When A Playboy Loves

|| 2.

Utianle

Good morning Jesus,
Good morning Lord,
I know you come from heaven above . . .

A quick succession of rapid knocks interrupted my singing. Esther and Emma glanced at me, their interlaced fingers stilling on the worn-out couch.

"Utianle! Open this door, I know you are inside." Baba Eddy's boisterous voice rang out from outside of the wooden door.

We were still on our knees when I reached out for both of their hands, "tell him I'm not around, you hear?" My voice was a whisper and my words were mostly directed to the nine-year-old Esther. I took the cheeky grin and the scarf she removed from her head as a sign that she heard me.

Swiftly, I moved behind the door separating the living room and the narrow corridor, watching through the gap in between the door's hinges.

The knocks persisted, each knock sounding more urgent than the last. Esther's fingers reached for the key, turning it tortuously slow in the keyhole. Every second that passed felt like an hour, different scenarios on how Baba Eddy would handle the situation if he discovered this was another one of my antics played in my mind.

Forcing myself to remain still and think only positive thoughts, I balled my trembling arms into a fist.

"Good morning, Sir." Esther curtsied while Emma just stood beside her, both of them smiling innocently at him.

"Good morning, my daughter," their smiles were disarming, made even more charming with the loss of Emma's front tooth. It was no surprise that he beamed at them, his voice losing the edge it had when he first knocked. "What of your elder sister, Uti?"

Esther's lips parted to speak but Emma beat her to it, "Sister Uti say we should tell you that she's not around."

Argh! What kind of child is this one?

"Ehenehen. Is that so?" Baba Eddy's glare softened when it landed on the five-year-old snitch. He took a step closer to Emma but thankfully Esther pulled him behind her, blocking his view of Baba Eddy.

Unsure if that would keep Emma from spilling any more truths, I staggered into the living room, ignoring the presence of the pot-bellied man with scanty, silvery hair on his scalp. He was in his early sixties but still looked good; rumours of his prowess in bed forever floated in and out of this building unbeknownst to his wife who always swore on her husband's faithfulness.

Rubbing my eyes with the back of my palm, I let a fake yawn escape me, stretching out my hands lazily. I only stopped with the theatrics when a coughing sound reached my ears.

"Oga landlord," I started, even managing to pull off a look of surprise, "this one you came to the house so early, I hope everything is fine?" The smile I offered him was quite fake, more a grimace than a smile.

Over the last few weeks, since the expiration of the house rent, I had made it a mission to avoid him. It was a hide and seek game that was quite tiring. He would come in the morning or late at night when he was certain I was in but as always, I would dodge him.

His condescending gaze swept over me, coming to rest on my pyjamas which consisted of an oversized T-shirt -that stopped on my thighs- and a short I borrowed from my boyfriend, Umoh's house. Feeling my nipples rise at such close scrutiny, I folded my arms across my chest, gesturing for Esther and Emma to go inside.

"When will you pay me my money?" His attention was back to my face, his mouth opened to reveal dentures that had turned a coffee colour from his constant chewing of kola nut; it was a wonder that some ladies still found him attractive after seeing those teeth.