Preordained #ProjectNigeria

10- Quilox

"I'm good. Mr. Saheed has requested that I be on the look out for you. He said I should bring you directly to his VVIP corner."

"Lead the way."

We are led past a long queue of people trying to get in.

Inside the club is air conditioned, with strobe lights dancing off bodies writhing on the dance floor and music blasting in the cold air. On the stage, Yemi Alade is standing in full Ankara regalia complete with a head full of thick but beautifully styled hair, singing her relatively new single, Ferrarri.

Ahmed leads us up a set of stairs onto a terrace-like area. On this floor are dimly lit soundproof cubicles with a glass wall overlooking the floor below.

"Here," says Ahmed, stopping before one of them. Thanking him, Jide enters. I thank Ahmed, too, and push past the pristine white curtain.

Saheed is seated on one of the over stuffed leather sofas, inhaling shisha smoke. A girl sits close to him, her face hard to see in the haze of smoke curling through the air.

"Guys, guys," Saheed greets, standing up to hug Jide and I. "So glad you could turn up tonight."

Gradually, the smoke disperses and the face that looks at me gives me a little shock.

It's Nwanyieze.

Dressed in a black shirt and a pair of short denim dungarees, sneakers on her feet, she looks like an innocent secondary school girl. Her hair is in a simple puff at the top of her head, full, dark and thick.

She smiles at me in welcome and I smile back.

Are she and Saheed an item, now? I wonder.

I order for a bottle of Campari, which swiftly arrives. Sipping from my glass, I listen to Saheed and Jide discuss his plans to fly back to the US. I'm content with being silent, because I'm not in a chatty mood and I'm still trying to figure out lots of things.

Like who the girl before me really is.

"Do you have a new phone yet?" I ask her.

She shrugs a slender shoulder and shakes her head. The small heart-shaped pendant dangling from her black velvet choker shakes and glitters in the dim light, catching my eye. My eyes stay on her throat for reasons I can't understand.

"Babe, you lost your phone?" Saheed asks Nwanyieze. Obviously he had overheard my question.

"After you threw me into the pool, yes. I had to buy a Nokia torchlight and retrieve my SIM card," she replies.

"Why didn't you tell me, though? I could've replaced it for you immediately."

Her frown tells me that she's not used to people doing such things for her.

"Don't worry about it, Saheed. I'll get a better one soonest."

He gives her a slow smile and she lowers her head to look at her hands. This bothers me a little because I remember that she never did that while talking to me.

"I'm going to dance," she says, quickly getting to her feet and turning away. Saheed grabs her wrist, and she turns back to look at him.

"Don't be too long, Queen. I'll be missing you."

Nwanyieze leaves immediately, leaving behind the trail of her berry-scented perfume mixed with the smell of Saheed's shisha smoke.

It almost looks like she was eager to leave.

Nwanyieze's POV:

Why did I agree to go clubbing with him? I wonder as I climb down the stairs. What the actual hell was I thinking?