Ebun’s mobile phone rang during lunchtime on Wednesday as she sat in her office eating the chicken salad one of the clerks in her team had bought for her.
It was back to business as usual in the office.
Her dread over the sex tape had vanished on Monday when Kamali confirmed that someone had hacked Jonah’s computer and phone and deleted all the incriminating images. Her ex had no axe to swing over her head any longer.
The icing on the cake had been when Kamali had received news that Jonah and Pete had been arrested at the airport and had been charged with regards to illegal drugs found in their possessions. There stood a strong chance that both of them would lose their jobs and be deported to their home countries.
Satisfaction had surged through Ebun that the men would receive justice even if not directly linked to her.
Yesterday, she and Kamali had arrived at work, in different cars, because Kamali had to go home for a change of clothes.
Most of the day had been spent apart. They’d shared a working lunch in his office. Then he’d had to head home to pack for his trip to New York. She could have gone with him. But they’d agreed it wasn’t good for both of them to be away from the office for another consecutive week.
She would admit her schedule proved hectic enough for her not to miss him during the day. She’d missed his presence last night, though.
The buzzing of the phone pulled her from her thoughts and she picked the phone from the desk.
“Hello,” she said, not recognising the number.
“Hi, Ebun. This is Tunji. Do you remember me?” the man said.
Her heart jolted and her stomach sank. With all the drama happening between her and Kamali, she’d forgotten her half-brother’s phone call last week.
“Of course. Hello, Tunji,” she kept her tone noncommittal, not sure what to say to him.
“How are you?”
“I’m great, thanks. You?”
“I’m good. Did you get a chance to think about what we discussed last time? I told Dad that I spoke with you and he was overjoyed. He really wants to see you soon.”
“Are you in Nigeria?”
“Yes, I’m in Lagos at the moment. But I can plan another trip with Dad when it suits you.”
“No, it’s not necessary. I’m in Lagos too.”
“Wow. You’re in Lagos? Tell me where you are and I’ll come over.” He sounded excited.
“I can meet you later tonight after work. Can you get to Victoria Island?” She didn’t want to tell him that she worked in Ikoyi.
“I work in VI so that won’t be a problem. Where do you want to meet?” he asked.
“Let’s do Reams Restaurant at 7pm.” That would give her time to finish work and get there.
“Works for me. I’ll have a reservation under Tunji Atta. I look forward to meeting you tonight.”
“Same here,” she said before they said their goodbyes.
***
Butterflies fluttered in Ebun’s tummy as she walked into the restaurant at 6.45 p.m. that evening.
She’d spent most of her life wanting to connect with her family. And it looked like she was about to, finally.
“Good evening, madam. Table for one?” the head waiter said.
“No. I’m meeting Tunji Atta. Has he arrived?”
“Yes. I’ll show you to the table.”
He walked ahead until he reached a table for two set close to the corner.
Ebun recognised Tunji from his profile photo on Facebook.
“Hi, Tunji.” Ebun said and extended her hand. “I’m Ebun.”
Beaming a smile, Tunji stood and took her hand in a shake. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”
“Same here.” She took the seat the waiter pulled out.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the man asked.
“A bottle of still water,” Ebun said.
“I’ll have some water too. So bring an extra glass,” Tunji said. He already had a glass of what looked like whisky.
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said and left them with menus.
“I was really surprised when you told me you were in Lagos. How long have you been working here?” Tunji asked.
“About three years,” she said. “The company I worked for merged with another and I had the chance to come to Nigeria. What about you? Have you always lived in Lagos?”
She already knew the answer but she wanted to change the focus of the conversation away from her.
Tunji told her his hometown was in Kwara State but he and his siblings had been born and raised in Lagos State. He was married with two young children. Their father used to live in Lagos. Since his retirement he spent more time in Ilorin which was the capital city of Kwara.
They ordered food and chatted while eating.
“Why has it taken you this long to contact me?” she asked one of the questions burning in her mind.
“I don’t know.” He waved his hands in the air as if he could conjure a response out of thin air. “I was a teenager when I first found out about you. For a while there was talk about you coming to live with us. But I guess not everyone wanted that to happen.”
Pain sliced into her gut. “Who didn’t want me? Was it Daddy?”
Years ago, her father had promised to take her to live in Nigeria. But it never happened.
Tunji bent his head forward and let out a regretful sigh. “My younger sister loved the idea of being the pampered last child. She was Daddy’s girl and didn’t want anyone usurping her position. I’m sorry.”
Ebun turned her head away and swallowed.
No one had wanted her presence bad enough to fight for her, Tunji included. He didn’t say it but, she heard him loud and clear.
She’d always thought her half-sister had stolen her father’s affection. Now she had the proof.
As they talked, Tunji’s remorse sounded genuine and he seemed a nice chap.
But, aside from the initial excitement of meeting her brother for the first time, she didn’t feel any connection with him. Neither did she feel the obsession that had driven her to come to Nigeria in search of family.
Perhaps because she’d found another family in Kamali. He was now her focus.
When Tunji asked when she would be available to travel to Ilorin to see their father, she told him she would have to work her way up to it.
He didn’t seem bothered by her reticence.
After dinner, he said he would be in touch and hopefully they would meet again soon.
She hurried home, keen to shower and be relaxed by the time Kamali called from New York.
***
“Ms. Forson, there’s a Miss Abubakar here to see you,” the man from the main reception desk said when Ebun answered her office phone the next day.
Ebun frowned and checked the wall clock. Five minutes past eleven o’clock. Her next meeting wasn’t until after lunch and it was with her team of admin staff. She wasn’t expecting anyone.
“Miss Abubakar?” she asked to verify what she’d heard. She ran through the people she knew.
“Yes, Ma,” the man replied.
“Send her up,” she said.
Wasn’t Laila’s last name Abubakar? Why would the woman come here to see her?
Five minutes later, a tap came from her door.
“Come in,” Ebun said.
Someone twisted the handle and sure enough Laila walked into the office.
“Laila, welcome,” Ebun kept her tone pleasant and waved at the chair on the other side of her desk. “Take a seat.”
The woman came forward with purposeful steps, her gaze sweeping the room. She wore a long turquoise dress that flattered her slender body, her head wrapped in a matching scarf.
Ebun couldn’t see her shoes because but she bet it matched the purse.
“Hi,” Laila said when she settled in the chair. “I’d like to see Kamali.”
Ebun’s spine stiffened but she kept her composure. “He is not available.”
Laila tilted her chin up and her eyes narrowed. “I’m sure if you tell him I’m here to see him, he’ll make some time for me.”
Ebun leaned back in her seat, touching her fingers together as looked the other woman in the eyes. “Then why don’t you call him and he can tell you the best time to meet with him.”
Laila averted her gaze. “The phone always goes to voicemail.”
Kamali’s phone was set up to automatically screen calls. Numbers not already stored on his mobile went straight to the answering service.
Ebun cheered in silence that Kamali didn’t have Laila’s details.
“As I said already, he is not available,” Ebun said. She wasn’t going to make it easy for the woman after her attitude in Katsina. If she apologised, then perhaps. “If you’d like an appointment, I can check in his schedule for when he’s free next.”
She typed into the locked screen of her laptop. Technically, she didn’t schedule Kamali’s meetings. The administrative staff handled the calendars for the senior management team including Ebun’s calendar. Still, she didn’t bother to explain to the woman. She probably thought Ebun was a secretary.
When the calendar popped up, she took her time scrolling through until she found an opening. “There is an open slot. It’s ten thirty on the sixth of March.”
“Sixth of March? That’s almost two months from now.”
“Kamali is a busy man. If that doesn’t work, you can have the same time on the twenty-ninth of March.”
Laila’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re doing this on purpose. You don’t want me to see Kamali.”
“Why would I do that?” Ebun tilted her head.
“Because you’re jealous.”
“Jealous? Of you?” Ebun’s bark of laughter rang in the air. “Why in the world would I be jealous of you?”
“He is going to marry me,” Laila retorted.
“You must be deluded. A man who hasn’t spoken to you, won’t take your calls or meet with you. He doesn’t even love you. When exactly did you get engaged? In your dreams?” Ebun’s words dripped with contempt.
The younger woman’s nose flared and she glared at Ebun. “I don’t need to have seen him or to become his whore before we get married. His family wants me and that’s all it takes.”
Ebun’s body tensed and heat flushed though her. She would give Laila that point. The Danladis wanted Laila. Kamali wanted Ebun.
“In which case you should get ready to be wife number three because as you already know he is engaged to me. So we will be co-wives.”
Ebun didn’t know what made her say that. But she couldn’t take the words back as she realised she meant them. She wouldn’t give up Kamali. Not for Laila.
And Kamali needed the support of Laila’s father.
Ebun would concede to this. After all that he’d done for her already, why not give this to him?
Laila gasped and her mouth dropped open, her expression flabbergasted.
“And another thing,” Ebun continued, enjoying the upper hand she wielded. “I’m going to be your senior. I already have Kamali’s heart and this space—” she waved her hand around the office “—this whole building is my domain. I am queen here. So if you ever want Kamali to make time for you, you better start showing me some respect.”
Ebun nearly giggled because she sounded like a megalomaniac but it was worth the effort as it wiped the smugness off the younger woman’s face.
After a few seconds of silence, Laila lowered her head and let out a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low, disgruntled voice.
“I didn’t hear you.” Ebun cupped her right ear.
Laila lifted her head and met Ebun’s gaze. There was still a glimmer of anger but it didn’t have the earlier disdain. “I’m sorry.”
“Your apology is accepted,” Ebun said. “If you give me your contact details I’ll get Kamali to call you when he is free.”
Laila called out the number and Ebun scribbled it on a notepad.
“Got it,” she said.
“Thank you.” Laila stood up.
“You’re welcome.” Ebun didn’t get up. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Laila said as the door shut behind her.
Ebun let out a heavy sigh. What had she just agreed to?
Two weeks ago, she hadn’t been the marrying kind. Now, she was negotiating her position in a potentially polygamous marriage? What madness possessed her?
Her ringing phone jarred her out of her thoughts.
She didn’t recognise the number. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ebun. It’s Fahima.”
She picked up the distress in the woman’s shrill voice and her heart jolted.
“Fahima, are you okay? What’s the matter?”
“I’m not good. There’s been an accident. Fari is in hospital.”
Ebun’s chest ached and her hands trembled.
“Oh God. No. What happened? Is she going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. I can’t reach Kamali. I know he said he’d be in New York this week.”
“Yes. He’s in New York. I’ll call and tell him.”
“Thank you. He’s going to be upset especially since he can’t be here right away.”
“I know. Which hospital is Fari? Is it in Abuja?” Ebun asked, gasping and expelling breath.
Fari’s school was in Abuja and she assumed that’s where the accident occurred.
“Yes,” Fahima said. “It’s the Regents Park hospital. I only just got a call a few minutes ago. I’m on my way over there.”
“What about Rashi and Veda?” Ebun remembered Fahima’s daughters were in the same school as Fari.
“They are fine.”
“Thank God. Okay. I’ll call Kamali and then I’ll be on a flight up to Abuja.”
“You’re coming?”
“Yes. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No. Fari needs all the prayers and support she can get. If you tell me what time you will be arriving, I’ll have a car ready to pick you and bring you to the hospital.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know when I confirm the flight.”
Ebun hung up and rushed from her chair. She opened the door and walked over to one of the administrative staff on her team.
“Vivian, get me the first available flight to Abuja this afternoon. I just need enough time to get to the airport. A helicopter shuttle to the airport would be great.”
There wasn’t time to pack a bag. She had her purse and ID in her tote. Anything else she needed she could buy when she got to Abuja.
She returned to the office, shut the door and braced herself to deliver the news to Kamali.
He was understandably upset about Fari and cancelled the rest of this plans in New York. Luckily, he’d flown with a private jet and so he didn’t have to wait for a commercial flight. Still, it would be another eleven or twelve hours before he would be back in Nigeria.
Ebun arrived in Abuja about two hours later. Fahima’s driver had taken her straight to the hospital where Fahima explained that Fari needed urgent blood infusion. Fari had a rare blood type and the hospital had run out of the donor blood.
Fahima wasn’t a match and Ebun volunteered to be tested. The result came back with Ebun as a match.
The nurse instructed her to drink as much fluid as she could. Two hours after her arrival, a medic led them to a treatment room and told her to wait there.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” Fahima said.
“Don’t mention it,” Ebun said as she finished drinking a cool bottle of Fanta. She’d already emptied out the 500ml bottle of water she’d bought from the hospital cafe. “It’s the least I can do. I’m glad that I was a match.”
“It’s a miracle that you were, considering Fari has a rare blood type. I wasn’t even compatible. You are a Godsend.”
The nurse came into the room at that moment and asked Ebun to climb onto the reclining bed so that she partially sat up with her legs elevated.
“I’ll leave you to it. Let me go and check on Fari,” Fahima said.
“Okay. See you later.” Ebun tried to relax as the nurse got to work with collecting her blood.