Another Love Story

Eight

For the following three weeks, we were swamped with the bank's annual audit. Every department had to submit all relevant account information, with supporting documents. It was hectic, to say the least. The credit department could be a major asset to the bank or a severe liability if the loans were nonperforming. Auditors loved taking apart bank credit; given how many banks were failing over the past few years.

On Wednesday, when the Kampala branch had successfully submitted all the previous financial year records, I was exhausted but satisfied. I had been leaving office as late as 8pm and coming in by 6:30am. At first, I had been doing it to avoid conversations about my failed relationship. Having work to do during those wasted hours was a welcome change. While everyone was complaining and buckling under the pressure, I remained calm and collected.

Since the work load had been lifted, I decided to leave work at 6pm and treat myself to ice-cream. If Trish was in the mood, I was willing to spring for takeaway food. I was getting a sizeable cheque from overtime over the last few weeks.

I swiped my bank ID at the entrance and pushed the revolving doors open. As I stepped out of the bank, the cool evening wind washed over me along with the sounds of Kampala winding down. None of it registered when I saw who was waiting outside.

Tiger was leaning against a sleek black TX parked at the bank's curb with his arms crossed over his chest and his ankles crossed. He looked quite comfortable and I wondered how long he had been there.

I was willing to admit to the excitement that raced through me when I saw him but I forced myself to consider the fact that he was probably here on United Bank business. That idea was squashed when he straightened up from his position as soon as he saw me.

"Is your car washed daily at your office?" I asked. There wasn't a car in this city that didn't spot at least a light sheen of dust since everyone commuted from the dusty suburbs to the city center for work daily.

"Probably," he replied as he closed the distance between us. "I would like to talk to you. Could we have dinner?"

I raised one perfectly curved eyebrow. He put a hand to my back and guided me towards the passenger side of the car.

"What are you in the mood for? Junk? A local delicacy? Something foreign?" he asked. The car let out a discreet beep after which he opened the passenger door for me.

"This is very high handed," I said, trapped between him and the car. His response was the most charming smile he could master. I shook my head and entered the pristine vehicle. Goodness, did this man have even one fault I could capitalize on? Who had a clean car in the middle of the week?

He closed the door and went around to the driver's side. He got in, started the car and merged into the evening traffic.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked after a few moments.

"Surprise me," I replied and settled back to enjoy leather seats before I went back to my regular vehicle.

Within half an hour, we were at a nice outdoor restaurant in Bukoto. Tiger found safe parking after which we walked to the restaurant. It was teeming with an evening crowd. We got a table and placed orders.

We exchanged work stories. I shared with him my audit woes. On his part, he was CEO of an IT firm with offices in Kampala and Abuja. His company designed and distributed software, sold software licenses for individuals and companies, provided website design and hosting and provided internet connectivity services. They also imported and distributed large consignments of IT technology ranging from mobile phones, tablets, laptops, desktop computers, projectors, routers, printers, photocopiers and all their respective accessories. The company had landed a contract under a public-private partnership to fully outfit computer labs for two primary schools and three high schools in Northern Uganda. Tiger told me some stories about long business meetings at the Ministry of Education and Sports.