AMID SECRETS - CHAPTER 4
*Nwanyieze’s POV*
Temi is disappointed that I don’t want to strip down to my bikini and dive into the pool.
We are currently at the party being hosted by Saheed Bello, son of the current Minister of Natural Resources. It is a huge, glamorous party, full of the elite of Lagos: spoiled rich brats, socialites, movie stars, popular musicians and their numerous hangers-on.
Music pounds through the air, drowning other sounds. This is a typical trait of Nigerian parties; if the music isn’t loud enough, the party isn’t popping.
“Girl, take off your clothes,” Temi yells at me with a frown. One has to yell to be heard over the music.
I shake my head. Suddenly, I am feeling so cold, and swimming will make my condition worse. Immediately after Temi’s call in the morning, I had developed joint pain and a bitter taste in my mouth. Normally, these are the first symptoms of Malaria for me. Spurred by the prospects of earning one hundred thousand Naira tonight, I had ignored the feeling.
Now, I am bearing the consequences because the paracetamol I had swallowed before coming here didn’t help in any way. I don’t even have the energy to yell back at Temi that I’m not feeling too well. So, I touch the side of my neck with the back of my hand and tilt my head to one side.
She understands and nods apologetically, knowing that my plans for tonight have been ruined.
“Let me take you home now,” she yells again.
I can’t make Temi leave because it’s very far from the island to my place, and it means that she will have to forfeit her money. I shake my head.
“Let me just rest. Go and have fun,” I finally yell back, but not without serious repercussions.
Reluctantly, Temi gets up and leaves the canopy, mouthing, “Call me when you’re ready.”
The canopy is getting a bit crowded. I squeeze my way out, smoothing the surface of my short white baby doll dress. Not a bad idea to look around and maybe eat some small chops at least, as I’m going home empty-handed. Adanna would love some, too.
Suddenly, someone roughly bumps into me from behind and I stumble, landing on my knees. Pain flares up in my shoulder and knee joints. Before I can think, huge hands are pulling me back up to my feet, strongly wrapped around my arms.
“I’m so sorry!” the owner of the voice says, turning me around.
He is tall and built, dressed in a white caftan. On his head, he is wearing an Arab scarf. He looks very remorseful, smiling easily as he bends to dust my knees for me. I took two steps backwards, shaking my head.
He doesn’t let me go far, however. He gently grabbed my arm again.
“Rest room,” I said, abandoning the small chops mission and desperate to leave and book a taxi home without telling Temi. If I yell one more time, I might lose consciousness. It’s taking all my energy to even stand in my six-inch heels.
“I’ll take you there.”
Oh, Lord.
At the public rest room, he waited outside the building while I stood inside a stall for ten minutes, hoping he’ll get tired and move away to find something more interesting to do. When I stepped out, he was still standing right where I left him.
“You look familiar,” he says.
Here, the music isn’t loud enough to make one temporarily deaf. I simply shrug.
“Do you know Temi?”
A nod.
“Wow, Queen. You’re more beautiful in person.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m Saheed, baby. Nice to meet you.”
Saheed, the host!
Temi must have sent him my picture, so he would choose a partner for the night.
Too bad, I am currently unavailable.
“Come, join me under my canopy. I like you already.”
“I’m sorry, I have to go home.”
He looked surprised. “My party bores you? Come on, even if you’re to stay for thirty minutes I would like that. And why are you leaving when the party’s just getting started?”
I reconsider. Maybe, I could still get the small chops for Adanna. Just the thought of her grateful smile brought one to my lips. I let Saheed take my hand and lead me back to the party area. Thirty minutes, and I would slip away.
His VVIP canopy is half-full, and he starts to dance, encouraging me to do the same. As Drake’s Hotline Blingplays, I indulge him. It is, after all, his party and one dance won’t hurt.
I become uncomfortable as Saheed grabs my hips and starts grinding against me from behind.
“I’m going home now,” I signal.
Obviously, he’s used to having his way, and the fact that he knows that I’m with Temi seems to make him bolder. Now, he kisses my neck and I shiver, not from lust but from revulsion.
I can’t deal with this in my current state.
“Baby, who comes to a pool party and doesn’t swim?” he whispers into my ear when the music fades a bit.
I shake my head and signal again that I have to leave.
But Saheed was adamant, clinging to me like I’m his lifeline. I find myself getting angrier by the second. I managed to get away and take two steps away, ready to slipped into the crowd.
Suddenly, his arms wrapped around my waist and I was lifted off the floor before he pushed me into the pool.
______
*Maduka’s POV*
A loud scream pierces the air and I turn towards the pool to see a girl splash into the water. Saheed stood near the edge, his hands still in mid air and a mischievous smile on his face.
The girl tried to swim away from his side to mine, diving underneath the surface. Saheed’s smile disappears when she doesn’t come up for air after almost a minute, and I realized she’s drowning. The girls playing in the pool didn’t even understand what’s going on, laughing and thinking that Saheed was playing with his girlfriend.
Quickly, I dive into the water. The flashing lights from the bulbs and people’s camera phones briefly illuminated the water, and there she is, sinking to the bottom of the pool with her eyes closed, hair floating around her face. Hooking an arm around her torso, I pull her to the surface and begin to swim towards the edge.
People gather, their attention caught by the scene: me, carrying an unconscious person out of the water. Even DJ Spinall has stopped his music. I shook her by the shoulders, pat her cheeks to rouse her. Her skin was so cold, I took off my blazer and used it to cover the upper part of her body.
Saheed rushed over, shock written all over his face.
“I swear I thought she was joking!”
I ignore him and focus on waking the girl up. Finally, she begins to cough, quickly bends over, and brings up water from her mouth. I rub her back, then yell to the crowd, “Go on with your party; she’s fine now.”
DJ Spinall’s voice booms through the speakers: “Shout out to the girl who fell into the pool! We’re so sorry and glad you’re fine. Now, the party continues!”
Everyone cheers, and the music resumes.
When she looks up to see Saheed, I notice the fury in her eyes, burning hot despite her shivering.
“You’re such a bastard, Saheed!” she yelled at him, spilling other words I couldn’t hear well because of the music. She tried to get to her feet, but fails and I helped her up. She took off the remaining shoe on her foot and hurls it at Saheed, who dodges it just in time.
Then she collapses against me. I guess she must have been ill before the pool incident because her temperature is rising; I can feel it through my light cotton shirt.
Well, she has to get home. Did she come with someone? Did she have a car? She lets me lead her towards the rest room area. Saheed follows at a safe distance. There, the music wasn’t too loud and so we can speak normally.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
She looked up at me fully and I can see that her make up was messed up. Mascara runs down her cheeks in black streams, her red lipstick has smeared, and her powder has dissolved, staining the neck line of her white dress.
“Yes, I’m very fine. Thank you so much for saving me.”
Her voice was pleasant, not timid in any way. She looked a bit ashamed of herself, and I understand. Nobody likes to look vulnerable, especially in public.
“Did you come with a friend? She can help you get home. Your temperature is a bit high.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Saheed said from a few metres away.
The girl turned to look at him. “I don’t care if you’re Wizkid’s grandfather or Buhari’s son, just get the hell away from me, do you hear me?”
I laugh out loud at her temper and words, but this is short-lived when she sways a little and I quickly move to support her.
“My friend is very far, I guess, because if she had seen me being thrown into the pool, she would have rushed to ki|| Saheed,” she says in a small voice. “Just help me to the roadside, I’ll get a taxi from there.”
It’s certain that I can’t let her go home alone from here, and calling her friend will surely waste time. It’s obvious that she may faint again, and so I make a quick decision. I was pleased to see Jide running towards us.
“What happened?” he asked, looking from me to the girl to Saheed.
“Long story. I’m taking the car home. I won’t spend the night with you and Saheed anymore,” I reply.
“You want to drive me home?” the girl questioned. She turned and begins to hobble away.
“Jide, go back to the party with Saheed. I’ll handle this.”
God bless Jide for being able to understand. He pulls a reluctant Saheed away, and I followed the girl.
“Look, I mean you no harm. Let me just drive you home and disappear from your life, that’s all. I swear to you I’m not a ritualist who will cut off your left B??@Å¡? for money.”
She was panting as we moved past the parking lot. “I… I’m fine. I’ll get home safely.”
“Really?” I asked sardonically when she stopped to catch her breath.
“Oh, my god!” she cried.
“What?”
“My purse is missing! My phone, my transport money!”
With a Mõ@?, she leans against the nearest car and covers her face with her hands. I feel so sorry for her. Humiliated, ill and broke on the same night.
“The free ride offer is still up, you know.”
“I’m going to search for it. I’ll find it.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Watch me.”
I watched her walking back in the opposite direction. Only five steps away, and she suddenly bends over and begins to vomit.
“Jesus,” I shouted. I patted her back and gave her my handkerchief, which she gratefully accepts. When I was sure she’s stable, I lifted her up easily and begin to moved towards my car.
She tried to fight me. Wow, this girl has serious energy reserves somewhere.
“What are you doing, ehn?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“Brother, please drop me.”
“It’s Maduka to you.”
______
*Nwanyieze’s POV*
“Okay, brother Maduka. Please drop me,” I pleaded, slightly alarmed. Like, did he just lift me up as though I’m a Vitafoam pillow?
“If something happens to you, it will be on my conscience. I’m stuffing you into my car and driving you home.”
“I’ll scream for help.”
“Go on; scream. You can barely walk. I can assure you, however, that I don’t have any intention of molesting you.”
“How can I be so sure?”
“For starters, you’re really messed up. Which sane man will say you appeal to him in this current state of yours? You’re wet and shivering, your face is more colorful than a rainbow, and you smell of vomit.”
I was stunned into silence, highly embarrassed. I’m truly a huge mess right now, all thanks to that buffoon, Saheed. His parents didn’t give him proper home training, and if I had the strength, I would have given him a very dirty slap so that some common sense could be transmitted into his brain from the heavens.
“Where do you live?” Maduka asked me after gently placing me on the ground. My teeth are still chattering, my head ache is one hundred times worse, and I’m a bit dizzy.
“Gbagada. Number 27, Shipeolu Street.”
He opened his car, a small, black Toyota.
“Were you expecting a Hummer-three or G-Wagon?” he teased, a smile on his face.
“Were you expecting me to expect one?” I retorted
“Sassy you, princess.”
“And you’re such a prince charming, unceremoniously lifting me off my feet like that.”
The car ride was silent, with me safely strapped in the passenger seat beside him. I turned to look at his profile in the semi-darkness of the car interior. Lights from the dashboard illuminate his face, allowing me to see what I want to see without being detected.
His cheekbones are high, nose straight. His lower lip is a bit prominent, and I guess that when he’s trying to be stubborn, it juts out even more. He smiles slowly, revealing a dimple in his cheek.
‘Why is this one smiling now sef?’
“You’re checking me out.”
“What?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Oh, don’t be so confident. I’m actually hurling insults at you in my mind.”
What an egotistical person!
“What’s your name?”
“I won’t tell.”
“Come on, tell me. I told you mine.”
“You mean your parents just brought you forth and named you Maduka? Didn’t they see something like Obinna, Chukwudi, or even Obumneke?”
He laughed, a deep sound that makes me smile. “I love my name. A person is greater than… riches, I suppose. I’m very valuable.”
“I’m Queen.”
“Nice to meet you, Queen. Despite the circumstances that brought us together.”
“Same here.”
Somehow, I doze off and when I open my eyes, it’s because he tapped me awake and he’s parked in front of the gate leading into my yard. I looked at my wristwatch–thankfully it still works–and think, One a.m.
“You’re home,” he said gently. “Should I escort you inside?”
I gave him a frown and make a hmm sound.
“Uncle good samaritan Maduka, you’ve done more than enough.” I said and got out of the car.
______
*Maduka’s POV*
“Thank you,” she said when she’s out of the car, leaning to peer at me through the window.
Before she turned away, something prompts me to ask her a question.
“Queen?”
“Yessss?” she asked, her voice betraying her slight annoyance.
“What’s your traditional name?”
“Nwanyieze,” she said before turning and running up to the gate.
She doesn’t see the shock I feel as I sit there, frozen while my mind flies back through time, back to a period of my life I don’t want to remember.
.
.