pick your phone when I call for your help like you did today. Can’t ask for more.”

Barrister Juliet nodded and put the check into her bag. She took out her car keys and unlocked the car. She got in. “I’ll call you as soon as I make any progress.”

“Thanks Jules,’ Banks said, “and keep this between us……away from your father or my mother…especially my mother.”

“I understand. Be careful Peter.” She started the car, reversed out of her space and drove out of the compound. Banks started back for his car and Lade, convinced he was doing the right thing by his family.

***


Sting glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time and resumed counting the sealed carton boxes stacked over each other at the back of their MACK twelve-tire truck, again…for lack of something better to pass the time with. There were a dozen armed men with him including Spencer, so there was no reason for the sweat to be seeping through his pores like he’d been hiking from one end of Oshodi Bridge to the other.

Except that the warehouse was built of wood and zinc and the sun was especially hot. But this wasn’t just about the heat of day. It was quiet outside. His lookout hadn’t called in. He turned to his men. Spencer stood at the wide open entrance. The rest were around, mostly by a white HONDA TITAN parked at a corner. They all had SMGs or AK-49s and were ready. His HILUX was parked at another end. He felt his favorite Colt .45 hung on his left waist side. Spencer had an UZZI while the lookout had a sniper gun and a clear shot. This was the next step in his takeover-from-Johnny plan.

The warehouse was at a dead end accessed only by a narrow dirt road that led a couple miles away from the highway far from the outskirts of the city. There were no other human activities about. Presently, Benny from his perch on the ledge of the warehouse saw dust flying up in the distance along the road that led out to the highway. He lifted the binoculars hanging over his neck to his eyes and magnified it to see what was amiss. A convoy of three vehicles was approaching – two land cruisers and one BMW in between.

“Three vehicles approaching!” he shouted down to his colleagues.

At last, here we go, Sting thought. He fished for a handkerchief from his pockets to wipe his face and neck as Spencer marched back to him for his orders. The rest crowded in on him. As always, he’d thought everything through and so was decisive in his choices.

“Three vehicles. We’ll have to assume he’s got more men than we. There might be a price war. I don’t know if he has gone to Mandy before us.”

Spencer muttered a curse. “I doubt Mandy can meet his demand at a regular basis.”

Sting frowned at him. “Most of Johnny’s boys are aligning with him, or haven’t you heard? This is Johnny’s biggest account. We get it, or no one else does. Do we all understand?”

They all nodded.

“First, I want three of you out of sight, but somewhere you can watch. Spencer you’re with me… the rest of you just be ready to draw if things aren’t going my way.”

Again they all nodded. As one unit, three went out of sight to hide behind the rest of the junk in the place. Sting, Spencer waited while the rest took up positions.
The three cars drove into the warehouse, all tinted windows wound up, Sting and his men couldn’t see their occupants. They diverged to pull up abreast each other. The doors of one of the land cruisers opened and five armed policemen spilled out. Sting saw his men panic out of the corner of his eye and raised a hand to steady them. One of the policemen went to open the back seat of the BMW just as the second Land Cruiser opened for five smartly dressed men in sunshades to alight.

Sting watched Mr Monty alight from the back seat of the BMW dressed in a two piece suit and a hat. A busty young lady with brown, Latin-American features who wore the shortest and tightest green, glittery dress he’d ever seen followed. He’d heard of his taste in exotic, foreign women. She was mouth-watering to the male eye. Judging from the fact that Monty was wiping wet fingers in a handkerchief and the flushed look on his lady’s face, he could guess what they’d been up to on the drive over.

That didn’t remove an iota of focus from the face with the smiling lips and cold-button eyes approaching. Monty was a short and stocky man whose head was getting bald at the middle and gray at the sides. He owned a dozen night clubs in three cities which he kept well supplied with meth and ecstasy pills. Cocaine and heroin, he supplied street dealers from Ore to Asaba, even up to the confluence city. He purchased in bulk four times a year, exactly the same amount each time. And if this deal didn't go sideways, then he would talk to Mr. Lobo about increasing stock.

Mr. Monty eyed the truck and grinned cynically. “I hope this is not a Trojan Sting,” he said, his eyes unwavering. “It sure smells like one. At least that’s my impression.” He sniffed the hand he’d been wiping before offering Sting a handshake while looking around the warehouse at the position of his men and their trucks.

“First impressions matters most, Mr. Monty.” Sting took the handshake in a firm grip.

Mr Monty held on to him. “Ah! Well, the smell is not always impressive the first time Sting.” He sniffed the handkerchief and his eyes softened

Sting looked at the glamor girl standing by the BMW and his lips pressed into a smile he didn’t feel. “Well, true for certain exotic fruits Mr. Monty. I’m sure the scent doesn’t even come close to the real thing. But my great uncle was a hunter and he says the scent always shows the way. I’m glad your less than impressive scent was good enough to lead me to you.” He showed a few teeth with his smile this time.

Mr. Monty chuckled and released him from the handshake. “I see you’re an intelligent man, same as I. When I heard that my partnership with Uncle Johnny had reached a stalemate due to his demise and that his organization were at each other’s throat to succeed the dead man, I wondered, who is the next best thing out there? ‘cause time is money and time never waits, always ticking.

“Sting, some said. Mandy, others whispered. Well, I have this thing against black men without melanin. A black man with a yellow skin…makes me think of wolves in sheep clothing. Misleading scents too, come to think of it. So you see, you’re a fortunate man Sting, based on the amount of local business you’re going to help me sustain."

"Where there is fortune, there was a crime, they say," Sting said. “And crime pays…better…faster. I’m sure you’ve got loads of lessons to teach me in that, seeing you’re a far more fortunate man.”

Mr. Monty laughed. “Okay, I won’t argue there. Do you have anything for me?”

“Depends. Do you have any cash on you?”

“Of course! What kind of business man do you think I am? Still, let’s make sure the scent isn’t misleading, Sting. Take me to the goods first.”

Sting turned to Spencer and nodded at him. Spencer signaled the rest of Sting’s men and they went to unwrap the foremost carton boxes.

“After you,” Sting said to Mr. Monty, pointing the way.

***


“Wait, where are you taking me?”

Banks threw her a quick glance and smiled as he returned his eyes to the road. “I’m kidnapping you for the rest of the day. How does that sound?”

“Really? Help! Help! I’m being kidnapped! I’m being…!” She shouted jokingly before Banks’ right palm covered her mouth.

“Stop that! Another word from you and I’ll have to tie you up! Ouch!” He removed his hand from her mouth in a hurry. She’d bitten him. “That hurts!”

She giggled. “You'll make an unsuccessful kidnapper! I’m starving. I’d just finished making pasta when these buggers raided the house. I didn’t get a chance to eat.”

Banks ignored her language. “There is a fast food opposite my studio building. We’ll buy you take outs. Meanwhile, one of my friends’ girl friend is coming home from a music video shoot overseas this afternoon. Her dad is a partner at this management company, and she’s one of their dance choreographers. There’ll be a homecoming party this evening at her house. I’ll like you there with me before you go back home.”

Lade’s jaws dropped in surprise.

“Come on! It’ll be our second date. It will be loads of fun, I promise!”

“But your friends,” she said, “they will be there.” She pointed out.

“Sure! I don’t see what the problem is with that. We could find suitable clothes for you at any boutique. I’ve got my debit card.”

Lade shook her head hesitantly. “I…I…I can’t,” she said, but hurried on at the disappointed look on his face. “Not that I don’t want to, but meeting your friends…I just got out of custody. You can’t seriously act like you’re not at least worried about whatever your lawyer told you before she drove away.”

Banks was quiet for a while. “You’re worried someone will come looking for you and find you bailed.”

Lade nodded. There was no telling what Sting would do if he found out she’d gotten help from a lawyer he didn’t know. She could go home and tell everyone that her charges had been dropped because they had nothing concrete to hold her with.

Banks pulled up at the curb of the road and half turned at her. Lade shrank away a bit at the intensity of the moment. He took her hand instead forcing himself to be tender in spite of himself. “I won’t lie. I am discouraged. My previous memory of us was of a wonderful evening which ended beautifully. I saw a lot of future in that kiss. Today, I got to see the drug law enforcement agency building for the first time. I had business there – making them drop drug charges against the first girl I ever really cared about… but, I love you!”

Lade stared at him with eyes wide with wonder and slowly filling with tears.

“I can’t lie to myself… I…I can’t…I can’t help but want to help you get out of all this mess you’re in. Unless you’re pretty comfortable right here…”

“No, I’m not! I want out too! I… I love you too!” She winced at the L-word.

A smile tugged the corner of Banks’ lips. “Good!”

“But that’s… that’s like suicide Peter. You’ve got no idea…” She faltered there. Her misty eyes fell downcast and she steeped her trembling fingers.

Banks put an arm around her back and pulled her closer to him. He placed a soft kiss at the left corner of her lip. Lade sighed and turned a bit to capture his lips in hers. His breath was a bit minty and he smelled of aftershave and light cologne. Manly. It made her shiver with hot excitement. His kiss was slow and persuasive. And full of love and passion. It so overwhelmed her that tears rolled down her cheeks. He growled when she bit his lower lip and he invaded her with his warm tongue. Deeper. Fiercer. She moaned. She wanted to push closer into the safety of his embrace but was confined by space and angles in the car. She wanted him; regardless of myriad reasons not to get intimate with him.

She lifted a palm in between them and nudged him away. She stared at the slight swell of his lips where she’d bitten him. His eyes were glazed with passion.

“Take me…to your studio. I want you to…to make this special for me…in case…in case this is the only chance we get.”

Banks nodded and sighed with some regret. He couldn’t remember any other set of female lips he’d enjoyed as hers. Soft and full and better than he’d ever imagined. Somehow he knew he would enjoy the rest of her even better. He had dreamed it since like forever. The only question at the back of his mind was; will it be the only chance they get? Not if he could help it. You don’t just declare your love to a woman and let her walk away.

***


Ten million naira richer, Sting, Spencer and the rest of the boys drove back to town in higher spirits than they’d expected. Apart from the fact that future consignments would have to be moved all the way to Ore before their existence became Mr. Monty’s headache (much more riskier yes, but Sting was willing to make the concession since the account was his largest yet), the meeting was deemed a successful one. Sting had the cash beneath a false bottom at his HILUX’s trunk to prove it. Five million in un-taxable profits wasn’t bad for a day’s work.

Spencer was behind the wheels as usual. He shook his head, eyes glued to the heavy highway traffic. “The phones still dey switched off.”

Sting remembered. The other phones had been switched off to prevent distractions.

“I wonder when we will get home with this stupid traffic. Where is the key?”

Spencer took out a single key from the right hip pocket of his jacket. Sting took it from him and turned to carry a heavy, wooden box at the back seat of the HILUX. He placed it on his lap and unlocked its padlock. He opened the lid and sifted through the dozen phones there for his. It was a rule – everyone turned in their phones when they were on a job with Sting. If they needed one for the job, Sting provided a clean one. This way, their personal lives didn’t interfere with work.

He closed the lid without re-locking it and returned the box to the back seat. He turned his cell phone on. The phone suddenly began vibrating beeping again and again as the text messages tumbled in one after the other interrupting him. There were four beeps in all. He frowned at the phone. He scrolled through the phone to check the messages. The first was from Cindy. The second was from Gina. The third was Cindy again. And the earliest was from Tobechi. He frowned.

“What is wrong?” Spencer had caught the puzzled frown that marred Sting’s ugly face further when he looked at the text messages.

Sting knew he hadn’t been Cindy’s favorite person in a very long while. She usually went through Spencer and he’d preferred it that way. Gina never texted but since he’d been unreachable, she must have felt what she had to say was urgent. But Tobe… that was his contact at drug law. They hadn’t spoken in six months when he… he’d warned him of the case drug law was building against him. The new buyers that month had actually been undercover agents. He stared at the phone with dawning suspicion.

He read Tobechi’s message first:
HAWKS PROWLING EARLY. KEEP YOUR CHICKS SAFE.
Sting’s eyes widened. He hurried through the other messages lips thinning in rage after each one. Spencer kept his eyes on the road, waiting.

“Drug law raided the house this morning. Only Lade was arrested.”

Spencer got alert. He looked at his wrist watch. It was past three pm, and on a Friday. They were still a long way out. If they didn’t get her out by tonight, she’ll be in custody till Monday and there was no telling what would happen. There was no bailing during the weekend. He could tell Sting was worried. Who knew what she might reveal if they ‘questioned’ her right?

“I hope I have Barrister Tunji’s number stored.” Sting scrolled his phone book. “We can send him to bail her out. We’ll pay him when they get back! Shit! I can’t find him! Okay…okay here he is…LIAR TUNJI”

Spencer chuckled while Sting dialed.

Donkross1
Mattkent
DandyPearl
Heemah
Sageez
Afz9095
DVMtuppence
Maggielovely
Labaski
Jaytoy
Calmdove
Damyem

I guess I'm gon do d tags myself. I'm losing interest in continuing this thread. No feedback, no more posts.

johnspurgeon... Honestly since midnight that I stumbled on this thread I've being glued to my device.... You've got a great story going on here (nice plot, almost precise description)... People might decide to be the ghost reader but don't be discouraged...

Wow,this story is captivating. I'm so so inlove with it.

this is superb. I am loving the intrigues and twists. Keep it coming

remiseyi:
johnspurgeon... Honestly since midnight that I stumbled on this thread I've being glued to my device.... You've got a great story going on here (nice plot, almost precise description)... People might decide to be the ghost reader but don't be discouraged...

Okay, here goes...

APTER SIX


The door into the studio unlocked and they stumbled in already all over each other, hands roving everywhere, impatient to take off the clothing barriers. Banks managed to kick the door shut with his heels before lifting her into his arms and backing her to the wall. She wasn’t very light and lithe, but he was strong enough. Lade lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist burrowing her tongue into his mouth. Never in all her experience had she been too impatient to get undressed and felt up by her mate. She was too turned on in that moment to be modest.

She murmured her approval when he went to work on the buttons of her shorts. All the pleasure of pre-intimacy would be a waste of time. She got her foot down and went to work on his belt. She felt her shorts and pants get pulled down together and groaned. Her hands weren’t steady enough. Moreover, his belt buckle was complicated. She grunted impatiently pulling at his trousers.

Banks laughed at her ineffectiveness. He pulled her shorts and undies down to her ankles. She kicked them away. He unbuckled his belt in a fluid, practiced motion and she helped him pull the trousers down. She could see the contour of his penis and grabbed at it through his bossers and squeezed appreciating its girth. She giggled when he groaned.

“Take it off, Peter! I’m so ready! Infact, I’ve been ready for a long time now.”

Banks didn’t need a second invitation. He pulled his bossers down to his ankles and kicked his trousers and bossers away like she did.

And time stood still for a moment as they gazed into each other’s eyes reading the depth of desire in them. Their hearts beat separately, yet at the same pace and rhythm set by the avalanche of feelings that had possessed them. No further words were necessary. Banks lifted her in his arms and carried her to the couch. He laid her down on its soft cushions and knelt at its edge.

Lade held out her hands to him. “Come to me,” she said without her lips moving. Her look said it all.

He was as obedient as a robot programmed to her needs. He parted her beautiful legs, long for a woman, chocolate skin soft and firm, and felt them lock around his slim masculine waist urging him closer. “You’re so beautiful,” He said solemnly.

She blushed. If there was ever a heart attack destined for her, it would occur now, she thought as he leaned in to kiss her. She felt his hard on rest at her entrance, hot and seeking the depths of her pleasures. She kissed him with all she had, and wished she had more. She was molten and simmering, aching to be filled by his strength.

She whimpered as she felt him nudge at her folds and opened her legs wider. He broke the kiss and looked at her eyes, all dark and soft for him as he entered her. He groaned at the heat of her core. She bit her lips as he pulled back and shuddered when he pushed back in. She rocked her hips as she felt him retreat and pulled at his lean, naked buttocks as he re-entered. She squealed and pulled his neck to bury her soft moans into his loving mouth. They found a slow rhythm they enjoyed until they could torment themselves no longer.

He quickened his pace when he felt her nails dig into the skin of his waist. There would be neither reservations nor control now as he began to drive into her again and again and again. Their gazes were still locked and they could both see the extent of each other’s passion as if it mirrored back at them. She began a low hum. A new song. He grunted to stop from joining her, but he knew he wasn't so far off now from jumping off the cliff on this runway they were speeding along. His thighs were beginning to ache and it must have showed in his eyes.

“Peter! Don’t you dare…stop now! Don’t!” Lade panted. “I’m…cum…” the words stopped flowing and she started gasping and shaking. Her eyes rolled up and the lids screwed shut. She clenched up inside and spasmed. Banks couldn’t have stopped even if his mother just walked into the room. His groans were so loud he bent to take her mouth in his and let her kiss him senseless in her oblivion. She could have chewed his lips off for all they cared. The torrents wouldn’t stop pumping out and his hips wouldn’t stop humping her. He was sure he would bruise her from the sheer brutishness of his orgasm – three years’ worth of celibacy – that when he was spent and able to catch his breath, he whispered apologies into her ear. He caressed her face and told her all the wonderful things his centrifuged brain had whipped up.

Lade was amused and touched at his apologies and tender words. She’d thought he wouldn’t stop cumming inside her. It was enough to impregnate her twice, maybe thrice. The thought got her sober though and hyperventilated in silence until he leaned off her. She wiped the sweat from his brows and smiled at him in appreciation.

“I wish there was somewhere I could clean up,” she said.

Banks frowned at her. “Of course! There is a fully functional bathroom here!” He got off her and lifted her again despite protests that she could walk. He carried her across the studio to the adjourning bathroom door. “I think I might join you myself,” he added.

Lade laughed. Her thighs were so sticky she couldn’t wait to soak in a tub. She tickled him which made him laugh until his grip under her slackened. She slipped down to her feet to wobble, and held onto him for support.

They made love again in the egg shaped tub, with the warm water swirling around their bodies. Delirium became their new favorite state of mind as they sought to be one with the universe one more time. Lade felt she would burst with pleasure. He wasn’t the most skilled lover, but the fact that their sentiments were in sync and they seemed to be attuned to each other’s carnal needs left no room for comparison. She cried when she came and held on tight to him as she rode him till he started jerking underneath him.

She woke up to find herself lying on her side on the couch wearing just panties and her top. There was a take-out bag on the coffee table. She made to sit up.

“Stop! Don’t move! One more minute please!”

She turned in the direction of Banks’ voice. He was sitting on a cushion to the couch’s left and had a pencil and drawing pad. He was staring at her and the pad intermittently, making marks on the pad.

“What are you doing?” Her curiosity made her ask.

“I’ll show you when I finish… just stay still.”

She waited a bit watching as the pencil moved on his sketch pad and realized he was sketching her. She got self-conscious.

“Peter! You’re drawing me? Can’t you see I’m half naked?” She sat up with feigned indignation. Her nipples rubbed on her shirt and she remembered she didn’t put her bra back on.

“I was done anyway, just putting in finishing touches,” Banks said. He got off his cushion and went to sit next to her to show her his sketch of her lying on the couch. “I’m no Boticcelli, but this is… passable…”

Lade laughed. “That’s my face alright… the jaw yes… the nose is alright… the hair must’ve been easy. You drew me wearing panties, and I thought you were a gentleman!” She looked up from the sketch with a grin to catch him looking down at her cleavage. She punched him on the chest playfully.

“Ouch!” He grinned lasciviously.

“Horn dog! My eyes are up here!” She pointed two fingers at her eyes.

She saw his eyes darken with desire and began to back away in protest when he grabbed at her. She half turned away but his hands were on her breasts squeezing and kneading them. She took a deep breath and relaxed. It felt so good the way he touched her. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She kissed him back. But then, she heard his stomach growl and stopped. His lips widened into a smile on hers. She pulled back, amusement on her face too. They began laughing.

“We should eat,” she said. “I told you I was hungry.”

“Me too I guess…more for real food than for you…”

“Insatiable pig!” She pretended to be disgusted.

“The sentiment is mutual,” he replied and they both laughed, unashamed at their feelings for each other.

They ate coconut rice and salad and drank water from Banks’ refrigerator. Afterwards, with canned beers in their hands, Lade took closer look at the paintings hung on the wall while Banks explained the concepts behind each. She pretended to understand all of it.

They made love once again after which he fell asleep on her laps. Time was running, but she didn’t want the day to end. She wanted to spend more time with him. She’d never felt more secure and alive. The way he looked at her made her feel so desirable, so unlike other men she’d been with whom only wanted to satisfy their lust and get their money’s worth. There was no demanding from him which made it easier to unbridle her passions. He valued her, regardless of everything he knew or suspected.

There was much more he didn’t know though, and thoughts of those made her want to sneak away before he woke. She felt a twinge of regret at the irony that the source of her joy could ultimately bring her nothing but pain. But she was reluctant. There was nothing wrong with being happy for a day. It wasn’t too much to ask from fate which had brought them back together. Reality could wait till tomorrow, not today; she couldn’t bear to leave the man she loved. Not just yet.

Banks woke up to see her staring out through the window her arms folded. She was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice him join her. The sun was going down on industrial Lagos. The studio was on the sixth floor and gave a wide view of the hustle and bustle in the middle class part of the city. NEPA had brought the lights during his slumber and the air conditioner was humming lightly.

Banks embraced her from behind and pulled her in to nuzzle her neck. She sighed and leaned her head back on the crook of his shoulders. He was only a couple inches taller.

“I’m keeping you from your friend’s welcome home party,” she said with a twinge of regret.

“I can always apologize tomorrow. I prefer being where you are.”

She hesitated. “Do you think they’ll be nice - if I came?” She felt him stiffen and turned to look at him. “Maybe we shouldn’t. I’ve already stayed too long.” She could see he wanted her to but was afraid. If she went out with him among his friends, she’ll have to do it more often to keep up appearances for him. It was like Pandora’s Box.

“A couple hours more shouldn’t hurt. I want to be involved with you Lade and I don’t hide things like that from my friends. They don’t know you. All you have to do is be your beautiful, friendly self. We pop in, dance a bit, and pop out.”

Lade looked at him a long time. “I want to be involved with you too. I already am… I love you so much… but…”

“No buts…”

“Yes, but… I know what getting involved with you could result in. Do you - know getting involved with me could result in?”

Banks shrugged. “I’ve got an idea. Still I know we have a chance if only we never stop believing we can make it work.”

She stared him in the eye but his sincerity never wavered. He really wanted to this for real. The question then was, did she? She sighed.

“Kiss me again,” she said, “I don’t want to ever forget the way you kiss me.”

Banks did. His cell phone ringing stopped them before they went past kisses. They were like teenagers in heat. He went to answer his call.

His cell phone ringing reminded her that her cell phone was still held in evidence. She’d been asked to return on Monday to pick it up since the officer in charge of items put in the evidence room was out on an errand.

***


The sun was still going down far away to the west. Cindy saw the HILUX pull up outside the compound from her vantage point at her bedroom window. It was Sting no doubt, probably with Lade whose cell phone was still not going through. She frowned when he alighted from behind the wheels. Spencer hadn’t driven him today. It didn’t seem Lade was with him either for no one else alighted with him. Then she heard him shouting at the hair salon girls downstairs. Sting didn’t seem to be in a good mood.

She went to get herself a cigarette - the third to last in the pack. There was an unfinished bottle of beer on a table in her bedroom. She lighted the cigarette and took her beer bottle back to the window wondering what was going on. If they didn’t get Nicky out before six pm tonight, she was going to spend the weekend there. Cindy was sure Sting wouldn’t want that. So what was he doing here if he hadn’t gotten her out yet?

Cindy didn’t have to wait long enough for the reply to her numerous questions. She’d just thrown the butt of her cigarette out of the window when she heard the heavy knock on her bedroom door. No one else knocked at her door like he. She hated his guts but was afraid; too afraid for her life to go against him.

“I know you’re in there bitch! Open this damn door or I’ll put it down.”

Cindy wasn’t the least surprised at his vehemence. She was used to it. She placed her almost empty beer bottle on the table and hurried to the door and unlocked it. The door was pushed open from outside and it hit Cindy on her fore head. She yelped and cursed, and stepped back into the room rubbing her forehead. She had a pained expression on her face when Sting walked into the room with his characteristic scowl on his face. He looked past her into the room as if searching for something.

“Where is she?” He asked.

“Where is who? Nicky?”

“Good! Your old age hasn’t reduced your smartness Cindy. Yes, where is Nicky?”

Cindy frowned. “You no get my text? Drug law come arrest am this morning. She never come back since! Na me suppose ask you where is she!

Sting glared at her his eyes full of venom but knowing that it would be useless to waste it on the wrong person. Cindy could tell something else was going on by now. She was puzzled.

“You better be telling the truth that you don’t know where she is Cindy, because if I find her and realize you were holding back on me… I’m glad you know me well enough.”

“Wetin you dey talk about? You don find am for station you no see am? Wetin de happen Sting?” Cindy was a couple steps towards full panic mode now for all her hatred for him had moved backstage and what she felt was confusion as to what was going on.

Sting sighed in frustration. The stupid bitch actually knew nothing about her friend’s whereabouts. He kicked the door shut against eavesdroppers at the corridor outside and went to sit on a chair in the room. “Wetin you get?” He asked keeping his irritation out of his voice while he got his phone out of his pocket.

“You mean, wetin I no get? Them waka from apartment to apartment. I had to flush everything. I sure say all the girls do the same thing.”

Sting muttered a curse. He knew what it cost him to keep the girls high and happy. He had scraped everything he had to put together Mr. Monty’s order. The girls would have to make do with hemp and beer for a few days but that wasn’t his immediate problem. “Give me a cigarette.”

Cindy was surprised but brought him the packet and a lighter. Sting lit up and asked her to light up the last one. She did. They took those initial puffs in silence, an addict and her dealer slash landlord with a lot of buried history, smoking together for the first time in almost a decade.

Sting cleared his throat. “My lawyer said she’s no longer there,” he said.

Cindy frowned and shook her head in incomprehension.

“A lawyer from one fancy-named chamber came and got them to drop all charges against her. According to him, they didn’t have any evidence to charge her with and this unnamed lawyer made them see reasons.”

Cindy was surprised. A lot of things went through her mind but none of them made any sense. “She wouldn’t run away Sting. There must be an explanation.”

“You’re her only friend here Cindy. How do you think she got a lawyer?”

Her mind immediately went to Banks, but there was no way she was going to tell Sting about that. She went to her refrigerator and got out a bottle of beer. “You want one?”

“Don’t change the topic Cindy. And yeah, one won’t be bad.”

She got out a second one and threw it at Sting who caught it neatly. “Sorry, I no get opener.” She opened hers with her teeth. Sting did the same.

“I sabi say you no trust me Sting. I don go through everything wey we talk about for my mind. I no sabi how she take get lawyer.”

“Hmm! You heard about that boy I met her with at Rosa’s bar. Is she still seeing him?”

Cindy shook her head. “She told me about that night and I advise am say make she no talk to the boy again. If she been collect him number, she no tell me. But I go de surprise say na’im.”

Sting drank in silence, keeping his thoughts to himself. “Thanks for the beer,” he said after the bottle was empty. He got to his feet. “If I find out it was that boy, I’ll kill him, like I did that your lover boy. What was his name again?”

Cindy was quiet. The memory was so painful especially brought up by him. Her jaws set and she bit her teeth together.

“I asked you a damn question Cindy!” he bellowed walking towards her intimidatingly.

“Dennis!” She shouted. “Dennis Anana!”

“Good thing you remember. You should tell her while you still can. She’s very beautiful… better than you were when you were her age… Where your heart is, is where your home is… You should tell her that I don’t share my girls’ hearts with outsiders. Their bodies maybe, but for a fee.” He chuckled and exited the room.

Cindy repressed her sobs. Love was supposed to be a beautiful thing. Somewhere else maybe, but in this world of hers, it only brought heartache and ruined lives courtesy of Sting. If only he were no more.

She walked back to her window puffing at her cigarette holding on to that thought. She waited by the window till she saw him enter the HILUX and drive away. If only he were no more. Where else would she score the drugs she needed at a whole forty percent discount in price? All she did was be at his beck and call and do whatever he asked.

***


It was past dusk when they arrived at Theresa’s house. There were a lot of cars parked along the curb of the street outside the fenced compound that it took Banks a while to find a decent parking space. Lade wondered if she was a famous person or if the party was a social event. She evidently had a lot of friends who drove turning out en masse for her homecoming party.

“You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” Lade replied and alighted after him. She stopped to check her reflection on the convertible’s wound up window. They’d stopped at a boutique full of designer clothes and had refused to be overwhelmed by all the latest trending feminine clothing that hung everywhere, each with exorbitant price tag. Moreover, they were in a hurry. She’d chosen a red colored BURBERRY evening dress and a simple swim suit which she now wore underneath. Banks had bought her a pair of turquoise ear rings and a gold necklace despite her protest at the price and glamour.

“Trust me, every guy in there will be jealous of me.” Banks said. He’d changed at the studio to a gray body-hugging polo, white shorts that went past his knees and sneakers.

She looked at him and smiled when he blew her a kiss. He walked around the car and offered her his arms. Her three inch heels put her on the same height as Banks. First thing Lade noticed on entering the compound wasn’t reassuring. Security was lax at the place. Apart from the gateman who was presently taking a break at the security lodge beside the gate, there was no one watching out for all the cars and the owners present at the house.

They entered from the front door. Two heavily muscled bouncers met at them at the entrance, neither was armed. Both of them recognized Banks, hugged him, shook her hands warmly and let them through.

The party was in full blast beyond them. Party music was playing at a very high volume, none of which they’d heard from outside. The sitting room had been cleared of all furniture and was full of party invitees in their groups drinking and talking. The ladies were all young and most were wearing their party gowns. A few had stripped to their bikini sets. The guys wore dressed like Banks. Some had gotten bare-chested in the course of the evening. The air was exhilarating with all the smiles, jokes and gossip going around.

Banks and Lade were noticed immediately they stepped in. Banks was a well-known face in these circles, while Lade was an unfamiliar head-turner.

“Straight to the bar,” Banks said holding her hand in his. They got appreciative waves and ‘hellos’ as they made their way through. Banks got stopped a few times during which he introduced Lade as his girlfriend. Lade’s smile seemed genuine. It wasn’t a tough sell. They ordered a dry martini for Banks and long island tea for Lade and stood by the bar waiting for their drinks. The buzz had increased in the room and Lade caught a few surreptitious glances thrown her way.

“It’s a good thing I’m not over-dressed or anything. I wonder what they’re talking about.”

“Sweetheart, don’t be so self-absorbed.”

Lade frowned at him. ”First time you use an endearment on me,” she said, “you’re patronizing me. Not cool, sweetheart. Where are your friends?”

Their drinks arrived. The bartender told them Theresa was at the pool at the back of the house. Banks led Lade towards a back exit through the loud laughs and free, whispered gossips among the ladies; hidden winks, stares and unreturned toasts at his good fortune landing such a hot babe from appreciative guys. Unconsciously, his free hand went to her waist which he knew swung seductively even when she wasn’t trying. He cringed when the word ‘Jennifer’ came floating back at him. The look Lade gave him told him she heard it too.

The dining section had been cleared too, and there was an exit that led through a long corridor to the back. The kitchen was locked.
“
Is that what this is about?” She made her voice heard over the music.

“What?” Banks was puzzled.

“Showing me off… This isn’t much about me meeting your friends than it is about Jennifer meeting me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re supposed to be with Jennifer – at least almost everyone who knows you here thinks so. You’re clearing the air, especially with her.” She stopped at the exit.

Banks stopped too and drained the last of his martini. They stepped aside for a couple to enter from the back yard. The girl was wearing a swim suit while the guy had swim trunks on. They were wet from swimming and were drying up with towels and laughing at some stupid joke about an embarrassed guy with a boner in the pool. They recognized Banks and exchanged greetings after which they continued on their way.

“So…” Lade resumed looking at him for an explanation.

“Would it be bad if I killed two birds with one stone? Meeting my friends in public like this… it was bound to happen. And if you ask me, I’ll say it is high time. I also wanted to show you a glimpse of my world.” Banks shrugged. “But I can take you home if you want. The last thing I want is to upset you. Not today.”

Lade sighed and shook her head. “We shouldn’t stay long. It’s nightfall already and I should be getting back.” She looked outside at the dark sky.

“I agree. Let’s find my friends, dance to a couple songs and then excuse ourselves all in an hour.”

Lade nodded, “Okay,” she said and took his hand in hers.

***


The smell of grilled meat was so strong but couldn't mask the scent of Indian Hemp. Lade had a sudden crave for a smoke and steeled herself to be responsible. She was surprised she’d gone all day without a fix. She hadn’t even thought about it until now. Now looking around, she was sure someone in the dark, partying crowd had something. She pushed it to the back of her mind with effort.

Security lights were on everywhere, bathing the yard with illumination even though there were blind spots. The yard was filled with even more people. Banks and Lade were found before they made it to the pool.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Christina shouted from behind them. She was one of Banks faculty members at school.

They turned to see Christina looking ravishing in her bikini cups and pair of shorts over her bikini pants. She had a plate of grilled meat

“Tina hi!” he hugged her with a huge grin on her face. “Wow you look marvelous!”

“Yeah? I could say the same of you. There’s this stupid rumor you’re strictly keeping to your studio these days, but here you are.”

“I wasn’t going to miss Theresa’s homecoming for the world.” Banks replied. He turned to Lade. “Babe, this is Christina, twin sister to my first girlfriend in art school.”

If Christina was surprised he’d called the pretty girl beside him ‘babe’ she didn’t show it. “He asked me out first, before mistaking her for me, then settled for her.” She was shaking hands with Lade who was amused at the story.

“Ouch! That’s an old grudge, Tina!”

“Well, she dumped you. So, I already called it even. Although it doesn’t hurt to remind myself what an A-hole you are with the ladies.” Her grin and pleasant tone never diminished. “I’m kidding.”

“I know, but guilty as charged. This is Lade, a very old friend of mine who I ran into recently. We’re still in the haze of reunion.”

Christina chuckled. “I can imagine. I love your dress, Lade. Lovely earrings too! My ears envy yours!”

“I’m pleased to meet you Christina! Any friend of Peter is a friend of mine.”

She called him by his real name and with affection, Christina noticed. Did they just have sex before coming? Did Chika and company know about her? There was only one way to find out. She closed in to whisper in his ears. “She’s gorgeous… but heads up, Jennifer is here too. Alone.” She said with a knowing smile.

Lade saw Banks shrug at her and wondered what his ex’s twin sister just whispered into his ear.

A quiet public declaration… Christina understood what the shrug meant. Showing up with this one without any outward concern towards Jennifer’s presence or perception could only mean that one thing. She clapped her hands giddily. She’d envied Jennifer and was neither friendly with her or Chika. The only reason she was here was because it was Theresa’s party and all the ‘who-is-who’ were here too. Yes, she would love to see Miss Aloof, Rich and Talented, and her loud-mouthed cousin humbled a bit.

“I saw Andy and the rest by the pool shed. Come, I’ll lead you to them.” She had to be there for the introduction.

Banks and Tina talked about the progress they were making in their school final project as they made their way through the crowd of partiers who were almost all in their twenties, just like inside. More of the ladies had bikinis on and most of the guys were bare-chested. They were either drinking, smoking, eating grilled meat or any possible combination. Theresa’s pool was Olympic-sized and there were a lot of swimmers splashing around. A few had floats while the rest were experts. Nevertheless there were a couple life guards around.

There were a lot of semi-nude, nubile bodies with titties bouncing as they danced with hard-bodied men to the music playing in the yard. Banks perceived the Indian Hemp and looked at Lade. She seemed to be looking around to recognize someone. He squeezed her hand. She gave him a nervous smile and for the first time, he wondered if it had been a great idea to bring her here. She’d just gotten out of drug law custody that morning.

These sorts of parties always involved rich, care-free girls and guys looking to have fun which always involved excess alcohol, cigarettes, and drugs if someone had a dealer’s control number. Someone almost always did.

Taiwo was one of Sting’s men who stayed at the Akoka area. Taiwo had been contacted by one of Theresa’s cousins who schooled at UNILAG – where he operated from. He’d been to numerous house parties and was known by some of the invitees present who he’d sold to at one time, one party or another.

He sat among eight clients at the darkest corner in the yard whose idea of fun in that moment included smoking skunk or snorting coke. He didn’t bring any heroin. He didn’t want to risk a client overdosing and setting the attention of whatever authorities that would be brought in on his trail. His sharp eyes roved through the crowd in search of the familiar face of a customer he’d served elsewhere. The party was almost coming to close and he still had some skunk and pills he’d have loved to dispense before he called it a night.

That was when he saw her walking past towards the pool house – which was off limits for most of the partiers because it had been set aside for the hostess’s inner circle. Nicky. He was sure it was her. She was tall and had dreads like Asa, the Yoruba international singer. He had almost had her once.

Wait! Hadn’t Kunle called him an hour ago to say she was missing and Sting wanted everyone to be on the lookout for her? Here she was on his turf, walking with two strangers, acting like she was one with the crowd. Well, wasn’t that what escorts do – walk with strangers? Any other night, yes… tonight, the information made him no better. Whatever she was up to, the boss was pissed at her. Sting or any of his henchmen were to be contacted immediately she was spotted.

Whatever the hell was going on! He didn’t have a direct line to Sting else he’d have by-passed Kunle. He had to call Kunle. Kunle would get the credits, but that was how the job worked.

Taiwo turned to one of his customers – the one nearest to him – and tapped his shoulder. The guy was holding a tube and blowing marijuana smoke through his nose. The customer gave him a morose look. Taiwo pointed at Banks through the crowd. “You sabi that guy wey de waka with those two babes?”

The guy shook his head slowly as if afraid he’ll lose his bearing and returned to his bong.

Taiwo chuckled. They guy was half-stoned, plus the lights in the place were very low. He wasn’t to be blamed. Taiwo took out his phone and placed a call to Kunle.

***


Jennifer wished she was in her room doing something meaningful on her laptop. She was depressed and if not for the fact that the party was for Theresa she wouldn’t be here. Definitely. She watched Theresa and Tunde dance to Rihanna and Future’s L-O-V-E-E-E-E. The girl was tipsy and crazy dancing all over Tunde. Half a dozen others in the pool house at the extreme end of the yard were watching too. Tunde couldn’t match a quarter of her dance moves, but who cared. He was enjoying the dance even better than their onlookers. Theresa looked happy. Bayo and Idara were making out close by. They’d been sharing a cigarette, but now their unfinished wine glasses were on the table which contained three bottles of champagne and glasses belonging to others, Idara was on Bayo’s lap lip-locked and giving a sensitive Jennifer a show. Jennifer sipped her SMIRNOFF and wished she knew what it felt like.

Her eyes caught Andy watching her and tried a smile. He shook his head at her.

“You’re going to hurt yourself this way Jen,” Andy leaned in to say. He was sitting next to her at a table they’d colonized for themselves. Chika was dancing with someone else.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You’re brooding.” Andy replied.

“No, I’m not, I’m thinking of something,” she replied.

“There they are!” Jennifer heard a voice that could only belong to one person in the world and her heat missed a beat. She raised the bottle to her lips and suddenly the beat was all to hear. No one was talking anymore. She drained her glass and turned to see what the distraction was about.

The talk in the room resumed before she sighted him. And her. And the way their hand were linked as they walked towards them. The pain in her heart wasn’t a figment of her imagination. It was physical.

“She’s beautiful!” Andy whispered from beside her and quickly replaced the amazement on his face with a grin when he noticed the queer look Jennifer threw him.

Idara and Bayo had ended their make-out session. Theresa and Tunde had stopped dancing while Chika was returning to their table. “Banks my man! Finally!” Tunde shouted above the music and walked to meet him halfway. Theresa threw Jennifer a quick, puzzled glance and went after her boyfriend.

“Look who I found,” Christina quipped.

“Hi Tina!” Tunde greeted. “Hope you’re having fun at the party!”

“It’s awesome. Thanks for the invite!” They all knew she and her sister hadn’t been invited, but so were about half the people present.

Banks took Tunde’s hand in a warm handshake after which they pulled each other in for a half-hug so that both their right shoulders touched and their free hands clasped the other’s back. He was excited to see Theresa.

“Wow, you’re still as thin as a stick!” He joked as he hugged her and kissed her cheek.

“And you’re still a jerk!" She returned the hug. “Mmmm! I missed you!”

“Hey! I’m right here!” Tunde snarled and the three of them laughed.

“How was the tour? Was it worth missing tests week?”

“Definitely! Do you know the kind of contacts I made? It was really crazy! But I fitted right in, you know! Loads of fun! I’m glad to be back with you guys though!”

“Yeah, right…doesn’t sound like you missed us at all,” Banks replied. He saw her eyes look past him at Lade and turned to Lade. “This is our hostess and her boyfriend.” He didn’t introduce her but Tunde could hazard a guess. Lade shook hand with them.

Banks recognized most of the others who were at other tables in the pool house with them. They all attended the same school. They were all eating meat and drinking and gossiping. Some acknowledged him with either a nod or a wave and he returned their acknowledgements as Theresa led them to the table were the rest of their inner circle was waiting.

One by one, they all threw unconscious glances at Jennifer who had a plastic smile on her face. It was easy for Lade to figure out which of them was Jennifer. When she did, it was hard to understand why Bank didn’t fall for her. What his criteria were for choosing her over Jennifer escaped her? She’d expected Jennifer to be… what?

“This must be the VVIP section, Theresa! I can’t believe it’s the whole gang! What’s up guys?” Christina broke the silence. She had a smug smile on her face.

Chika rolled her eyes at her. “Hey Banks!” She greeted. “I thought you weren’t going to show as usual!”

“I’m here now! The party is complete!” Banks punched his clenched fist with the folded knuckles of everyone at the table. Tunde brought them two chairs, (a silent message to Christina to beat it) and set it beside Idara and Bayo. Tina and Chika could never be managed at the same table. Banks signaled Lade to sit down. Lade did, as observingly silent as a newcomer. Banks sat beside her while Tunde took one of the open champagne bottles on the table and filled their glasses.

Banks turned to Lade. “These are my closest friends in the whole world.” He mentioned their names one after the other. Idara complimented her dress. The rest grunted simple ‘hellos’ accompanied with waves, nods or smiles. It was surreal. Jennifer’s ‘hello’ was a little better than a croak. Idara and Chika were curious while the guys seemed suspicious and uncomfortable.

Chika darted an evil eye at Christina who stood behind Lade and Banks openly gloating at Jennifer. “So, who’s your new friend Banks?” Chika asked.

“Yeah, you’re yet to introduce her.” Theresa entered looking at Idara and Jennifer for support.

Andy’s discomfort increased. As if introductions were necessary… She looked like an escort to him even though she wasn’t strung out.

“My college crush! Her name is Lade. Guys, she’s the one I told you I ran into the other night.”

It was Lade’s turn to look as surprised as the rest of the girls. She turned a puzzled stare at him just like the other girls had turned to their boyfriends. They had talked about her? What had he told them about her? Was what he’d told them part of the reason for their discomfort?

Jennifer had no one but had turned to Andy, her faithful correspondent and had to remind herself to shut her gaping mouth. She was shocked. Now she understood why Banks had seemed reluctant to date her even after promising to try. His college crush was back in his life, and boy, was she hot or what?

Nobody had said a word for a full minute. By now, Lade was alarmed. Her cool was gone and she was fidgeting. Her left fingers shook in a slight tremor and she clenched them on her laps below the table. “What’s going on Peter?” She had to ask. “Why are they all silent and staring?”

“I don’t know babe…” Banks turned to his friends puzzled beyond belief. This was fast turning into a disaster. “Come on, guys? Is this a new hazing idea or what?”

Chika spoke in an angry tone she thought was low enough. “He mentioned a girl and you didn’t think it wise to let me know?” She asked her boyfriend.

“Will you shut up Chika? Don’t you see we are embarrassing her?” Andy retorted. They turned to see that the rest of the pool house was quiet as well and staring at their table.

Lade had had enough. She pushed her seat back and got to her feet. Banks grabbed her hand but she slapped him off. “Don’t even think it.” She warned and walked away from the table and out of the pool house with all eyes on her.

Banks turned to look at his friends, his own anger now uncoiling. He reached for his wine funnel but held the narrow neck too hard it broke in his hands and spilled champagne on the table and his clothes. All the girls at their table gasped.

Jennifer shot up from her chair at first to take care of his visibly bleeding fingers, then changed her mind. “I’ll go find her,” she said and headed towards the exit.

“I’ll come with you.” Idara got off her chair and went after Jennifer who was ahead with longer strides

“Oh Gosh you’re bleeding.” Theresa shouted on seeing the blood on Banks' hand.

“I’ll be fine.” Banks grumbled. He took Lade’s glass and drained the contents. He reached for the bottle of champagne and some blood dropped on the table.

“The first aid kit!” Tunde ordered. Theresa hurried out to get the first aid kit.

Banks licked the small, bleeding cut on his thumb and glared at Chika. The rest of the guys gave her disapproving glances too.

“Great! Of course, the fault is entirely mine! As if all your girls weren’t dying to ask the same questions!” Chika shouted in defiance. She shrank when Andy half rose from his chair in her direction. “I swear, one more word from you tonight, babe, I’ll…” He stopped himself. He sat back down and steeped his fingers in an effort to control his anger. Tunde and Bayo were as quiet as dead mice.

Christina smiled at this and received a scowl from Chika. “And you! What are you smiling at?” She asked.

The rest of them turned to look at Christina. “My sister would be looking for me by now. I’ll see you later Banks.” She tapped his shoulder and got a curt nod from him. She left the pool house like she was escaping, her head full of gossip.

Gotta get back to work (script in progress, deadline in the horizon) but I'll be here in the morning with the next chapter.

Have a happy new week ahead meanwhile, and thanks for the comments and ghost-reading.

PS: I'm an editor, so I know there is nothing like a perfect story. I hope to get more reviews as time goes. Goodnight!!/

***

Lade was almost at the gates when she heard footsteps following. She was beginning to feel strung out. Her nerves were shaken and still shaking. She turned and was surprised to see Jennifer coming after her.

“I just want to talk,” Jennifer said quickening her footsteps.

“Go away! You’re the last person I want to talk to!” She saw Idara walking after them behind Jennifer and continued out of the compound on to the street outside.

“Great!” She didn’t have any money on her, she remembered. She blinked away the tears and stopped to think. She could borrow a phone and call Cindy to pick her up somewhere.

Jennifer crossed the gate after Lade. “Just hear me out,” she said, “I’ll like to explain.” Lade turned to her as she arrived. “What could you possibly say you all haven’t already said with your eyes?” Lade barked glaring at Idara who arrived at that point. “…you thought you could have him for the evening and to your surprise, he brought me along? He told me a lot about you, you know?”

Idara frowned at Jennifer. “What is she talking about?” Lade and Jennifer ignored her.

“Did he also tell you about the conversation we had last night? I didn’t come here for him. None of us even thought he’d show up.”

“Yeah, right!”

Idara chipped in. “See Lade, there are no problems here. It’s just that it had been a while Banks brought a date along to our outings. We didn’t even have a hint he was seeing someone. The guys did and didn’t mention it to us, but we don’t have any problems with you. There is no reason we can’t all be friends.

Lade nodded. “It’s the most important thing in the world - getting along his friends. Else they may not approve of me.”

“That’s a wrong way to see it.” Idara replied, surprised at her perspective.

“Is it? Why don’t you ask your friend here if she’s in love with him!”

Idara shook her head. Who did she think she was, coming here to spin such trash on Jennifer? “What are you talking about? You don’t know a thing about Jennifer or any of us! How dare you slander my friend in front of me?” She asked looking at Jennifer who looked away in embarrassment. Realization slowly cleared her clouded mind like a drop of petrol melting a tough ball of drying shoe gum.

Lade sighed. “You’re right, I don’t know you. Judging a stranger is easy. Being wrong about them is even easier. I’m sorry.”

Jennifer shrugged and folded her arms. “There is nothing to apologize for? If he’s with you, then we are all cool with it. Just come back inside and let’s change this horrible first impression you have of us.”

Lade almost agreed, but just then, she caught the white HILUX driving by slowly out of the corner of her eyes. She turned and saw Sting leaning out of the front window. She stumbled, feeling sudden faintness. Idara held her to keep her from falling.

“Are you alright?” Idara asked and followed her gaze to the truck.

Lade nodded, but it was obvious she was not. Her knees shook. She bent forwards to clasp them and steady herself. There were others in the dark interior of the car with him. The dealer back at the party was the only connection to Sting’s sudden presence which made sense.

Sting leered at her as the truck pulled up in the middle of the street. He said something to the rest of the truck’s inmates and alighted alone. He smiled when Lade began to back away.

“You know him?” Jennifer asked.

Idara sensed trouble and ran back inside to alert Banks and the rest of the guys while Jennifer remained with Lade trying to make sense of the whole puzzling situation. Who were they to her?

“Well! Well! Well! Finally…Here you are with fine fine ajeboh girls…” There was a drip of sarcasm in his tone which wasn’t lost to Jennifer. “You surprise me a lot these days Nicky!”

Nicky? Jennifer frowned and looked at Banks’ dumbstruck date. “Who are you? And what do you want?” Jennifer asked.

Sting gave her a sidelong glance, still smiling. “Is she a prospect?” He asked Lade who turned to Jennifer with a warning look. “Stay out of this if you love your life!” Her voice dripped with fear.

Jennifer gave her an ARE-YOU-BEING-SERIOUS-RIGHT-NOW frown. What was this – a movie? She turned to look for Idara and noticed that she’d disappeared – to find help she hoped. She had a mind to do likewise but she couldn’t leave Banks’ friend on her own with this man.

“I heard of what happened at the house this morning and sent Tunji to bail you.”

Lade shook his head at him, pleading with him with her eyes not to talk about it. “They dropped the charges and let me go and… I… decided to take the rest of the day off.”

Oh! He must be her boss, Jennifer reasoned. But what was this talk about bails and charges. Did Banks’ friend have police troubles? One puzzle followed the other…

“That’s not exactly what Tunji said. The charges weren’t dropped till another lawyer arrived on your behalf. I didn’t know you had access to other lawyers.”

“Sting, please… can’t we talk about this when we get back? I can explain!”

“Answer me, you stupid bitch!” He roared. “Who bailed you?”

Lade almost folded up. Jennifer stepped back in surprise not used to such violence.

“I… You know it was my first time! I… I waited too long… and I was afraid! Your number wasn’t going through… I didn’t know when you’ll get back… I had to call someone.”

Sting scowled at Jennifer. “So you had girlfriends to call. Where the other one go?” He asked Jennifer.

Jennifer stepped further away from them. His eyes were cold and angry and for inexplicable reasons, she was afraid.

Sting smiled and returned his eyes to Lade. “I never knew you had such a nice looking girlfriend. When were you planning to introduce her? Does she…?”

Whatever was going on, Jennifer couldn’t stand to listen to them anymore. She turned to run back into the compound and collided with Banks who was exiting the compound in full sprint. She gasped in fright then noticed it was Banks. “Oh Thank God! Banks…!” She pointed at them. She saw Andy and the rest walking out of the house in the background while Banks took in the situation at a glance, but missed the Tundra. Lade was at the brink of tears and was shaking as a leaf, towered over by the ugly man from the bar who had threatened his life. Reckless bile replaced his fear for her and he walked towards them, everything else forgotten. His hate for the man who abuse his girl and reduces her worth in public with so much ease was so complete. The man had desecrated and was always acting like he owned his shrine. Who the hell did he think he was?

Sting was shocked to see Banks as realization that he was wrong dawned on him. It wasn’t the ajeboh girls that bailed Nicky. It was him. Of course it was him. She had his number and had called him. If she had his number, then worse, she had been seeing fresh boy at his back, despite express orders. He turned an incredulous gaze at Lade who shrank away but not before he threw her a dirty slap on the cheek.

The dam broke within Banks. The walk seemed too long even though he was just a few paces away. He charged at Sting with fists clenched. He saw the surprise on Sting’s face just before he knocked Sting off his feet with a heavy punch. He didn’t feel the pain in his knuckles. Lade shouted at him to stop, but he was past caring. Sting tried to stand but he kicked him in the stomach twice and again at the groin. Sting grunted in pain and grabbed at his crotch. The adrenaline was pumping. He heard Lade and Jennifer shouting the warning too late.

Kunle, Ben and Spencer pulled him away from their boss. Banks parried the first blow from Ben, but Spencer swiped him clean off his feet that he landed flat on his back. The first kick to his head had him dizzy. He raised his hands to protect his head and took the rest on his sides.

They weren’t too many though. Andy joined the fight without second thoughts. Tunde hesitated and Bayo pulled him back. “Watch the girls! Theresa! Don’t ruin this party for her” Tunde nodded in ready agreement. He’d never had to fight in his life. He got out his phone to dial his father but changed his mind. He hesitated as he thought of the consequences. Tunde pulled all the girls but Lade with him back into the compound and closed the gates after them. Andy had pulled Spencer and Ben off Banks. He broke Ben’s nose with his first punch which made him stagger off. He got a cut to the lip from Spencer and gave as good as he got with his second swing. Spencer was going to have a black eye in the morning, he was sure. Bayo found a stone on the floor and struck Kunle with it. Kunle doubled over and Bayo started to kick the shit out of him. Banks went to join Andy’s even match with Spencer while Bayo went to keep Ben busy…

Sting was still down, no longer disoriented although his eyes were still closed. Who knew fresh boy packed a mean punch? Either the boy didn’t know who was dealing with or he was a reckless fool who hadn’t learned to distinguish between a bluff and a threat. Sting had a lot on his plates, and the boy was becoming a bug. Maybe he should shoot the boy, teach Nicky a lesson about attachments and move on with his life.

Lade saw Sting sit up and get to his foot. She gasped when he pulled the pistol from behind him and screamed.

The gunshot stopped them all. Tunde and the girls were all peeking at the situation from behind the gate. Banks’ blood ran cold in an instant but still heaved with the excitement. He turned and found Sting holding a pistol to the air. He froze when he brought it down and pointed it at him. His friends moved away from him. The only other sound heard was of Lade sobbing.

Sting wiped his bloody nose with the back of his free hand as he limped closer to Banks. His groin still hurt a bit. Spencer, Kunle and Ben got back to their feet and went to stand with Sting, their faces swollen from punches. Sting held his aim steady at Banks’ face.

“You know,” he began, “I tried to stop and wonder. What gave you the balls to fight me? Why? Why would you do it? When you knew I could do this…?” He fired above Banks’ head.
Lade and the rest of the girls screamed in fright. Tears began to stream down Jennifer’s cheeks. Chika held her. Banks slowly opened his eyes which he had closed at the shot, surprised that he wasn’t dead. He hadn’t been shot – yet. The hurt in his head was from the blows and not the bullet.

“Shoot him boss, and let’s be done with him!” Kunle spat with hate.

“Sting no! Please!” Lade shouted.

Sting laughed. He was suddenly enjoying this. “A few seconds ago, you thought you were dead, abi?”

“Sting!” Lade called. Sting turned to her. “Shut up, bitch! When I’m done with fresh lover boy here, then it’d be your turn.” He turned to Banks, his ugly face screwed up further with anger. “There is this guy, once upon a time… his name was Johnny.” He turned to Lade. “Nicky, you remember our friend Johnny? I think we should tell fresh boy here about Johnny.”

Lade looked alarmed and that got more chuckles from Sting. “Johnny… you really shouldn’t… they don’t… they don’t want… they don’t want to hear about Johnny… we could just leave them alone.”

“No, I think I should tell him some of your exploits. I think he should know buying you ajeboh dressing doesn’t change who you are.”

Lade cringed at what was coming.

“Johnny was a… well, a pharmacist, like me… though our kind of drugs aren’t NAFDAC approved and would land you in big trouble if a policeman caught you with it… you get the jerk. Well, Johnny had a much bigger turf than I and that was hurting my business… making it tough to expand my client base. I wanted to ‘talk’ to him about giving it all up to me, but he was a big man and it was hard to get him alone. Well, your friend Nicky was the perfect solution. You see, she’s mine and does anything I ask… I don’t think you want to know why, so don’t ask… anyway, I asked her to get me some alone time with our mutual friend Johnny.

“She did it brilliantly. She seduced this untouchable big man in a matter of weeks and fixed him an appointment with me, without his knowledge of course… he wouldn’t have showed up otherwise… after fucking him so well he slept off…”

Lade looked up and found Banks staring at her in shock. Tears of humiliation welled up her eyes. What had she been thinking? She’d been a different person for a very long while now. What made her think she would go back to being as she used to be - even if Sting allowed it, which he wouldn’t?

Sting was saying… “… She opened the door into the hotel room to let me in… well, he finally lent me his ears, but I wanted more than that… I told him I wanted everything – his suppliers, his clients, everything. The stupid guy said it would be over his dead body, as if his death would be a problem. He overestimated himself and fell for my sexy, brilliant… LovePeddler… his mistake… his loss… my gain…” He walked even closer to Banks, his voice an audible whisper. “I bought her… I trained her… I own her…” he pressed the gun to his chest. It was still warm from just being fired. “You want to take her from me with you fancy clothes and fancy parties at fancy houses? You have lawyers and friends to rescue her with?” He sneered.

“I’ll go with you Sting! Please! Just leave him alone!”

Sting whirled around to see Lade walking to him. Banks took advantage of the distraction. He knocked the gun out of his hand and it clattered to the floor. Sting quickly dived for the gun, but Banks was quicker. He kicked Sting on the face and retrieved the gun before Sting recovered. Too bad Ben, Kunle and Spencer had left their guns in the boot of the truck when they rushed out to the rescue. They were taken aback.

Lade was astonished; Banks’ friends too.

Banks pointed the gun with shaky hands at Sting who was slowly getting to his feet. Sting spat blood and chuckled.

“You know how to shoot? You ever shoot a man before, boy?”

“It’s easy,” Banks replied, “when the person I’m to shoot is you!” He steadied his hand and was going to do it, but saw the deer-caught-in-headlights look on Lade’s teary face. She shook her head in warning. “But not today,” he said relaxing. ”I want you and your guys to leave at once.”

“Are you sure?” he started to approach him. Banks pulled the trigger making sure to aim above his head. Sting backed away quick.

“My father was a policeman which means I grew up around guns. Now move! All of you!”

“You’re dead meat, fresh boy!” Sting said.

“Nobody is dying today, unless you chose to. I’ve got a lot of witnesses that would say its self-defense and they won’t even be lying.” They heard sound of sirens approaching in the far distance. Someone had finally called the police.

Sting spat some more blood on Banks’ t-shirt. “Dead meat,” he mouthed and turned to walk towards the truck. “Come on boys, let’s go.” Kunle, Spencer and Ben followed him. Lade started after them to Banks’s surprise.

“Where are you going? Lade wait!”

Lade turned to Banks. Her heart pounded at the choice she was making. It was the right thing to do, she assured herself. He couldn’t get involved in this mess. Just one nights out with him and… And this…

“I’m sorry!” She said. “I can’t… I can’t get you involved in this.”

Sting chuckled as he watched Lade approach. “She’s coming with us to plead for your life! I wonder what she would do for me this time!”

Banks watched as if in a daze. Lade’s body wracked in sobs as she let Kunle manhandle her into the truck. The rest of them entered after her and they drove away.

There was sudden pandemonium. Banks turned to see that everyone at the party had exited the house and were in a hurry to get to their cars and drive away. They’d all seen what had happened. Nobody wanted to be around in case someone had called the police. Tunde and the rest of the girls exited the compound and walked towards Banks, Andy and Bayo.
`
Andy turned to Bayo. “Take Idara home… Tunde… Theresa shouldn’t spend the night here…”

“Am I mad? She’s coming home with me!” Tunde replied.

“Good…meet Banks and I at CRASH after.” Andy returned. He looked at Jennifer and the expression on his face went soft. “Take your cousin, and stay home till you hear from me.”

Banks looked at the gun in his hand and returned the catch sighing. He stuffed the gun in his pocket turned to walk with a slight limp in the direction he’d parked his car.

Andy called out to him. “Banks!”

Banks turned to look at them with a frown. “What! Y’all go on ahead! I’m fine!” he continued his painful walk. His head was down, his hands went into his pocket and his eyes seemed far away

“He doesn’t look fine to me,” Idara observed. “And he plans to drive?”

The thought startled Jennifer into action and she went after him. She didn’t know Banks to be suicidal, but then, she hadn’t seen him get into a fight or hold a weapon not to talk of firing one. This was a night of firsts just because of a girl that wasn’t her.

Andy turned to the rest of them just as Theresa came out. She’d been playing the hostess, keeping everyone assured and allaying their fears although she’d been frightened herself. Tunde hugged her “Guys, we’ll need a very good explanation for tonight, but first let’s get out of here. Bayo, help me with Chika.” He shot off after Jennifer.

Bayo turned to Chika with a weak smile. “You’re coming with us I guess.”

Chika glared at them. “No freaking way! I came with Andy and Jenny, and I’m leaving with them.”

“Suit yourself. You always do.” Bayo replied shrugging. He took Idara’s hand and left for their car while Chika went after Andy.

“What happened?” Theresa asked Tunde.

“A lot! You’re spending the night at my place.” They heard sound of police sirens approaching. “We’ll have to hurry.”

Theresa put on a stubborn look . “I’m spending the night in my house. I haven’t even unpacked.”

“But the police…”

“I’m the one that called them. I’ll tell them I mistook the party bangers for gunshots because I didn’t order any. Or I can tell them, they’ve got the wrong location.”

Tunde hesitated.

“Come on babe! This is my place and I just got back! I miss my bed and our privacy! Your dad is going to make sure I sleep in the guest room and that wouldn’t do – not tonight. I… I need you.”

Tunde agreed reluctantly. “Let’s get everyone safely out of here.”

In the meantime, Banks had reached his car and was getting in when he heard the footsteps approaching. He stepped back out alertly and reached for the pistol in his pocket but stopped when he saw it was Jennifer. He scowled at her.

“I need to be alone, Jenny.”

She ignored him and stretched out her hand to him. “Give me your keys! I won’t let you drive. Not in this mood!”

They heard more hurried footsteps approaching and looked to see Andy approaching them while Chika was a stone’s throw behind. Andy saw Banks and Jennifer frowning behind him. The sirens were getting closer. Andy turned to find Chika behind him and stopped, irritated at her presence.

“Why are you still here? I asked you to leave with Bayo them.”

“I care too! I’m coming with you all!” Chika replied.

“No you’re not!” Jennifer returned.

“Neither of you are! Jennifer take your cousin home! I can’t stand the sight of her tonight!” Banks said firmly.

His friends were surprised by his vehemence. “We don’t have time for this for crying out loud!” Andy was impatient.

Jennifer grabbed Chika’s arm. “We’ll call them in the morning,” she said, “Let’s go.” She dragged Chika to her ELEMENT parked close by. Banks entered the driver’s seat and started the car. Andy entered the front passenger seat beside him, before they reversed out of the gates and zoomed off in the opposite direction from the sirens which had now gotten close.

keep it coming boss, cnt spnd a minute witout checkn on u

CHAPTER SEVEN


Jerry stared at the phone at the unfamiliar number calling in. He was at one of Jimmy’s hideaway houses on Tin Can Island along the Porto Novo Creek. This beach house which sat on a little clearing at the edge of the Island once belonged to a Portuguese family in the late nineties. They’d put it up for sale when they left the country at the start of the millennium. Jimmy had been at the peak of his power then and Jerry had had a bright future. Now, a great man was dead, no thanks to Sting. He screwed his face as he thought of the man.

His revenge plot which had been sanctioned by Mandy had failed. Now, he was in hiding at the only place he was sure no one will find him. This was Jimmy’s private hideout. Not even Mandy knew where he was.

It was a one-storey building with a basement dug into the soft ground. Tin Can Island was under populated, but by the slummiest ghetto in the city. The roads were inaccessible in the rainy season and the poorest people lived there and were very loyal to Jimmy who had brought them electricity. No way would a stranger cross over from Apapa in search of Jimmy’s man. Jerry would hear of it first.

Sitting at the upper porch of the one-story old building, eating dinner – yam and egg sauce which he’d bought earlier at the community’s little market – and listening to the crickets and toads enjoying the moist evening breeze floating over the creek flowing by a few yards away, he had half a mind to ignore the call. His popular line had been thrown away, and only a handful of people knew this number. He had given this one to his suspicious parents, Mandy and a few other people who he’d felt he still had future dealings with when he planned to go AWOL. It’d been a week since he arrived here and he was doing fine screening his own calls.

But he was lonely. He looked at the number when the call ring ended. He’d dial it back after dinner he decided. It had to be someone who he had thought he would want for something.

“He didn’t answer.” Lade reported to Sting. She was sitting on one of the chairs in Sting’s office. They had waited till Monday evening after she got her phone back from the drug law agents. Sting was standing by the window smoking a Cuban and not looking too pleased. Kunle was sitting on another chair watching the both of them.

“All I’m hearing are excuses.” Sting growled. He turned to Kunle. “Call Spencer and see what he has found.” Kunle took his phone out of his pocket but Sting’s growl stopped him. “I meant you should beat it, boy! Get out of here!”

Kunle was up fast and out, giving them both one last confused glance.

Sting went to lock the door. He returned to Lade, an unreadable look on his face. “They expect me to punish you, you know?”

Lade nodded with a sigh. “I was afraid, Sting. I swear I called you first. Those other women in the cell, they…” She stopped. She didn’t like to remember the women. “I had to do something. They allowed me one call before they took my phone into evidence. But when your number didn’t go through, I had to think of an alternative to get out of there. I didn’t want to spend the weekend with those women.”

Sting grabbed her throat angrily and started strangling her. “And you happened to have fresh boy’s number?” Lade cried and choked while trying to plead. “You swore that night, that that would be the last time! I’ve got a busted nose and he has my gun! And you want me to believe he was just an alternative!”

“He was!” She cried. “I swear it!”

“Liar!” He released her. Lade grabbed her throat and spluttered worse than a badly oiled generator engine. “You think I’m blind?” He shouted. He grabbed her arm and shook her savagely till she looked woozy. He left her to stumble and fall to the carpeted floor and began pacing. “What haven’t I done for you, Nicky! I thought we had an arrangement! I hear them say I treat you special, and maybe I do! Any of the other girls do this, I’ll probably be using my belt on her back right now to remind her her place!” he ranted. He stopped pacing and glared at her. He walked to her and pulled her up to her feet. He pushed her to his desk.

She whimpered. “Sting, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He leered as he pulled the hem of her dress up to her waist.

Lade recoiled at his touch. “Please, don’t!” she begged trying to wrestle the hem of her dress down. She tried to squirm away, but he trapped her between his long legs.

“You break your part of our arrangement, I plan to break mine.” He slapped her hand away and pulled her pants down to her knees panting like a bunny in heat at her creamy, bare thighs. “It’s been what- three years? I must say I’ve missed this.”

Lade covered her face in shame and tears streamed down her face. Sting stopped and frowned at her. “What is this? Crying like I’m about to rape… you used to want this! You used to enjoy a good Bleep.”

“Beat me! Use the belt… anything but this… please Sting!"

Sting took a few steps back and scowled at her in silence. Lade took her hands down hesitantly and looked at him through misty eyes. It was obvious – something about her had changed. She usually took whatever punishment he chose to dish. Anything but this? She was his bitch damnit! He would usually do whatever he liked and she would take it.

Fresh boy had happened.

“It’s fresh boy, right! You bleeped him, right?” Lade’s flinch told him all he needed to know. She looked down at the carpet. She’d always been a bad liar. His anger was back in full momentum. She’d help him deal with Jerry first, and then… he’d have to decide.

“Call that damn number again!” He shouted and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Lade drew her white cotton panties back into place and smoothened her dress down laps as a sense of foreboding wormed its way up her mind. She didn’t like the look in his eyes before he left. Something really bad was going to happen… to her… to Peter. Peter. She wondered what he was doing.

The phone rang on the desk. Peter. She took it to look at it, knowing it couldn’t be him. It was Jerry. She sighed. It was time to get to ‘work’.

***


Lade moaned when she woke. Both temples hurt. Her head felt heavy. She opened her eyes to double images of a familiar room she recognized a few moments later as hers; one black eye anyway, the other was swollen shut. She heard the TV and turned in its general direction. The sudden entry of the TV light into Lade’s black eye made her whimper in pain. She shut them again. Her lower jaw was ached stiff. Her nose too – like she’d been with Mayweather the previous night at his favorite spot and come up under the weather. Far beneath the weather, if that was possible. She could still feel the rawness of her cheeks from the numerous blows Sting had given her the previous night. The rest of her body ached as she tried to prop herself up to her left side on her left elbow. She gasped at the pain and fell back on her pillow, her face weak and twisted in agony.

She heard the footsteps enter from the direction of her kitchen and opened her eyes again avoiding the TV consciously. Cindy noticed her trying to sit up and hurried to sit at the edge of the bed. She forced a smile to her face. “Hey! You’re awake! Doctor Lawal said you’d be in a matter of time. He just left.”

Lade made to speak but only managed a croak.

“I’ll get you water.” Cindy said and hurried back to the kitchen.

Her throat was dry and still hurt from being choked by Sting. There had to be marks. Her mind cast back to the previous night. She recoiled in horror at the memory. Jerry had given her a place and time to meet him – LOUNGE-UNO, a bar at APAPA - she’d in turn given the information to Sting.

She had waited up so late at Sting’s office at the workhouse until they’d returned around midnight, unsuccessful. Jerry didn’t come anywhere near that bar. He’d skipped their rendezvous. Why?

“This night too cold jor… I’ll be there baby,” She’d promised Jerry in her sultriest voice. With Sting, she’d quickly added in a warning whisper and quickly ended the call, not sure if Jerry had heard her. She was alone in Sting’s office when she took the call but wasn’t sure there weren’t eavesdroppers outside the door. She’d never betrayed Sting before. There was always a day one.

Spencer had his own explanations for Jerry’s absence at the tryst which, even though not true, still reflected negatively on her – her reckless rendezvous with Peter at ROSA’s BAR and the resulting showdown. Now, everyone knew she was Sting’s bitch. Including Peter and Friends. She’d never seen Sting as mad as last night.

Cindy re-entered with a glass of water. Lade raised herself up a bit and drank the water, one slow gulp after another. Cindy placed the cup on the floor beside the bed. Lade fell back to the bed and drifted back to sleep before Cindy returned.

***


Banks had retreated to his studio where he spent the weekend to his mother’s utter dismay, who after much argument on the phone sent his sister over (just like he knew she would) with a flask of plantain porridge. Vanessa freaked out at his battle-busted face. She set off in a tirade of questions followed by endless nagging about his choices which, after enduring, Banks exacted a promise that she wouldn’t inform their mother as to the true state of his health. He was fine really, but for a busted lip and a few bruises. She went in search of the nearest pharmacy, bought a pair of scissors, cotton wool and cleaning chemicals for his wounds, an ice pack for his lumps and drugs for the pain, which he refused to take in the end. He had a small wardrobe at the studio, so changing his clothes wasn’t much of a problem.

Andy and Jennifer arrived Saturday afternoon and were surprised to find him studying. Jennifer was sitting for the very same exams and joined him for a bit. Andy found something to do on his laptop and made himself scarce. Neither mentioned Friday night. Bayo, Idara, Theresa and Tunde appeared much later with enough take-out bags from a fast-food for everyone and drinks. Only Chika was absent. They all had an excuse to stay until Banks shooed them all away around midnight.

Sunday was spent sleeping and revising - and missing Lade who had left the shorts and top she’d been arrested in. He remembered the semi-nude sketch of her he’d made and got it out to stare at it all afternoon, sniffing her top like a lade-ophile while he was at it. He started painting her that evening but fell asleep around one a.m out of exhaustion before he even got her face done.

He left the studio on Monday to dress properly for his interview with African Arts press scheduled for the early afternoon, and the first of his two final exams which was scheduled for evening. Driving home, he realized that after his weekend recluse, he was still no less shaken to the bone, or less baffled by his run in with Sting and close brush with death.

How had Lade gotten herself entangled by this thick web of Sting’s bullshit, he asked himself for the umpteenth time. The girl that used to be his picture of virtue was now… how has the mighty fallen, indeed? However, he was curious rather than disgusted by Sting’s stories. It was utter madness, he knew. He’d been shot at for the first time in his life. He now had that gun stashed away at a place he was sure no one will find. Only Andy knew where it was for he’d seen Banks hide it.

He wondered if she’d call him when she got her phone back today. He doubted it. Sting would surely seize her phone like the overbearing and domineering person he was. Still, he wished to see her, if only to ascertain that she was alright. Thoughts of the brief moment they’d shared together were like a continuous picture slide on his mind, one replacing the previous while he kept enough presence of mind with him to make it home safely.

Musa got the gate at record time unlike him, but he didn’t notice that. Neither did he acknowledge his greetings. His mother’s AVIATOR was in the garage next to his sister’s KIA RIO and his JEEP WRANGLER. The SIENNA was absent, but he was taking no chances. He’d rather not face his mother in the mood he was. Hence, he pulled up outside the porch but walked around the building to enter it via the kitchen.

Vanessa looked up from the vegetables she was chopping when he entered and was surprised to see him.

“Hey!” She greeted trying to look concerned.

“You didn’t go to work today?” Banks asked.

“It’s my day off. You decided to come home after all.”

“I was always going to come home. The Mercedes needed serious washing. I’d probably use the Jeep.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I…I’m fine, just hungry. Any left over from last night? Is mommy home?”

“You hesitated…”

“I’ve told you a million times that I’m not your patient Sister Vee! I need food! Sister Vee, food!” He snarled in his impatience

Vanessa fixed him a look. “And I’ve told you a million and one times that I’m not your housewife! There is jollof rice in that pot and salad in the fridge. Mom and Sarah left before I woke up?” She managed to say without snapping at him even though she was vexed at his tone.

Banks found the pot and helped himself to a heap of brown rice and two lumps of fried meat. He located the salad plate and cream in the fridge and retrieved them including a sealed bottle of table water. He dumped all the remaining salad on his plate of rice and poured some cream on top. Vanessa screwed her face in disgust. She went to wash her hand at the sink and continue her cooking. Banks put the plate in the microwave and set the timer. He found Vanessa watching him. He frowned at her.

“What?”

“I can’t believe all this is about that hooker girl?” Vanessa said.

The blood drained out of his face which mirrored the sudden surge of anger he felt inside. But he controlled himself, turned his back on Vanessa and sat down on a kitchen stool waiting for his food to warm. Vanessa added the last ingredients into her okro soup. She washed her hands again at the sink and went to take up the vacant stool beside Banks.

The microwave dinged and Banks rose to retrieve his sizzling dish and sat back down to eat. After a long period of silence punctuated by sounds of cutlery on dish, Vanessa resumed.

“I remember the one time I met her,” she said, “back when we lived at Ibadan. You had been ill and had missed a lot of classes in school.” Vanessa reminisced.

Banks frowned trying to recollect.

“And she brought copies of her class notes over to the house and helped you study for… a test or an exam, can’t remember which now.”

Banks eyes widened when he remembered and he smiled at her. “I thought you were kidding, you really remember her.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes at him. “You kept smiling like an idiot even after she’d left. I could tell you weren’t dating her then, else I’d have seen more of her.”

Banks had a dreamy look on his face. “I wish. Apparently, I was too popular with the girls in school to date only one. She preferred being just friends with me, according to her, because she didn’t want to compete for my attention.” Vanessa laughed. “It was a foolish excuse, I know now. I should have… I should have…” He shook his head, lost in his own thoughts.

“Too bad, the one you actually liked got away,” Vanessa said casually.

The dreamy look was gone replaced by a scowl. “Yeah,” he replied finally and sighed.

Vanessa went to check her cooking. She turned the soup with a spoon, tasted it from her palm. She looked satisfied. She turned off the gas burner and returned to her stool at the kitchen table. Banks hadn’t touched his plate in her absence.

“Now, all that… I’m sure you realize is water under the bridge. The Lade I understand her to be now is definitely not the same girl I met years ago.”

“I know, Sister Vee! But…”

“But nothing, Peter! If one finger touches oil, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the hand is soiled. Disgrace to one of us means disgrace to all of us. Mom has sacrificed a lot to bring us this far and the future depends on you! Remember that the next time you decide to get a new scar on your face.” She patted his arm and left the kitchen. Banks scooped a spoonful of rice and chewed on it thoughtfully.

***


Lade stood by the window with dried tears on her cheeks as she stared out at the neighborhood outside. She’d woken less than an hour earlier to a swept, empty apartment. She had taken a long, soothing shower and now felt better than when she first woke up. Sting’s doctor had recommended eating plenty of fruits and left a couple tubes of a funny smelling ointment which was essentially a mixture of arnica, chamomile, witch hazel and water which she’d mixed with some quantity of her body cream to be applied religiously as instructed.

She wore a loose long sleeve shirt that partly covered the bum shorts on her waist and held a lighted igbo in between her left index and middle finger looking out at the neighboring houses and their occupants home for the evening and going about their various activities, oblivious of her. However, she was absent minded. Various thoughts flitted around her head as she smoked and stared, not even bothering to dwell on any of them. She was on her feet at least even though she leaned more on one.

There was a knock. She turned to frown at the door taking an even longer drag.

“Nicky, you don wake?” It was Cindy’s voice.

Lade sighed and limped to the door to unbolt it for Cindy to enter from the corridor outside.

“Nicky you smoke too much these days.” Cindy had a shopping bag.

“I don’t!” Lade sounded defensive. “I just… I don’t know.” She sighed and offered Cindy the rest.
Cindy declined with a look which said yeah-right-give-me-an-excuse. Cindy left for the kitchen while Lade bolted the door after her. She just felt as awful as she looked and the weed helped her relieve the edginess. Or maintain her constant woozy state. If misery loved company, the drugs became her new best friends. It seemed she was trying so hard to lose touch with reality – her reality. Everything hurt. The daylight hurt her left eye. The harmattan season was slowly creeping in and the dry wind made her joints stiff and her cuts unbearable. Her body still hurt from Sting’s beating, but none of it hurt like the memory of her humiliation in front of Peter’s friends. She wished she could rewind time, and since that was impossible, she simply wished she could stay high and forget and was doing her very best to achieve that.

Cindy dumped the shopping bag in the sink. She was beginning to fear her friend would harm herself but said nothing. Nicky was melancholic more often than not, but she’d never seen her utterly depressed. She hadn’t left her apartment since Sting brought her unconscious body home on Monday. Today was Wednesday, but she doubted Nicky knew that or even cared enough. She was indoors either smoking igbo and drinking beer or snorting coke or worse shooting heroin, and was asleep the rest of the time. She heard Lade limp into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Lade asked.

Cindy forced a pleasant look to her face and turned to see her hovering. “Soup… Guess which?”

Lade shrugged and decided to sit on a stool. She puffed at her hemp, her eyes half closed in delirium.

“You seriously need to slow down, Nicky. I never seen you do it this much. You could hurt yourself.”

Lade sighed and blew out all the smoke, releasing whatever negative feeling she held inside alongside it. She was silent for a while as Cindy went about preparing her cooking ingredients. “I won’t see him anymore now, will I?” She suddenly asked.

Cindy was silent for a long time. This was the first Lade was bringing him up since she woke up. Peter Bankole. She’d googled the name on her java phone’s opera mini browser and… boy, was he a catch or what?” Tears welled her eyes for her friend but she held them back. Not that her friend wasn’t good enough for a guy of his class, but Sting was going to feel threatened by that and do stupid things.

“Why do you think so? Of course you still can!” She found herself wanting to believe herself. At her age, and upon everything that had happened to her, Cindy was still a romantic at heart.

Lade shook her head taking care not to hurt herself. “Not after all this! Not after the stories Sting told him about me.

Uh-Oh! Sting had what? Cindy realized that a lot must have happened that night which she wasn’t aware of, none of it any good.

“I’m making pepper soup with goat meat and I’ll need all the help I can get. When I’m done, we’ll eat, and then we’ll smoke and talk. Huh?”

Lade nodded. “Okay, what do you need?”

She sounded a bit better. “How about you begin with all these dirty utensils while I cut the meat up?”

Lade frowned. “Dirty utensils!” Even if hers was the untidiest bedroom on the planet, she still abhorred a dirty kitchen. But she was indisposed these days and that was the excuse enough for her negligence.

***

He was sitting at lunch at a corner inside PARADISE KITCHEN watching the quiet street outside absent-mindedly while Tunde, Bayo and Andy argued next to him. They were all picking at the last of their lunch out of courtesy for Banks who hadn’t gone through half of his. There was no need to bring it up. They knew what was up with him.

A text message vibrated on his phone. He took out his phone, read the message and pushed away his plate. He took his bottle of water. “Be right back guys,” he said and got to his feet to exit the restaurant ignoring Andy’s questioning glance.

He went out to where his Wrangler was parked next to Tunde’s car among a few others in the lot. He read the message on his phone again. It was from Barrister Juliet and simply said CALL ME ASAP. That meant news – his ignorance was becoming annoyingly monotonous. Any added news he could act on was indeed welcome. He made the call and listened to it ring till it got picked on the other end.

“Hello Jules!”

“Hmm… you sound… eager…”

“How do you mean?” He frowned. He wasn’t in the mood for her psychoanalysis.

“Like you’ve been waiting to hear from me…”

Banks forced a half laugh. “Shouldn’t I? It’s been a week since we talked.”

“Abi!” She paused to talk to someone else for a moment, then she was back on the phone. “Okay, how about lunch?”

“I was in the middle of lunch with some friends when you called. But I can break out. I think they are done anyway.”

“Well, call me back when you’re free. I’ll tell you where to meet us.”

“Us?” He frowned with apprehension.

“Oh… the private investigator I hired… He’d bring you up to speed himself.”

Banks eyes widened at the prospect of something new. Anything would do. “Awesome! Thanks!”

“Don’t thank me yet Peter.” She didn’t sound like she shared his excitement. “This is just a heads up… none of it is good.”

Banks zoned out at that, wondering what could be worse than what he already knew. He remembered the gun hidden safely at his studio. He heard Juliet call his name over and over on the phone and returned his attention to the conversation. “I’ll call you back in five minutes. Let me deal with my guys.”

“Okay! Don’t forget your check book though!”

He chuckled and ended the call.

Thirty minutes later, he drove into the parking lot outside ADEWOLU HOUSE – a thirteen storey office building in the middle of Adewolu avenue off Airport road. Banks found himself a spot to park and alighted. There was a busy restaurant and a quiet stationery shop at the ground floor. He headed for the lobby instead.

He rode the elevator to the law chambers at the topmost floor, alighted and was directed to Barrister Juliet’s office by the receptionist at the floor’s lounge.

Barrister Juliet’s office was small but not cramped. There was a low hum of the air conditioner which sounded like an overhead drone hovering annoyingly close by. The floor was tiled. The furniture had class and the papers and books were either neatly stacked on her desk or shelved at the cabinet hung on the wall.

She was behind her desk typing on one of two laptops on her sturdy table. A middle-aged man in a dark gray suit and no tie sat at one of the chair in the office reading a PUNCH newspaper. He was balding and had ring on which said he was married.

Barrister Juliet looked up from her laptop at Banks’ entrance and smiled.

“There you are!” She closed her books and put them in a drawer. The bald man looked up from his newspaper at Banks as he walked in to seat opposite Juliet at her desk.

“I’m sorry. Traffic was a drag at the bridge. You look good.”

Juliet frowned and pulled at the left lapel of her suit consciously. “That’s a first.”

“Well, never say I never paid you one.” Banks replied, turning to take a good look at the man in the gray suit who had returned to his newspaper.

“That’s Charles Anya, the Private Investigator I mentioned. We met at an insurance scam case a year ago. Three lorry heads went missing from a transport company’s fleet. The company pressed its claims and the insurance people called Charles to investigate. Turned out the CEO knew all about its sale at Asaba.”

Banks turned to give a second look, this time with a bit more interest than earlier. “Come, sit closer.” He pointed at a vacant chair beside him.

Charles got to his feet. He was tall and looked younger than Banks had earlier imagined. He took off his reading glasses as he sat next to Banks.

“I’m Peter Bankole,” Banks said offering him a handshake. “Call me Banks if you like.”

“Peter will do,” Juliet interjected. “I don’t know where you picked up that awful nickname… Makes you sound like an arrogant bastard.” Juliet was in informal mode which meant she was pleased they were getting along.

“They are all just names, right Charles?” He looked at his wristwatch like he had better things to do than pining away at the studio, thinking about Lade. “Anyway, what have you guys done with the little information I gave about my friend Lade?”

Juliet and Charles looked at each other. Juliet nodded for him to go right ahead.

***

Lade pulled the Ziploc bag open with slightly shaky hands. The brown powder in it was almost finished. She frowned. The bag had been full three days ago. Cindy must have taken some without telling her. Why, she’d gone on a length sermon in the morning about how she was doing too much. Sneaky hypocrite, she was.

She winced at the throb in her right temple and rubbed her head with one hand. It would be enough for one more fix. She took the large plastic spoon which was on her dresser table and tapped some of the powder into the spoon, after which she lifted the transparent bag to her eye level to ascertain what was left and caught her image at the dresser mirror. The dark rings around her eyes had faded but her eyeballs were sunken, her cheek bones were visible and there was dried scab at the corner of her mouth where Sting had slapped her. It would definitely leave a scar. Nothing some serious make-up won’t cover. She sighed. She hated make up. She looked thin and unhealthy in her house robe. Her collar bones were a bit more visible than usual.

Sting had almost raped her. She tried to push the thought out and failed. The dreaming was over. There was no way Peter will love her now. This was all she was. A LovePeddler. Okay, a little better than a call girl like the others, but still, what was the difference if Sting chose not to be so gracious anymore? Even the underworld where she’d been useful as an errand girl and a snoop now knew who held her leash. She had no skills other than tricks of her trade.

The rest of the brown stuff couldn’t be more than a couple pinches anyway. Why save it for later? She upended the bag into the spoon and threw the bag away. The spoon was filled up more than usual, but she could handle it. She felt like her heart was slowing down. She sat on the chair beside her and bounced her knees in unconscious anticipation for her high. She got out her lighter and a used syringe from one of the dresser drawers. There was a cup of water on the table.

Lade placed the spoon on the table, careful not to spill any of the heroin. She took the lighter and chucked a blue flame out of it running it over the needle for a few seconds. She dropped the lighter and drew water from the cup with the syringe which she pushed into the spoon enough to cover the powder. Her hand shook a bit when she lifted the spoon and spilled a drop on her lap. She muttered curse. Again, she took the lighter, chucked up a blue flame and held it under the spoon such that the tip of the flame didn’t touch the spoon but the heat from the flame was enough to dissolve the already dissipating brown powder under the water. Soon, it was all dissolved. She reached carefully for her ash tray which was also on the table and took a cigarette butt smoked clean of all nicotine and dropped it on the clear liquid on the spoon. Her hand shook again from holding the spoon steady for too long, but managed not to spill anything this time. She took her syringe and stuck the needle into the filter end. She drew all the liquid into the syringe using her thumb to pull back the chamber. It seemed fuller than usual.

Lade was sure she could handle it. Why not? The usual wasn’t doing it for her anymore. The fix she had that morning had faded long before noon. She wanted to be high and stay high. That way, she wouldn’t have to think. She wouldn’t have to remember.

***


Cindy inserted the key into the lock of the backdoor into Lade’s apartment. She had taken a spare the previous night when she was leaving. She wanted access into the house without having to call for its owner. And for good reason.

Cindy entered the house and locked it behind her. She walked across the balcony at the back into the kitchen and on into the adjourning bedroom.

The instant Cindy saw Lade, she knew something was wrong. Lade was sprawled on the floor somewhere between her dressing table and the bed, lying still on her back with her eyes shut. Her house robe was parted lewdly showing her panties and bare thighs. Cindy saw the thin leather belt was coiled loosely around her upper arm and gasped in panic. Cindy’s bag dropped from her hand to the floor. She hurried closer, muttering a silent prayer that she still be alive. She saw the syringe at the foot of the dressing table and there was no further mistaking what had happened.

“Lade!” Cindy called sounding apprehensive. She kicked Lade’s foot.

No reply.

She stooped over Lade’s body and shook her. Lade’s skin felt hot but was dry and her breathing was very shallow. Her fair-complexioned face had a bluish tinge on her lips. She stifled a sob, paused to look around the room and collect her thoughts. She had to call Sting to send for the doctor, but first she had to try to revive her.

She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. She tried to lift Lade into her arms but was unsuccessful. Lade was limp and heavy. She exhaled. Drag her then. Cindy grabbed Lade by both arms and dragged her across the floor towards the adjourning kitchen. The linoleum folded under Lade’s dragging body but Cindy went on nonetheless. Slowly but steadily, they got into the kitchen and on into the bathroom.

She pulled Lade under the shower nozzle on the tiled bathroom floor. The toilet bowl was closed as always and a roll of tissue papers was on top of the toilet’s water tank. Cindy stripped Lade of the house robe and went to turn on the shower and water sprayed out of the nozzle down to Lade’s semi-nude body. Cindy went to kneel beside her and cradled her head in her arms.

The water fell on them both and on to the nearby water cistern. Cindy looked down at her friend’s unconscious face in her arms. Her tears began to roll freely.

She shook Lade roughly. “Nicky, you’re too smart to die like this!” She shook her some more. She thought of going out to call the neighbors for help but clamped down on the idea. Help in what capacity, other than be first-eye witnesses to a hot new gossip? Moreover, Nicky wouldn’t want that. She slapped Lade’s face.

“Wake up Nicky!” Another slap. “Come on!” And another, getting harder with each successful hit. She laid her down on the tiles and started pumping her chest with both hands, stopping only to blow air into her nose only to start the sequence all over again. She stopped after the fourth round and sat back on her heels, sobbing in helpless despair.

A full minute went past. Suddenly, Lade’s head shot up, gasping for air and choking at the water she breathed in instead. Cindy quickly moved in to cover her from the spray. She felt Lade panic and make a weak attempt to fight her off. Cindy stood up to turn off the tap then scooped a wheezy and shivering Lade into her arms. She massaged her heart through her still hot skin while Lade tried to get her breathing back to normal.

Lade opened her eyes finally and Cindy smiled. Her pupils were drowsy, narrow slits.

“Cindy,” she managed weakly.

“You stupid… very stupid girl! You have so much going for you! Why would you want to kill yourself?” Cindy was scowling already even though her eyes were still misty from crying.

“I’m… cold.” Lade slurred her words.

Her skin still felt hot to Cindy. The girl needed a doctor. Time to call Sting. She helped Lade back into the bedroom, tucked her into the bed to sleep. Cindy found her cell phone in her purse and walked into the kitchen to make the call.

I'll like to take time out to thank you again for reading and commenting. Work calls, but I'd be back by my lunch break with the next chapter. I love y'all.