Disclaimer: This chapter is written in the third person's POV.
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. . .
"...We'll set a proper date for the contract," Zayyad says to Yusuf after making a final decision concerning the club. He did not need much convincing, all he had to do was walk into the building and he was sold, not only by the interior design and structure but also by the number of people inside, and those queuing outside for entrance grants.
Yusuf's face is invaded by a grin of pride and satisfaction, the tension he had been feeling for the last thirty minutes washes off him. "When is it convenient for you though? I heard you'll be leaving soon," He says, adjusting the Fula on his head as he relaxes into the white couch of the VVIP private lounge. My guy can now breathe.
"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon, but Deji will update me..." Zayyad looks at his partner who is sitting next to Yusuf, grinning at his phone, "...abi Deji?"
Deji whose attention has been divided since the beginning of the meet-up takes his eyes off the phone and looks at them. "Yes, I'll finalize it,"
"Good," is Zayyad's reply.
"So..." Yusuf claps his hands with a grin, "we're good abi?"
"Yeah, yeah, we are," Zayyad affirms with a handshake.
Soon, enough the men are laughing at a joke one of them makes and courtesy is flying around. In between the chitter-chatter, Yusuf tells them: "You can look around for fine babes o,"
Deji laughs. "This one's married na, his wife will shoot people, abeg o,"
Zayyad chuckles because Deji is right. Nabila is worse than a rabid dog when she rages, and his business partner is aware of this because he has witnessed her spark for the littlest things like a waiter getting her order wrong.
"Least I forget, Yusuf, I love the sizes of the private lounges, they're perfect," Zayyad commends.
"Thank you, very much appreciated. My cousin designed the place," Yusuf replies with a smile. "You can see a lot happening downstairs just from here. Feel free to check out the view."
Zayyad lets his curiosity get the best of him, walking away from Deji and Yusuf over to the spot where almost everything can be monitored from up here.
He's astonished by the view of the dance floor which is flooded with whatever kind of party animal you can think of, from the women down to the men, everyone is feeling the DJ and vibing to whatever he is playing.
He leans on the railing, watching strangers enjoy themselves like there's no tomorrow and a smile takes over his face... not from the fact that people are having fun but because Yusuf has no idea that their help isn't needed here... I mean, look at this place... it's running perfectly. How and why did Yusuf even reach out to Deji? He thinks, but who cares though? It's business and if he's ready to sell the stakes, they're willing to buy.
The DJ makes a clean switch from Tekno's Enjoyment to Davido's Gobe and the majority goes crazy. It's like opening a Time Capsule of memories, everyone is probably remembering where they were at the time of the song's release. They are singing along and the dance floor looks like it might break with the way some people are leg-working, shaku-shaku-ing, jumping with a bottle of whatever in their hand, grinding, and whining.
For someone who is not a clubgoer, he seems to be enjoying the loud music and the jubilation from the crowd which he finds chaotically entertaining, and from the grin on his face, one can tell he loves the scene.
Abruptly, his grin disappears and his heart stops for a second when he recognizes one of the hundreds of people on the dance floor.
Is it her? He questions himself in denial because he knows the answer to that. He knows that he can recognize her anywhere, day, and time. He knows that he can identify her even in the darkest of nights. He knows he can hold her hands and know it was her just from the shape of her fingers, and that he can trace her facial features blindfolded and know her. He knows it's her. This man knows her, so, yes, even with the neon lights flashing everywhere... her body in that skimpy dress doesn't help his denial. It is her.
Fuck!
Fuck!
Fuck!
His body goes rigid and a lot of memories swarm his head: The last time he saw her. The last time he made love to her. The last time he held her. The last conversation they had—which plays in his head in the mornings after he dreams of her or the nights before he goes to sleep. The 'last of the last' of everything.
That green dress she has on that illuminates under the neon lights is hard to make him lose track of her. His gaze is fixed as she grinds and moves her hips against one of her girlfriends. His trouser feels tight. It's bad. The effect this has on him is bad but he can't stop, he has the urge to watch her all night.
She is having the time of her life, surrounded by people she loves, soaked in a vibe so contagious that Zayyad can almost hear the laughter escaping her throat when she thinks of something funny.
On the spur of the moment, for reasons known to the world, she looks in his direction and in no time freezes. He freezes, too.
Her expression is unreadable because of the flashing neon lights but he can tell she's shocked as soon as her dancing slows down. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to stop looking nor does he want to continue, so he just stares, emotionless on the outside but blazing with tension on the inside.
.
On Beverly's end, her heart is in her throat, ready to jump out and take the next flight to Jigawa. His presence is melting her body, his eyes wouldn't leave her and that has always been one of the many tricks that made her fold under him.
Her body begins to stiffen because her emotions are creeping up to her chest, about to get the best of her but she fights it off so her friends don't notice the change in her energy.
A man I have not set eyes on since the night we parted two years ago can not come out of the blue and ruin my night, so, if he wants to watch me all night, I'll give him a show, she mentally declares.
She looks away from him, flips her waist-length braids, seductively lowers her upper body, and resumes grinding on her friend; this time it's slower, much more erotic as her gown hikes higher and she almost doesn't care.
He doesn't know if she's drunk but he figures that she's giving him a show and... Damn! It's wild and he's definitely here for it.
Her friends begin to cheer, some caress her ass, and one of them starts to shower minted N500 naira notes on her. The girls love the sight of her as much as he does and he smirks, mentally asking God to bless whatever part of her brain told her to do this because even though this was aimed to spite him, he could watch her do this all night.
God! Look at her, mehn. Setting eyes on her again is like spotting a fresh tulip after winter, finding a pond in the middle of the desert, or rainfall after a long time of drought.
She is life to anything dead in his life because the night she left, she took a lot of him with her and he has never recovered from their spilt, especially what she did after it... he swore never to forgive her but he seems to have forgotten, because he's here now, eyes stuck on her like never before, and hands itching to touch her.
"Zayyad," Deji calls, tapping his back lightly. That's when he lifts his upper body from the railing, finally coming back to earth as he looks away from her to face Deji. "I said we're about to leave o. Come, let's grab drinks downstairs,"
"I don't drink, Deji,"
"Ah, yeah yeah, I forgot... but Yusuf and I are leaving now sha,"
"Yeah, it's fine. I'm staying back for a few minutes,"
"Why? Is everything alright at home?"
Zayyad laughs because he knows where that question is coming from. "Yes. Thanks for asking,"
"Yusuf said you were leaning on the railing like a lost man," Deji jokes, joining in the laughter.
"I didn't quite say that," Yusuf chips in as he is now standing next to Deji. "Anyways, we're going to grab a drink at the bar before we head home. Come,"
"He doesn't drink," Deji informs.
"It doesn't matter, sha just come nau," Yusuf insists.
"I'm waiting for someone. You guys can go," He lies because he has made up his mind, on the spot, not to leave until she does.
"How about a smoke?" Yusuf persists, "We have the best cigar in all of FCT."
Yusuf would not give up, and eventually, Zayyad gives in out of courtesy. They all walk out of the private lounge, heading to the bar downstairs banting and talking about what Deji just brought up: fine women.
. . .
Ten minutes later, they are at the bar. Yusuf and Deji had each settled for a glass of Macallan scotch while Zayyad stays smoking his Montecristo cigar, barely paying attention or adding to their conversation because his eyes are endlessly searching for her on the dance floor. It was as if the moment he took his eyes off her, she disappeared, making him think he imagined her being here.
He is uninterested in everyone, he doesn't care for the BBL baddies who have strategically danced their way to a spot where his eyes can catch them, nor does he care about the groupies who are sticking with the baddies for benefits of whatever kind, he just wants to know where Beverly is.
Did he hallucinate her being here?
Deji, who has been on his phone all night, gets up and says he is going to the bathroom, leaving Zayyad with Yusuf who attempts to continue the conversation. God! Yusuf, free me. I'm not a talker like Deji, he almost wants to say but Yusuf has been nothing but respectful, so he pretends to be interested.
"...yeah, but if the country continues to move like this, then the stocks will continue to fall," He says.
"Especially the naira, it is losing its value by the day..." Yusuf adds, "...but one thing, that'll always remain the same...and even finer and better is our women,"
Zayyad chortles. "You're right," He agrees, taking a drag of his cigar and puffing the smoke in the air.
"Look at that one," Yusuf nudges his head in the opposite direction of the bar where one of the dark-skinned BBL baddie wearing a 30' inch bone-straight wig, alongside a thigh-length jumpsuit and six-inch heels, is seated. "I like her,"
Zayyad smiles. "Go for it," and leave me alone.
Yusuf is as single as they come, a status that is strictly by choice because he gets to lay with premium babes almost every night... I mean, all the twenty-seven years old has to do is send drinks to their table or tell them he owns the club, and these girls, sometimes two at a time, are on his bed.
Yusuf calls the bartender and gives him some instructions to carry out and while Yusuf is on the quest to conquer a new target, Zayyad's phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out of his trouser and it's Nabila. He sighs, tiredly. "I'm sorry, let me take this," He tells a distracted Yusuf.
"It's past two, where are you?" is all he manages to hear amid the loud music when he puts the phone over his ear.
"I just concluded the meeting, I am on my way!" He lies, the music blowing up his second eardrum.
"Zayyad, past freakin' two! You said it..." The music successfully covers her voice and he can't put himself through the struggle of hearing, so, he ends the call after saying: "I can't hear you. I'll text."
Immediately after the call ends, messages from her start to troop into his phone.
Wifey 💋
Get your ass out of that club, Umar
Don't piss me off!
2:32 am
Wifey 💋
You're married ffs
2:32 am
Zayyad
Meeting finished about 10 minutes ago. I'm omw to the car, Nabs. Can I at least breathe before you start a fight?
2:32 am
Wifey 💋
I'm not trying to start a fight. I've been calling your phone all night and you wouldn't even answer. What the hell?!
2:33 am
Zayyad
I'll be home before 3. I'm sorry
2:33 am
Wifey 💋
It's not about being sorry, you haven't been out this late and it has me worried.
2:33 am
Wifey 💋
I literally had to call the driver
2:33 am
Zayyad
I'm not 17. Like I said I'll be home before 3. Go to sleep, Nabs. Don't worry about me.
2:33 am
Incoming video call: Wifey 💋
He declines it.
She calls, again. He declines.
Wifey 💋
Answer your phone Umar!
2:33 am
Wifey 💋
I swear if you're cheating, I'll fuckin' kill you!
2:33 am
He rolls his eyes, puts his phone on DND, and shoves it in his trouser pocket. Shebi if his phone is muted from her texts and call, she'll rest and go to sleep?
Outside of anything he has to tolerate from Nabila, her insecurities piss him off the most. How can a woman as beautiful as her be so insecure? Was she not loved at home? He sometimes questions. Those insecurities are the main reason she wouldn't let him out of her sight... and of course, the same thing that made her follow him to Abuja instead of staying in London to rest and receive close medical care.
He looks around for Yusuf and finds the man across the bar, sitting next to the girl he was eye-fucking a few seconds ago. Ah! He put his head down to text for two minutes and this guy is already on the other side of the bar. Omo, you can't save Yusuf, again. Ashawo man.
Zayyad puffs on his cigar a few more times before putting it out and standing up from the barstool. It was time to leave and go find her.
It's his last night in Nigeria and the last thing he wants is for Nabila to interfere. If this was any other night, he'll be home before the clock even struck twelve but you see this particular night, he is not ready to leave until he fulfills what's on his mind.
.
More than seven minutes later and he feels like he's losing his mind each second his eyes roam around and they don't find her. How can she appear, put up a show for less than three minutes and disappear into thin air, leaving his insides rally with tension?
How dare her still have this hold over me? He asks himself.
He is disappointed, not at the meaningless search, but for believing he was over her. He was delusional enough to convince himself that he wanted nothing to do with her anymore but all his soul needed was to see her again and everything he swore was gone hit him like a tsunami.
He looks at his watch and it's almost 3:00 am. There is no point in this, she has probably gone home. It's late anyway and he on the other hand has to relieve his driver off duty because he's sure the man is probably sleeping in the car by now.
"Akin, I'm so sorry. The meeting just dragged on," He apologizes the moment he settles into the back seat of the G-wagon.
"No wahala, sir," A very tired Akin responds.
"No vex,"
"It's okay, sir. No wahala,"
"Oya, let's go."
The car engine roars to life and Akin hits the road.
"Also, let's stop at that suya place, so we can get good suya,"
"Okay, sir,"
On the way, he texts Deji and Yusuf, individually letting them know that he already left, after that he downloads Instagram, sets up an account, and searches for her account name which pops up almost immediately.
It's a private account, so he doesn't get the chance to check the pictures on her page, but that doesn't bother him though because he created the account to DM her, not stalk her.
His heart is beating faster than an antelope running from a predator as he goes to her DM where he spends the next five minutes trying to compose a message.
Typing and deleting, deleting and typing. He is confused on where or how to start.
Will she even see the message after I send it? Is she seeing someone else and this message could mess up her day? Is it better if I leave her alone so we just continue without each like we've done these past years? Should I even do this or just ignore tonight and go back to London and live the normal life with Nabila? These are questions piled up in his head but he says fuck it! And hits the send button, forwarding his message which reads:
Hey, it's Zay. If you see this, text back
3:05 am
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This chapter is almost 3,000 words y'all!!! I'll need to rest for a few hours because it gave me a lot of headache 😭 butttt I'm happy to deliver.
What do you think of this chapter?
Do you think Zayyad has done the right thing?
Also, before I sign off, I just wanna say men are weird! Because why did he open an account just to DM her after two years?!! 💀💀💀
Honestly, this book is gonna be a roller coaster of bad decisions.
Anyways, hope you're enjoying it so far. See you soon ❤️❤️