33

Amaka took Gabriel’s hand and introduced us all over again – out of courtesy, I assumed, because she immediately turned her attention back to him. She did not bother to explain who I was but she did say I was a journalist. ‘Gabriel owns an estate agency,’ she said. ‘He sells properties all over Europe to rich Nigerians. Anybody worth knowing is his client.’

‘What is this, Gabriel? No glasses? Have you finally started wearing contacts?’ she asked him.

‘Ah. There’s a story there,’ he said, pushing away the menu and the salt and pepper shakers as if he needed space to talk. ‘On the flight, just as we were on our final approach into Lagos, a hostess announced that she had a pair of glasses that someone had left in the bathroom. I wasn’t wearing mine so I couldn’t see what she was holding up. I placed my hand on my breast pocket and felt my glasses case and went back to sleep.’

‘You fool. They were yours.’

‘Yup. I took them off to enjoy crapping over the Atlantic and I left them there. Or I was subconsciously trying to get rid of them.’

Next, he was talking about baggage handling.

‘You know that sorry looking battered old bag that keeps going round the carousel unclaimed? I don’t think it caught the wrong flight. I think the owner is just too ashamed to claim it while people are watching.’

Amaka laughed, I only smiled, even though I thought the little anecdote was clever. Then he turned squarely at Amaka.

‘Your goddaughter is just like you,’ he said. ‘I’m starting to suspect foul play. Honestly, if you were a bloke, I’d check her DNA. The other day, she was coming down the stairs…’ He turned to me momentarily, ‘She’s five. Madam said she could dress herself; they were going to party or something. Anyway, she’s coming down the stairs. She’s got on every new thing she has: dress, jacket, belt, sunglasses, socks. She even had her little pink handbag. So, she’s coming down the stairs and she’s taking her time like “look at me”, and Madam says: “Yemisi, you have your shoes on the wrong legs.” You know what she says? I swear, she’s just like you. She stops there, one hand up on the banister like that, the other hand on her hip; she looks at her mum and calmly says, “Mum, how can they be the wrong legs? I only have two legs.”’

Amaka laughed, I laughed, a couple on a table next to us laughed. He wasn’t so bad.

We ordered omelettes and fried plantains with goat meat stew – Gabriel’s suggestion. I had never eaten either. When the food came, on trays balanced on one hand by waiters, I could smell the scale-busting hotness of the fiery stew which had massive chunks of meat still with skin on in it. Gabriel shovelled through his meal while I had to douse each peppery mouthful with a gulp of water. Amaka was totally tuned in to his constant, rapid delivery of stories and oblivious to the plight of my English palate. I knew my face was going through all shades of red.

He turned to me and I was sure he was about to make a joke.

‘So, Bob, where are you staying?’

I started to correct him but Amaka chuckled and placed an arm on mine.

‘He calls every man Bob,’ she said.

‘No, not every man, just your men.’

‘Yes. That’s how he refers to every man he sees with me. It’s a private joke.’ She looked at him and they both chuckled. ‘Not that I’ve ever understood it. But don’t worry, he soon grows tired of it or he forgets to do it and he’ll call you by your real name.’

He let Amaka finish then he turned to me.

‘So, where are you staying?’

‘We’re at the Eko Hotel,’ I said.

‘Oh. You are staying together?’ He raised an eyebrow at Amaka.

I was afraid to look at her.

‘It’s a long story,’ she said. ‘And wipe that look off your face, you dirty old man. It’s not what you think.’

‘Dirty, yes. But I have to object to old. So, how come you two are staying together?’

‘He has a girlfriend. Her name is Melissa. So, stop digging.’

Why ever did I tell her about Mel?

She went on to tell him about the events of the previous night. She wasn’t completely honest with her narrative. She told him a friend had asked her to help spring me from the police station, and she entirely left out the part about the service she provided to the girls. It made me feel good that I knew something about her that he didn’t know.

‘You, my friend, are the easy motion tourist,’ Gabriel said, looking at me after Amaka finished her abridged version of the story.

‘What?’ She looked bemused, as if she was expecting one of his jokes to follow.

‘Easy Motion Tourist. It’s an old song by Fatai Rolling Dollar’s old band. Bob, did you ever listen to Highlife music?’

I shook my head.

‘Shame. Really good music. So, Easy Motion Tourist, it’s an old Highlife number from the seventies, or sixties, by the Harbours band. The inspiration for the number came after a night out jamming. The group returned late from a gig and one of the band members couldn’t get into his house. The chap had been locked out of his own home. They wrote a song about it the next day – or something like that. In the end it’s a song about nocturnal misadventure. That’s what you’ve had, and that’s why you, my friend, are the easy motion tourist.’

He raised his glass of water to me in a toast. I raised mine. ‘Come to think of it, they were all young Nigerian musicians playing their music in Nigeria. Not one foreigner amongst them. Makes you wonder where they got “tourist” from. I want some of whatever they’d been drinking that night.’

We talked a lot. Gabriel kept asking random questions that I felt were intended to trip me up – to let slip the true nature of my relationship with Amaka. It made me feel good to think that he thought there was something between me and her.

At eight p.m. Amaka told him we had to leave. He was reluctant to let us go and he only relented when Amaka promised to have lunch with his family the next weekend.

‘Do you guys have anything planned for tonight?’ he said.

‘No, not really,’ Amaka said. ‘I thought I’d show Guy a little bit of Lagos then we were going to see an old friend. Do you have anything in mind?’

‘You know that my madam’s MD is cousin to the Attorney General?’

‘Yes,’ she said. She turned to me, somehow realising I was lost. ‘His wife’s boss.’

‘Well, it appears they’ve found a suitable governor’s son to be her husband – the Attorney General’s cousin, that is, not my madam. The engagement party is tonight. We have been invited to the owambe at the Yoruba Tennis Club.’ He turned to me. ‘Have you been to an owambe party yet?’

‘No. What is an owambe party?’ I tried but I’m sure I got the pronunciation wrong.

‘Ah, you are in for a treat.’ He turned to Amaka, ‘You haven’t taken young Bob here to an owambe? Haba. How is he going to get to know Lagos?’ He turned to me. ‘An owambe party is a spectacle. I don’t know how to describe it; you just have to attend one to understand. Promise me you’ll come. Amaka, promise to bring Bob to the party.’

‘I don’t know, Gabriel, you know society parties are not my thing.’

‘Maybe not, but it would be criminal to deprive Bob of a chance to get to see the movers and shakers of the country in their element. Besides, you keep telling me you want to raise money for your charity; this is a perfect opportunity to meet some of the deepest pockets in the city. And I’ll introduce you.’

‘Come to think of it, there are a couple of people I’d like to meet. A certain Chief Amadi, he stays here on the island. And a man they call Mr Malik. Know them? Perhaps they will be there?’

‘Ebenezer Amadi?’

‘Yes, I think.’

‘Why do you want to meet him?’

‘It’s business, Gabriel. Why do you suddenly look so serious?’

‘Do I? Anyway, come to the party and bring Bob. I’ll introduce you to some of my clients.’

‘Do you know him personally?’

I paid attention. He glanced at me and caught me studying his face.

‘Yes. He’s a client,’ he said with finality, as if he meant to end the conversation.

‘So you can introduce us?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about Malik? Do you know him too?’

‘Do you know how many Maliks are in Lagos?’

‘Which ones do you know?’

‘I don’t know any.’

He was abrupt.

‘Gabriel?’ she said, in a way that reminded me of my mum calling my name when she knew I was deliberately trying to miss the point that she had just made.

‘What if I know the Malik you are looking for?’ he said. ‘Then what? Are you going to tell me why you’re looking for him?’

‘You don’t need to know. It’s nothing.’

‘If it’s nothing, why can’t you tell me?’ He turned to me. ‘I know her too well. She’s up to something, and if I’m right it’s something dangerous.’

‘Dude, there you go doing your big brother thing again. How many times do I have to tell you I can look after myself? Do you know the guy or not?’

‘I said I don’t know any Malik. At least not any you should know.’ He turned to me again. ‘She once asked me to introduce her to a senior civil servant, only for the guy to later give me a ten million naira cheque made out to her charity and tell me to warn her never to get in touch with him again. I lost a lot of business from the guy.’

‘He was sleeping with the youth corpers posted to his ministry.’

‘And how you knew that, I still don’t know. You blackmailed the guy, and you used me. Not good.’

‘He had it coming. He deserved worse.’

‘And you are not the police. Look, there are lots of really nasty people out there that you don’t want to be messing with the way you messed with that commissioner. You were lucky; the guy could have come after you, you know?’

‘What can he do? If he tries anything he’ll regret it. He knows it.’

‘See? Talking like that, that’s the reason I’m afraid to introduce you to people.’

‘Is Malik your client too?’

‘You think this is about me being afraid to lose a client? I’m afraid for you, sis. You think you’re superwoman or something and I keep telling you, this is Nigeria. You can’t go about waging your own personal war on corruption and filth.’

‘I’ll find him, with or without your help.’

He shook his head at her. ‘Come to the party tonight. And bring Guy. If Amadi is there I’ll introduce you. And if you tell me why you’re looking for Malik, if it’s the Malik I know, we’ll talk.’