The Lives We Lived

7: Pot of soup.

Bode honked at the gate several times. Zainab had told him to get a gateman but he refused. Why should he need a gateman when he had a full time house wife? He picked up his phone and dialled her number again. She still wasn't picking. He sighed in exasperation as worry seized his mind again. He tried to dispel the thoughts that plagued him.

His wife was fine and that adopted rat that she insisted on keeping would also be fine. He dropped his phone on the passenger's seat and tapped his fingers against the wheel. He wasn't worried about Zainab and Adebayo. Damilare's threats ignited a fear within him. He was afraid that she would talk.

He hadn't seen her in two weeks. It was very unusual that she would just decide to shut up. He didn't even pay her any money. He'd asked several street boys to help him hunt the witch but all to no avail. It was like he'd just disappeared.

His phone rang and he picked it quickly and placed it against his ear. "Zainab, come and open this gate before I break it down."

"This is not Zainab!" a rich deep masculine voice said into the phone.

"Who is this?" Bode asked, angrily as he took the phone away from his ear to see an unregistered phone number flashing on his phone screen.

"... of Mountain Bank and I would like to_" Bode only caught that much of the man's words as he brought the phone back to his ear.

"Repeat that. I didn't get you!" Bode yelled into the phone. He heard his gate scrap across the tarred earth. With his phone placed between his shoulders and neck, he drove into the compound.

"I said this is Uyiosa Johnson, the regional manager of Mountain bank and I would like to_"

"You are aware that this is past office hours and I'm driving home." Bode spoke harshly into the phone. He'd had enough of work to last him a lifetime. All he wanted to do was come home, eat and spend some quality time with his wife and her brat.

"Then by all means cut the call and stop putting other people's lives in danger." The stranger snapped. Bode wondered what gave him the audacity to speak to him like that. Did this Johnson man know who he was speaking to?

"What exactly do you want?" Bode stepped out of the car and into the glare of a setting sun. The cool breeze swayed the two trees at each side of his bungalow. He inhaled the scent of jollof rice that wafted through the air from the window at a corner of the house.

He smiled as he saw Zainab approaching him. While she had retained her slim figure since their seven years of marriage he'd swollen up all around and his protuberant belly didn't help his case. His light brown skin contrasted deeply with the white suit he had on. "Are you going to speak or what?"

"I'm calling in reference of a job application I received. You have been mentioned as a referee for Chioma Magdalene Ezebuchukwu and I want to know how she had served when she worked with you. What post did she serve in and how exactly did she carry out her duties?"

Bode stared at Zainab's face, noticing that she wore a scowl similar to the one she usually wore when he left the toilet seat up. He expected her to come up and hug him before placing a kiss on his cheek but she slid by him and grabbed his bag, he watched her walk away wondering what in the world was wrong with her. He had no doubt that the brat was sick again. He was sure that brat was a sickle cell patient even though the doctors said otherwise.

"Mr. Owope. I'm waiting." The stranger pressured. Bode ignored his wife's countenance and focused on his call. The brat was her problem. She would deal with the brat.

"ehn.hn. You said, Chioma Ezebuchukwu," Bode licked his lips as he thought of the sexy secretary that had provided him comfort when his wife refused to be with him. Chichi-as she preferred to be called-was a perfect mistress. She wasn't wife material but she was the best side chick a man could ever ask for and the best part was that she was also a business Whiz. She was the sole reason for his success. "Yes, she is VERY good at her job."