The Turbulence✔️ (#1 in the Our Side of The Dice series)

3: The Leader of the Rapists.

Yemisi
Lagos, Nigeria

"Hello, Karen. How far, na? I've been waiting for you for precisely twenty minutes now, " I say on the receiving end as soon as she picked my call.

"I'm at the junction already. I'll join you in five minutes. The traffic was mad heavy, I swear. Anyway, what restaurant did you say you were in again? Victoria Island seems to have so many exquisite restaurants."

"I'm at Mama Cass's," I reply. The impatience in my voice is nearly as audible as the pitter-patter of people's feet, the chit-chat emanating from their voices and the soft jazz music playing in the restaurant.

"Alright then, I'll see you soon," she replies loudly over the noise of the honking cars that I can hear from her end. I hang up.

The disturbing battle I'm constantly fighting with my mind makes it harder for me to wait for Karen. I need her to come right now so we can get to business immediately. The image replaying in my mind is disturbing. The worst irony of it all is how much I hated the way I loved the picture.

Those brown eyes like honey. Those deliciously soft and perfectly shaped pink lips, surrounded by a moderately shaved beard. A clean haircut that sat just right with his beautifully toned brown skin, nearly as smooth as silk.

Don't even get me started on his body. Lean and tall but somehow still sturdy enough. Just the right physical look to always gawk at, no matter how much of a view I'd gotten.

Envisioning those soft-looking brown eyes in my head alone always made my stomach melt a million times over.

Gah!

I need to get a melting blockade fixed in my stomach. I'm not supposed to be missing Christopher this much.

I shouldn't even be missing him. I already promised that I wouldn't miss him. The first thing I have to ensure is that I'm not thinking of him because if my mind is frequently being traitorous towards my will, then it won't be long before my actions follow suit.

And Lord knows, I'm not making any move towards reconciling with him for now.

"Gah! Your stingy ass wouldn't order a drink at the very least, would it? You look like a pauper sitting pitifully at a fancy restaurant hoping for free food!" I hear that all too familiar, high-pitched voice behind me, and then a slight tapping on my shoulder comes next.

I turned to see my best friend, Karen. She is holding a black handbag in her thin hands; she's wearing a curt smile on her face as tiny beads of sweat moisturize the area between her nose and her lips. Her height is towering over my sitting form. I'm not a short person, though. She's just quite tall.

"I'm sorry for making you rush over here. That's it. You know that I don't waste my pennies on unnecessary items. If you want to order a drink with your money, that's lovely."

"Ugh. You're so difficult and bossy, " Karen snaps as she takes a seat in front of me. She places her handbag on the table after pulling her hanky out to wipe the sweat off her face.

"So...what did you find? Who is the leader of the rapists? You've left me curious for a week now. You had better bring something worth the painstaking suspense, " I rant.

Karen responds to my remarks with silence. Busy, calculating silence. The silence from her takes precedence over the busy noises emanating from the restaurant—even the film on the television. It says and does a lot in adding up to my building anxiety.

Who would have thought that the world's most underestimated rhetorical device could be that effective?

My eyes dance around the movement of her hands anxiously as she brings out a black envelope from her handbag, slowly untying the rope around the envelope that serves as a seal. After centuries of watching her do that, she starts to bring a stack of papers out of the envelope.