Love Bite: Entry #5

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 5

I pulled up at Jade Towers at about 10.30am. I imagined the video playing on the wall of every conference room—team leaders talking everyone through the happenings as jaws dropped. I bounded up the bush-hedge lined drive way, my wig shifting with each stride. I rode the elevator to the 6th floor. When I stepped out, a few bored looks swung my way and went back to their work. 

Quickly I typed into my phone.

💬Me: Abby. I’m here. How bad is it?

💬Abby: Be out soon. In meeting. 

I walked towards the conference rooms and peeped in through the glass walls. There were no videos on the wall. I let out my held breath. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. I could relax. 

Voices interrupted my thoughts. 

“Na Pastor wife o!” A voice said. It came from around the corner.

“That’s messed up, men.” It was Etim from Sales.

“I heard the video bad gan o. All those pastor-wife.” Another voice hissed.

“You haven't even seen it.” Another hissed, “Abeg who has seen it? Give me correct gist.”

"Kai. She don spoil her life finish.”

My heart sank.

My eye caught a movement from my left side. Tayo. She approached. She threw her waist long braids over her shoulder and ran her bulgy wing-tipped eyes over me. I hissed and stared into my phone. The leech had been trying to steal my project for a while now, I was sure she was glad with this mess. She paused for a brief moment in front of me. I looked up, she looked like she was going to say something, but then the corner of her mouth tipped in a small smile and she walked past me. 

Idiot.

Abby met me in front of the conference rooms and pulled me into an empty one.“Only a hand full of people have seen it. Everyone on your team. Niran had it contained.”

“But everyone knows about it…”I said.

“HR has seen it.” She continued, “It could have been worse.” 

Just then, Niran strode out if his office, sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone. His eyes narrowed on me. 

“Lani. A word.” He said.

Abby rubbed my arm as I walked into Niran’s office. My entire team was in there, Andrew, Tola, Gbemi, Felicia, Sanmi, Foluke Alao and Foluke Candoyle. Dami Predo, the HR manager stood against the glass wall. One by one, they began to leave, careful not to catch my eye. Soon Dami Predo and Niran were left in the room. I closed the door. 

Niran spoke first, “What goes on in your personal life is your business. However, when it goes out of hand, as it has, and as we speak, and finds its way to your work life and impacts your productivity and the productivity of the team…well, that just won’t do.”

“Niran”,I started,”This will not stick, I promise—”

“I’m putting Tayo on your projects until you come back.”He cut in.

“Wait. No. Where am I going?”

“Take some time off. Get this all sorted.” Dami spoke, his bald head shone under the lights. He was about a foot shorter than Niran but thinner. He shoved one hand in his pocket, and with the other pushed his glasses up his nose.

“I don’t think we need to do this.” I said,”I can deal with this and it won’t impact my work.”

“I had Tayo moonlight your work. Too many errors in your data analysis. She can’t present that to Ivan in Marrakesh.” 

“She? Marrakesh is my project! She’s not presenting anything.”

“This isn’t the time for sentiments.”He threw his hands up,”We can’t lose this deal. Your data is off. You need—”

“Niran, Is this because of you and I?”I looked from Dami to Niran, “Because of the issues we had? Is that why you are doing this?”I was becoming desperate. Niran sat on the edge of his table and raised both brows.

“We aren’t doing anything.”Dami spoke,”We are asking you to lay low until it blows over. In a few days, someone else will do something crazy and eyes will be off you. It’s how it works.”

“The entire team has seen it. I don’t need them distracted now.” Niran said, “We are about to launch that project. Tayo has been in touch with Ivan in the region. She will head there in the coming weeks. If you care about this project at all, you’ll let her bring it home.”

The horror was naked on my face.

Niran ran his hand over his head, ”Deal with it. Quickly.” He got to his feet, in a few strides, he held open the door. Tears filled my eyes and both men swam in my gaze. 

Outside the door, Abby was there. She put her hand around me and led me to the elevator and into my car. 

I drove home as in a trance. I couldn't remember driving or even honking for Earnest. 

I’d tell Ngozi about it. Tonight. 

I couldn't bring myself to tell Leke myself. He had probably seen the video by now anyway.

Less than ten minutes after I sank into my bed, I heard the front door open. 11.30am, read the alarm clock on my bedside stand. Leke?

I got out of bed.

I held my breath. Had he gone into the office? Where was his phone?

He walked into the bedroom, his shoulders drooped. His jacket hung off his shoulder, his phone in his hand.

“Hey…why are you home?” My voice shook, “You went to the office already?” I took careful steps towards him. 

“How are you?” He asked, throwing his jacket on the bed. 

“Hmm?”My eyes on the phone.

“Your head was aching before I left.”

“Yes!”My hand lightly slapped my forehead,”I'm better.”

My eyes focused on him but the phone in his hand never left my sight.

“Pastor Remi asked me to go home for the day. He said there were somethings to be discussed among the other pastors. I don't know what. They have all been acting strange all morning.” He sat heavily in the armchair, placing the phone on its left arm.

“Really?”I asked, “What could it be?”

“They said a few of them may come over this evening.” He said,“Will you be home?”

“Of course”, I said, “I do have to have a quick chat with Ngozi down the road.”

“Ngozi? Who’s Ngozi?”

“The neighbor in 25.”

He shrugged.

“Please try to be here.” His brows furrowed in worry, “If they fire me…I don't know what I'd do.” I walked to him and sat on the arm of the chair, gathering him into my arms.

“Don’t talk like that. God called you to this. You mustn’t talk like that.” He leaned his head against my breasts and sighed, as I rocked him gently. My fingers found his phone. He had 2,436 unread emails and 160 unread messages. I scrolled through quickly. There it was, the video. Unopened. I pressed down to delete. 

I swallowed as the message disappeared.  “It would be alright.” I whispered as I rocked him and stroked his head, “It’ll be alright.”

But I knew it wouldn’t. 

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #6 out soon!

Love Bite: #Entry 4

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 4

I waited for the storm, but it never came.

Leke came home, a tired smile on his face as usual. He asked about my day. I had nothing to say. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and the dryness tickled my throat. He smiled, planted a kiss on my forehead and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

Once the water started running, I scrambled into the room, searching through his discarded clothes. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t under the bed either or in the wardrobe.

Where was it?

”What are you looking for?”

I turned to look at my husband, a towel around his waist, droplets of water scattered over his dark chest.

“Nothing. Err…looking to see if your clothes need to be washed. Isaac is coming this weekend.”

"Oh. I actually need him to starch my white native.” He turned on his heel and headed back into the bathroom. I started searching again.

“I’ll text him later tonight.” I said,”Or better yet I’ll text him now. Can I use your phone?”

“I think I forgot my phone at church.”

I stopped searching and cursed under my breath.

”Oh no! You don’t think we should head out and get it?” I called out towards the bathroom.

"No, it’s locked in my office. No one can get in.”

I had to get that phone. I could sneak in tonight.

”I hope you didn’t leave your keys lying around.”

”Lani. That phone needs aburo, I don’t think it’s a thief’s dream come true.” He chuckled.

“Where are your keys though?”

”With Pastor Remi. He needed the keys to the storage room. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

Snap.

A video of his wife moaning and panting with a stranger…The images stayed in my mind all night.

I thought about breaking into Pastor Remi’s house and into the church office. There had to be an easier way. I stayed awake all night, waiting for the morning, watching our ceiling fan blades cut through the air until they were invisible. Leke slept like a babe, his breathing heavy with an occasional snort.

For me, sleep had been elusive and it was beginning to tell. I had to get to the bottom of this. Jare was still away. I knew it was his wife. It had to be. If anyone knew it had to be the gateman.

I had to make him talk.

My eyes were wide open at 4:30 when Leke got up to pray, at 5.30 when he went into the bathroom, at 6.30 when he settled into the desk and chair in the corner to study his bible.

“Lani? You’ll be late if you don’t get up now.”He said. It was 7.30.

”I’m not feeling well. I’ll call in.”I mumbled.

”What’s wrong?”He got out of the chair. "Maybe a little Leke is in there?” He jested.

I smiled weakly. Not unless we had had sex in the last three months and I wasn’t aware.

He made me a quick breakfast of fried omelette and toast bread with a glass of juice for me. It made me smile.

“I’ll head to the other church branch first. I won’t be at work until about noon, so you might be unable to reach me ok?” He rested his palm on my forehead and said a little prayer.

“It is well, ok?” He said, as he threw on his blazer, and patted my scarfed head.

The moment he stepped out, I took a quick shower.

I’d go to his office before noon, wait for him to arrive and delete the message his phone. For now, I need to know what happened that night.

Jare’s gateman had to know who it was. He was the only one in the compound that night. I threw on a pair of jeans and a navy boat-neck blouse, shoved my feet into a pair of brown leather slippers and headed out. Ahead, Earnest was talking to someone through the opened gate. He stepped aside, and there was Jare’s wife, Ngozi. She towered over Earnest in her heels, she was dressed in army green pixie crop pants and a white t-shirt. A hand bag in the crook of her arm. Her slender face, half covered by long, full head of extensions and her round-framed sunglasses.

“Hello, Lani.”Her tone was sweet and cheerful.

I had stopped in my tracks.

“I was on my way out and I thought to say Hello. I have a PTA meeting.”

She looked like she was in a weekend relax day photo shoot.

“Hello.”I managed to say, my feet unwillingly walking forward.

“Would you like to meet up later at my place? Jay should be back much later but I’m sure we can fit in some girl time and chatter in the evening?”

I nodded,“Yes. Of course.” My voice tried in vain to echo the panache in hers.

“See you later.”

I waited until her car drove off and I walked briskly to her house and tapped on the gate. Ajibade opened the peep hole, his eyes hardened.

“Wetin you want?”

“Open gate. I wan ask you something.”

“No. Madam no dey. Oga no dey. I no fit open gate.”

“Ok.” I tried to peep past his head to see if any one else was there. His eyes cautioned me.

“Ok. You know that night. Last time…the night wey your oga…and me….who dey hold torchlight?”

He blinked a few times.

“I no know. Maybe na God catch una.” I caught the peephole cover as he began to close it.

“Just tell me. How much you want?” He looked at me.

Just then my phone buzzed in my back pocket.

“Just tell me how much you want?” I said to the gateman.

“How much den pay Judas?” He asked,”Which money you wan give me?” The hole disappeared.

I kept knocking, my phone kept buzzing.I heard his voice through the gate.

“I get your type for house. Dey sleep with landlord. She think say I no know. Na God go catch una. All of you together.”

“Hello.”I said into the phone, pinning it to my cheek with my shoulder. I was prepared to stand here all day. I reached into my pocket and counted ten notes of the thousand naira bill, 

“Babe,”Abby’s voice was urgent,”Come here fast. The video leaked at the office.”

The loose bills fell out of my hand and rained on the pavement below.   

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #5 out soon!

Promises, Promises And Why God Makes Them

Imagine God promises you something, anything. Let's say... hair. He promises you hair because  you are going bald and you’ve refused to eat for two days because of this. So he says, “Behold, my balding child!” In His earth-quaking voice, “I am going to give you hair, and fill up those bald spots! In fact, I’m going to give you a full head of hair; hair that’ll make Jon Snow weep!” 

What do you think will happen?

Well, there’s a likelihood that those adorable tufts of hair may not sprout instantaneously. 

In my experience, when God gives me a promise, everything, and I mean EVERYTHING goes way south. It looks like the exact opposite of what He said, no sign of His promise. Nothing. It’s a dry, dry desert.

I believe He gives us promises because He knows we’ll need it down the line. We’ll need it to encourage ourselves, to stand firm in the capability of His power, and anticipate the splendor of His creative work.

If He tells you He’ll supply all your needs, at some point, you may not feel supplied at all. If He promises you hair, you may become Varys before you become Better-than-Jon Snow(enough with the GOT references, Ike). Bottom line, you may become completely bald before you get a chance to toss those locks in the wind.

At that point of complete baldness, you may not have what you want, but you have something pulsating with an inherent potential of God’s power— a promise! He sees the future and He knows things are going to go very South. He expects us to grab that promise, stare at it, speak it, shout it, write it, mutter it, imbibe it, own that promise until we are breathing and living in its reality.

God once gave me a promise and it did not look like it for a long time. Just like David or Abraham or Joseph, each of these guys waited at least 10 years before the promise was realized. Abraham waited until he was 99! David waited, running around in the mountains and the desert for years, trying to escape Saul, even AFTER David had been anointed king by Samuel; Joseph was sold as a slave, and he went to jail before all those stars bowed to him.

These 3 men had a promise each. There is a promise. Then there’s the wait or the trail. You must hold on. You must. Otherwise, what are you gonna do?

Why should you hold on? Because when the trial is over and you have won... there will be Isaac. There will be no Saul, and your greatness will exceed those before and after you, as was with David; never lost a battle, never lost his city, arguably the most respected king in history. When you wait out the promise, the stars will surely bow and so will the moon and the sun.  

This is what happens to those who wait for my God.

Love At First Try

When I was growing up I was determined to end up with the first person I dated. My only sister married her first official boyfriend, so hey, I wasn’t trying to drift too far from that. Get it right the first time, babe. I'd tell myself.

No seconds.

So I met my first boyfriend...

If I ended up with my first boyfriend, he'd be at the bottom of the ocean“swimming with the fishes” by now. 

Swimming. With. The. Fishes. 

Not the“Godfather”type of swimming-with-the-fishes. He wouldn't be dead or anything. No. He really would have just devised a way to live as a sea creature, so he could get away from me and terrestrial life and anything that was associated with me. Hey, and this is not because I'm not fun to live with(Ed, tell em!) but because boyfriend 1 and I were not designed for one another and living together would have proven mildly inconvenient. And by mildly, I mean any acceptable antonym of mildly. Discordantly. Disagreeably. Harshly. Unpleasantly.

Yes, unpleasantly inconvenient. You see, me obsessing over getting it right the first time would have been counter productive, to say the least. 

I guess one mustn’t be so averse to other numbers and positions--number 1 is great but so is number 3, number 5 may be "the one" and number 11 may even dare to be divine. Be open to dating as many people as it takes to find the one. 

But if you do insist on 1, beware, he may buy himself a scuba tank, some fins and diving goggles and it's sayonara! 

Do you think you should end up with the first person you date? Did you“ace” it the first time? The thirteenth time? Tell us?

Psst! If you've been dating #1 forever and you know it isn't working out. Would you stay because you don't want to lose all that time and resources you invested?  

Love Bite: Entry #3

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 3

I met Jare at Fitness and Soul—the new neighborhood gym. It was a Tuesday evening, a day before Leke and I would mark our fourth year anniversary. I had walked into Fitness and Soul for the first time, completed my registration forms, received my free heart rate monitor and paid an exorbitant fee. The heart rate monitor wasn’t so free after all.

It was 5PM. Leke would be home in five hours. I figured I could pass time; and maybe Leke could join the gym soon. Maybe. Or maybe not.

The gym floor was crammed with treadmills, bench presses, sweaty enthusiasts and a few people like me loitering and clueless. Colorful water bottles dotted the room; towels dangled around necks; rap music blared from invincible speakers above the purring of equipment and the whirring of the ceiling fans. A muted TV showed the news and another showed the E! Channel. I decided on an equipment that looked like an escalator. My thighs started burning almost immediately, my heart fighting not to fall out of my chest. When I was sure my calves would fall out under my knees, I got off the machine. Panting and out of breath, I checked my watch. 6 minutes—that would have to do.

Weights sat on a rack in front of a wall-long mirror. I willed myself to them and the mirror.

I smiled at my reflection. My body was perfectly curved, though slightly hidden, under my large tank top, I could see the exaggerated outline of an hourglass—I had worn my tummy trainer, like Abby told me to, clinching my waist so tightly that my hips got stared at—by the girl next to me, who dipped every other second in squats, and by the two men near the bicycles.

After a few half-hearted weight lifts, I headed to the showers. 15 minutes at the gym. We all have to start somewhere.

It was a long walk across the floor, past the treadmills, past the men at the bicycles, around the glass screens and the group in yoga. From my pocket, I drew out my phone, scrolling mindlessly past photos, memes and videos on IG. Once I was out of sight, Ipushed into the Women's shower room, eyes still on my screen. The steam colored everything white and for a moment I looked up, away from my phone. The sounds of showers and splashing water echoed. Out of a stall stepped a figure. Once the haze cleared, I realized I was staring at a man. He had nothing on, except drops and streams of water which trickled down his body.

At my scream, he dropped the towel he had reached for.

“What are you doing in here?!” I yelled.

He turned to face me, he shrugged, and shook his head, like I had the answer to my question. 

“This is the men's shower?”He finally said,“It says so on the door.”

I stood rooted. In shock because he was talking to me very, very naked and because he seemed to be right—another man walked past behind him into a stall.

“I’m sorry—”I stammered, my palm covering my eyes and my feet back pedaling out the door. Outside, the door surely read Men's shower.

How did I miss that?

I stumbled through the door of the women's room, checking twice that it read“Women”. After a quick shower, I changed into leggings and a t-shirt, clasped my clincher around my waist, grabbed my gym bag and walked straight out of the gym, my feet swift and my eyes forward.

How did I walk into the men's room? Abby was going to pass out from laughing when she heard. The road was busy with commuters making their way home and other road users who avoided heir inevitable Lagos traffic through back roads.

From the corner of my eye, I saw acar slow down beside me, the heat from its engine sweeping around my calves.

Oh no.

“Would you like a ride?” Thank God he had clothes on now.

Just keep walking, Lani.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

I kept my gaze ahead.

The car crawled beside me. Other cars blared their horns behind him.

“Ok. I forgive you.”He said above the ruckus.

I stopped in my tracks.“For what?”

There was mirth in his voice and his face was smiling,”For walking in on me naked. Unannounced.”He shrugged.

The silver Honda behind let out a long, endless honk.

“Make this woman enter car!” A keke napep driver yelled.

“I'll accept your unoffered apology if you let me give you a ride.”He said.

“I live just a few streets away. You don’t have to.” I replied.

He continued“I live on Garrison street. It's not too far from here.”

“So do I!”

“Perfect. Get in, Neighbor! Then…"His smile, now a grin,"You can apologize.” His laugh made me smile. 

I hesitated. It was the quality in his voice. It stirred a caution in my mind.

“Come on in!”

I opened the door and sat in his bucket leather seats.

“My name is Jare.”He had a short beard, wide, expressive eyes and an easy smile.

“ I'm Lani”. He took my hand gently,  shaking it .“Nice to meet you” I added.

“The pleasure is mine.”

Something wasn't right. 

This was trouble.

I'd have to tell Leke about this gym "accident" and ride. We told each other everything, especially events like this-the ones termed "trouble". I couldn’t tell him a day to our anniversary. Maybe next week? He was preparing for the conference, maybe the week after.

It was the way he looked at me; the fact that was drowning in this heady fragrance and maybe I didn't want to stop drowning in it; it was his touch, it had the base of my palm pulsating and the tingle of it continued for a full minute. Oh yes, I had to tell Leke.

****** 

“Girl, I don’t know why you never told Leke since day one.”Abby tried to be still as she flicked her mascara wand through her lashes. We were in the restroom at work for the second time that day.

“There wasn’t a right time.”

“Really?”She stopped to look at me, brows raised,”Even when you guys started playing gym partners and going for dinners. Where was his wife, sef?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t talk about her.”

“What have you done about the video?”

“What do you want me to do?”I folded my arms and leaned against the wall,“Jare isn’t replying my messages.”

“You need to do something. You can’t wait around until he calls you.”

“I haven’t gotten any other messages. It’s probably that his wife.”

“Lani, you need to go home and fix it. Maybe talk to the gateman. Or tell Leke.”

“I can’t tell Leke. Are you crazy?”

“Just do something.” She said. The door swung open and Teresa from marketing walked into the rest room. I smiled at the unwelcome guest in the mirror and made my way back to the office floor.

I left Jade Towers at 3.15PM and waved down a napep. We made it home in good time, ahead of rush hour. I made my way to Jare’s house. It was sunny and the gate felt warm under my knuckles as I rapped on the metal.

Where are you, Jare?

The gateman’s eyes appeared in the peephole. His eyes translated from curiosity to perceived disdain.

“Well done”,I said,“Is your oga around?”

“Night never reach.”

There was silence.

I ignored his remark. I made a note to tell Jay about it.

“Is he or Madam around?”

The corners of his eyes creased in amusement.

“Madam dey.”

“I want to see her.”

He looked at me for a split second.

“Who make I say wan see am?”

He was having a pleasant time.

“Lani, from number 22.”

He disappeared.

When he arrived, he let me into the compound. My feet already led towards the side of the house.

“Na the main door madam visitor dey take. No be kòrò.”

I ignored him again.

The front door led to a brightly lit anteroom with paintings of flowers and sea ports on the longest wall. Two beige arm chairs sat against the wall, a coffee table in front of them. I waited.

A young woman walked in,“Madame will see you.” She led me past a few doors, I was careful not to walk too quickly in my court shoes on the gleaming marble floor.

We entered a living room. The floor sparkled with the lights and the cool air from the AC chilled the room with zeal. The smell of pines wafted from somewhere. On the cream colored sofa sat a woman—slender, dressed in a long, peach silk kaftan. her skin tone dark and even, beautiful full lips and a button of a nose. It was her eyes that pierced out at me, bright and bold they were. She had a quiet elegance, she sat with her back straight, neck high, ankles crossed, like a beauty queen would, when she wasn't in the spotlight.

I suddenly felt gritty and dumpy. My outfit felt ill-fitting and my three-day old twist outs seemed wilted in the light of her gleaming, waist-long wavy hair.

“Marie tells me you are from number 22? Our neighbor?” She rose to about 5”11, a few inches taller than me, her hand extended. Her English was polished, not forced or accented, but clear and refined.

I took her outstretched hand, searching her face for some recognition or malice. Nothing.

“Yes, my name is Lani.”

I waited for the name to ring a bell.

Nothing.

“My name is Ngozi.”

“I apologize. I have never met you before, it seems.” She continued.

“No.”I said.

How can I help you? Her eyes seemed to ask.

I blinked once, a second time.

“I…wanted”, I stammered,”I wanted to say hello. I figured I should know my neighbors a little more. I'm making rounds on the street. Getting to know everyone.” I nodded and smiled.

“Well, yes indeed. I really appreciate it.”Her smile lit up the room. She looked at my outfit,”It would seem you came straight from work? What do you do?”

“I work at Thetha Communications. I'm a product manager…senior product manager ...hopefully soon.”

“Are you up for a promotion?” Her eyes, kind.

I nodded,”I hope so. I've been there eight years now.”

“My husband, Jare, has a friend there, Niran Sanya, do you know him?”

My heart skipped a bit at the mention of his name.“I report to Niran! Small world.”

“It truly is.”She continued,”I don't have the thrill of the anticipation of a promotion. That must feel so gratifying when it happens.”

“What do you do?”I asked. She was difficult not to like. 

“Real Estate. It's a family habit. Dad bought and sold. Mum too. My siblings and I get our thrill from investing in where we know will be the next best thing in 20-30 years.”

We talked about houses and apartments in cities I had never heard of. The thought of the video on my phone burnt through my mind.

I had to say something.

I glanced at the photo of Jay and her and their two children.

Her bright eyes stared at me, curious and searching from the photo.

“How about your family?”

“Oh Jare is away for work. East Africa. He’ll be back soon."She said,"Maybe you'll meet him one of these days."

I nodded. He hadn't mentioned a trip.

“And your children.”

“On their way from school.”

I cleared my throat, "I have something I'd like to bring to your attention." My heart beat faster in my chest.

"The other night, I was at home when I saw a shadow outside my window with a flash light. My gateman said it wasn't him and it wasn't any of the other neighbor's in my building. In the morning nothing was missing. The presence of a stranger in my home, outside my window bothered me a lot.”

Her eyes were wide.

“Have you experienced this here at all?”I asked, clearing my throat again.

“No!" She said,”It's most unsettling. We should inform the estate committee and report this.”

I agreed. We talked about vigilantes, securities, safety and children.  She truly was a difficult person not to like, the pretty face, her pure maternal concerns, her throaty laugh and the way she made affluence seem common place and unimportant.

After a while I got to my feet, ready to leave. She walked me to the front door.“Don't worry about it, I'm sure your children will be fine."

“Thank you.”

She closed the door and as I walked to the gate, the gate man staring at me in silence, my phone vibrated. I stared into my screen. A new message. The large triangle over the video stared at me. The fear was cold and it washed over me in torrents until my hairs stood on end. My thumb quivered over my screen and my phone sat precariously in my clammy palms. I let out a breath and played. It was a 15 second video set in a loop, when I couldn't watch it anymore and I was sure the groans were forever embedded in my mind, I stopped it. Just then I noticed another recipient was listed, next to my number. 

+234805419555890

Leke's number. They had sent the video to Leke too.

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #4 out soon!

Love Bite: Entry #2

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 2

I held on to the headrest of the keke napep driver, as he fell into as many potholes he could wiggle us into. Another five minutes of this pothole-plunging, and I'd be at work. Every other minute, the woman who sat next to me--dressed in the ankara iro and buba, and a matching head-tie towering on her head in a messy, rushed do--would slap the headrest. “Slow down. Napep. Slow down."

The young man seated in front groaned in solidarity. I had hoped for a short nap in the napep.

"Ani, slow down!" The woman slapped the headrest again.

That nap was not to be. I stifled a yawn and let the tears tease out of my kajaled eyelids and mascaraed lashes, careful not to rub my eyes into a vampire eye make-up smudge. I had hardly slept a wink; and by the time Leke got into bed, I realized I was still awake. 

Someone had seen us.

Jare and I.

I tightened my grip on the headrest and my free hand poked my phone screen with its thumb. Calling JRK. Jare's phone rang out through my ear plugs. My ninth call. 

“We don reach.”  The driver called above the rumbling engine. His bony arms maneuvered the napep to a stop. 

I unfolded myself out of the three-wheeled wagon, paid the driver and proceeded towards the tall, blue glass building which was Jade Towers, and which housed on the sixth and seventh floor Theta Communications, my place of employment for the last eight years. Just then my phone buzzed in my bag.

My heart skipped a bit. Jare.

I breezed in through the gate, past the blue uniformed security men, said a quick hello to Gbemi at the front desk and a quicker one to Udoma whose cubicle was next to mine.

I dug out my phone. There were two messages. They had to be from Jare. Did he have any info on who saw us last night? 

Message 1

💬 GVMinistries: Halleluyah! Join us at Grace and Valour ministries for our annual church anniversary celebration on the 23rd of October at …

Delete.

Message 2

💬 Hubby: Babe, where is the stew?

I rolled my eyes and typed a quick response.

Me: In the fridge

As I typed, my phone vibrated. 

“Good morning.” The brief drop down summary showed.

I opened the message 

💬 Good morning.

Attached was a video. I plugged in my earplugs and dimmed my screen light by 60 per cent. At first I couldn't make anything out. There were dark shadows and forms. Then I saw my face. It was  twisted in pain…wait,no…pleasure. My jaw was slack and eyes shut. Jare’s hands held mine up against a wall. My legs wrapped around him. 

My eyes stung and breathing needed some effort. Someone had been watching us all along. They had recorded! I scrolled quickly to his number. At the sixth ring and hung up. I looked around, Abby wasn’t in her seat yet. I dialed her number. 

“Where are you?” 

“On my way in.”

I left my desk and hurried towards the entrance. Abby walked in, navy dress, yellow pumps, a brief case and a lunch bag. Her hair was held back in a loose ponytail. 

“What’s going on?” She asked. I grabbed her arm and led her into the restroom near the elevators.

“Someone saw us!” I whispered, when we got into the restroom. I caught the shift in my wig in the mirror but I couldn't care less. 

 Abigail placed her briefcase and lunch bag on the sink. 

 “Saw who?”

 “Jay and I.”

 Her hand flew to her open mouth. 

"No!”She whispered,”I thought you stopped. You told me you had stopped!”

I looked at her and then at the lights above the mirror. Her pretty face drawn with surprise and concern.

 “I didn’t.”I said,”We didn't.”

 Abby’s eyes blinked behind her Tom Ford reading glasses.

 “Someone saw us last night”, I shoved my phone into her hands. Her eyes widening with every second of play.

 “This is serious, Lani.” She said,”First, I'll never be able to unsee this. Second, is this person blackmailing you? Do you want to tell Leke? ” She handed the phone back.

 My hands began to shake, a slight tremble.

“ What will I do?”

“ You think it's his wife?”

“ I know it is,” I said, “She doesn't deserve him you know.”

Abby looked at me from the corner of her eyes, "Really, Lani? And you do?”

I brushed her remark aside.

 “He isn't picking my calls.”

"What about the number sending the videos", Abby took the phone from me and dialed the strange number on my phone.

“What are you doing?” My knees knocked.

 “Check the number and try again” a voice said.

“Find a way to talk to him. You have to. You have to find out who it is.”

Her pretty features lit up, "On a happier note, I heard Niran is talking to HR about making you project manager of the North Africa project. You'll be in Marakesh or Casablanca next year. Killing it!” She did a little dance with her hips.

A smile played on my lips, “Really?”

“Yeah, but Tayo is up for the position too.”The joy was short-lived. 

“And you know about Tayo and Niran, right?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“What about them?”I whispered back.

Her eyes widened and her brows rose.

“No!”

“Niran is a dog.”My voice low. “Isn’t he on probation with HR?”

“Because you didn’t welcome his advances, doesn’t mean Tayo shouldn’t.” She shrugged.

“Isn't he married?”

She gave me a look.

“You don't know what it's like.”I said.

“So Niran is a dog but you are the saint, who is boning her way through life in the BQ of her neighbor’s home, while his wife is at home and her husband is in bed?!”

“Leke is never in bed. He's never at home.”

“Sometimes he gets home at midnight. Sometimes he doesn't come home. He says it's the sacrifice of church planting.”

“This morning he got in at 5:30”

Abby tucked her hair behind her ear. Her arms crossed, her left brow arched. 

“He doesn't notice anything." I continued, "One Sunday, we left the house—he was driving— My wig was in place, by the time we got out of the car, it had gotten stuck on the coat holder as I got out of the car. Leke did not notice!” Abby doubled over, holding her belly, her laugh echoing in the restroom.”I had gotten to the church entrance when I saw myself in a glass pane wearing my nude wig cap.”A reluctant laugh bubbled inside me.

“Told you to show up at his church office one day, wearing nothing underneath.”She popped her hips,”He’ll notice that.”

“He shares the office. Thank you very much.”We both burst out laughing.

The heaviness in my heart returned. I sighed.

“Abby, what am I going to do?”

“We have to keep it contained. You need to talk with Jare. Find out if he found the person that night.”

---

I sat at my desk, unproductive. I responded to emails all day, trying Jay’s number every other hour. 

 By 3pm, my phone vibrated. A new message. A video clip. It was from a new number. It was a dark video. I tapped the large play button. My jaw fell open, my eyes large and my throat dry.

I stared at the screen in horror, at Jay and I on his pool table, moans muffled and distant, in the dark room behind his house.

 Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #3 out soon! 

Burning Bridges For Breakfast

We’ve all met a few people in our lives that really deserve to be left on the other side of the pond…permanently. No communication, no contact. Just simply severed off from our lives. I’ve always believed in burning bridges, especially when the person has messed up on a grand scale, grand enough for me to applause this offense as epic. 

In my defense, I do give a considerably long rope; I consider strike one, a human failing. I consider strike two, a one-off; strike 3, a glitch in character; strike 4, she’s-just-having-a-bad-day; strike 5, just needs a squirt of grace and tolerance and a quick shine; strike 6…silence and observation as this person's attitude tilts dangerously towards epic. By strike 7 though, your name just became Felicia (bridge goes off in flames, as I walk away in slo’ mo). I actually enjoyed burning bridges. I had become so good at it, I could do it in my sleep. 

One of the things I’ve been learning this season of introspection is learning not to burn bridges. Don’t burn bridges. Why?

You may be all that person needs to be a better person.

Who cares if they become better? You may wonder(My previous sentiments exactly). Well, this much I can say, there is something about reconciliation. The whole point of Jesus’ mission was to reconcile us back to God. Forget the barbecued fishes and the miracles, the water walking and the turnt crowd as he rode into Jerusalem. He simply did all that to reconcile man to God. Reconciliation.

There is nothing more precious than reconciliation. If there’s someone you are holding a grudge against, someone you stopped speaking to because that someone pushed their luck up to strike 19, please consider mending.

Try. Don’t burn the bridge. And if that bridge has already gone up in flames, pray for strength and lay the first brick to rebuild.

"But she messed up! Why do I have to lay any stone at all?” Remember we messed up first too, we burnt our bridge connecting us to God. Lit that baby up! But God made the first move, and wrote himself into our stories. He made us right. He brought reconciliation into our world and we have never been the same since. Grab the first brick. That moment you set your first brick, hold your breath because you are about to be amazed by the ridiculous amount of light that floods your soul.

Did you miss the first entry on the new fiction series, Love Bite? Not a problem, read it here! And watch out for entry 2 this wednesday.

Love Bite: Entry #1

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 1

It had become my favorite place— lying beneath the beautiful, twinkling Lagos night sky, on the bonnet of my old Corolla, listening to the sounds of the city night. We lived on Garrison street, a small community tucked away in a matrix of Lagos Mainland residential neighborhoods.

In the yellow hue of the street lights, stood the magnificent houses of Garrison, most of them Georgian style with columns and towering gates of intricate detail and designs. 

We lived in the only two-bedroom apartment on the street and shared the building with three other families, each in their unit of the landlord's "four-flat".

In the distance, a horn honked, an odd bird cawed, and a wandering okada whirred into the night.  

Soon, everything seemed to fade out to the low rumble of static and music from Ernest’s radio, and to the delicate tink-tink-tink of the crazed insects slamming their bodies against the fluorescent tube above Ernest’s gatehouse, like drunken worshippers. 

I glanced at my phone sitting on the bonnet next to me. Its screen was still dark. I lit it up with a click.

Nothing new. 

It was 10:39pm.

My heart thumped against my chest. 

No rush, Lani. I took a deep breath and leaned my head on my windscreen, sure about the residue of the coconut oil and leave-in conditioner cloud from my twist-outs. A gentle breeze carried by, filling my maxi dress with its coolness and a few mosquitoes too.

After getting rid of the confused mosquitoes lost beneath my dress, my back rested against the windscreen and my gaze wandered to the neighbor's window across the street. 

The Salamis' window showed the lights from their TV bouncing off their ceiling. They were probably asleep on their sofa. I tried to keep my mind focused on the lights at the Salamis’. That didn’t work. My gaze turned to another window. The window of the house which shared a fence with the Salamis on the right. The windows were dark, except one; the upper window of the room on the left. Its curtains were drawn and warm light spewed from the edges. A familiar shadow glided across the curtains.

My phone lit up next to me. My fingers scrambled for it.

💬 J.R.K: Hey

A chill rippled down my back. My thumbs hovered over my keypad. I looked from my phone to the neighbors’ window and back again, staring into the blue light.  When I looked up again, the light had gone out. The darkness became intimate, my heart throbbed, my breath, deep and quick. 

💬 Me: Hey

I dropped the phone back in its place with a clatter— like it burnt my hands. 

A whole minute passed before my screen lit up again. I may have forgotten to breathe.

💬 J.R.K : Come over

I picked up my phone and slid off the slippery bonnet, willing my feet one pace at a time, one foot in front of the other. My chest ached and my heart beat wild and uncontrolled. I tapped on Ernest’s door. After a heartbeat, he stumbled outside his gatehouse, still groggy, one arm fought into a sleeve of his shirt, while the other searched for the gate keys in his trouser pocket, he dragged his feet in worn slippers with the prongs of his slippers between the wrong toes. 

“Well done, Ma.” He said, as he fiddled with the gate padlock. 

He held the gate open and I stepped into the yellow glow of the street lamps that lined Garrison street. The gate closed behind me.

Twenty long strides brought me to the gate of the neighbor’s home. It was tall and black, imposing and comforting all at once. 

💬 Me: here

In a few seconds, the pedestrian section in the big black gate opened without a creak and I slipped in. The gateman said nothing. 

His silence judged me. 

Why are you here? It seemed to say.

Again?

Do you not know Madam is in the house?

Aren’t you the wife of a holy man?

Such audacity!

But a gate man wouldn't know such a word and that was comforting. It wasn't anyone's business anyhow.

I slipped around the dark house to the backyard, keeping to the shadows of the wall and trees. In the distance, a dog barked and a silent generator rumbled ever so lightly.

The Boys’ Quarters in the backyard had two front doors, each leading into two separate rooms. I turned the knob on the first door, and stepped in, quiet as air. The familiar damp, dusty smell of the room tickled my nostril hairs. My pulse quickened and my heart pushed against my chest in steady throbs. The security lights streamed through the bare windows, lighting the path past the  large pool table. Just then, my phone screen lit up, like Christmas lights, its vibrations loud and incessant, like a fussy child. It fell out of my hand on the tiled floor in a loud clatter. I paused for a moment, frozen in the dark. When the stillness echoed, I picked it up and kept walking, past the bar and around the sofa, into the bedroom and into its en-suite bathroom. 

My hands felt for the cool ceramic sink and my right hand found the tap. The cool water on my face seemed to calm me. I exhaled, blowing drops of water on my darkened reflection in the mirror.

Deep breath, Lani.

The water was still trickling in a silent stream, when the front door opened. 

I stopped, my eyes wide in the dark. Faint footsteps approached the bedroom. I didn't move. My breath quickened and I heard my heart beat in my ears. He appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. Jare. He was here. His silhouette against the filtered light was dark and tall. He stepped into the small bathroom, surrounding me with his fresh masculine fragrance. I was lost in its haze.  His arm drew me into himself. His lips found mine. He tasted sweet, like a fruit.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispered.

His breathing heavy and fast. His lips traced my neck. His hands lost under the train of my dress, pushing and lifting.

He lifted me unto the bathroom sink, my bare thighs tingling against the sink. I had just wrapped my legs around him, when a quick flash of light shone through the bathroom window. 

We jerked apart, but my legs still hung on his waist. His hands hidden in the cascade of my dress.

We froze in its glare, like two deer.

There was silence. 

The light swung by again, then steadied, boring in through the closed window, straight at us. The light bearer seemed to take in the moment, as we squinted into the light. Suddenly it went off.

“You need to go.”Jare said. He lifted me off the sink.

“No…” I protested, struggling against him.

“This isn't the time. Just go.” He whispered, his voice husky and firm. 

We stumbled through the living area, tripping over my maxi dress twice. The door swung open, we burst into the compound, keeping to the shadows until we got to the gate. 

“Ajibade” Jare whispered, his voice frayed with urgency. He called his gateman again. The gatehouse was still and quiet, as the rest of the house. Jare tapped on the door. 

The door opened and Ajibade stepped out.

“Well done, sir.” He stifled a yawn. 

“Open the gate.”Jare ordered,”Nah you dey flash light for BQ?”

“No sir.” Ajibade stepped out of his gatehouse peeping round the back of the house, the fuzzy ball on top of his head warmer flopped around. 

Jare ushered me out of the gate. His smile apologetic. The gate closed in my face before I could say goodnight. I walked home under the yellow street lamps, my heart still pounding.

Somebody had known we were there, but who?

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #2 out soon...