Hey guys! I'm John Spurgeon - an avid, albeit silent reader of stories on NL. I'm a story teller and fiction writer, although I'm more into screenwriting and stage craft. OF ALL THE GIRLS IN LAGOS is my first NL story written as a prequel to a much longer series of the same title.

Writing prose for me has always been a means of escape (escape from a lot of things I'd rather only share with a shrink), until one of my stories (JETHRO) got adapted for screenplay. Since then, writing became a means to an end - developing plot concepts for filmmakers who don't have time to write, most of these plots so silly that i wouldn't have dreamed of writing it if it was left to me. However, my writing had relevance and I wasn't just writing to escape anymore. I was getting paid for it, and at the same time I was losing some of my passion for originality and honesty. I've dumbed down on writing prose for a while so writing this feels a tad too strange.

OF ALL THE GIRLS IN LAGOS is an attempt to get some of that old me back. If it's a failed project, then I promise myself I'd do better on the next one. I love writing contemporary literature, ROMANCE and a little ACTION, my favorite genres. I'm creating this post because of the honest criticism nairalanders always give. So bring on your soccer shoes and rugby helmets. I look forward to being kicked and head-butted. Thank you.

All rights reserved.
© 2015 by John Spurgeon
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.

You can contact the author directly at;
johnspurgeon014@gmail.com

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http://campfirewriters.

GENRE: ROMANCE/THRILLER


Will you still dote on an old flame who is no longer worthy of your company, just because you believe that since she was once good enough to be friends with, she still has it in her to be a better version of her present self?

This is a romance thriller about a young man with a bright future who, struggles to prove to himself and everyone else that the girl he's in love with is much more than a hooker and drug addict.

I hope you tag your friends to follow. I also hope y'all enjoy.
CHAPTER ONE

Banks stared at the African woman clad only in a piece of loincloth around her waist, her breasts hanging off her torso like pawpaw fruits as she was bent over, scooping water from the stream in front of her. After a minute’s consideration, Banks touched the undersides of her pregnant belly with a brush to make it look even heavier. She wore colored beads around her arms and a pair of dangling ear rings made of shells. It was almost life-sized and a side-view painting. He heard the door into the studio open and turned to see Andy enter with a brown bag that had the shape of the bottle inside it.

“WOW! This is a copy, right? Damn! Boy, you’ve gotten really good at this!" Andy exclaimed on seeing it.

Banks smiled and turned to continue staring at the life-size painting on the canvas, still wet from his brushes feigning even more concentration than he had in that moment. He was especially proud of this one. It’d taken him two back-breaking days to get it all out of his head and onto the canvas.

"I thought you said it was going to be a beautiful girl taking a bathe in a stream surrounded by nature."

"I like this better. African Arts Press is going to do a review on it. Maybe a few galleries will be interested too." Banks replied.

"Or you sell it to your mom. I'm sure she has a client who deserves a nice business gift." Andy said in his characteristic bit-joking, bit-serious manner.

Banks dropped his paint brush in a basin of multi-colored water on a table next to the canvas-heavy easel. He walked to the sink on the far side of his painting studio to wash his hands. "When did the girls say they'll get here?" He asked, turning again to look at Andy.

Andy had taken out the bottle of Grant Whiskey from the brown paper bag and was carrying it to the refrigerator at a different corner of the large art studio. "I thought I’ll meet them here. Chika texted me while I was yet at home that they are on their way."

As if on cue, they heard a knock on the door which opened and the two girls entered. They both could've easily passed for sisters, even though they were only cousins. Both their mothers were twin sisters. Chika's parents still lived in Port Harcourt while their daughter had moved in with her cousin Jennifer who lived with her own mother in the city of Lagos, where they both schooled. Jennifer was more cultured and sophisticated, but while Chika was prettier, she was born in the largely middle class city of Port Harcourt, and as such lacked the sort of refining her cousin had.

They both wore body fitting evening gowns. Jennifer had a jacket on. Chika had a hand bag while Jennifer held a simple burberry purse. "Hey guys!" Jennifer exclaimed. Then she saw the painting on the easel and got excited. "Oh my god! Banks, this is awesome!"

Chika meanwhile frowned at Banks. She turned to Andy. "Jenny, can you imagine we were in a hurry to get here? Banks is still covered in paint!" She said glaring at Banks. Banks laughed her off and began putting away his equipment.

"He's a guy, he can be ready in five." Jennifer replied quickly on his side as usual. "But is this painting cool or what? Somebody buy it yet?" Jennifer asked Banks.

"Nobody has even seen it yet. I don't think i'm done with it either. There are certain ideas I’m still mulling over…" Banks said.

"Guys! The mall closes by ten! The place won't wait for us! Jennifer and I still have lots of shopping to do for tomorrow's decorations and stuff!" Chika announced.

"Then we go to Crash." Andy said. The first he opened his mouth since the girls entered the room.

"No! Too noisy! How about that bar we found about a month ago? I loved that place." Jennifer said.

"Well, this is seven-zero-five already! P.M! And you all know I don't like hurried shopping!" Chika said, drawing everyone back to her topic.

Banks turned his back at them and rolled his eyes in quiet exasperation. He took off his t-shirt to reveal tight back muscles and a body well-toned at the local gym. His jeans hung to his hips as he walked towards a makeshift office further inside the art room. Jennifer averts her gaze and smiled shyly when she noticed Chika and Andy watching her stare at Banks body disappear past a doorway with amused, knowing looks on their faces. Jennifer blushed fiercely.

***

Lade could swear she’d only closed her eyes a minute ago, but the bedside clock in the motel room said it had been ten minutes since. She lay still listening to his deep breathing and occasional snore on the other side of the bed. She was still naked under the sheets. She could feel his limp organ resting on the swell of her waist and the damp stickiness from their recent coupling on her inner thighs. Coupling. How modest! Bleep, more like. Call-girls don’t couple. Not that she knew what that was. No, she’d never had the luxury of intercourse with a partner that cared as much about her needs as he did his. It was just another job, this one of more value than any she’d ever undertaken. She wasn’t here to just Bleep as usual; no, but for much more.

She slowly removed his hand from over her shoulder and carefully scooted to the edge of the bed. If he woke up now, the whole plan would be doomed. She slipped out of the bed as naked as the day she was born. She slipped on her panties. She hadn’t worn any bra. She took her gown and pulled it over her head.

The man on the bed was twice her age. She watched him sleep peacefully and felt a twinge of pity for him. His breath was deep and relaxed. She reached for her purse and opened it to check that her cell phone and the wad of notes she’d been paid for this tryst was still intact. She’ll have to account for that soon. She tiptoed to the door of the hotel suite and unlocked it. She opened it just a fraction to peep outside. Suddenly, both she and the door were pushed in. Two men stepped into the hotel suite and closed the door after them, both careful not to make any unnecessary noises. One was tall and ugly, made worse with a knife scar across his left chin. The other was of average height and more pleasant looking with a pierced right ear from which a diamond rock was embedded. He was also the first to draw his .45 semi-automatic.

“What the hell took you so long, Nicky?” Tall and ugly asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

“I dozed off for a minute while waiting for him to sleep off. I am sorry,“ Lade whispered back.

“Nonsense! Spencer here says the room’s been quiet for the past thirty minutes! You think we have all night that you doze off on a job! Go and wait in the car now!” Sting ordered.

Lade collected the car keys from Spencer and exited the suite in a hurry.

Sting and Spencer went the bed. The man sleeping on it hadn’t moved a muscle. “Spencer let us wake this fool up, shall we?” Sting said, pulling out his gun. Spencer moved in closer to tap his head with the nozzle of his gun. Lade’s client woke up grimacing at the pain. He frowned in surprise on seeing Spencer’s gun pointed at him. His looks up to the hand holding the gun and continued till he saw Spencer’s smiling face looming above it all. Spencer crossed his lips with his index finger. Lade’s client tried to sit up, but stopped when he noticed Sting standing at the foot of the bed. He looked around but didn’t see anyone else. The girl was gone. He smiled at Sting’s scowling face. “It was the girl, right? My eternal weakness!” He chuckled nodding in acknowledgement.

Sting turned to Spencer with an incredulous look on his face. “He thinks we came to share laughs. Shoot him in the face and let’s get out of here.”

Lade’s client’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to start a war Sting! Let me go and I’ll forget this happened!”

“Right…” Spencer replied, picking up a pillow to cover his gun’s mouth and fired point blank at the man on the bed. He fell dead from a single hole on his forehead.

“Good. Let’s get out of here while we still can.” Sting said. They both turned to exit the suite. Spencer took one last look around before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

***

Banks darted out of the lounge bar into the light drizzle and ran to his Mercedes convertible parked at the lot outside. He was wearing a white beanie over his head, a gray t-shirt and a pair of blue denim trousers and black all-stars on his feet. He unlocked the convertible with his car remote and jumped in behind the wheels. Night had long fallen. Banks turned on the engine and the car’s headlamps come on. He reverses out of his parking spot.

“Banks wait!” It was Jennifer’s voice. Banks turned to see Jennifer hurrying under the rain to meet him. He stepped on the brakes and leaned over to open the front passenger door. Jennifer entered the car and shut the door after herself. “I’m glad I caught up with you. I need a lift home! It was either I catch up with you or I find myself a cab, and you know how much I hate taxis.” Jennifer said, brushing drops of rain from her clothes and shivering for a bit.

Banks shrugged. “Let me guess, Chika and Andy decided they would go to the club after all.”

“Yes! I had to leave my car with them.”

“Okay no wahala,” Banks replied and drove out of the compound.
About twenty minutes later, the rain was now pouring. The convertible drove slowly along the wet road. They were both quiet and watching the road ahead. Soul music playing over the car speakers and the low hum of the car engine were the only audible sounds. Banks threw her a quick glance as he turned off a major road into the street that ran through her neighborhood. “Is something the matter, Jenny?

She met his gaze briefly. “No, I’m fine! Why?” She asked.

“Well, you seem tense. Uncomfortable. Like something is bothering you.”

“Nothing is bothering me.”

“You’re rarely this tongue-tied. We haven’t said a word to each other since we left the bar.”

“Banks… fine, but conversations are a two-way thing. You haven’t said a word to me either, so forgive me if I don’t speak out of turn.”

“Out of turn!” Banks frowned. Suddenly, she’d sounded upset, Banks noted. “Okay, what is this about?”

Silence.

Banks pulled up by the curb of the street just outside Jennifer’s mother’s house.

“I appreciate the ride, Peter.” Jennifer said, gathering her purse and making to alight. She only called him by his first name when she was pissed about something. He’d known her long enough.

“Jenny wait.” Banks said. He grabbed her hand gently to hold her back. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a boring companion tonight. I’ve been up and about since before dawn and I’m tired. Driving home at night is usually quiet time for me, after painting all day and partying half of the night.”

“I get it Banks. It’s not that.”

“Then what’s up? Didn’t you have fun tonight?” Banks asked. He knew all of Jennifer’s dispositions. Tonight’s was a rare one.

“I did! I…” Jennifer hesitated and sighed. She shut the door and settled back on her seat. “It’s just… we’ve been close friends for a while now. Yet this is the only way we ever hang out – a group-hang with our other friends.” She looked out of the window and squirmed in her seat. She folded her hands across her busty chest. Banks could make out the embarrassed frown on her face.

There it was from her lips finally. He’d heard subtle and even blatant suggestions from his friends on the same matter. He’d been treated to snippets of encouragements and tiny hints from Jennifer on upgrading their friendship status to a more intimate relationship. This was the first time she was saying it out straight. “You want us to do this more often… but just the two of us.”

Jennifer steals a glance at him first. Banks kept his face straight and his doubts to himself. She steepled her fingers, and put on a serious frown on her face. “It doesn’t have to be often, Banks. I know you’re a busy guy, with the studio and all. My schedule isn’t what it used to be either…but once in a while won’t be a bad idea. You’re not seeing anyone, neither am I. and since we see a lot of each other, why don’t we…?’

“I’ll like that, Jenny. It isn’t a big deal. Just… When will you be free?” Banks asked.

“Are you sure?” Jennifer asked trying to read him.

“Of course I am.”

“Okay, what about Chika’s birthday party tomorrow evening by eight?” She asked.

Banks hesitated. “I’m not sure about that… I have an errand to run. There is this painting someone ordered through the website. The address is in Mushin.”

“An art lover living in Mushin of all places,” she mused. Her easy smile was back. “How long shall that take?”

“Hopefully, not more than a couple hours...” Banks replied.

“The party will be till midnight. Mom is in Florida. We can still hang-out at the party after you make your run.”

“Sure we can. Sounds like a plan.”

“Thanks for the ride, Banks. I’ll see you tomorrow in school?”

“Good night Jen, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They hugged each other in the car. Jennifer alighted after the embrace and went to the gate. Banks watched her press the bell. After a few moments, the wicket gate unlocked. She turned to wave at him before entering the compound. Banks shook his head and drove away.

***

Lade drew a short, thin line of the white powder on the tray with a thin, hollow cylinder made of a small sheet of paper. She put one end at the entrance to one of her nostrils and bent till the other end of the paper cylinder touched the white powder. She sniffed, dragging her make-shift snifter along the line until the coke line disappeared into her nose. The expected relief was slow but instant. The early morning dizziness disappeared, followed closely by the dull ache at the back of her head. She smiled and closed her eyes. She felt so clear-headed, it was like sitting under the air conditioning after a fresh skin cut at the neighborhood barber shop. She walked to the window and parted the curtains to let in some daylight into her apartment which was on the topmost floor of a three story apartment building. She looked downstairs from her window. There is not much activity going on outside.

She heard a knock on her door and frowned at the disorganized state her bedroom was in. she was still in her nightgown. “Who is it?” She asked as she stepped closer to the door.

“Na me, Cindy,” she heard a female voice reply from behind the door.

“Oh!” Lade throws a glance at the wall clock. It was still eight in the morning. Too early for visitors; not that she received any. The only people that came to check on her in her room were Cindy who was more of a friend than a visitor, Spencer who usually supplied her with the drugs and Sting her boss who dropped in occasionally and when he felt like. Cindy was welcome at all hours. The others weren’t really welcome per say, theirs was just…work.

Lade unlocked the door and opened it for Cindy to enter the room. Cindy was in her late twenties, plump and beautiful even without her make up. Her pajamas accentuated the curves on her body and her dimple was always there like a permanent fixture on her pleasant face. Usually. This morning however, she held a cold sachet of water to her head and had lines on her depressed face

“Spencer don show?”

Lade chuckled and locks the door after her. “He just left. There is some Calvin-Klein on the dressing table, help yourself.” After all the years with Sting and the girls, Lade still preferred to express herself in English. She had some education and held it over the rest of them like some special skill she’d acquired which they hadn’t; even though they all were Sting’s girls.

Cindy went to the dressing table and did a fatter line. Lade joins her and snorts some more. They lay in the silent glow of their reverie. Cindy does a second line while Lade goes to lie on the bed. Cindy pulls a chair and sits next to the dressing table.

“How are you feeling? You know… the whole… having to sleep with the guy… and watching them off him?”

“I didn’t watch! I’ll be fine! I think!” Lade replied a bit harshly. They were both surprised at her reaction and an uncomfortable silence ensued, Lade, because she’d never shouted at her friend Cindy before. “I’m sorry. Don’t know what that was.” She looked down at her hands and rubbed them together unconsciously.

Cindy sighs. “The guilt hurt for a while, but e go come to pass too…”

“I hope so… I don’t really like myself right now.”

The silence was shorter this time. “At least Sting brings you the best stuff.” Cindy said. “Omo! Straight from the source. E never even reach lab.” she thumbed her nostrils and sniffed and giggled at nothing.

Lade chuckled. “I got the rest of the day off too. I wonder what I’d do with it.

Cindy looked around the room. “Your room is untidy. It could use some cleaning.”

“I’ll do it later in the day. Right now, I feel lazy… like sleeping, or watching TV all day.”

“Your own better na,” Cindy scoffed. “Me, I go escort one Alhaji like that go one function for Abuja this evening. We go spend the weekend there before we come back.”

“How come you always get the best jobs? A full weekend of lounging, sight-seeing and shopping! Omo no forget to buy something for me o!” Lade said chuckling.

“Yet you de claim say you no gbadu this escort jaab.” Cindy said pulling out a drawer.

“Of course there are a few advantages, but the disadvantage plenty” Lade argued. “Oya check out wetin I do the other night na. What if e no bin work according to plan?”

Cindy found some indian hemp in the drawer. She tossed one at Lade who caught it neat. They both relapsed in silence and began rolling up the Indian hemp. When they were both done, they got to their feet to go to the kitchen. It was like tradition in Lade's apartment. No matter how untidy the bedroom was, she didn't smoke in there. Except on a few rare occasions when she was alone.

There was a sharp contrast between the bedroom and the adjourning kitchen in Lade’s self-contained apartment. There were two other adjourning doors in the kitchen. One was slightly ajar and led out to a balcony while the other was shut and led into the bathroom. The kitchen was clean, fully equipped and well-arranged unlike the bedroom. Cindy wasn’t surprised at the difference. She resumed the conversation. “All the same, the plan worked…you came home safe, got paid and earned a holiday.”

The refrigerator suddenly kicked in and began humming. A female voice somewhere shouted, "Up NEPA!!!" Cindy smirked at that.

“True sha… but what if something goes wrong the next time?” She snapped her fingers. “God forbid! I can’t wait to save enough money to pay off my father’s debt and quit all this shit.” Lade lighted her hemp and walked out of the kitchen to the balcony at the back.

Cindy was right behind her with a bemused expression on her face. “And what would you do when you quit?” Her tone had a twinge of mockery. She took the lighter from Lade and lit hers.

Lade took a dragged, swallowed and blew it out with a dreamy expression on her face. “Well, I’ll get a job, fall in love with someone and build a family… you know, get married and raise my kids.”

Cindy was quiet for a moment then burst into sudden laughter. “You dream a lot,” Cindy said. “I’m sure you know that Sting won’t let someone as pretty as you quit till you’re at least forty and ripe candidate for a wellness home. Have you ever seen anyone quit before?”

Lade grimaced at that. She sat on the vacant space on the kitchen table and took a long drag of her hemp which she blew out and watched ascend to the kitchen ceiling.

***

For Sting, pushing drugs wasn’t just a means to an end. He was a graduate of Yaba College and had better grades than most of his peers in society. He had never been destitute or so in need of cash like most people in the business claimed to have been once upon a time in their lives. He’d been born to middle class parents, but hadn’t fit in with their idea of society. Moreover, patience and contentment hadn’t been his strong suits. He revolted against their authority too many times to count and hadn’t surprised anyone when he chose to be an outlaw. His father had disowned him eventually.

It was less about the money and more about his disregard off society’s norms. As a teenage kid, he had always taken joy in breaking the rules. He’d begun with holding up a convenient store with a ski mask and a loaded pistol. With time, he’d met other ruffians and gotten himself from bad to worse – he’d sold Indian hemp on Yaba campus, moved bags across state lines, put up a fashion modeling agency that actually provided escort services for clients. He hated attention and enjoyed the allure of roaming freely with a kilo or two in his bag and his favorite .44 in his pants knowing he had the lion’s share in anything illegal going on around. Yet Sting had never seen the inside of a prison cell. One of the first things he’d learned was that most policemen were only brutal because they were hungry. They didn’t give a rat’s ass about the law, and if you fed that hunger regularly, they got a lot friendlier. Thus, even the commissioner of police and his immediate circle were in Sting’s very deep pockets.

His cousin and aide-de-camp, Spencer was not yet back from the errand to the girls' lodge but Sting felt good about roaming alone. He paused to pat his side bag as he walked towards the cashier’s counter pushing his shopping cart. The shelves and compartments in the shopping mart were fully stacked with groceries and Sting’s cart contained all he came to pick that morning. Sting was the only client in the supermarket – a drug dealer shopping for groceries like normal people without back up even though he was in his neighborhood.

“Oga, good morning,” greeted the sole attendant who was mopping the front part of the shop. She hurried behind the counter and took out a calculator while Sting offloaded his trolley. The attendant calculates his purchase and puts them in shopping bags. “It’s five thousand, three hundred naira sir.”

A man wearing sunshades walked into the supermarket - a bulk of a man, his muscular frame hidden beneath his tight cashmere and jeans. He was talking to someone over the phone in low tones. A tiny alarm went off in Sting’s head. His sixth sense was suddenly awake – those instincts that had brought him this far. He was sure he knew four-eyes from somewhere. He watched four-eyes till he disappeared among the shelves from the corner of his eyes. Sting smiled at the shop attendant as he reached for his wallet. “Have you ever seen that man before?” Sting asked, as casual as he could.

“No,” She replied after looking up in four-eyes’ direction. Sting handed her some cash while she hands him the shopping bags.

“Thanks, and keep the balance. See you later.” He takes his shopping bags and walks out of the supermarket frowning. He knew that Johnny’s body would’ve been found by his loyalists by now. His beef with Johnny wasn’t a secret and he knew he’d be the usual suspect. A lot was about to change.

***


The Mercedes convertible slowed to join a queue along traffic. The red light was up and Banks was behind the wheels. Andy looked up from a celebrity magazine he was reading. He frowned at the line of cars in front of them and looked at his wrist-watch. Banks’ Iphone 5 buzzed. He took the phone out of his pocket and read the message. He chuckled as he put the phone on the dashboard.

“It’s Jennifer… says she’s in school with Chika and wants to know where we are.” Banks read.

“That reminds me. You drove Jennifer home last night.” Andy said smiling suggestively.

Banks laughed. “I was wondering how long till you bring it up. The script just seemed like something you conceived.”

Andy closed his magazine. “So, what happened?” He cast his net straight up. Banks grinned at him. “You don’t know already?”

Banks had his entire attention now. “No! Why would you assume…?” Andy said taking off his reading glasses.

“Nothing,” Banks replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Okay, you don’t sound like it was just nothing. Did you even go to first base with her?”

“Well, I thought she’d mention it to her cousin who wouldn’t waste time to tell you all about it.”

“Tell me all about what! Did you two do anything… worth mentioning?” Andy inquired. He loved a good love story.

“Well, she invited me in…her mom is in Florida, remember? We went up her room and…you know…” Banks shrugged with a smile on his face.

Andy slowly comprehended his meaning, then, “Liar!”

Banks frowned at him. “What! We were both tipsy and excited. It was kind of inevitable.”

Andy considered it and seemed pleased. The red traffic light turned green and soon they were cruising again. “How was it? Was it even worth all the effort?” Andy asked. “Does this mean she’s now your girlfriend officially?” He stopped when he recognized the mock look on Banks’ face. “You’re totally pulling my leg!”

Banks laughed. “Having fun at it too…” Banks replied as he drove.

“I’m sure you didn’t even kiss her goodnight! Even when you knew you could! Why? We arranged everything so perfectly!”

“Andy, don’t you ever listen to me?” Banks chided. “How many times do I have to say this… I’m not a character in your fiction stories and movie scripts?”

“That girl is in love with you. You both look good together.” Andy said.

Banks sighed. “I like her a lot too, but not in that way. We don’t have chemistry, just a million things in common. I don’t think about her sexually.”

“You still can if you want to. It’s not hard. Sure you’ve really looked at her, but duh, she’s got everything! Just think along the right elements and you’ll see the chemistry. Many people envy you Banks.” Andy said. “You own a convertible! Your mom is one of the wealthiest business women in this city and you are book smart too! The best part – your talent is a big business prospect. Most of these other girls will gladly leave their boyfriends just to be in Jenny’s shoes. Everyone knows she is the closest female friend you have. If I don’t know you well, I’ll agree with those who already concluded that you’re gay.”

Banks laughed and shrugged. “Someone once told me, that the difference between you and me lies in the difference in our definition of the ideal – the ideal situation, the ideal relationship, the ideal communication and the ideal transaction. I just think that there is more to life than a bevy of girls at your beck and call. Girls are complicated, and I’ve got a whole lot on my plate right now.” Banks said. “I prefer not to add to it.”

“Eventually, you’ll have to. Abi you no go marry again?”

“When I find her, I won’t be surprised at how much I can deal with, with the right girl.”

Andy stared out of the window in sober reflection while the convertible increased its speed along traffic. His own thoughts were on his relationship with Chika and couldn’t help but compare both cousins from what he knew about them and think of what his friend Banks was missing.

***

Sting walked to his TOYOTA TUNDRA which he’d parked in a lot just outside the supermarket. He was holding the grocery bag and walking confidently when suddenly he heard a gunshot. Sting ducked fast and a bullet whizzed past his left ear. Sting swallowed a scream in his throat and began to run as the second shot got fired. He found cover behind a Toyota Camry parked in the same lot. A bullet smashed a side mirror of the Camry he’d hid behind. He scanned the street from his hide out. He saw people around the premises running for their dear lives. He saw his assailant tuck his gun away and mingle with the crowd. Sting didn’t recognize him.

Sting bolted to his vehicle and entered it. He started the engine as quick as he could, reversed and drove out of the premises at top speed. He looked at his rear mirror after a while and saw that no one was following. He relaxed and reduced his speed. Then he took out his phone with shaky hands and speed dialed a number.

***

Lade’s room was even more disorganized than earlier. A distinct smell of dirty laundry and un-aired beddings hovered over the room. The curtains were drawn and the electric bulbs were off. Light flickering from the TV set was all that illuminated the bedroom. A foreign movie was showing on the TV. Lade held two remote controllers and lay on her stomach on the unmade bed and had a pillow wedged under her chest.

Her cell phone rang somewhere in the room and she sighed at the distraction. It was Sting, she was sure. She paused the movie with one remote controller and got off the bed and walked to the dressing table to take her ringing cell phone. She frowned at the caller but answered the call. “Sting, good morning!”

Sting was behind the wheels of his TUNDRA, driving slowly along a narrow street that led up to his house. One hand was on the wheels while the other held his cell phone to his ear. Lade heard him pause to take a deep breath. “What are you doing, Nicky?” She heard him ask, with a calm friendly voice.

“You gave me the day off, remember?” Sting could hear the frown in her voice.

“You’ll go to ROSA’s bar tonight. See if Mandy shows up. If he does, I want to know who he’s rolling with tonight. If you can, get close to his goons and get me something.”

Lade was confused. “Something about what?”

“Some stupid motherfucker thinks it’s a great idea to take shots at me. I want to know if that fool Mandy ordered a hit on me.” Lade frowned. A hit on Sting already! They’d known taking Johnny out was an ambitious albeit reckless plan and would have drastic consequences. Someone had linked Johnny’s death to Sting already. Lade wondered if she’d be recognized eventually. “Nicky, did you hear me?”

“Yes.” Lade replied. “A day off! I knew it was too good to be true.” She said.

Sting chuckled. “Babe, I no talk say make you go today. I said tonight, and I don’t remember giving you that off.” The line went dead in her ear. She went back to lie on her bed looking unhappy. She resumed her movie and settled back to it.

***

Jennifer put in finishing touches to the sketch and dropped her pencil on the desk. She lifted her drawing book to admire her drawing. It was of a hen protecting her chicks from a hawk hovering around. Jennifer was only this good with her pencil when she was bored or anxious about something. Jennifer was sitting alone in an empty lecture room on campus. However, boredom wasn’t what she was feeling right then. This one was anxiety and she recognized it. Once, she’d almost been sure Banks would ask her to be his date to the school night, back in their sophomore year. He asked Clara instead. That night she began sketching a picture book with which she won the National Fine Art Competition last year.

At that moment, Banks was descending the staircase in a hurry to catch up with the rest of his schedule. He was carrying a roll of new canvases under his right arm. He was wearing a pair of beats by Dre over his ears and held his bag in his other hand. His supervisor had rescheduled their morning meeting to late afternoon and they’d been at it for the past three hours. It was almost dusk and Banks was exhausted. He’d have to drag the new canvases to where he could get a taxi to his studio. There he would drop the canvases, pick up tonight’s delivery and go pick his cash. He still hadn’t bought Chika a gift. He’d have to send something over tomorrow.

Banks entered a verandah and walked past a few lecture halls heading quickly for the nearest exit from the faculty building.

Jennifer saw Banks walks past and scrambled to put her materials back into her school bag. She swung the bag over her shoulders. She exited the lecture room into the verandah outside. She could see Banks walking ahead of her.

“Hey Banks!” She called after him.

Banks heard his name over the slow pop he was listening to. He turned and was surprised to see Jennifer hurrying to meet up with him.

“Jennifer!” He looked at his wrist watch. “What are you still doing on campus by this time? I thought you’d be helping out with Chika’s party arrangements.”

Jennifer took a deep breath to catch it. “Chika mentioned you lent Andy the Mercedes. So I figured you may need a lift after your meeting with Dr. Rose. I didn’t realize it’d take this long.”

Banks looked relieved. “Thanks Jen. You have no idea how tired I am right now, and I was wondering how I was going to drag these canvases out of campus to get a taxi.”

“What else are friends for?” Jennifer asked feeling pleased to be relevant. “Here, let me help you with the laptop bag.” Jennifer offered. Banks gave her the bag looking grateful.

They exited the faculty building and walked to where her HONDA ELEMENT was parked. Banks opened the back door and put the roll of canvases on the back seats. He shut the door, opened the front passenger seat and climbed in after Jennifer who was putting the bags in the back seats. She turned the ignition on and reversed out of the lot to drive away.

Chapter two would be ready later. Gotta get back to work.

Really enthralling, nice diction. Kudos,keep it coming.

CHAPTER TWO


Johnny, the man Sting murdered was Sting’s biggest rival in the local dope trade. It was little wonder why Sting made it to the top of somebody’s hit list already. A dope boss was dead, which meant stakes were about to be re-arranged and territories were up for grabs. Sting was the second biggest distributor and taking over from his rival would surely increase demand for his products. The attempt on his life earlier this morning was either for revenge or to tilt the odds in someone else’s favor. This was the exact reason someone out there was seriously vexed and out for his blood. However, Sting wasn’t one to nap. He’d taxed his pawns to sniff the air and smoke the rat out, Lade included.

Lade had been with Sting’s organization six years now and knew most of Sting’s ambitions, alliances and enemies. Her only friend Cindy had been with Sting for much longer and had coached her on how Sting’s game was played. Sting had found Lade to be clever and more subtle than any of the other girls he kept, and so he let her have a few privileges. He stopped pimping her around for cash and favors like he did the other girls. He’d learned that there was better use for resourceful females and that certain assignments will be far easier accomplished by sexy females than by gun-toting, egoistic males. He paid her commissions in cash and drugs. Some of his other girls were jealous, talking at his back of how ‘he had a soft spot for Nicky’.

Lade stepped into the cold night out of the under-populated bar. She was wearing a jacket over her evening dress and flat shoes tonight. She stood at five feet three inches without her heels. There was a light touch of make up on her face, her hair was tied to a ponytail tonight and she rocked silver ear rings which complimented her silver purse. She was beautiful and knew it. A group of drunk guys hanging around a car parked outside the bar whistled at her, but she ignored them. She took in the rest of her surroundings. Rosa’s bar was owned by Sting’s latest rival, an albino named Mandy. She’d been here once before to pick up some cash for Sting but that had been over six months ago. She doubted anyone here would recognize her or who she worked for. She was just another single girl hanging out around the bar looking to mingle. However, the bar looked depopulated for a Friday night. Either the night was too cold to stay outside and everyone had gone to bed early, or Mandy and the noisy crowd he gathered around himself weren’t about to show their faces, meaning something was definitely up with them.

The music playing was irritating – too loud to allow her think. She felt like a cigarette and looked around for a vendor. It was going to be a long, cold night for her. She’d need a packet. Or two… Her cell phone began ringing in her purse. She took it out knowing it had to be Sting checking that she was on point. In fact only Sting called her, as a rule. None of the other girls including Cindy owned a cell phone. Lade had learned to say, such was her life.

***

Banks sat in the rear seat of the taxi as it drove along a dark, bumpy street. He’d bathed and changed. He wore a white stud jacket zipped up to his chest and blue jeans. The taxi’s headlamp was all that illuminated the broken asphalt single lane and its numerous pot-holes. There was an occasional trickle of pedestrians as they drove, but no other vehicles were on the road. The radio on the taxi was playing an old Damian Marley reggae track to which the driver was whistling in tune. It was distraction enough, trying to glean whatever meaning from the philosophical lyrics spewing through the cackling speakers. It was distraction enough from the numerous thoughts in his head, which he didn’t want to be thinking.

Especially Jennifer. Next to Andy, she was his best friend. Why she wasn’t as contented with that as he was beat his imagination. Why she wanted to complicate a good and reliable relationship with dates and romance was something he couldn’t understand. If he refused to attempt a relationship with every pretty skirt that came close to him, he’d be titled a gay. If he accepted them as they came like he used to, then he’ll be called a Casanova. However, this wasn’t about pretty girls coming at him, rather about one who’d been consistent for a couple of years now. She was the hottest in his entire faculty, rich and probably not just after his family’s money. She had the best cumulative grade point average among both faculties of Fine and performing arts. All the classiest guys he knew around school had asked her out. Her character was unquestionable too, and she’d set sights on him since day one. Everyone that knew both of them was rooting for her. All that didn’t mean anything. Just because their relationship worked on a platonic level wasn’t a guarantee that if he shifted gears and switched on some romance, they’d be a successful couple. He’d tire of her soon if he attempted it. He loved her, true. He just wasn’t in love with her. He wasn’t like most guys who developed imaginary sentiments when they found a desirable mate. They were cool to hang out with but most of such guys would laugh at him and call him a gay.

Banks took off his snapback cap and scratched his sweaty head as he stared out of the window at the neighborhood. There he went thinking about her again. Banks felt for the framed painting in his bag and looked at his wrist watch. He was still on schedule.

The taxi driver interrupted his thoughts. “Oga, e be like say na here I go drop you,” He said slowing down to a stop at a junction on the street. There were no houses were they’d stopped. Banks frowned at him. “Have we gotten to where we are going?”

The driver pointed at a dark, adjacent street that disappeared to the right. “Na that one be York street, me I no fit to enter that side abeg.” He said.

“Why? Wetin we come bargain for?” Banks asked in his imperfect pidgin. “No be number twenty-two York street I tell you, wey we agree how much I go pay you?”

“Oga no vex, abeg.” The driver pleaded. “Them dey snatch people moto for this side by this time, especially if you no dey stay around and them no sabi you. Look around! When the last time we see moto pass?"

Banks scanned the area and sighed. “So wetin we go do now?”

“Just pay me small something, or you carry your money go. If I bin sabi say na that side you dey go, I no for gree carry you.”

Banks looks at the dark, adjacent street again, trying to douse his anger. If that was York street, then twenty two would be within walking distance or something. Banks took out his wallet, slipped out a five hundred naira note and handed it to the driver. He alighted from the taxi, taking his framed canvas which was covered with well designed wrapping paper.

“Thank you oga! God bless you!" the driver quipped, reversing to drive away the way he came.

Banks crossed the junction into York street with the framed canvas under his arms. He remembered that his client had mentioned the name of a drinking bar close to his apartment. Rose’s bar, he thought. Judging by the eeriness of the street, there’d be at most one drinking parlor; that shouldn’t be hard to find. Still, he decided to call his client and alert him on his presence. Banks took out his blackberry and scrolled through his phone book as he walked past a dark junkyard at a corner of the street. There was a sharp bend on the street just ahead of him.

“Sorry, the number you just dialed is not available…” Banks ended the call with a mental sigh interrupting the computer voice giving him the bad news. Call network issues in Lagos was a rare occurrence but happened when you least expected. Stray odours of Indian hemp wafting through the air got him alert and made him take a second look at the junkyard to his left as he walked past it. He noticed a few glows from lit joints and could make out human shadows huddled together and talking in whispers. Banks straightened becoming self-conscious but continued at his pace. Fear was smelled on a prey faster than it was seen and he wasn’t about to be an easy target for any night prowlers.

Banks made it around the bend and the lights he saw in the distance was a welcome sight. So was the crazy dance music whose sound drifted towards him. He could see the residential areas now. Small bungalows, most of them unfenced, lined both sides of the street and were lighted by i-pass-my-neighbor generators. He could hear their engines noisily compete with each other. A few houses and kiosks were lit with candles or kerosene lamps. A police patrol cruised past him as he made his way past the first houses searching for the address he had. Soon, he saw a huge lighted signboard ahead which read ROSA’S BAR. Okay, not ROSE’S… that was where the dance music was coming from. His client’s house would be somewhere close. There were people hanging around the bar going about whatever they were up to.

That was when he noticed a familiar walk and scanned his memory. Hips out first in a seductive manner like most ladies but the dreads on her hair was what got his heartbeat fluttering. Then she turned and he saw her face, and his heart skipped a beat or two. Lade. What was she doing here? First thing he remembered was the last time he saw her, when she turned down his request to be more than friends with him because she was leaving to accept her admission into the University of Lagos. What was she doing here?

Lade was oblivious of her audience as she walked to one of the kiosks to buy a packet of cigarettes. She unwrapped it as easily as the old hand at it she was and pulled out a stick which she lit with a lighter she took out of her purse.

Banks was taken aback by that. Lade was smoking a cigarette in public dressed to kill near a pub in the middle of the night. He felt he must be reading it all wrong. She’d been his class captain in secondary school for crying out loud - the first female senior prefect in a mixed school for rich kids. He knew her father hadn’t been rich and had struggled to send her there. They’d finished college at the same time but she’d gone on into tertiary education while he’d paused to figure out what he wanted to study. They used to be ‘just friends’ – that female friend you wished was not just a friend who wouldn’t see you any other way. She was one of the book-smartest girls he’d ever known; okay except for Jennifer, but not by comparison. Jennifer again. Yet here she was smoking a cigarette, and in public for that matter, looking as at home as she could with this rough, low-caste neighborhood. There was no mistaking her. What was she doing here?

“Lade?" He called.

Lade turned to see a well-dressed guy walking to her. This one smiled easily like he knew her. She felt hot and spooked the next instant because she felt she knew him too. His smile became even more familiar the closer he got… and those eyes… then he took his cap off… Oh shit! It is… the tears came to her eyes. Tears of happiness, but there was no time to explain that. Banks was surprised at the show of emotions.

“Peter, it is really you?” She walks into his embrace and inhaled his cologne. His arms felt strong around her and she felt a strange feeling of being safe. Her hands encircled his neck and pulled him tighter to him. She still held her cigarette stick.

“Are you alright?” Banks asked with a twinge of concern.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just surprised and happy to see you again.” Lade broke the embrace. “My God! Look at you! You’re so big and handsome! What have you been feeding on?”

They hug each other again. “Wow! I’ve missed you so much Lade. What are you doing here?”

“I am uh... waiting to see someone. Not like a date, just uhm, a little work. And there is nothing special about the place, so I decided to have a smoke. You don’t mind, right?”

“No, it’s okay!” Banks agreed a bit too quickly that it was obvious he did. “I just never thought you’ll be one to indulge in that. You used to be Miss Mary back at college.”

They both laughed it off. A white BMW drove past behind Banks.

“So, what about you; what are doing here? I mean I figured you’ll still be at Ibadan with your parents.” Lade asked.

“We relocated. We live in Lagos now.”

“Wow, we’ve got eight years’ worth of catching up to do, Peter. Where are you going dressed like there’s a party around I don’t know about?”

Banks chuckled. “You’re not the only one working tonight you know. I have a delivery to make and I’m actually late.” Banks said looking at his wrist-watch. Lade took a half-step backwards. “Well, don’t let me slow your grind.” She said smiling, but they both hesitated to say their goodbyes. Before she could think of the possible blow-backs, she said, “I’ll be at the bar if you won’t take long.” The next instant she wished she hasn't, but there was no going back now, especially judging by his relieved smile.

“I won’t take long. I promise.” Banks replied. She nodded in agreement and they went their separate ways. Just like that. Banks moved on towards his delivery with a spring to his step. He could feel his heart slamming in his rib cage. He’d forgotten all about her. Their friendship had gotten to a point where their paths in life diverged – forever he’d thought back then, but here she was again. He’d asked her to be his girl back then. She’d insinuated he watched too many romance movies. She’d preferred being just friends with him because there were too many girls throwing themselves at him then, how was she supposed to believe that they’d be exclusive. Well, here she was again; and chicks were still flocking around him like he was a poultry farmer. Jennifer had even placed a tag on him. Jennifer.

***

Jennifer descended the stairs into the large living room where the invited guests had all gathered. She was wearing a black, knitted sequins dress she’d purchased on ebay a month ago and never worn yet. It came down mid-thigh and was tight at all the right places. Her feet were encased in four-inch heels and legs in striped paint-splatter knee length socks. She looked lovely even when she wasn’t trying. She could see Bayo and his fiancée Idara on the couch taking pictures with a SAMSUNG tablet. Theresa loved dancing. She and her boyfriend Tunde had already opened the floor. She hugged them all and made small talk with them before she headed to the kitchen to meet Andy who’d just returned with the birthday cake. There had been a little mix up at the bakery which Andy had to go straighten out.

Jennifer’s decoration was the first awe of the occasion. Everyone in the room knew of Jennifer’s knack for decorating, but she had surpassed herself tonight.

Okay, it wasn’t much for Chika’s birthday than it was for her date with Banks. She’d put her heart into it and she knew he’d love it. He always admired her knack for creating beauty. Hadn’t he let her paint his studio by herself?

She smiled at the thought as she entered the wide and clean kitchen. Andy stood with a delivery man signing a delivery voucher. The cake was on the kitchen table. It was a Devil’s food cake with milk chocolate frosting and blueberries. It had a single candle stick on top, and the number twenty-three which was Chika’s age was designed on it. It had definitely set his pockets back some.

“Wow, Andy! It’s beautiful! She’ll definitely love it!” Jennifer was excited and went closer for a better look.

“Looks yummy enough… Can’t wait to eat it…” Andy said chuckling. “Where is she?” he asked referring to Chika.

“She’s upstairs dressing up. Every other person is here except Banks. Bayo brought a case of spirits while Tunde thought it wise to bring some palm wine for you guys.”

That got Andy amused. “He said he was bringing the beer.”

“There is a cooler full of Becks if that is what you mean. The wines and the rest of the refreshments are in the deep freezer.”

“Banks should be here working the grill by now. But I’ll fire it up if he doesn’t get here on time like he said. Has the police called?”

“Yes. They are sending one patrol team.” Jennifer got a can of beer for the delivery man on his way out. “Thank you.” She said shaking hands with him before he left via the back door.

Andy gave Jennifer his full attention now. She always cleaned up nice. It didn’t escape him that she was showing a bit more cleavage tonight than usual. Her four inch white heels made her almost as tall as he was. She wasn’t inhibitive but she rarely threw herself out there to impress the men. Not tonight. She was dressed to kill and kill one lucky goof-head who was too blind to recognize and exploit it when the best things in life came knocking freely.

“Andy, you’re staring.” Jennifer interrupted. Andy smiled at being caught red-handed. “You’re suddenly more beautiful than I remember.” Jennifer blushed at his answer and smiled as the music switched to one of her favorites.

“Thanks Andy,” She said and walked to him. “Banks is my date tonight,” she said. “But I’ll give you my first dance because of how good you treat my cousin and I love this song.”

“I’ll keep those lovely feet warm for your date when he arrives.” Andy replied, took her hand and led her beaming out of the kitchen to the party slowly heating up in the living room.

***

Banks heard his client lock the gate behind him and was back on the street without his bag and a hundred grand split two ways in his back pockets. He took off his beanie and folded it in his fist. He was even warier now and had cause to. The street outside the bar had filled up some more. A few more cars were parked outside and there were a few more groups of people loitering around. The bar looked like it was about to get busier. He wished he’d brought his car. He could tell getting transport out of here was going to be a miracle.

If you stand still for a minute you get noticed, Vanessa’s soldier boyfriend Mike had once told him. Banks knew how the ghetto streets ran. Back when he and his family lived in Ibadan, He’d known all the crooks on his block. Dudes that won’t think twice to mug you for far less than Banks had on him tonight. He’d even hung out with them a few times and had even gotten into fights when someone got drunk and started trouble. However, he’d been made for more than that. His art had made him grow up out of that path. He was the man of his house and even though he wasn’t the bread winner, he took on all of the weight of his load.

Banks’ father had died six years ago. He had been shot by armed robbers who’d mistaken him for a policeman. Banks had cashed in an inheritance left him by a maternal great uncle worth four million which he’d invested in his mother’s middle scale trading business. Mrs. Bankole was a wise woman. She had tripled her working capital in thirty six months and had quadrupuled her family worth in three more financial years. And so, Banks was rich investor even though he never bothered for once to go to his office at the company headquarters building in Ikeja.

His paintings sold like ice-cream in dry season due to his mother’s business connections and the fact that he was actually good. He was even considering starting up an art gallery and collecting paintings from all over West Africa – a show hall for culture and art. Painting was his first love, and he never forgot a picture he’d seen before. Faces nonetheless. Yet he’d forgotten her. He’d been so preoccupied with the new found family affluence and graduating with a first class in Fine Arts which was quite enough. There had been no more room in his mind for Lade’s face – for the face of the one that got away. For the one he’d actually had feelings for

He entered the bar hoping he hadn’t wasted much time with his client and that Lade was still in there waiting for him. The bar was a bit dark with strobe lights chasing each other over the walls and and occupied tables. He scanned the place and found Lade sitting on a long stool at the bar. She was drinking a bottle of stout and was flirting with a huge guy who was smiling down at her captivated by whatever she was telling him. It was Mr. Four eyes, who Sting had thought he'd recognized at the supermarket that morning - only he wasn't wearing his second pair. This wasn’t the Lade Banks knew. This one had the makings of a minx and Banks wondered if he liked this even better.

He is around. The thought hit her like a sucker punch. She sensed his presence and nothing in her subconscious puzzle solver could explain how that was possible. Lade turned to see Banks walking to her. They smiled at each other. “There you are!” Lade quipped. “You took your time.”

“Sorry for keeping you waiting long.” Banks said eyeing the huge bouncer.

“No problem. Jerry here was keeping me company.” Lade replied.

Banks offered Jerry a handshake. His head was bald unlike earlier that morning and his jaw and cheeks were smoothly shaved. He was all muscle and fat bones underneath his tightly fitted Abecombre and Fitch t-shirt. Banks decided he never wanted to get on the wrong side of this one.

“Hello! Good evening!” Banks greeted.

Jerry grunted in reply sizing Banks up. “You resemble person wey dey go party!” Jerry observed.

Banks smiled. “You mean my clothes! Yeah! One of my friends is throwing a birthday party right now. I’ll drop by on my way home later.”

“Nice to meet you too. Wetin be your name?”

“Call me Banks!”

“Okay! See you some other time!” Jerry replied.

“Thanks for the drink Jerry! I go call you next time I come this side!” Lade said.

“No wahala, Nicky. Make I join my guys! Enjoy!"

They hugged each other before Jerry exited. He gave Banks another quick once over as he walked towards the exit door. Banks turned to see Lade smiling at him.

“What an interesting friend you have. Big guy named Jerry.” Banks teased.

Lade smirked. “You should've said it to his face. Your new nickname is Banks? That’s even more arrogant and awful in my ears. What happened to P.B - as in Playboy?” She asked.

“P.B discovered himself and grew up. I am my father’s son. Banks is the short form of my father’s name and so I allow it.” Banks replied. “Your bottle is empty. Do you want another?” Banks signaled the bar girl.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, P.B?” She asked with a sly smile.

“Somehow, I don’t think a second bottle of stout will get you tipsy.” He replied grinning. The bartender arrived. “One big stout for my friend here, and a Heinekeen for me…”

“You got it.” The bargirl replied and left to get their order. She was one of Sting’s spies and was one of his eyes in enemy territory. She knew Nicky even though Nicky didn't know her, but didn’t recognize the boy. She thought of calling Sting. A few of Mandy’s men were around even though their boss wasn’t, and she didn’t like that Sting’s girl was getting accosted by a new face at a bar where faces were rarely new. The bar girl opened one of the refrigerators and took out their orders which she carried to them. She gave Banks a clean tumbler and a cork screw and left them to pour their drinks themselves.

Banks pulled a stool closer and climbed on it. He unscrewed their drinks and filled his glass.

“It’s been what… fifty years since I last saw you, right?” Lade asked her smile never leaving her face. She looked happy. She was oblivious of the bartender’s interest.

“I never dreamed I’d be with you at a bar drinking beer. In fact, I never dreamed I’ll see you again. Yet here we are. I’ve really missed you.”

Lade laughed. “P.B! You know exactly what a girl wants to hear. You’re smooth! But you know it never worked on me. That’s why you still think you like me.”

“Oh! No, it worked on you alright! You just had to remember you were leaving for University at the last minute and was saving yourself for your wedding night.”

Lade blushed in embarrassment, but for reasons Banks misunderstood. She wasn’t married and she definitely wasn’t a virgin. She was worse.

***

Jennifer exited the house via the back door. The loud party music was shut off when she shut the door behind her. She descended into the clean and serene backyard which was illuminated by security lights. The pool had been drained off. She was still wearing her party dress that would have made her look exquisite in the bright lights if not for the ugly frown on her face. She was holding her iPhone and was typing a text message to Banks as she walked towards the pool shade.

Banks always broke his promises to meet her. That was one thing that was consistent about him. He rarely made promises and broke each one she wrung out of him like it was nothing. He had sounded a bit more sincere this time but he was supposed to have arrived an hour ago. Even after realizing he would be running late, he hadn’t bothered to call; not even to cancel.

He’d call or arrive any moment now, she consoled herself. She scrolled through her phonebook but hesitated to call him. Maybe an SMS would do. She was anxious and didn’t want to experience the fun without him. The house was full of single guys and lots of alcohol was moving around. She had danced with only Andy and turned anyone else down and was still holding her first can of Smirnoff ice. She navigated to the CREATE MESSAGE page on her cell phone and started to type. DS PLACE IS NOT MUCH FUN WITHOUT YOU.

***

HURRY UP. JEN.

Banks took a quick look at his wrist watch and quickly re-read the message from Jennifer.

“Is that your girlfriend for the month calling in a curfew?” Lade asked chuckling. She took a swig off her bottle while she watched him.

And that was it… Banks looked up at her teasing face and fell right back in love with her. She was beautiful. The kind of beauty that made your heart skip a beat at certain awkward off-guard moments. She was definitely worth putting anything off for at least another thirty minutes.

Lade couldn’t rein in her chuckle as it turned to a full throaty laugh. They hadn’t been together more than an hour and he’d already resumed his signature silent stares at her face. Almost like he was memorizing her eyes or her nose or her lips, or whatever it was that fascinated him about her face. She shivered in secret excitement. She never let on the effect Banks had on her. He never knew. He probably never would.

“It’s my friend, Jennifer. She is my colleague at the art school I was telling you about. We were supposed to go to the birthday party together.” Banks explained.

Lade frowned in realization. “Oh! Oya come and go! Don’t stand the poor girl up. I’ll give you my number so you’ll call me and tell me how the date went.”

“We have a lot of catching up to do, Lade.”

“Then we’ll do it on our own date. Tonight is someone else’s. So go.”

Lade fished into her purse and retrieved a complimentary card. “You carry biro?” She asked.

Banks got one out of his front pockets and handed it to her. Lade wrote her phone number at the back of the card and handed it to him. “Take! Call me when you’re free and let’s hook up.” She gives him his pen back. Banks accepted the card wishing he didn’t have to be on his way. He looked around. The bar was filling up with guys and their women…

***

Sting’s phone buzzed when the text message entered the phone in his hand. He read it: NO MANDY. Okay good, Mandy wasn’t in the bar. Meaning the bar girl was probably not lying about other things she’d reported. Spencer was behind the wheels. “Kunle?” He asked.
“Yes! Mandy isn’t in… wait here.” He ordered. He took a revolver out of the dashboard, alighted and stuffed it in his waistband. He and Spencer had sat in the HILUX for the past ten minutes while he thought of what to do to Nicky and her new lover boy with the crew cut and designer clothes as the bar girl had described him. This was enemy territory, so he had to be careful, especially in case fresh boy rolled with Mandy. Kunle and two others had gone into the bar to scope it out. They all had pistols and an extra clip just in case. One attempt had been made on his life already and it was just day two after Johnny’s demise. It wasn’t even paranoia yet.

***

Lade’s gaze fell on him as he walked in. This time it wasn’t a warm, fuzzy feeling in her taut belly, rather a numbing cold that chilled its way out of her very bones on to her skin surface. Goose bumps suddenly appeared on her neck. Of course Banks noticed. He followed her gaze and saw the tall, muscular guy standing at the entrance. Banks could tell she was frightened.

Sting spotted both of them at the counter. The both of them had seen him, and the look on Lade’s face gave him even more confidence.

What’s wrong? Is that your boyfriend?” Banks queried. The ugly man was coming straight at them.

Lade gasped in surprise at Banks' supposition. “Believe me. He’s anything but my boyfriend. Listen, if he asks, say you just met me and bought me a drink.” Lade said in a low tone.

Banks remained baffled. However, he didn’t have time to satisfy his curiosity. A quick glance told him that he and Lade were the center of everyone’s attention. Whoever the tall ugly man was, most of the people here knew him.

One of the bar customers sitting right next to Banks and Lade vacated his stool when Sting arrived. Sting pulled the stool closer and joined them. “Nicky, wetin you de do?” He asked. He looked even more intimidating now that he was here. At first, Banks couldn’t take his eye off the knife scar on his right cheek. Nicky, the same name Jerry had called her. Banks was puzzled.

“You talk say make I come Rosa place…” Lade was saying.

“And do what! Drink beer with strangers? Is he even a customer?” Sting’s voice was up a notch. Sting turned to stare at Banks.

Lade’s shoulders shrank in embarrassment. She should have known better than to mix business and pleasure. Better still she should have exchanged contacts with the guy and hurried him along. She was supposed to be working. If only he wasn’t the boy that she would’ve gladly fallen in love with and... And yet, this was what it had led to. She felt naked under Banks’ quizzing gaze. She was supposed to be working.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Sting asked Banks. He’d put on a menace on his face. Lade interjected. “Sting be nice to him. We met outside and he thought we should have a drink first.”

Sting frowned at Banks who was confused, but nodded in agreement. “Has he paid?” Sting asked Lade.

Lade looked down at her lap to hide the embarrassed tears in her eyes. She blinked them back as fast as she could. “Yes he has. You could have waited till later to get the cash as usual.” She said.

“How much?” Sting growled.

“The usual… Come on, Sting this is really unnecessary.” She answered, getting a little bolder in her exasperation. Sting’s eyes widened a bit. He banged the counter angrily. “You’re growing some nerve girl! Show me the goddamn money!” Sting barked.

No one else in the bar moved a muscle. It was obviously a typical Sting taking-care-of-business-as-usual and you were better off not getting involved. Mandy’s men in the bar knew Sting’s ferocity. Everyone was on guard. The rest just fell in line. It was an eye opener too for them all who’d noticed Lade before. No wonder she was alone and looking available for whoever was interested. She was one of Sting’s women. Her face was memorized.

Banks’ too, but he wasn’t conscious of anything else yet. He was still trying to wrap his head around the drama unfolding before his eyes. “What are you mad about?” He asked Sting. Lade’s fright was communicable, but he had put his scattered nerves together. “Just take it easy! We can sort anything out, can’t we?”

Sting turned even redder at Banks’ comments. The designer boy was actually talking! He returned his angry glare at Lade.

“Peter, stay out of this! Please!” Lade said to Banks. She opened her purse and took out all the money which she gave to Sting, her hands shaking with nervous embarrassment. Banks stared on dumbfounded as Sting took the money from Lade to count it.

There was at least ten grand in the wad of cash Lade had given him. He looked up at designer boy with a scowl on his face after counting the money. “Peter huh?” Sting began, smiling cynically. “So you bought yourself a piece of flesh for the night and thought of getting drunk first…somehow I find it hard to believe…”

Banks looked at Lade in shock as some clarity began to diffuse through his puzzled mind. Piece of flesh for the night! Lade wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“…It sounds to me like Nicky’s cock-and-bull…you don’t look like a customer to me…no… more like…I don’t know…like you’re looking for some free love for the night.” Sting chuckled at his own assessment.

Banks felt he needed to say something. He didn’t know what was going on, or what Lade was into these days. Hell! It’d been eight years since he saw her last. That was enough time for a devil to turn into a priest…and vice-versa. Lade looked like she was in a lot of trouble; the least he could do was to defend Lade regardless of whatever aboki shit he’d just stepped on, extricate himself and then…

“Look man,” he began. “I don’t want any trouble. It is as she says. I gave her the money…then…thought we should get acquainted first…if that is a problem, then I think I’ll need a refund.” Lade cringed in shame to hear Banks defend her. If he did, then he understood already. What had she been thinking? No, she hadn’t been thinking.

Sting laughed. “A refund! Wow! You get mind! How do I say this in Queens English for you, Peter…?” He put the money in his pocket and wiped the smile from his face as he did. “Walk the Bleep out now before I decide to carve your face open with my knife,” he said, all mirth gone from his voice.

Banks fist folded and his eyes narrowed as his own anger slowly boiled to the surface. What gave this ugly man the right to exercise such authority over a person – a beautiful person. His beautiful person. Okay, that was long ago but still…he half-stood glaring at Sting. It was Lade who stopped him from acting out his first impulse, which was to break his Heinekeen bottle over the man’s head and whisk Lade out of there forever. “Please go now,” she said leaning forward to whisper. “Please…don’t make a scene. Go!” She was actually begging him to leave. Banks gave her an incredulous look.

“If I were you I’ll listen to her,” Sting said. “I like your shirt. I’ll hate to stain it with your blood. Moreover, you’re alone here.”

Banks looked around and saw that everyone in the room was watching him. Including Lade. He saw her eyes water and his heart skipped a beat. “Just go...” she mouthed through trembling lips. Banks nodded and got to his feet. He walked slowly to the exit where he stopped and turned in time to see Sting towering over Lade menacingly, saying things he couldn’t hear.

“Be like say you wan make person carry you commot here, abi?” Banks turned to the speaker. Kunle was standing with two other hefty men who looked like they killed for a living. Kunle raised the hem of his shirt and showed Banks the pistol half-hanging out of his trouser at his waist. Okay, maybe they did. Anyway, he wasn’t sticking around to find out.

The fresh air outside hit him as he exited the bar. It was going to be a long walk to get to where he'd find a taxi at all this time of the night. Andy was too busy to pick him up. Vanessa would be at her night shift by now, and he didn’t have the strength to smile at Jennifer and pretend he was cool. He wasn’t tonight. Not after meeting Lade and her friends. A TOYOTA TUNDRA was parked outside. The man behind the wheels was smoking a cigarette and watching him. He half-turned to notice Kunle standing at the doorway, making sure he left. For the first time in a very long while, he felt alone and weak. And so, catching caution from the wind, he walked away, hating himself as he began the long trek back to civilization.

***

Jennifer slipped off her heels and kicked them in opposite directions. She was standing in the middle of her bedroom where various shades of red and white made the suite look like a video shoot was going on. There were two windows hidden behind white, heavy damask curtains. A painting of her draped over a pool chair in her bikini set was hung on one side of the walls. It had been made by Banks a year ago and was as wide as her windows. It was the most distinct feature in the room. Her bed was close to one of the windows and was covered with pink sheets.

Jennifer walked to her dressing mirror which was attached to a dressing table with so many drawers. There was nothing on the top of her dresser and no clothing was visible in the room. The place was pristine and immaculate. She slipped off her dress and let it slide down her body to her feet. She looked at herself in her matching white lace underwear; all the while wondering what could have gone wrong. She had dressed up for him and he hadn’t even called to cancel. He didn’t even pick up when she called. Jennifer had never been stood up on date before. Not that she went on many, but at least she always had the decency to call and cancel when she didn’t feel like one.

But Banks didn’t care. Okay, he cared about certain things. After all, he had helped her research on her own project topic. He was only non-chalant when it came to her feelings. If only she didn’t have this… like… everlasting crush on him.

Jennifer took off her bra and felt the weight of her full breasts standing without sagging. She’d dreamt of a perfect date; and a perfect ending to it – at least a kiss. She’d wanted to be kissed. She’d wanted to be touched. She’d wanted to be held by the guy she loved. She felt the hot tears fill her eyes and blinked them back. She wouldn’t shed even one - not for him. He was too blind to see what she was offering. Not for her. No, that would be self-pity. She removed her hair clip and allowed her hair to fall on her shoulders. What kind of man wouldn’t notice her? What did they want in their women…smartness and independence…beauty? She knew she could go out to the club tonight and catch herself a man. Too bad she wasn’t that insecure. Maybe men were different, and Banks was so far off the tangent! It had taken him two years to agree to a date, yet he’d stood her up.

Jennifer kicked her legs out of the dress. She picked the dress up and went into the wardrobe closet. She took out a fresh towel from among a small pile and wrapped herself in it. She opened a drawer and took out a fresh pair of panties from the top of a neat pile, then walked out and into an adjourning bathroom. A knock on the door stopped her. She heard Chika and Andy talking in low tones on the other side of the door but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Jennifer,” Chika called.

Jennifer steeled her voice to make sure it didn’t quiver. “Go away!” She replied. “I’ll like to be alone! I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

“Are you sure? We could play a video game…or something fun…together,” Chika said from the other side of the door. Jennifer could hear Andy talking in low tones.

“No thanks! I’m going to go have my bath now! I’m fine really! Good night! Good night Andy!” Jennifer walked into the bathroom looking distraught. She shut the door after her and leaned on it, blinking back her tears. How could everyone be so heartless?

I'm going back to work. The next chapter would be rolling in early tomorrow. Thanks.

PS: inasmuch as this is for ur viewing pleasure, I'm here to rack up comments and criticism not views so I'd appreciate the time taken to point out the weak spots. I might as well give up otherwise. Peace and good night.

Good morning NL peeps. Hope y'all slept okay.

CHAPTER THREE


Susan pressed the electric bell at the gate a second time. She looked at the CCTV camera well-hidden from sight above the wicket gate; she was the one that put it there and knew exactly where it was. She stood bare feet outside the wicket gate holding her jogging shoes and waiting for the gateman to arrive. She wore a pink sweat suit and a BEATS BY DRE headset that doesn't quite cover her ears. Her glasses never left her face; not that she needed one but It aided the persona she preferred to sell - the harmless, nerdish personal assistant to Madame Bankole.

It had rained for most of the previous night and its evidence could be seen on the wet ground and filled water-logs on the broken asphalt street behind her. Hemce, it was quite a chilly morning. The sun was still hidden behind the clouds still gathered in the sky. No real surprise there. May-June-July was all about cats-and-dogs. Susan hated rainy weather.

Susan looked at her wristwatch and sighed. She raised her hand to press the bell again when she heard running footsteps approaching. She relaxed and waited. The peep-hole was pushed open and Musa’s eyes were on her.

“Ah! Susie!” Susan heard the wicket gate unlock. Musa had an apologetic smile on his face as he held the gate open for her to enter. “Sorry, I been de pray,” he said. Susan sighed again, shook her head at him and thumped his chest as she walked past him into the compound. She could perceive the faint scent of incense on him.

“You better not burn down the security lodge with this your prayer…Madam go raise her own fire and brimstone for your body if you do.” They both chuckled. They also both knew it wasn’t a joke. He’d been warned severely by Madam not to burn anything inside his lodge. Susan wouldn’t tell, but Susan won’t be of any help to him if Madam found out.

“How far you run today?”

“Three miles…”

“Tree! Walahi Susie! Who for gree make you chase am for tree mile? Bad bad people no de run for leg, dem de carry moto go operashun. If you like run pipti mile, u no go catch any armed robber for leg. If you wan catch confirm bad man, you go meet bad man make e learn you.” Musa pulled on the collar of his sky-blue Jelabah. He alone in the household knew her real role in Madam Bankole’s organization. The same security organization hired the both of them out. “Oyibo say, ‘set a thief, make e catch a thief’.”

“Are you telling me that you are a thief, Musa?” Susan asked with a twinge of amusement.

“No!” He exclaimed in horrified realization. “Kai Susie! You de always confuse wetin I talk! No go tell madam say I talk say…”

“Don’t worry, Musa. I know you’re a bad man. Your secret is safe with me.” She slapped the back of his head in a friendly manner and turned to walk towards the house. Musa laughed and scratched his beard leering at her as she walked.

“Ah Susan! You de carry play play de beat your senior o! Na just say you be fine girl… Walahi any bad man wey touch you ehn…just point am give me. I go handle am.”

Susan laughed but didn’t reply this time. She knew if she turned around, she’ll see him staring at her backside. She overcame the impulse to swing for him a bit. She didn’t want to encourage his remarks. He was quite alone in this weather She too, and it’d been a long while since she had some. Too bad he was the gateman.

The house was some distance ahead – a one story mansion. The floor of the compound was covered with interlocking stones and had been swept by the gate man. The fountain in the middle of the compound wasn’t running any water yet. There were foldable chairs and a table at the front patio. An open garage annexed the main building where a Wrangler was parked next to a vacant parking slot with a Lincoln Aviator on its other side, which was parked next to a KIA Rio and a SIENNA.

Susan stood at five feet, seven inches, was fair complexioned and had a slim figure with all the right curves in all the right places. She had a spring on her feet which gave her a hurried pace when she walked. She had finished from Navy school and had been drafted into the secret service by a god mother who knew her to be smart and quick-witted. She’d been taken to the US with a group of other students from the Secret Service Academy. There, they had been trained to be bodyguards to elitist citizens who could afford such excellent protocol services. She had gone on to get a degree in accounting from the University of Abuja and now worked full time for Alhaja Miriam Bankole. Her hobbies included shooting guns and running. She was at the local police gun-range almost every Sunday by four AM and shot till daybreak. She had even taught her boss to load and shoot a hand gun. Madam Bankole owned a small revolver now, but she doubted either her boss’ children knew.

Susan walked around the building and got in through one of the back entrances into the kitchen. The swimming pool needed cleaning and the pool house was locked. Peter must have forgotten to call the pool boy, she thought to herself as she got in. The warm air in the kitchen was a sharp contrast to the now biting cold outside. She shivered as she closed the door behind her and turned to see Mrs. Bankole and her daughter Vanessa laughing at a joke. Mrs. Bankole was adding a few ingredients to the breakfast cooking on the electric cooker. Vanessa was perched on one of the long kitchen stools and watched her mother as she cooked. They turned their attention to Susan.

“There she is,” Mrs. Bankole said.

“Good morning madam!” She curtsied as she greeted.

“Good morning Susie, hope you had a nice run…” Vanessa greeted.

“I did, only the impending rain made me cut it out early. Good morning.” Susan replied.

“It must really be cold outside. You’re shivering.” Mrs. Bankole observed.

“Nothing a hundred push-ups and a hot bath can’t take care of,” Susan replied dismissively.

Vanessa chuckled. “Or you can take tea before your bath.” Susan was too hardcore for a nerd. Vanessa’s simple mind couldn’t reconcile her contradictory characters. It was just the way Susan was, Vanessa had summarized. When her mother had announced that she was going to employ a full time personal assistant, Vanessa had thought she would be getting a sister to play with, talk female stuff and go shopping with. Susan hadn’t filled any of those expected roles. She would have probably laughed if told that her mother’s employee had trained with the marines for eighteen months. “There is fresh hot tea in the flask and I just finished making sandwiches.” Vanessa pointed to the flask and the tray containing bread rolls.

Susan’s face brightened and her lips twitched. “Sister V’s sandwiches and tea…not a bad idea you know,” she said smiling at her boss whose attention was on her cooking. Vanessa was close to the plate racks. She gave Susan a flat plate and a tea cup. Susan took a sandwich and poured herself steaming tea from the flask. She climbed on a vacant stool next to Vanessa and settled to eat.
“Breakfast is ready, and because of this weather I’d suggest we take it hot.” Mrs. Bankole said.

“I’m good. Tea and sandwiches are enough for me… I didn’t hear Peter come in last night, and his car isn’t in the garage.” Susan said.

“He’s in his room. I wonder why he isn’t up yet. Are we having breakfast without him, mom?” Vanessa replied.

“No way! I’ve missed having breakfast with my family. I wonder how soon Susie and I will have time for another. This month’s schedule is really packed with activity. Am I right?”

“Yes madam. A lot of necessary trips,” Susan said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go wake him,” Mrs. Bankole said. “Vanessa pour me a cup and put in three cubes of sugar in it.”

“My little brother with the diabetic tooth...” Vanessa joked.

“Don’t even joke about such things, Vanessa.” Mrs. Bankole replied with a light scowl. Vanessa filled a tea cup and handed it to her mother. “Set the table for four before I get back.” Mrs. Bankole instructed next and exited the kitchen for the main house.

***

The sound of knocking on Lade’s bedroom door slowly diffused through the dense quiet in her head. It took her a few seconds to float back to consciousness from cloud nine. Lade lifted her head up a bit to view the blurry room with unfocused eyes. Her skin felt bloated and her fingertips tingled. The room slowly took its familiar shape in her mind and she found herself lying on the linoleum-covered floor with wool and plaster on her left cheek where Sting had hit her. she hadn’t made it to the bed last night. A tourniquet was still tied loose around her left arm and the empty syringe was on the floor discarded beside her. She heard Sia playing over the CD speakers. ‘…for those in need… for those who speed… for those who try to slow their minds with weed… Sunday…” Whatever it meant, but she loved the rhythm.

She heard the knock a bit clearer when it sounded again. She lifted herself to sit up. “Who is it?” She didn’t even recognize her own voice. It was as hoarse as an old woman’s. She cleared her throat.

“It’s me Cindy? Are you Okay? You don’t sound okay!”

Lade’s right eye was swollen while the other was puffed from sleep. She removed the tourniquet from her arm and got to her feet letting the rope fall to the floor. Her feet were wobbly. She stumbled and bent to grab at the bed sheets for support. The room swam in her eyes and she sat her butt down on the bed until she got her bearing back.

“Nicky, what’s taking so long? Come and open this door!” Cindy said from the other side of the door. “Are you sure you are okay?

Lade checked the time on the wall clock. EIGHT A.M. She must’ve woken up earlier that morning to get a fix. Her head hurt still.

She picked up the syringe and the tourniquet and went to put both in the last drawer of her wooden dressing table which was at a corner next to her wardrobe. She arrived at the door just as Cindy knocked the third time.

“Relax, I’m fine!” Lade slurred as she unlocked the door. Cindy opened the door from outside and saw Lade standing at the door way. She gasped when she saw the bandage on Lade’s face.

“Relatively,” Lade added and winced when she tried to smile.

“Shit, Nicky! Wetin be dis one now?” Cindy asked with some concern on her face.

***

Banks lay on his back under the sheets of his bed and stared at the ceiling above him. For the first time since it happened, he’d re-lived his father’s murder in a dream. He’d woken up with a curdling scream in his throat after relieving that terrifying moment he watched his father’s eyes had glaze over. He’d lain on the bed since then thinking of how far he’d come since then.

Yet grass-to-grace wasn’t what he felt in the pit of his stomach. It was the fear that brought it all back. Fear of being helpless to save his loved ones from vices while he watched them agonize. The kind of fear you feel when attacked by criminal elements when you least expect them. You are caught with your guard down. It was the same fear he’d felt last night for Lade.

A familiar knock interrupted his musing. He rubbed his eyes. “The door is open, mom!” He propped himself up with his elbow as the bedroom door opened. Mrs. Bankole entered carrying a steaming cup of tea on a saucer.

Mrs. Bankole was proud of her son. He had seen his opportunity to prove to everyone that there was still a man in the house and had taken it. Too many other boys wouldn’t have acted as mature as he did. And so she made sure he never lacked anything without spoiling him. Bankole Incorporated will handle all publicity and public relations for Bankole Arts. Most of his clients were roped in by her anyway.

“I thought you were still sleeping,” She said shutting the door behind her.

“Good morning, Mom,” Banks said with a smile on her face.

“Good morning son. How was your night?” Mrs. Bankole walked towards her son’s bed.

“My night was fine. Yours?”

“It was good! I brought tea?”

“Gee, thanks mom!” Banks sat up to accept the cup and saucer from his mother who sat down beside him and looked around the room. “Nothing new mom,” he said sipping the scalding tea like it was nothing. He liked it really hot.

“Vanessa made sandwiches.”

Banks wrinkled his nose. “Where is Andy?”

Mrs. Bankole frowned. “I haven’t seen him this morning. I don’t even think he came home last night. Wasn’t yesterday his girlfriend’s birthday? He must have spent the night there, then.” She said.

Banks smiled and shook his head. “I didn’t go to the party.”

“Mmm…where did you go then?” Mrs. Bankole’s full attention was on him now.

Banks sipped his tea in thoughtful silence. “Peter,” his mother called. “I’ll just buy her a present. That’s what she really wants, not my presence at her party.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say of your cousin’s friend, Peter.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“Maybe, but Andy does. And he likes her. That should be enough for us if we respect him.”
Banks sipped his tea as another bout of silence resumed. He wondered if she really meant that; if that assessment would really apply to anyone. No, she’d put her foot down about Lade if he related last night’s events to her.

“Are you thinking about last night?” Mrs. Bankole asked.

“Not really,” Banks mumbled.“You came home very late. Where did you go?”

“I went to make a run. The client said he was leaving town this morning and I was running late on this job request because of my project. The paint dried yesterday morning and I had to get my money before he left. Now, can we please switch out of this FBI mode thing already?”

“He paid you cash?” Mrs. Bankole asked.

Banks winced. “Yes,” he said and waited for the lecture. When it was slow at coming he said, “I know. It was risky. I had to get my money before he left town.”

“Are there no banks that run transfer payments where he is going? What about Mobile banking, better still come to the office for a POS! Jeez! Peter! How many times do I have to caution you against holding heavy cash at night?”

“It was just eighty grand, mom! Come on! I can handle myself!”

Mrs. Bankole looked like her heart had ceased its beating for a second when she heard the amount. “You want to kill me?” She asked quietly. “Because, I’ll just die if you die! There are a thousand and one people out there with guns who will shoot you dead just because you got a lousy five grand on you! Don’t you understand?”

Banks nodded in silence. He understood her fear. She too had watched the head of their family get gunned down by hoodlums who wanted their TV and the little cash they had at home. It hadn’t been up to five grand. Four thousand, eight hundred and sixty Naira - he never forgot that. “I understand mom. I am sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Bankole stood from the bed. “It better not. Now breakfast is ready. I’ll give you a few minutes to freshen up, but we won’t be starting without you; and because of the weather, I’ll suggest we take it hot.”

“Hot is good, mom. I’ll be down in five minutes.”

Mrs. Bankole kissed the top of her son’s head and exited the room, shutting the door behind herself. Banks sipped his tea in silence and resumed his musing.

***

Saturday was usually a busy day at the art studio. He’d do general clean up and arrange his account books, but Banks didn’t leave the house. He didn’t call Andy or Jennifer either. He lazed about his bedroom after breakfast. He went down late for lunch and watched a movie at the living room afterwards.

Mrs. Bankole and Susan had flown to Abuja earlier in the day. Only Vanessa was around and yes she noticed. Banks never spent a full day at home, a Saturday nonetheless.

Sunday arrived. Vanessa drove herself to church. Banks refused to come along with her. He was still in his room when she came home with her boyfriend Mike in the afternoon. It was all getting a bit weird to her. Banks never stayed home this long. He preferred being at the studio so much that mom had to make it a rule that he sleep in the family house every night, no matter how late he got in.

Yet here he was of his own freewill. She hadn’t heard him on the phone either. Maybe it wasn’t just her; maybe he was blocking everyone else out too and that got her even more curious. However, they now had separate busy schedules to meet such that it had been a while they really talked. It was high time. Mike had noticed too and had thought that Vanessa - being the elder - should bridge the gap and get him to open up.

First she tried calling his phone but realized it was switched off. She then knocked on the door to his bedroom and called to him, but he stone-walled her. He couldn’t have slept through all that knocking.

Banks came down for dinner and asked to be excused for a headache before it was over. He took a plate with him though. An hour later, Vanessa and Mike were in the kitchen talking when they heard him singing from the swimming pool. Vanessa decided to check on him.

Banks had stripped to his bossers and was lying on his back on a rubber float and drifting across the pool when Vanessa came out to meet him. He had a half-filled glass of scotch in one hand and was singing along to a song playing over a music box. A half-empty bottle of scotch stood on the edge of the pool. Banks was drunk by now. He chuckled when he noticed his elder sister’s arrival. She wore a pajamas and her hair was down. She had a towel in her hands and a smile on her face.

“Vanessa! Hey!” He called with his loop-sided grin. “Why don’t you strip off and join me in the pool!”

“What is this?” Vanessa asked with some concern on her voice. “A new therapy or what? What is going on with you?”

Banks laughed at the thought of therapy. He floated about a bit, thinking of something smart to say and when he couldn’t think of one, he floated towards the bottle and placed his half-empty tumbler there. Next, he rolled off the float and splashed into the pool. Vanessa gasped when Banks went straight down, and sighed in relief when he came up laughing.

“Is Mike still around? ‘Cos I don’t think I’ve heard the gates yet.”

He’s spending the night,” Vanessa said. “Come out of the water before you get cold,” came then sisterly advice.

“I am okay here,” Banks replied and swam about a bit. “Is mom home yet?” He asked after a refreshing lap.

“No, Peter. You’ve been swimming and drinking since after dinner. Is anything the matter?” Vanessa asked.

“Just a few more laps and I’ll be fine. Really, don’t worry about it.” Banks replied and resumed another lap while Vanessa watched on. She went to where the scotch bottle was and stooped to take it, taking a closer look at its label as she got back on her feet.

“Hmm! Peter! It’s been a while I saw you drink spirits.”

“Well, join the club Sister Vee, or you beat it!" a bit of malice seeping into his tone. He hated the intrusion and wished she’d finally get a clue and leave him to them. “What do you care anyway? Go inside to your boyfriend and leave me alone!” Banks said. He swam back to the tumbler and dumped the contents into his mouth and refilled it from the bottle.

“You know you can tell me anything! Peter!” But Banks wasn’t listening. Vanessa snapped. “Damn it Peter! We used to be closer than this! We used to tell each other everything!”

“Uh yeah!” Banks countered. “When was the last time you ever stopped to talk? You now take double shifts at the hospital for God-knows-why! If it’s not that, then you’re at Mike’s! You think I don’t notice!”

“And when I eventually come home to my little brother, he has a Don’t Disturb sign fixed on his door, like permanently. That is when he is not at his art studio doing what he prefers doing.”

Banks placed his tumbler on the edge of the pool and with some effort he climbed back onto the rubber float. “You want to talk to someone? Go and talk to your boyfriend! Unless he doesn’t like to talk when you’re together…he’s a soldier after all, he’s more into action, isn’t he?

Vanessa gasped in surprise. Banks saw her face fall and quickly realized he’d just insulted his elder sister.

“I’m sorry Sister Vee,” he apologized at once. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Lemme check,” she said. “Swimming and drinking scotch. And that other thing you’re trying to freeze out. Come out of that water before you get pneumonia or something.”

Banks floated to the pool ladder rather reluctantly, but knew that he’d probably had enough. He climbed out of the pool. Vanessa handed him a towel to dry his wet body with. She took the bottle of scotch and the tumbler.

“When you’re finished, go to your room and change. Then you come down to the kitchen. Mike is baking something. We’ll share a secret with you and you’ll tell us what is eating you up, deal?” She asked.

Banks considered it. “Private Mike in an apron! That should make for an interesting sight.” Vanessa smiled at that. She’d gotten through to him at last. “Alright deal. Give me fifteen minutes to dress up.”

“Good! I’ll see you inside then,” Vanessa returned. She went back in with the bottle of scotch and glass tumbler.

***

Banks entered the kitchen ten minutes later. He had gone to his room to put on a t-shirt and camouflage-colored three-quarter shorts. A jug of cold milk and empty tumblers were on the kitchen table He saw Vanessa and Mike talking to each other in low tones each sipping from a glass of milk. Mike wore an apron over his white inner vest. He was tall and muscular, just the kind of guys his sister usually went for. They noticed him, stopped talking and smiled at him

“Ah! There he is!” Mike said aloud.

“Hey guys! What were you whispering about?” Banks returned. He went to pour himself a glass.

“Mummy called…she said she and Susan had missed their flight. They’ll find a hotel for the night and then take the first flight home tomorrow.”

Banks shrugged. He sniffed the air. Mhmm. He loved the smell of butter and cream. “Whatever you’re making Mike, it sure smells nice.”“Thank you, I call them Indian cookies.” Mike said. Banks and Vannessa exchange glances.

“Indian”! Banks was surprised.

Mike chuckled. It sounded like a coughing leister. “They are cookies alright, but the recipe is Indian.” Mike said.

Banks turned to Vanessa with a quizzing stare, “Has anyone in the house been to India lately?”

“Mike has! He just got back two weeks ago.”

Banks turns to Mike with awe. “How come I’ve not been anywhere? What took you there, Mike? Can’t be business?”

“It was all business, alright. It was a three-month crash course in jungle combat techniques.”

“That’s interesting, Mike…but about the cookies, it’s almost midnight. We are having fun as it is; the last thing we want is a running stomach.” Banks said.

Vanessa chuckled in agreement. “He’s right, babe.”

“Wait and eat before you judge.” Mike replied laughing.

“Speaking of judgments…” Banks began when Mike stopped laughing. “What is this big secret you guys wanted to tell me about?

Vanessa and Mike exchanged glances. Mike nodded at her to go ahead. Vanessa raised her left hand to show Banks the beautiful diamond ring around her middle finger.

“Mike proposed to me this morning, and I accepted!” Vanessa said with excitement.

Banks grinned even though he was surprised. He placed his glass on the kitchen table and went to hug her. He could see the relief in their faces at his approval. “To be honest, I was expecting to hear that my sister is pregnant. I’m really happy for you, Sister V. that it is not.” He said with a jovial tone.

Vanessa disengaged from the hug and searched his face, only to find a teasing smile on them. She thumped his chest. Banks pulled her into a fiercer hug. “I’m really happy for you, don’t mind me.” He said more seriously. He went to shake Mike’s hand afterwards.

“We thought you’ll be slow to accept the idea…” Mike began.

“The idea! You call marrying my sister an idea? Check that sort of language at the door when talking to my mother.” He said smiling again. “And why would you think I’d be slow in accepting? Anything that will get my sister out of this house so I can have it all to myself is fine by me.” He had a serious tone in his voice.

Vanessa and Mike exchanged surprised glances and turned puzzled looks at Banks who suddenly began to laugh again, pointing at their faces.

“Come on,” Banks said. “I never thought I’d get you guys this easy! You know I’m always teasing you Sister V! I’m genuinely happy for you both. Mike, I’ve watched your relationship with my sister since it began, and I see that you’re happy and contented with each other. I don’t know… but, sometimes I wish I had that.” He was quiet for a moment with a frozen smile and a blank stare. Thoughts of Lade flashed in his memory.

Vanessa noticed he’d slipped out into a different mood and guessed what was troubling him. “Do you mean what you just said?” She asked bringing him back to present.

Banks said, “Yes, hundred percent support” and took a swig off his glass. They were both pleased with his reply. The part that remained was selling his mom ‘the idea’.

Just then the oven beeped. Mike chose two kitchen towels from a wooden railing. He opened the oven and carried out a large baking tray covered with heart-shaped cookies.

“Oh sweetie…they look as good as they smell!” Vanessa said.

“I’m sure they taste even better.” Mike replied. He placed the tray on the kitchen surface and took a hot one to his mouth. He closed his eyes to savour the taste. “Mmmm…this is…come on guys…you have to try it.” He urged.

Vanessa took one. Banks followed suit. They both took tentative bites and exchanged glances. “What do you think, Peter?”

“Definitely better than yours, Sister V… it is hot and spicy, heavy too…a real snack. Mike, you should totally own a café…”

“No way,” Vanessa replied. “Mike is too manly for kitchen duty.”

“Well, what a waste of culinary skills then,” Banks replied. “This is very good, Mike. Just save some of this for mom and you’re definitely welcome into the family.”

“Peter,” Vanessa chided. “Don’t forget our deal.”

“What deal?” Mike asked.

“I tell him our secret, he tells us his, right Peter?”

Banks didn’t reply at first. He found himself staring at his milk glass again, wondering which part to tell them and which part to leave out. “Peter!” He looked up to see them both watching him.

“Slow down Vanessa. Let him talk at his own pace.” Mike advised. They ate hot cookies and cold milk in silence for a full minute. Vanessa was at the edge of her patience when he cleared his throat signifying his readiness to speak. He was reluctant at first. “I ran into an old friend the other night. Her name is Lade. Sister V, I wonder if you remember her…”

“Lade…Lade…Lade. Why is the name vaguely familiar?” She wondered aloud with a thoughtful frown on her face.

“We were close back when I attended Ibadan High! Remember?”

Vanessa’s eyes widens in recollection. “Lade is in Lagos! Wow, that should be good! As I recall, back then, she’d left with… too many blanks unfilled.”

Banks shrugged to that.

Mike was clueless.

“Well, what is she like these days? When are you inviting her home?” Vanessa hurled the questions at him. She could remember the girl that wouldn’t date her cute brother even though they were close friends back in his secondary school days. She’d had a hard time working her brother’s ego back into shape after Lade left to further her education. Vanessa noticed his hesitation and frowned at him. “Peter, what happened?”

Banks remembered his sister had liked Lade most ‘of all his girlfriends’ as she used to say. He suddenly felt like the bearer of bad news. Somehow, it would have been better if Vanessa didn’t remember her at all.

Vanessa turned to Mike, “I’m not getting a good vibe out of this.” Mike shrugged at her. “I don’t know… I’m sure there is more, we just have to be patient to hear it all.” Mike said. He turned to Banks. “You say you ran into her...”

“Yes, three nights ago.” He paused to sip his milk absentmindedly. “I bought her a beer…big stout.”

Vanessa was surprised at that one. “I didn’t think…” Mike nudged at her to keep her from interrupting Banks’ narration.

“We began getting reacquainted at the bar near where I met her. She was there alright – jovial, full of playful jokes and quick witted, just as I remember; but she was like…like a different person. The Lade I remember had a self-imposed curfew at seven pm, not to mention the alcohol…” Banks lapsed into another thought-filled silence.

Vanessa was puzzled. “Is that it? Is that why you’ve been brooding these past few days? I thought it had more to do with Andy and why your Mercedes has been missing from the garage for the past two days.”

Banks continued as if she hadn’t spoken. He looked up at Mike this time. “Then one ugly man came in…and asked her…quite roughly…if I’d paid her for her company.” Banks gulped the rest of the milk in his tumbler down. He heard Vanessa gasp. Mike didn’t react.

“Did you sleep with her?” Vanessa asked rather too quickly.

“What sort of question is that?” Banks asked frowned at his elder sister. “No! We were just talking like I said! The man came in, and I had to leave!”

Nobody said a word for quite some time. Neither Vanessa nor Mike had a ready-made response for this one. Banks took another cookie and bit it in half.

“What I don’t understand is how it is possible. Where is her elder brother Godwin. He used to give me a hard time about her hanging with me back then. And her father! He’d spent a lot on her! She was the valedictorian in my sect, remember Sister V? How is any of it possible?”

“Maybe…she needs him for something…something she can’t get on her own.” Vanessa suggested.

“You mean drugs! No way!” Banks replied. He couldn’t picture Lade as a drug addict. Sting though had looked like someone who messed with drugs. He had goons.

“Or maybe, she’s paying off a debt,” Mike offered a milder suggestion. Vanessa wasn’t putting her thoughts off for that. “Does she have marks on her arms?” She asked Banks.

Banks sighed in exasperation. “Just because I said a mean ugly man came in and asked her if I paid for her time, you already think she’s a junkie?” Banks asked. However, the more he thought about it, the closer its plausibility loomed. Was Lade a junkie? She smoked cigarettes. Was that why…?

Vanessa looked to Mike for support. “It’s possible,” said Mike. “Most hookers are drug users, usually mere Indian hemp. Most times heroin too. Still there are lots of other addictive drugs.”

Banks preferred to remain adamant. “I don’t think she is a hooker. I don’t think she is a junkie. There’s got to be some other explanation.”

“Sure…maybe…but she don’t owe you one unless you pay for her company.” Mike said. “Mingling with such crowds…” he shook his head but didn’t continue. From the daggers Banks’ eyes threw at him, he figured he’d said enough.

“Sure, he knows it is dangerous,” Vanessa reiterated.

Banks chuckled out loud all of a sudden. “Of course I know how dangerous it is,” he said. “It’s just…the more I try to push her out of my mind, the more she sticks. “I need…I need some closure. I can’t pretend she was never my friend.”

“That’s a hasty decision. Peter…”

“Relax Sister V, I’m not going to sleep with her. I just want to talk. I need to know what happened…what is happening. I owe her that at least.” Banks refilled his tumbler.

“What if she’s not the person you used to know? What will you do then?” Mike asked.

Banks paused, his tumbler on its way to his lips and a fat, spicy cookie in the other hand. He shrugged at the both of them. “That would be very unfortunate, wouldn’t it?” He turned to exit the kitchen.

Again, Vanessa and Mike exchanged glances. They were obviously appalled at his circumstance. They also trusted him to do the right thing.

***

She watched TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE on her DVD. She sat at her favorite TV-watching position – on the floor with her back leaning on the bed frame cushioned by a pillow. A bottle of GUINESS BIG STOUT was standing on a linoleum-covered floor beside her. The light from the TV flickered in the dark room. The volume of the movie was quite loud, but the only other sound was the ceiling fan clicking at each turn. Lade’s attentive eyes were glued to the screen. Just then, her cell phone rang from the dressing table where it was.

Lade picked the remote controller and paused the movie playing. She got to her feet brushing her bum shorts which showed off her smooth chocolate thighs and slender calves. She had a toe ring on today. She was tipsy. She kicked the beer bottle by mistake. The bottle fell and spilled some contents before she hastily bent to pick it up. She sighed. She was always spilling things on the floor. She picked up the bottle and took it to the dressing table with her to pick up the ringing phone which was beside her little coke tray. She frowned at the unknown caller identity but answered the call.

“Who is this?” She began.

Banks in that moment was on the edge of his bed holding his cell phone to his ear. He had the card on which she’d written her number for him on the other hand. “Lade, It’s Peter. Or is it, Nicky.”

She smiled languorously. “You called at last.” She said with a slight slur in her speech.

Something about her voice made him smile without saying anything funny. He resisted the urge to smile. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to call. Here I am anyway.” He said. “How are you?”

Lade went to part the curtains and push the ALMACO window open. It was past midnight. Everywhere was quiet outside, apart from some music playing from a distant night club. “I’m fine,” she said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine now,” Banks said, wondering what he meant by that. They were both silent for a while.

Lade held the phone away from her ears to belch, the moonlight on her happy face. She placed the phone back over her ears. Banks hadn’t said a word either. She wondered what he was doing. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Banks replied. “Just…thinking.”

“About what?” Lade asked.

Banks hesitated. “About the little fun I had with you, just before your friend came in.” He said.

Lade said, “I’m glad you did. I’m sorry for… the interruption.”

Banks chuckled. She called it an interruption, an ironic humour. “I’ll like to see you again, Lade. We need to…talk, catch up on things. Just like we said we would.”

It was Lade’s turn to hesitate. What good will it do them both if she rekindled their friendship. She wasn’t an innocent, harmless kid anymore. Still, he’d called her. He had understood everything that happened that night, still he'd chosen to call her.

“Lade.”

“Yes Peter, we agreed. I have a lot I think I need to tell you.” She immediately began to wish she hadn’t said that. She wondered why she thought he’d understand better, if she told him the truth from her own lips. He’d probably resent her. She almost began thinking up a quick excuse.

“Tomorrow evening. You promised me a date, remember? Let’s do tomorrow evening.”

Lade gave up trying with an inaudible sigh and a slight nod. She wanted to see him too. Maybe she could explain better. Maybe he won’t like her as he used to. Maybe he’d even pity her. Any of that was better than he judging her. “Okay, where?”

“Don’t bring your friend. The one that threatened to carve my face open. Who is that guy anyway?”

There it was. The question. She didn’t have any answer. She had long given up on preparing an answer for when Peter would ask her the Q-question. “He’s called Sting. He’s uhm… we do business sometimes, it’s not important.” It was a good thing she was on the phone. She hadn’t made ready an answer and SHE knew he knew she was lying. Her answer didn’t sound truthful even to her own ears. Sting always said she was a bad liar, and judging by the fact that Banks hadn’t said anything either, she was sure he knew.

But how could he begin to understand it? Lade had just lied to him. Should he ignore the lie or ask all the questions in his head? No, that would push her into more lies and he’d end up achieving nothing. Banks wondered if she’d lie to his face if he questioned her at their date. He decided to wait till he saw her.

“So tomorrow evening…” Lade’s voice interrupted his thoughts over the phone. “Time and place?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Banks said sounding reluctant.

Lade’s eyes widened in alarm. Was he backing away already just because she’d lied? “What do you mean by you don’t know?”

“Yet…I mean.” He added. “How about I plan and send you a text before midday concerning a venue. Would six be okay?”

“Six is good!” She replied. “We really need to catch up.” She stressed.

“Okay, this is my phone number. I’d text you.” Banks said. “Good night Lade.”

At least it wasn’t goodbye. “Thanks Pete. Good night.” She said smiling. She ended the call and went to switch on the electric lights. She went to her dressing mirror to look closely at the plaster-covered cut on her cheek wondering if it could all look alright in eighteen hours. It wasn’t really hurting anymore, but the scar would be hard to hide under her usual make-up. She had bitten her cake and now had a chance to have it back; an opportunity to correct the first impression without lying to him. How was she going to pull that off?

Meanwhile Banks stared blankly at the fixtures in his room. He was going to see her again. He owed her the benefit of doubt even though she had lied; or so he felt.

CHAPTER FOUR


Truth is a bitter pill, hence a druggie will always feed you sweet lies . Banks drove his Mercedes through the winding asphalt lane that ran through the almost empty campus of PAUL-HARRY’S College Of Art, Lagos. He’d gone to bed after calling Lade early that morning and woken up late. His favorite car had been returned and washed. He’d left without checking on Andy. He didn’t have any ready answers for his questions. Seeing him reminded him of Chika... And Jennifer. Good thing Andy was in his own room at the house sleeping. Banks didn’t bother waking him. He preferred to stick with his waking thoughts – all full of Lade.

Okay, maybe she’d lied to him. Who was anyone to judge? People lie every day, especially those with reason to. That didn’t mean all of them were druggies too. Banks turned left at an intersection thinking up more excuses for her. His eyes caught the framed paintings at the backseats through hid rear mirror. He was taking them to his project supervisor that morning. He glanced at his wrist watch. He had an hour to kill. Just another left and he’d be outside the faculty building.

PAUL-HARRY’S College of Art which was located along Isolo Way majored in special courses like Fine and Applied Arts, performing arts and writing courses. The school was especially for the rich and talented only because their fees were expensive and the graduation requirements quite high. The first thing he saw when Banks made his left turn was Idara’s new ELANTRA, a birthday gift from her father, the commissioner of Works at faraway Akwa Ibom state, parked along the road. She was Chika’s colleague in theatre arts and the only thing that ever brought her to this part of the campus was to see Jennifer. Jennifer was around then. Banks hadn't expected that.

He had a better view of the parking lot beside the faculty building as he got closer to the car. Jennifer’s ELEMENT was parked there among a few other cars with its booth open. Idara, Chika and Jennifer were standing behind the car in view of the road. Banks let out his breath in a rush through his mouth when Idara recognized his car approaching. Thank God he had an hour to kill, he thought. Banks pressed his horn at them and drove past Idara’s car into the lot to park next to the ELEMENT.

Jennifer was lifting a tool box when she heard the horn. She heard Chika sigh and turned to see the Mercedes pull up beside her car. She’d thought of what she’ll do if she saw him. She didn’t know. She was still hurt and disappointed, and he hadn’t called to apologize in two days. She turned to her friends. “I have to go, I’ll see you both for lunch?”

“Lunch is on you, coward?” Chika teased with her eyes. “Or you could just tell him off to his face”. She added. Idara didn’t understand what was going on.

Jennifer glared at her cousin. “Fine,” she said and turned to walk towards the faculty building. There were other people hanging around and she didn’t want to make a scene. She heard his hurried footsteps closing in on her. “Jennifer wait! Stop”! She heard him call out. “Go away, Banks! Don’t talk to me right now!” She shouted back at him. Most of the onlookers around were in the same level and faculty as them and knew their story. She ignored the staring eyes as she increased her pace towards the building entrance. A lot of gossip would follow, she was sure.

Banks caught up with her easily. He had longer strides and her tool box was quite heavy. She felt him grab her right arm to stop her. She tried to pull away and lost hold of her tool box. It fell on her feet and she yelped in pain.

“Woah! Shit!” Banks exclaimed in surprise. “I’m sorry, Jen! Are you okay?”

Jennifer slapped him hard on the cheek and limped away into the faculty building leaving her tool box and Banks’ ego at his feet.

Banks heard a few onlookers smirking, and suddenly was aware he had an audience. He looked around and saw that those not smirking were wondering at what had just happened. Almost half of his class was present in a small garden park on the other side of the road opposite the faculty building. Chika and Idara hurried up to him. Chika stopped to pick up the toolbox and continued past him with a pleased look on her face. “You still owe me a birthday present, Banks”. She said with a slight smile.

Idara stopped beside him. She was puzzled at what was happening with her friends. She gave Banks a quizzing look. “Are you okay? She asked. Banks nodded and began walking back to his Mercedes. Idara was even more puzzled. She hesitated, and after one last glance at Chika who was heading to the faculty building, she went after Banks to his car. “Hey, what just happened?”

“Nothing! It’s just a little misunderstanding which will be sorted out eventually.” Banks replied entering the car and started the engine up but didn’t touch the gear stick. Idara went around and entered the front next to Banks. They sat there just feeling the air conditioning and staring ahead in silence.

***


Cindy climbed the stairs to the last floor of their apartment building. She had a shopping bag in her hand. She ran into Gina, one of Sting’s newbies whose turn it was on Sting’s bleeping roster. She had a bucket and was going downstairs to fetch water from the tap. Spencer must not like her, since the water pipes to her apartment was the only one which had stayed broken since two weeks now.

Gina was surprised to see her. “Cindy! I hear say you go A.B.J!” She said.

“I came back last night,” Cindy replied. “How you de?”

“My dear! Na only me in this whole house wey de go downstairs to fetch water with the salon girls. I no sabi wetin I do that boy wey de answer Spencer.”

“Ah! Na Spencer you call boy? Hmmm…be like say you never ready to get water for your flat. You don call am for phone.”

“Im no de pick my call,” Gina said and sighed looking sad.

Cindy took pity on her. “Spencer go come house this evening. I go try persuade am, make im call plumber for you.”

Gina’s eyes lit up a bit. “You’d do that for me? Thank you Cindy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Cindy replied.

Gina had long spied the shopping bag Cindy half-held behind her. “So, you’re going up to see Lade? Is that what you bought for her?”

“Na so you too poke-nose, Gina! Wetin concern you with the bag wey I carry?” Cindy said scowling.

Gina sneered at her and descended the stairs past her. “Just don’t forget about Spence abeg. I fit buy you small gift too if you run am for me.” She said smiling and continued on down the stairs. Cindy shook her head and continued upwards.

Gina called her friend Muna as soon as she got to the backyard. She set her bucket under the tap and started the water while she listened to the ring-back.

Muna picked. “Wetin she talk?” She asked over the phone sounding excited. Gina had a victorious smile on her face. “You were right. She de like play BIG Mama.” Gina said. Muna giggled over the phone. “And guess what?” Gina continued.

Cindy knocked at Nicky’s door eager to get away from the curious eyes along the corridor. She found the door into the apartment slightly open and entered the bedroom shutting the door after herself.

It was all still shabby and scattered. The peculiar scent of indian hemp and dirty laundry wafted through the apartment. Cindy shuts the door after her and wrinkled her nose at the sight. She traced the Indian hemp smell to the adjourning kitchen, a sharp contrast to the bedroom as usual. A kettle of water was steaming on a kerosene stove. Cindy could see Lade through the backdoor, standing outside at the back porch, smoking her pot and day-dreaming. Cindy turned off the stove and creeped up to her

Lade wore a pullover, green bum shorts and a pair of bathroom slippers on her feet. The plaster on her cheek had been removed and a little scar was all that was left in place of the healed cut. Cindy tickled her. She jumped around and shouted in shock. Then she recognized Cindy smiling. “Jeez! Cindy! You frightened me!”

Cindy giggled at her own joke. “Fear Fear! Of course, it is just me!” Cindy said chuckling.

“Kai, Cindy! When did you come in?” she asked.

“Late last night…Alhaji decide to cut his journey short…problems for im working place wey need im urgent attention”.

“At least you enjoyed yourself! See as you just de shine!”

Cindy chuckled. “It was short, but it was okay. The man sabi take care of his women. I buy this one for you”. She gave Lade the shopping bag.

Lade frowned at Cindy. “A gift! You shouldn’t have Cindy!” She took a peek into the bag and saw a beautiful jewel case. Her heart quickened. She gave Cindy her joint to hold and put her hand into the bag to retrieve the case. It was black, rectangular and quite heavy. GUCCI was embossed in golden italics at a small corner of the case. The bag dropped from her hands as she carefully opened the case to view its contents. There were a pair a silver ear rings and a matching necklace.

“I thought it will go well with those shoes you bought two weeks ago,” said Cindy.

Lade’s face was radiant with her smile. Her morning moodiness was gone. “It will,” she replied. “Cindy these are beautiful! I can’t accept.”

Cindy took a short drag and blew the smoke on Lade’s face. “Nah, I picked them for you. You keep them.”

“Thank you Cindy! But I can’t. Sting will say…” Lade caught herself.

Cindy got curious when Lade didn’t complete her sentence. “Sting will say what? I bought them for you myself.”

“He won’t believe that,” Lade muttered. “You’re so thoughtful, Cindy, but I can’t keep these…”

“Why not, Nicky?”

Lade closed the closed the case and bent to pick up the shopping bag.

“Talk to me! Wetin happen?”

Lade hesitated. “Nothing much,” she said.

Cindy gave her a knowing look. “You’re a very bad liar and you know it. So no even start. Tell me!”

“There isn’t… nothing… really… Cindy leave that one abeg,” Lade said looking up to meet Cindy’s gaze. Cindy was the only person who’d looked out for her all these years, yet in that moment, Lade wondered if she could trust her.

Cindy frowned at her. “I know that look. And yes, I’ve noticed how secretive you’ve gotten this past few days. You didn't even tell me Sting left a mark on your face when we last spoke on the phone. It’s me, Cindy! Who else can you tell? Come on! Cough it up!”

Lade hesitated, but relaxed after a moment of silence. “Okay…I met a guy. Someone I knew from when I used to leave in Ibadan.” She paused.

“Oh!” Cindy smiled. “You went soft on him and Sting found out.”

“Something like that,” Lade replied. She turned to lean on the balcony and stare out. Cindy went to join her and passed her the remaining joint. Lade took a short, thought-filled drag, held it in for a long time before blowing out the rest of it through her nose. Cindy remained quiet, just standing there staring out with her.

“Have you ever thought that we could be something better than this?” Lade inquired with a dead serious look on her face when she fixes her gaze on Cindy’s.

Cindy was taken aback by the question. She frowned at Lade. “Nicky, that is a dangerous topic. If Sting or that creepy one, Spencer hears you talk like this, there will be worser consequences than a tiny scar on your right cheek.” Cindy warned,

“I know! But…You’re my friend…my only friend in this place. I can trust you, right?” Lade asked, a bit curious, a bit frightened.

Cindy nodded. “M-hmmm,” she replied. She could sense that her friend was serious and this was important to her. Somehow, Cindy felt flattered Lade chose to confide in her, knowing this was no idle gossip. “Tell me about him,” she said.

Lade took another drag at her joint, this time a dreamy look washes over her face. “I ran into him at Rosa’s bar. His name is Peter…”

“Woah! Slow down! Rosa’s bar, that’s Mandy’s joint, right?”

“Yes. Sting sent me there.”

“Okay, Peter is a nice name. I bet he’s tall dark and handsome?”

“Not very tall… fair, but handsome yes”.

Cindy gave her a knowing smile. “Don’t mind me, go on,” she said.

“We used to be close friends. I liked him a lot. But the guy is a player…there was always a different girl in his back pocket.”

“Hmm. I like him already.” Cindy said teasingly.

“Of course you do. Anyway, he bought me a beer. Normal stuff.” Lade paused to smile like she was relieving a pleasurable experience in her head. Cindy noticed and chuckled.

Lade got back to her tale. “It’s crazy. I’ve never had so much fun just talking with anyone else before.”

“Excluding me, right?”

Lade smiled at her. “Yes, but you’re more like my big sister. We live together, hustle together. We understand each other. He is a guy. Still, it is like he… we connect each time we talk, you know?” She said. The fire on the joint was dying out. Lade took out a lighter from the pocket of her shorts and rekindled the joint. She took another pleasure-filled drag, blew it out with some relief and went on. “I felt comfortable sitting there, listening to him and talking to him…remembering things I liked about him…the way he laughed at my jokes…the way he looked at me… He was comfortable with me, not thinking sex…just… what’s the word…companionship…it was fun.” Lade passed the remaining joint to Cindy who took it from her and began smoking without a word. She was waiting for the punch line.

“It was nice! That is, until Sting came in and spoiled the whole set up,” Lade said with some spite.

Cindy was amused. “He told the guy?”

Lade winced. “Sort of…he asked me if the guy had paid for my time. Then he threatened to kill the guy if he ever saw him around me again.”

Cindy was not surprised. “Buzz killer! Sting na real bad belle,” she said shrugging.

A short bout of silence ensued before… “He…he called me… yesterday.”

Cindy turned to look at her, eyes wide with surprise. “He has your number?”

Lade nodded. “Yes. I gave it to him before Sting showed up. He said he’ll like to see me again…tonight.”

Cindy tittered. “Your lover boy is funny,” she said. ”Sting will cut his thing off if he catches him again.”

Lade didn’t find it funny though. She wished Cindy wasn’t downright honest. She looked down at her open palms. Cindy was right. Sting would more than cause a scene if that night re-occurred. She looked up at Cindy to meet her searching gaze. Her thoughts were mirrored in her face. Cindy’s eyes widened in realization, “You agreed to see him!”

Lade turned away. “God! What am I doing?” she soliloquized aloud.

Cindy got her serious face out fast, “I’ll tell you what you’re doing, Nicky!” She said. “It’s a fantasy you’re trying to live! You watch too many movies. You’ll get him killed and your eye blackened big time if you let this charade get out of hand!”

“It’s not a charade!”

“Is it not? Does he know what you do for a living?”

Lade sighed and walked into her kitchen leaving Cindy at the back porch. Cindy crushed the rest of the joint with her thumb and went in after her. She found Lade pouring the hot water into a bowl plate containing melted akamu. Cindy went to sit on a stool next to her. “Does he?” She repeated her question.

Lade sighed as she turned the hot pap as it turned semi solid. “I’m sure he suspects. But I…I’ll tell him the truth.”

“Will you; and everything else too?”

Lade stared hard ahead as another bout of silence ensued, this one longer than the previous ones. When she looked up at Cindy, it was with hopeful eyes. “You don’t know him as well as I do, Cindy. He’s a really decent guy. What if he doesn’t judge me by that?” she asked shaking her head. “I know, fantasy right? There are so many what-ifs which cannot be answered, but I… I need my life back. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought since I ran into him. It’s like all my mates have moved up and past me, and I’ve been left behind. I used to be better than this. I used to be better than all of them!”

“And he’s going to be your bus ticket out of all this? You want to risk your life over some guy?” Cindy asked.

“Stop saying it like that. He’s not just some guy, Cindy. We grew up together. He respects me. We’ve always had feelings for each other.”

“Feelings!” Cindy spat. “That is the result of sitting indoors all day, day-dreaming about someone. How far can your feelings take you before they die? Abi you feel say feelings dey last forever?” She asked harshly.

“I don’t know! I mean…he may stop liking me when I tell him the kind of person I now am. At the end I may not be able to quit this life. We may even get killed by Sting. I just…I’ve never been so confused.” More silence.

“Or if he loves you, he’ll take the risk, clean you up and you live happily ever after.”

Lade chuckled at the absurdity. First she had to tell him everything, then see how it went afterwards.

***


Luxury Resort, also known as Governor’s Park bragged an artificial lake, a park, a golf course, a restaurant and a museum. The lake was fed from the nearby Oludo River, one of the Atlantic Ocean inlets in the southern part of the city. Two army patrol trucks were stationed at the North and South entrances and few plain clothed security men walked about unarmed but with walkie-talkies hoping to keep the peace and rules as much as they could.

Lade’s taxi pulled up at the southern gate which was closer to the lake. She’d never been to this part of Lagos ever, in her ten years living in the city. Business never brought her here as Sting’s trade was frowned up in the premises, and she rarely had her own time to explore. As such, she’d been thrilled when Peter’s text message directed her to the resort that evening. She paid her taxi man and alighted in a silver gown and red four inch heeled shoes. She wore the jewelry set Cindy had bought her and her natural dreadlocks were tied to a ponytail behind her. Lade looked around her surrounding to take in the beauty of the place. The adverts she’d seen on cable didn’t do justice to it.

The sun was yet to set that evening and the sky seemed clear enough for an outdoor date. The garden was very tidy and several couples were sitting on blankets on the smooth grass just close to the water. A flock of birds were flying low over the quiet water. The path to the restaurant was slopy, graveled and wide enough for two cars driving abreast. It led to a small parking lot outside the one story glass restaurant building. You couldn’t see inside from outside, but Lade could bet the insiders could view anyone walking outside. The thought of being watched crossed her mind and she looked around and saw Banks sitting on the hood of a Mercedes convertible with one hand poised behind him. He had parked in line of sight of the southern gate and smiled when she spotted him. She smiled back and walked towards him already feeling exhilarated.

Banks’ eyes never left hers as she made her way up to him. The gleam was already in his eye by the time she got it halfway – as if her beauty never ceased to amaze him. She shivered at the thought of being so desirable. Of course she knew she was, but… The hand behind him suddenly appeared with a single stalk of rose flower when she was a couple steps away. The shit-eating grin that lit up her face was one that had not been on her face in a very long time.

“Peter! A flower! Come on!”

“All yours! And don’t start this your forming.” Peter said and handed her the flower.

She took the flower with a smile and. She raised it to her nose and inhaled the fresh rose scent. “No one ever bought me flowers.” She said.

Banks alighted from the hood of the car. “Well, I’m glad to be your first,” he replied alighting from the hood of his car. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I promised. Besides, I’ve never been to governor’s park.”

“Really! You’ve been in this city longer than I?” He asked, an incredulous look appearing on his face.

“Eight years, yeah, why are you surprised? And whose luxury car have you borrowed to impress me?”

Banks blinked. “It’s not a luxury car! It’s…just a two year old Mercedes benz.” He said shrugging.

Lade scoffed. “A convertible,” she said. “I’m not looking to be impressed by you, PB.”

Banks took out the car remote from his pocket and locked the car with a beep shrugging at her. “F.Y.I. the ride is mine. But I’ll do my best to be modest,” he replied with a mischievously grin at her amazed face. He took her hand. “Meanwhile, here we are. What would you like to do? See a movie? Early dinner at the restaurant? A few drinks? A walk in the park?”

Lade mused a bit, the smile never leaving her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out on a date. A real date. “How about…we skip the movie and do the rest in the same sequence?”

“Dinner and a few drinks and a walk in the park!” he shrugged. “Okay. Have I told you what a gorgeous lady you turned out to be?” He asked as he led her towards the restaurant building. “You’re so beautiful, Lade.”

And despite hearing it a million times from a thousand and one guys, Lade looked away to hide the crimson staining her fair cheeks. This wasn’t some guy paying Sting for a few hours with her. This was Peter Bankole, her college crush.

***


The date wasn’t a disaster, more like a prolonged visit with the in-laws, with the numerous guarded moments and accompanying awkwardness. Lade had her first plate of steaks and together with Banks, had drained a bottle of 1992 Chianti, while they reminisced about college and their teenage years. She had pumped Banks full of questions about his private life and school and learned about his talent and proclivities in art school. However, each time Banks sent the ball to her court and broached the subject of her life, she skimmed the topic off the top and quickly switched the conversation back to him.

By dessert time however, she was a mess and desperately needed a cigarette. She turned down her plate of salad because she wasn’t sure she could hold her cutlery steady enough. The slight tremor on her wine glass hand was noticeable. She was sure Banks was only pretending not to notice. She fled to the bathroom with her purse twice. The first time, she found herself an empty stall and had spilled half the contents of her purse in search of the folded cloth that contained a little quantity of white powder. However she couldn’t bring herself to take a sniff. She’d been afraid he’d notice. She’d been afraid she wouldn’t be lucid enough. She fought her need and succeeded. She splashed water from the sink on her face and dried up. Ten minutes later, she was back at the still vacant restroom stall. She just needed a little relief, she’d convinced herself.

The sun had gone down when they left the restaurant. Lade was as plastered as freshly poured concrete. Her smile was pasted and never wavered. She looked okay, but Banks was sure something was different after her second trip to the bathroom. She seemed high-strung – talking a bit louder and laughing a bit easier.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for the umpteenth time.

Lade giggled. “I am. Don’t I look okay to you?”

“You do! Just making sure.” Banks replied.

“Dinner was great, thanks,” she said and leaned in to peck his cheek. She giggled at the look on Banks’ face.

Banks began walking in the direction of the bar but Lade pulled at him to stop. “I thought we said…”

“That wine was enough drinks for one night. I don’t want a beer to spoil its taste in my mouth.” Lade said giggling.

Her tongue seemed looser, Banks realized. He looked around them “Well, we’ve got a full moon and no clouds tonight. How about that walk, before we call it a night?”

Lade shrugged. “Of course!” She replied.

The air was cool because of the evening breeze from the lake. They walked hand-in-hand in silence. There were security lights placed at strategic positions to illuminate the walk around the circular lake. Few couples and groups were littered everywhere.

Lade took it all in. “This is the best evening I’ve had in a long time, Peter.” She said.

“My friends always talked about this place. This is my first time here too.” Banks replied.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah? I’m surprised we haven’t taken a selfie yet.”

Lade shook her head but didn’t say anything. Banks pulled her close to him while taking out his blackberry. Lade leaned into him as she felt his arm encircle her waist. Banks opened his camera application.

“Give me your sweetest smile baby,” he said. He looked at the picture and smiled in satisfaction. “Good enough for instagram?” he asked, passing the phone to her.

The picture was perfect. She chuckled. “I wonder what explanation you’d give your girlfriend.”

“There you go again.”

“What! You really want me to believe your cock-and-bull about Jennifer being just friends with you?” At her insistence, Banks had told him about Jennifer albeit reluctantly. She felt Banks stiffen against her and tense up. He removed his hand from around her waist and stopped walking. Lade stopped too and searched his face. His eyes were unreadable. “What’s the matter?” She asked.

“Nothing!” He replied a bit too quickly. “I…” He paused to think. “Well, I don’t seem to have any trouble believing you aren’t avoiding or omitting things about you.”

The smile faded from her face. The truth in his accusation almost stung. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just…your family’s sudden rise to affluence…your art studio…you’re a far more interesting topic than I am.”

Banks wasn’t impressed by her smart reply. They both stared at each other, standing by the lake with the moon high above them. Their eyes spoke volumes. Lade’s wished the ground would open up to swallow her. She hated lying to him but was having fun as it was with him. She wasn’t yet ready for him to judge her.

“So, what do you want to know?”

Banks went straight for the jugular. “What do you do for a living?” He asked. “And who is Nicky? That ugly guy called you Nicky. Before that, Jerry too.”

The M-moment. To her credit, Lade kept her expression straight above the raging inferno in her head. She even indulged a smile and looked around her as if searching for a place to hide from his quizzing glare.

“I dance,” Lade said. She cringed inward at the lie as she walked away from him towards a stone bench to sit down.

At its best, the lie represented how low she’d truly fallen. The last time they’d been close, she was leaving for tertiary education at the University of Lagos. She had bigger prospects back then, so how had she ended a dancer?

At its worst, the lie stank. She definitely wasn’t the Lade they both used to know - almost the inverse version. Yet the feeling was the same and so he went to sit beside her even though he knew she was lying.

“Dance! How come, Lade?”

“I don’t strip or climb poles and give lap dances or anything of the sort. No. I just dance professionally at CRASH. You know the place?” She gambled that he didn’t. And lost.

Banks frowned. “CRASH! I’ve been there a few times with my friends! My cousin Andy and his girlfriend love the place. I’ve never seen you there before.”

Lade shrugged. “Me neither. It’s a big place you know. And I never said I work every day.”

Banks just sat there staring at her. She returned his stare but looked away first. Banks got to his feet. “It’s alright,” he said in a gruff manner. “It’s not really that much of a big deal anyway. Come, I’ll drop you off. It’s getting late and we’ve got to get going.” He looked at his wrist watch. Lade hesitated and got a glaring stare from Banks. “Hurry up,” he said. “I’ve got other things to do at home.”

Lade was reluctant to get to her feet, but he didn’t wait. He was already retracing his way back to the parking lot. She’d lied so brazenly to his face and she knew he was walking away for good. The thought hurt like a stuck knife twisting in her chest. “Wait!” She called almost breathlessly, but he didn’t stop. “Peter wait!” She called again and hurried after him.

Banks heard her approaching footsteps and stopped, and waited for her to catch up with him. He turned to watch her approach. Fear and anxiety were written on her face like graffiti on a slum wall. What the hell happened to her? Why wouldn’t she just tell him about it? Why wouldn’t she trust him to be objective?

She was sweating reluctance when she arrived and he let her catch her breath. “I lied,” she began. “Almost everything I’ve told you about me is a lie.”

“I already know that,” Banks said, not giving her any quarters.

Lade nodded and looked down to hide the fact that she was blinking back threatening tears. “I am sorry. I’m really sorry.” She said in a quivering voice. “I am torn between my private shame and the fear of… of not seeing you again. The truth…you probably will not want to see me again.”

“Your lies are already making me think like that.”

She looked up at him and noticed his face soften a bit when he saw her misty eyes. She looked anxious. “I am not proud of the person I am. Or what I do for a living.” She continued. Banks regarded her with some curiosity but folded his hands. “But when we are together, I feel… worthy… like… like I can retrace my steps out of this thing…I am on. Like I could clean up my act and get my life back to normal. You used to be proud of me…of our friendship. But I’m not that person anymore and I lie because I’d hate to see you judge me.” She looked down at her feet again.

His heart was beating wildly too. She had all but confessed to his suspicions. What if Vanessa was right? Did she do drugs too? He refused the urge to check her arms for needle marks. “What about your father, and Godwin?” he asked instead.

Did she just stifle a sob? He looked at her more closely. He put an index finger under her jaw and lifted her chin up to see her face. The tears welled up in her eyes and his alarm meter shot through the roof. He knew the answer before she opened her mouth.

“There was an accident.” She said. “The car brakes had been tampered with. They…they…”

She started sobbing. The tears welled up Bank’s eyes too as he pulled her into an embrace. Her body shook with her sobs and he could feel his t-shirt soak up. He hadn’t imagined this. He was shocked to his roots. She had no immediate family anymore. Her uncle who lived up north was a no-brainer. He was one of those fanatic Muslim converts who never came back home. She was truly alone, he realized and his heart went out to her. He ran his hand up and down her back and listened to her cry. “I’m sorry Lade. I’m so sorry. Oh my God! Oh my God!” he kept muttering. He kissed the dreadlocks at the top of her head. She felt so soft and warm in his embrace and in that moment, he wished he could kiss all her troubles away, no matter what it was.

“Take your time, okay! I won’t leave you, Lade. I’ll wait. Whenever you want to talk about it…I’ll be here.” he said.

Lade stiffened when her foggy mind cleared enough to understand what he just said. He was taking a chance with her. She pulled out of his embrace and looked up at him with her teary and surprised face. “You’ll do that for me?”

“Yes,” Banks replied nodding. “But don’t ever lie to me again Lade.”

Lade smiled an apology and leaned in to give him a soft peck on his left cheek. She looked at him darting the tip of her tongue to wet her lower lip. Banks looked down at her lips – full and sensuous. The same lips that could part into the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. He remembered he’d always imagined what it’d feel like to kiss them and knew it was about time he found out. She brought her face closer to his and he leaned in to erase the rest of the distance that separated them. He had no more thoughts except one – pleasing her.

Their lips touched lightly and she breathed in the scent of his cologne again, his breath and his very being. Her heart skidded to a halt as the soft brush of her mouth against his turned her senses into a whirlpool. She closed her eyes when she felt his tongue creep out and when it touched her lips, she opened her mouth willingly.

She felt the spark of heat sear through her and her face flamed hot from the emotions that ran over her. She tilted her head and sent her tongue after his invader. She shivered at the first touch and her fingers slid up to grip his arms as she melted into him. Nothing in her experience with men prepared her for the sensuousness of his kiss. Her knees buckled with a strange weakness and she felt like a virgin having her first kiss. His fingers interlaced with her locks to coax her head closer to deepen his onslaught. She shuddered and wondered if she was giving him as good as she was getting.

Their mouths crushed each other’s and their tongues went to full blown war, both wanting to feast on what they had denied themselves. Lade clung to him as her head twisted to the right, then to the left, seeking the perfect angle to send her tongue deeper into his mouth and taste his core. She had her reply when she heard him groan into the kiss. The kiss ended abruptly and she quickly hid her flushed face and swollen lips in his strong chest, and attempted to catch her breath.

“Wow,” came a female voice close by. They both turned to find a Viewer couple with smiles on their faces. “That was hot to watch,” she said and smiled at her boyfriend who mouthed the word “sorry” at Banks and Lade. He tugged his mate after him and both went off in another direction.

Banks took Lade’s hands in his and kissed the back of her right palm. They smiled at each other like they’d just discovered a secret they both shared. Lade’s phone suddenly rang in her purse and the mood was gone. She unzipped her purse and took out her phone. It was Cindy calling. She smiled at Banks.

“My friend, Cindy. I have to take it.”

“Of course. Go ahead dear.”

Lade smiled at the endearment as she answered the call. “Hey Cindy!” Her smile disappeared the next instant and was replaced by a scowl. “Okay, I’ll meet you there on time…no problem…not now, bye.” She ended the call and looked up at Banks.

“Curfew?” Banks asked. Lade nodded. “I have to go, even though I don’t want to.”

Banks shrugged to hide his disappointment. The night was still young. Lade smoothed the crease on his forehead with her thumb and leaned into him for a quick kiss. Then, she rested her head on his chest and felt his hand encircle his waist. So they stood for a full minute.

Were they using each other? Or did a just rekindled relationship take a step closer in the right direction; an old friendship uninhibited this time, and by time. Banks’ head was a quagmire but he sighed in concession and again took her hand in his.

“Come,” he said. “I’ll drive you home.”

“No!” She said in surprise. “I’ll take a taxi. It’s…safer this way.”

Banks nodded reluctantly. “Then, I’ll drive you to a junction where you can get a taxi easier.” Banks said. Lade nodded. There was gratitude in her eyes and she realized that she was right about him. They shared love and passion, and she was the happiest woman alive that night.

Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nice 1!!!!!.........bin ridin dis story since 12 till nw...... Omo. Its nice....#following#. 1rst 2 comment!

sirblero:
Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nice 1!!!!!.........bin ridin dis story since 12 till nw...... Omo. Its nice....#following#. 1rst 2 comment!

Thanks a lot

CHAPTER FIVE

“I keep my head high…I got my wings to carry me…I don’t know freedom…I hope my dreams will rescue me…I keep my face strong…I ask the lord to follow me…I’ve been unfaithful…I don’t know why you color me…this is my canvas…I’m a paint how I want it to be…” Banks sang along with J. Cole on the home theatre with his eyes closed. He had one hand on the vacuum cleaner and the other swaying in the air. He was cleaning up in the studio. The sleeves of his A&F shirt were tied around his waist, wore a white singlet and camouflage shorts. He hummed where he didn’t know the lyrics and was so lost in the music the doorbell rang a few times before he heard it. He went to lower the volume of the music and go to answer the door.

“Who is it?” He asked.

“Andy!” Andy’s voice shouted from the other side. Banks unlocked the door and opened it. Andy, Bayo and Tunde got in, each carrying school bags.

“Dude, we could hear you singing from the elevator! What’s up!” Tunde asked.

“Nothing! Just in the mood for sing-alongs.”

“Good mood or Bad mood?” Bayo asked eyeing him.

“Good mood. I cooked breakfast at home this morning, cleaned the garage, and now I’m cleaning my studio.” Banks said.

“Sister Vee must’ve thought the world was coming to an end,” Andy said chuckling.

“That’s a lot of energy for one day,” Bayo said.

Tunde noticed the bottle of wine and half-filled glass on the table with his brushes and palette next to the canvass-less easel. He walked to it and took the bottle for closer inspection.

“What wine is that?” Andy asked.

Tunde reads. “Chianti… 1991, nice… Couldn’t have cost anything less than ten grand!” Tunde mentioned.

Bayo goes to join Tunde for a closer look at the bottle. “That’s better than just a good mood, a great mood even. What are we celebrating?” Bayo asked,

“First time I meet up with my cousin since last week Thursday, he’s drinking ten thousand naira worth of wine! Time to spill!” Andy quizzed.

A cell phone began ringing. “Aaah! Saved by the bell.” Banks fished out his ringing phone from his pocket and looked at the caller ID. He grinned. “Excuse me guys, this is important.” Banks answered the call heading for his makeshift office. “Hey dear!”

Bayo turned to the others. “Did you see that? The call…he smiled… a girl most likely… He said, 'Hey dear.'”

“Finally! Jennifer, who else?” Tunde asked sipping from Banks’ glass. He savors the taste. “Mmm…rich.” He looked up at his friends and found them staring at each other. “What?”

“It can’t be Jennifer. Idara told me Jennifer slapped him when they ran into each other on campus on Monday for standing her up at Chika’s party. That was barely two days ago.” Bayo said looking at Andy for confirmation. Andy pulled out a pack of canned Heinekeen from his bag and carried it to the refrigerator, deep in his own thoughts. He opened the refrigerator and found it cleaned out.

Tunde was surprised though. “Slapped Banks! Well, they obviously made up already.”

“So why walk away from us to answer her call?” Bayo argued. “He has never done that before.”

“You’re right. I doubt it is Jennifer too.” Andy said quietly. The other two were quiet at that. Andy tore the pack open and started loading the beer cans into the refrigerator. He took out three wine glasses when he was done and gave Bayo and Tunde one.

Tunde poured the wine. “Who else could it have been?”

Andy shrugged. “Something is off.”

“Something like what?” Bayo asked.

Tunde sighed. “Okay, now we are gossiping like a bunch of girls. I bet you’re angry he missed your girlfriend’s birthday bash and stood her cousin up. If I can recall, you spent the weekend with Chika at their house. Then you had that photo shoot on Monday, went clubbing with Bayo and I the entire night and came back Tuesday. Today’s Wednesday, don’t crucify him before you’ve had time to catch up.”

Andy began to reply but they heard Banks exit his makeshift office, shutting the door after him. He had a pleased look on his face which evaporated when he saw the discomfort on theirs. They’d been discussing him, he realized. “I hope you guys didn’t pour all of it.” He said, rejoin them.

Tunde handed Banks his glass. “There’s enough left,” he said and refilled his glass. “Who was it on the phone? Jenny?”

Banks chuckled in surprise. “I wonder why you’d think that. Speaking of which, Andy how’s she? She hasn’t been picking my calls.”

“I’m sure you’ve been blowing up her phone.” Andy replied with a sarcastic smile. “She’s okay…keeping to herself mostly these days. Same as you,” he said.

Banks raised an eyebrow. He looked at the others but none of them would meet his gaze. They'd definitely been talking about him. “How do you mean?”

Bayo cut in a milder tone than Andy’s. “You tell us. None of us have seen you since M-lounge on Thursday last week when you left with Jenny. You buy a ten thousand naira bottle of wine only for us to crash your ‘alone party’.”

“Come on guys… I haven’t been feeling too well. Maybe if any of you had bothered to call me to ask what was up, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with my friends.” He stressed the word ‘friends’.

“I never knew you were into expensive vintage stuff like this,” Tunde said. “Just like I’ve never seen you run off to answer a girl’s phone call. So, if it wasn’t Jennifer, you must have met someone new this past weekend.”

“You should have seen the way you grinned when you saw her call,” Bayo said with a camaraderie smile. “Spill the beans already man.”

Banks turned to Andy who yawned and shrugged. “Fine, I’m sorry. I too am dying of curiosity.”

Banks was reluctant and for good reason. If there was a short version to the topic, he would have gladly taken the option of telling them. The long and only version was complicated and he didn’t trust them to understand. If he painted her as a beautiful angel, they’ll want to meet her and wonder if she was a figment of his imagination if he dragged the introduction out too long. If he told them the entire truth, they’ll only criticize. Especially Andy who wouldn’t hesitate to tell Chika, who would tell Jennifer whose friendship he had every intention of repairing.

Yet, what else where friends for? Andy had been very loyal, Bayo and Tunde too. He could ask them not to mention it to their girlfriends until he talked to Jennifer. “I ran into a girl I used to know back at Ibadan.” He had their full attention.

“An old girlfriend!” Tunde asked.

“Who is she?” Bayo asked almost simultaneously. Andy didn’t have to voice the questions reflected on his face.

Banks was still reluctant. “Her name is Lade. We were very close back then. I never dreamed I’ll run into her ever again.”

Bayo and Tunde were excited. “Small world,” said Bayo.

“Okay, details bro,” Tunde urged. “When did you run into her?”

“The night of Chika’s party.” Banks watched Andy drain his glass. He walked to the refrigerator to get a beer while he listened to Banks tell how he ran into the girl. He wasn’t really excited by the news like the other two.

“Anyone else need a beer?”

Banks paused his narrative. “Stone me one.” Andy threw him a can of Heinekeen. He caught it and drained his wine glass next. Andy took out two extra for Bayo and Tunde, and went to join them by the table next to the easel. Banks had continued his story after popping the can. Andy handed Bayo and Tunde a beer each and popped his.

“But it was like the Lade I knew had flipped at some point. She never smoked, always wore the most modest clothes and Amstel Malt used to be her favorite drink… you know…same pretty girl, but she’s gotten even more beautiful. Very beautiful guys, she…wait till you see her.

“She’s no longer a turd you mean.” Bayo said with a snigger.

“She’s a wild card now, the wildest card in a pack.”

“Nice. You bought her a beer?”

“A big stout. She’d just had a couple before I joined her. She looked like another wouldn’t hurt.”

“Not even Tell-all-your-stories-in-one-night-and-laugh-at-everything tipsy?” Tunde asked.

“No, that would be your girl Theresa.” Banks replied. They all laughed, including Andy.

“I always liked me a girl that can hold her liquor.” Andy said.

“So, when do we get to meet her?” Tunde asked.

“I don’t know. Her work schedule is kind of hectic, I understand.”

“What does she do for a living?” Andy asked.

Banks hesitated. “She’s a stylist. She works long hours and rarely has time for social stuff.”

“Wow, that’s nice. Idara would like her perhaps.” Bayo said already foreseeing a nice, cozy relationship. However, Andy knew Banks better than the rest. He was sure his friend wasn’t being entirely truthful. Banks had hesitated before answering his question. Anyway, Banks’ head was in the cloud today. He wouldn’t achieve anything by bursting his bubbles with the numerous questions swirling around his head.

***


“Guess who just drove in!”

Jennifer looked up from the business card she was designing on her laptop at Chika as she entered her bedroom. One look at her face and Jennifer knew the reply. “Banks?” She sat up on her rocker chair.

“Security just phoned in the heads up. Andy is with him.”

“I don’t want to see him.”

Chika’s eyes widened in surprise. “Okay, but, are you sure? I mean, come on, you slapped the guy a couple days ago. I know he hurt you by standing you up...”

“…for the umpteenth time you mean.” Jennifer interrupted, and returned her attention to the laptop.

“Second time by my count…and this is the first time he’s coming here. He and I don’t get along, so that means he’s here for you.”

“To apologize and continue feeding me false hopes. I…I really don’t feel like seeing him, or anyone else today Chika. Tell them I’m busy, thanks.” Jennifer returned her attention to her laptop.

Chika’s eyes narrowed. “Too bad I’m not your personal assistant. You get to tell him that yourself.”

“Chika, dammit! Just…” Chika exited the room and banged the door after her before she finished her statement. Jennifer sighed and after moments of contemplation, put her laptop in sleep mode.

It was almost half an hour later when she presented herself to Banks at the living room. She had changed from the tank top and shorts she wore earlier to a simple Ankara dress and multi-colored leggings. He was alone holding a glass of iced tea and a DSTV remote control watching National Explorer channel on DSTV. There was an unfinished plate of peanuts next to the iced tea container. He heard her approaching, turned to see her and got to his feet.

“Hey Jenny,” he began with a smile.

“I heard you came with Andy?”

“Went off with Chika to her room or somewhere else...”

“Oh,” She said. She went to sit across the cushion he’d stood up from. “You look good. Healthy.”

Banks sat down. “Thanks,” he said. “You do too. Chika says you’re the one that made these peanuts. They taste awesome.”

Jennifer’s lips twitched slightly as she suppressed the smile at the compliment. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed. “So, first time at my mum’s place. What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful house. Your mom is good at what she does.” He looked around as he spoke. “The colors, the fixtures…I can see she put up one of my paintings in the living room for your guests to see.” He said pointing the remote at a painting of a boy wading on the ocean shores, a sunset in the horizon.

“We call it Atlantic Banks. One of your first paintings; my mum’s favorite. You get a lot of appreciation from her friends. How’s your mom by the way?”

“She’s okay, if the last time we spoke is anything to judge by. She’s at Abuja.”

“Well, mine is either in Tahiti or Tijuana.”

Banks chuckled. “Ah! One of the numerous things we have in common. Our moms…always one place or the other.”

Jennifer didn’t reply to that. She leaned forward to take some peanuts from the plate on the coffee table. “We are both art lovers, talented in one thing or another and plot our lives to live off our talents. Just listing… other things we have in common.” She popped a peanut in her mouth.

“You’re right.” Banks replied. Something had changed about her, he suddenly realized. She wasn’t cold, just detached.

“Our friends and family idolize us for what we can do with our gifts. They support us with their resources and will go extra miles to see us succeed – another thing in common,” Jennifer went on.

“Yeah, my mom will. I believe Vanessa and Andy will too if it were up to them.” Banks said, still wondering at her point.

Jennifer sighed and leaned back on her chair. “That’s more than most successful couples I’ve seen have in common.” She said after a thought-filled pause.

Banks nodded, suddenly a lot less confused. Whatever this was about, it seemed her mind was already made up.

Jennifer hesitated. Her resolve was torn. She loved this guy sitting in front of her. She’d loved him for too long. Hope was like a drug, and Banks had been selling her hard for the low… Or she’d been imagining it, feeding herself the hook up all this while. It was high time she changed her delicacies. She swallowed.

Banks got up and went to join her on her cushion. He took her hands in his. “I’m sorry Jennifer, and not just for Chika’s bash and all the other promises I broke. I’m sorry I hurt you after everything you’ve done for me.”

Jennifer pulls her hand from his. “I don’t want your apology, Banks. I love you. You know that. Everyone knows that. It’s on me, and it’s not like we get to choose who we love, do we? It’s the most important thing to have in common, but we don’t. Too bad, you can only give love, you can’t take it.”

“But I value our friendship. That is why I am here. I don’t want to lose that.” His voice dripped of his sincerity.

“Don’t you? Really? ‘Cause you do act like it sometimes.”

Banks sighed. “Yes Jenny! I really don’t!”

Jennifer swallowed again. She won’t cry in front of him. She’d thought hard about it. She couldn’t keep waiting for him to come around.

“At least, it’s not because of someone else,” she said. “I’m just thinking…after the nightmare with Clara, maybe you’re not ready to commit. But I won’t wait any longer.” Her eyes got misty at this point and her voice broke down. She cleared her throat.

Banks put an arm around her and pulled her to him. This wasn’t the place or time to tell her she was wrong. There was someone else. His heart went out to hers and he wished he could give her what she wanted. Only he would be lying to himself and to her if he did. Maybe, If he hadn’t run into Lade that night, then who knew....

“Jenny.” His voice didn’t sound like his. He cleared his throat. “Jenny.” He called again.

Jennifer sniffed and dried the corner of both her eyes with the back of her palms. She pulled out of his hug and looked up at him. “I love you,” as far as loving two women was allowed.

Her eyes probed his for more meaning. “But…but what?” She asked.

“But I’m not in love with you.” He said.

The truth stung. She bit her lower lips and stared at the plate on the coffee table without seeing it. She’d spent two years of her life hoping in vain. Everything she’d loved about him seemed like ashes in her mouth in that moment.

“Jenny, don’t misunderstand what I just said.” He said.

She looked at him and saw hurt in his eyes. And guilt for what he was incapable of giving her. And fear that everything they had between them would change afterwards. What did they have? A lot in common. A lot less than what she really desired – his love. She got to her feet. He stood too and took her hand in his. She didn’t pull away.

“I don’t. I understand. I just wanted more than I could get. That won’t change how I feel for you Banks. It’s just, I’ll learn to lower my expectations of you.”

Banks was floored by her maturity in that moment. Did she mean what she said or was she merely saving face. Only time would tell. Hopefully, they’d cleared the air enough for their friendship to breathe again. If her pride didn’t kill it first, he still wanted a relationship with her.