Amaka realised that she knew Chief Amadi’s house when Aunty Baby described it to her. Her family had lived on the same street years ago. She remembered the building being a colonial-style bungalow before someone bought it and tore down the old house, replacing it with a mansion. As she drove into his compound, she took note of the cars parked under canopies. She recognised some of the licence plate numbers and memorised the rest.
A security guard showed her where to park then he held the door open for her. She saw him trying to look down her skirt as she climbed out of the car.
‘Welcome, ma. Chief is waiting for you.’ He bowed and held his hand out in a way that reminded her of a waiter showing her the way to her table.
She paused at the sight of an elderly Chinese man in chef whites who opened the door.
‘Welcome. Please, come.’
As she stepped into the foyer, she observed the statues on small plinths, oil paintings on the walls and the carved wood banister of the staircase that curved up to the next floor.
Her host appeared at the top of the stairs. He was in a purple silk tunic that stretched to his toes. He took his time descending, his hand sliding on the banister. At the bottom, he stretched out his hands and waited for her to come to him.
‘You must be Amaka. You are on time, I’m impressed.’
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She was about to ease out of his hold when he let go.
‘We are twins,’ he said, pointing at their outfits.
It took a moment for her to realise he meant the colour. She smiled politely, noting that the charm offensive had begun.
‘Come. I can’t wait to hear all about your charity work.’
He led her into a huge dining room. The long table had been set at the middle with two chairs on opposite sides. He led her to what he had decided was her side and pulled the chair out for her before walking the long distance round to sit opposite her. The old Chinese man waited by his side.
‘Tom would like to know what you are having for lunch.’
She did not have an appetite. ‘Oh. Erm, what’s being offered?’
‘Tom?’
Tom fetched a folded sheet of white paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and presented it to her with both hands. She did not know anybody in Lagos who had a Chinese cook.
‘Shrimp dumpling soup sounds good,’ Amaka said, returning the menu.
‘Make me the usual,’ Chief Amadi said and the chef left.
‘Tell me everything about your charity work. Why should I donate my money to you instead of an orphanage?’
‘Well, for one, the work we do ensures that fewer babies are dumped at orphanages.’
Fifteen minutes later she was running out of things to say when he raised his hand to stop her. ‘Darling, I’m sold,’ he said. ‘This is the kind of thing I like to get involved in. The truth is I’d rather support this kind of work than pay tithes to a pastor. I’ll write you a cheque for five million naira today and see what I can do later.’
‘Wow. Thanks. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never raised that much money for the charity so quickly. I mean, with the corporate sponsors, our big donors, I have to write proposals and attend meetings, and even then it still takes months before I see a cheque. This is a record. Thank you, sir.’
‘You are welcome, ma. Your corporate sponsors do it for publicity. I do it because I genuinely want to. And it’s not because a pretty girl is the one asking me.’
‘I really don’t know what to say. Five million is a lot. Thank you. Really, really, thank you.’
‘Stop thanking me, please. You’re going to make me blush with my black skin.’
‘Do you mind if I ask you something? What exactly do you do?’
‘Do? You mean, business wise? The question you want to ask is, what don’t I do?’
‘OK. What don’t you do?’
‘Steal. Anything else that brings good money, I’ve either done it, I’m doing it, or the profit is not big enough. I’ve done all sorts. It’s the Igbo in me. I’ve done container business, frozen fish, tokunbo cars, cleaning business, even government contracts. Any clean business that brings good money.’
‘You call government contracts clean?’
‘You are funny.’
‘Where do you draw the line?’
‘What line?’
‘You said you’d do any business except steal.’
‘No. Any profitable, clean business. Stealing is not a business.’
‘But where do you draw the line? What makes one business clean and another not clean?’
‘This sounds like an interview.’
‘I’m just curious.’
‘You are in my house and we are talking about me. It’s making me look pompous. Let’s talk about you instead.’
‘I’ve told you everything about myself.’
‘No. You’ve told me everything about the charity. What about you? Who is Miss Amaka?’
‘Well, let’s see, Amaka is a professional, single, female Nigerian who enjoys swimming, travelling, oh, and clubbing. Like last night, I was in a club on the island. What did you do last night?’
‘Last night? I was in my bed, darling. Sleeping alone.’
‘Really? What about your wife?’
‘She’s in America.’
‘You were in this house all through the night?’
‘Yes. Why are you asking?’
‘You know this is Lagos, and Lagos men are allergic to sleeping alone.’
‘You are very funny. Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re asking?’
‘Yes. What other reason would there be? I’m just a curious girl.’
‘I’m also curious now. Maybe you think you saw me somewhere? Maybe the club you went to?’
‘No. I was just asking.’ Amaka looked around. ‘You have a lovely home.’
‘Thank you. You know what? While we wait for Tom, why don’t I take you on a tour?’ He got to his feet without waiting for a response and skipped round the long table to fetch her.
He took her through each room on the ground floor and had a story to tell about everything. He had bought the grand piano because his daughter saw it in a shop window in Switzerland and she wanted to play it. The crystal chandelier was a gift from a business associate and the Le Corbusier chaise longue was bought on a whim.
They climbed the staircase to the first floor and through another series of rooms. He opened the door to his bedroom last.
‘And like they say on MTV, this is where the magic happens.’
His phone rang. He groaned. ‘Sorry, darling, this is business. I have to go downstairs to my study, do you mind?’
‘Nope.’
‘OK, please feel free.’ He waved at his room.
Just as she expected, he had led her to his bedroom. Men. She shook her head and waited till she saw him disappear down the stairs, then she walked to the chest of drawers with family pictures arranged on top of it and pulled out the top drawer. She had no idea what she was looking for; she simply hoped to find something – anything.