‘Is anyone sitting here?’ Amaka asked.
The man glanced up, scanned her body, shook his head, and turned back to his phone.
She tried to read what he was typing as she placed her Coke on the table. He looked up and their eyes met. She sat in an armchair facing him and he continued tapping into his phone. He looked up again and she was staring at him. ‘Can you imagine what that man told me?’ she said before he could return to his phone. She nodded at the bar. Ian glanced over at them.
‘Was he disturbing you?’
‘You won’t believe what he said to me. He must think I’m one of those ashewo girls who hang around clubs looking for men.’
He looked at her. She crossed her legs, pushed out her chest and turned away to let him get a good look. She moved a strand of her braids away from her face.
‘What did he say?’ he asked as he went for more nuts.
‘Imagine. He asked me how much it’ll cost to take me back to his hotel.’
He chuckled through another mouthful of nuts, looked at Ian, and managed to say, ‘What did you say?’
‘I just picked up my drink and walked away.’
‘And he didn’t try to stop you?’
‘He’s lucky he didn’t. I would have slapped him. Purely on principle.’ He laughed. ‘He’s looking at you.’
‘Oh God. Why won’t he just give up? If he comes here, please tell him we’re together. I hope you don’t mind?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘I mean, if you’re expecting someone…’
‘No, not at all. Don’t worry about it.’
He checked the time. She took a sip from her Coke then looked to the bar. Ian was still there, looking in her direction. She pursed her lips into a kiss and turned back to the man in white.
‘Can’t a girl just enjoy a drink on her own anymore?’ she said. ‘Why do men automatically assume any girl alone in a bar must be a prostitute?’
He scanned the bar. ‘Well, what are you doing alone in a bar at this time?’
‘Having a drink.’
‘Are you expecting anyone?’
‘No. Should I be? Can’t I just have a drink on my own?’
He shrugged. She leaned towards him. ‘You know, there are single girls like me, girls who have good jobs, who have their own money, who can go out to a bar alone and buy a drink for themselves. And if they end up sleeping with a guy they meet at the bar, it would be because they want to sleep with him and not because he’s paying them for it.’
‘And you’re one of those girls?’
‘Well, let’s just put it this way – if I fancy you and I want to do you, I will. And it won’t be because you’re paying me for it. It’ll be because I want to.’
He shifted forward, the sofa creaking under his weight.
‘Who am I? Who are you?’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a lawyer. What about you, what do you do?’
She knew what he did. The only thing she didn’t know about him was what he weighed. He was a professional “big man” in Abuja where he used his contacts to engineer deals and claim 10 per cent or more “commission.” He had married into class. His wife was the daughter of a respected second republic senator; without her family name to throw about, he was nothing.
‘I’m a businessman.’
‘So, what are you doing here all alone?’
He checked the time then picked his phone. He looked at the device as if weighing a decision.
‘I’m meant to be meeting someone,’ he said.
‘A date?’
He smiled. He held the phone for a moment, testing its weight. Then he placed it down and she tried to hide her relief.
‘Not really, just a friend,’ he said.
Lie.
‘I hope your friend won’t mind that I’m with you when she arrives.’
‘No, not at all. It’s nothing like that.’
‘By the way, I’m Iyabo. What’s your name?’
‘Chief Olabisi Ojo. You may call me Chief, for short.’
‘So, Chief-for-short, who’s this girl who’s so rude to keep a man like you waiting?’
‘Believe me, it’s nothing like that. She’s just an aburo of mine.’
‘Aburo? Sister? Real sister or the other kind of sister?’
‘Na you sabi o. What other kind of sister is there?’
‘You know what I mean. My own brother no dey meet me for club.’
‘I swear, you are funny. What did you say your name was?’
‘Iyabo.’ It was her fake name for the night. Together with her hazel contacts, it completed her disguise. ‘I hope this sister of yours won’t feel threatened that I’m here with you.’
‘No, not at all. I’ll tell her you’re also my sister.’
‘Chief, Chief. Chief player. Don’t worry. Once she arrives I’ll excuse myself.’
He smiled at someone behind her and began to struggle with his weight, trying to get up. For a moment, she thought his date had arrived. But that couldn’t be. She turned to check.
The girl dropped her big yellow Chanel bag on the empty chair next to Amaka and sat with him on the sofa. She was young, mixed-race, tall with large breasts. Her thin waist made her wide hips appear even larger. She was in a long, body-hugging, yellow evening gown to match her monstrous bag. ‘Debby, meet my friend, Iyabo,’ he said when the girl paused, her palms placed one on top of the other on his lap.
Debby looked at Amaka just long enough to flash a quick smile and offer a weak ‘Hi’ before she turned her attention back to Chief Ojo. She placed her hand on his shoulder and threw her breasts around under her dress as she asked him, rather rhetorically, how long it’d been since they last saw each other.
Debby. Mixed-race. Could it be? Amaka ignored them and fetched her phone from her handbag. She switched it to silent then scrolled through the contacts till she found the entry she was searching for: Debby Christina Okoli.
To be sure, she pressed the call button and pretended to be clicking through the phone’s menu.
D’Banj’s hit track, Why Me? started playing in Debby’s handbag. Without looking up, Amaka ended the call. The younger girl reached for her handbag, but realised to get to it she would have to stand, so she waited for Amaka to hand it to her. Amaka picked the bag, was surprised that it wasn’t heavy, and handed it to Debby. The girl rifled through it to find her phone then she stared at the missed call: ‘Number withheld.’ She placed the mobile on the table and returned her hands to Chief Ojo’s lap.
Amaka continued toying with her phone, careful not to let her face betray the coup she had executed. She knew the girl. She knew her name – her real name. She knew how old she was, when she first came to Lagos, where she lived, where her parents lived. She knew the names of her siblings, when she got her periods, she also knew the result of her latest HIV test, and yet, sitting opposite each other, competing for the same man, Debby had no idea who Amaka was.
Amaka studied her. She was chatting, fluttering her eyes, swinging her boobs, and running her palm up and down his lap. So, this is what she looks like. The voice should have been a clue, but like everyone else, she sounded different on the phone. She was a threat. She had to be disposed of and fast.