Hard Man

16

"I hate men."
— Winnie

The General was a naturally untalkative man, but for a week now, he had been uncannily quiet, it was disturbing. Mohammed wasn't one to make many mistakes —when you worked with the General, you can't afford to make any mistakes— but since this morning, he had made two major ones, both of which were only met with a derisive look from the General. No biting remarks, no threats, just a look.

Right now, Mohammed would give anything to know what was wrong. The General was a lonely person, and sometimes Mohammed wished he had someone who could match his spirit and provide companionship. Maybe that would make him a little more tolerable. Maybe. Maybe.

It was already noon, and the General had not had lunch yet. Hunger usually made him cranky, but not this much. Coincidentally, this attitude started two weeks ago, following Des' sudden evacuation from the house. But Mohammed would like to think it was just a mere coincidence. It couldn't be because Miss Des had left that the General was feeling this way. The thought alone was simply laughable.

The office phone rang in his pocket, and Mohammed withdrew it in a rush. One look at the screen had him racing across the office towards the General's table. "It's M.G. Damola," he said to his boss. The General sighed heavily, and motioned for him to take the call. Mohammed did and put it on speaker.

"Mohammed," M.G Damola said immediately, and it startled him because the man had never spoken to him prior to this moment. The man hardly ever spoke at all.

"Good afternoon, sir." Mohammed did a salute, briefly forgetting M.G. Damola couldn't see him. He quickly dropped his hand when he noticed the General's condescending stare.

"I've been calling Baba's private line, he hasn't been picking up. Hand him the phone now."

Mohammed turned to see the General waving his hand wildly. Then, as if the M.G could magically see what was going on, he said, "If you don't take this phone, Baba, I swear this is the last time I would ever speak to you."

The General reached for the phone sulkily. "What?"

"Why haven't you been answering your phone? What's with that?"

"I didn't want to speak to anyone."

"For two weeks? You should have your head checked."

Mohammed turned away from the General. Since the phone was on speaker, that was the only way to excuse himself. The M.G was a lower ranked officer to the General, and should never be speaking to him like that. However, their friendship was strange and ran very deep, so it superseded any military rule. Mohammed found it sweet and funny.

"What do you want, Damola?"

"Did you attend the party?"

"What party?"

"The one I got you invites for."

The General paused. "Yes. Why?"

"I've booked a flight to Abuja. I'll be at your place in a few hours." 

"A few hours? What's going on?" The General sat up. "I'll send the jet down to Lagos."

"We need to keep this under wraps," MG Damola refused. "I'll be there soon, my flight leaves in half an hour. Next time, pick up your damn call."

***

It has been two weeks since Des left the General, and somehow, her life had changed. She still hadn't gotten back to her normal routine, and had been rejecting offers left, right, and center. Thirty minutes ago, the worst happened. After rejecting all the work offers in the past week, she finally accepted one from a very rich client who had rented out the upper floor. One room on that floor cost thousands of naira, so she knew he was a big man to have rented out the whole floor.