LOVE & FLAWS | A NIGERIAN ROMANCE |

Chapter 3

Clint’s office is a big compartment on the last floor of a storey building, along a busy highway. He sat on a swivel chair behind a semi-circular modern office desk. Few files lay on the left side of the desk, a white flat screen desktop monitor at the other, alongside other things. His name was boldly written and tagged “MD/CEO” on a plastic tag on the table. 

Several security camera footage showed in square blocks on a 50 inches smart LG television mounted on the wall of the office by his right. The transparent wall before him provided him with a view of the busy expressway before him. He flipped through a file on the table when a dark-skinned, thick guy, just a few inches shorter than him entered the office. 

“Pete, you're here. Took you long to get here.” He acknowledged the presence of his visitor as he approached the table. He extended his hands for greetings.

Pete carried himself with calm but arrogant demeanour. His aura told tales of wealth — wealth earned and inherited.  He settled into an empty seat opposite Clint, after exchanging pleasantries with him. 

“I lost track of time. How's business?” He said calmly with a deep voice.

“Great, as you can see,” Clint replied, “how is your old man faring?”

“Good. He’s spending the morning with his Babe.”

“Babe?” 

“His wife, Bro. Cut it,” he cleared.

“Oh, wow!”

The door was forced open, quickly introducing a scene of a corporately dressed lady who chased after a fair, plump lady on casuals. This startled the guys a whiff.

“Ma'am, you can't be in here,” Jane the corporately dressed lady spoke to the other one with exasperation in her voice. She turned to Clint, “I'm sorry, Sir. I tried to stop her . . .”

The addressed lady ignored her and moved aggressively towards Clint’s desk. Clint stood up, he was startled and irritated. “Kamso… What are you doing here?” He asked. 

Kamso chuckled and moved closer. “You think you can treat me anyhow, eeh Clint? You feel you can treat me like that?” She said angrily in a calm voice.

Clint tried to contain his irritation by picking his words like a child, “what do you mean by that?” He slightly raised his voice in anger, “what are we talking about?”

“You now raise your voice at me, abi? You now shout at me, Clint, okwa ya! “

Clint took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Kamso, but can we talk later?” He left his table, moved over to her, and held her gently by the waist. He instinctively led her towards the door. 

“I don't know why you are pissed, but can we not do this here, okay? Not here, not now, and definitely not before my client. I beg you in the name of God,” he whispered to her, but Kamso flared up, before he was done.

“Oh! You don't know why I'm pissed! You don't really know?” 

Clint tried to lead her through the door but she snapped away from him, “get your filthy hands off me!” She twisted herself away from his grasp.

“What do you want to achieve with this?” He whispered with frustration.

“So, you left me just like that? After everything?”

“Things like?” Clint gave up on whispering.

“This is what you say, right?” she asked, “This is how you put it right?” 

Clint bit his lips in exasperation. Kamso had no claim over him. What they had was mutual and bereft of any form of commitment. Kamso was the random girl he met at the club some two years back and they clicked. There basis for friendship was based of beneficial intimacy and the often financial support from him. They never had a relationship and he made it clear he never wanted such. Kamso’s growing emotional attachment made him distance himself and eventually ended their relationship, but Kamso has refused to give up.