Chinedu Ogoke - Under Fire

“Yea, wadada,” came the response.

“Hello, Okpe,” Imoni called to one of them. “How goes?”

Imagine the transformation. “Nowt Okpe, man. Bet me cool. Wanna set Babylon ablaze, man.”

A familiar reggae tune was playing. He had never been able to get hold of the words behind that music.

Gladys’ friend soon bade them farewell.

Gladys chose a close-cut top covering, sketching a diagram like a glass case holding snacks. It was fixed for him, but his inner man burned with criticism. She linked hands and sized him with her eyes, head and shoulders. “I’m taller than you,” he said across his shoulders. “You can’t try.

“They call you Imoni Waltz, right?” she said. “Imoni Waltz. That’s why he’s so swollen-headed. At the girls’ hostels, at parties, at the academic area: Imoni Waltz. They should have better use of their time.” She nudged him with her elbow.

“Envy,” he said casually. “And you know I don’t care for their parties.”

“Hey, lies won’t save you. And, by the way, you’re damn lucky. I found your workshop door locked up now for almost an hour. Music was playing inside. So, I just sat at that strategic place where you wouldn’t escape me.”

And he spoilt her fun. He laughed. She lost, she admitted. He had diagnosed abiku or ogbanje in her, he said lightly. “You’re crazy.” She shook him off the paved walk.

Hardly offended, he climbed back again. He used to think children outgrew the abiku thing, until she came along, he told her. She stopped briefly, with pretended hurt. Coming along. Was it how serious he took her?

“Try and grow up,” he said as they ascended the staircase of his hostel.

At the corridor, Abednego was removing a pot from a cooker, but placed it back to reach for a handshake and a swift greeting.

There was laughter behind the music in their room. The door was suddenly pulled open from inside. Mickey, smoky, was coming out, leading a fat girl with a bag showing tubes of cosmetics. Imoni noted the size of the bag. “Wao, Waltz.” Mickey threw out a hand. “It’s like you disappeared the whole day.”

He had told him where to look for him, at Modesty’s, Imoni said. “Modesty. We should have checked you there.” He stretched a hand, “Gladys, how are you doing?”

“Fine. Thank you.” She shook the hand lightly.

Mickey’s hand circled the girl’s waist. “It’s like we shall block later.”

“Bye.”

They replaced Mickey and the girl. The perfumery smell in the room tinkled the nostrils. “I wonder if they had spilled some perfume,” Gladys complained. “Come, how are you living here now? Is this place turning into a chalet? And, that guy, I want to know if he’s now in this room. Has such negative reputation among the girls. Who even told him my name?” Imoni ignored her. Mickey had left the room in discord. The beds, the chairs, everything. He was running sick of him. “I know Aham won’t tolerate this. He’s...”

“Hey, shut up, you!” Imoni swung at the girl.

“When you should be sorry?” She pushed him lightly. He was at the edge of Aham’s bed, so he toppled and fell on it. “Foolish boy,” she said. “Where are your manners?”

He quietly got up. She lead a cassette into the tape, and started dancing. He was passing beside her. But a check stood out. She felt like dancing, she said. But he didn’t, he replied. She explored his feelings with eye contact. He directed his lips appropriately, and she welcomed it, but briefly. Picking up two bottles, he flew downstairs. He picked up Duncan on his way.

“Waltz,” Duncan said, “you guys want to smash our roof.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your music was so loud in the afternoon. In a little while, Yunusa’s girl had flown in from the town; they spent some long time together. Aham and Ego, too. And that wild roommate of yours. Must be some corporate squatter, discharged a girl around two, and another just now, as you were entering.”

He must have some keen eyes, Imoni told him. He quietly made notes on others, unobserved himself. “What are you saying?” Duncan asked. “I was in my room downstairs, seeing everything. And considering the unrelenting traffic into your workshop.”

He had to hasten up, Imoni told him later, as he received his change. Duncan was thoughtful. “Could you shock me a fiver? I think I need some soap.” He got it. Silas, as usual stalked a frightened girl, and they were required to shield the girl deep into her destination, before turning back.

Three girls were leaving their room. He was in their way, to find out whom they were looking for. Who else? Mickey. He was his roommate, he told them. “Where has he dashed to?” one of them asked. “It’s like I shall come back by ten.” Gladys was around for a prolonged stay, and a second girl would be intolerable. Mickey was probably out partying, he said. “Gracious! Does he know what an appointment is?”

What was the name? Who called? he asked. Just Aisha, the girl said, with the attitude of there being one Aisha in the circumstance. She wasn’t going to oblige him with name attachments. They left, and he turned into their room and secured the lock.

Gladys was stretched on a bed, her face hidden by a magazine. “So, this is how they troop in.” He unloaded the things he bought, in spite of her. She replaced the magazine. “It’s like, tell him I shall come by ten,” she mimicked. “All these small things.” Imoni wasted a little time to ebb her anger, before sitting down beside her. “Hey, get off,” she fought him with the magazine and, unspeaking, he planted himself beside her, then intimidating her with a stare filled with animal instinct.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.