THERE IS A GREAT ROARING IN MY EARS BY THE TIME I HAVE ALL OUR BAGS GATHERED TOGETHER. I want to scream then maybe cry but I feel way too drained out and exhausted. I walk sluggishly to our apartment and there my confirmation is in bold, printed words: "To Let."
"Why now?" I whisper as I take out my phone and hurriedly dial the last number on my recents. The call goes unanswered repeatedly even though I try five more times. "Where are you Dessy?" I try hard to not pull on my hair and instead fan at my face with both my hands and breathe deeply out of my mouth while praying for the strength to keep my composure.
After the tenth ring, my phone goes off and I suck my teeth bitterly at the stupid China battery that has chosen to display one of its useless features of tripping off for no reason. I fumble with the phone for a few minutes before it becomes clear that it will most likely not be turning on in the nearest future.
"What should I do now?" I mutter to myself as I turn around in the midst of our scattered belongings. My frustration and anger threatens to skyrocket when I notice my favourite skirt buried under layers of dirt, but I stop them by actively repressing my negative sentiments. Next to the skirt is one of my red bags and I squint to see the bunch of orange flowers that lay behind it, already miserably wilted.
Between laments and curses, I heap the dirtied clothes into an empty nylon bag I find in my box so that I have seven suitcases–mine and Dessy's included–and a rubber bag of dresses, shirts and skirts direly in need of washing. My life really couldn't get any better.
It takes two trips back and forth to get the bags and baggages out of the compound and onto the street. My brain is clouded as I try to come up with a plan but all I reach are dead ends.
I can't contact Dessy, I can't call an Uber either–I have no clue where I would go by the way–as my phone is dead, I can't leave all of my luggages by the roadside to go look for help, I can't beg any of my neighbours for help as I don't even know who they are and I most certainly cannot, will not and refuse to return back to beg my b*tch of a landlady, Agnes. In other words I have no options left.
Time ticks by slowly and I estimate a good fifteen minutes dragged by while I sit on my boxes. I feel hopeless to the point that I have begun to contemplate heading back into the apartment, swallowing my pride and doing one of the worst things I could think of which of course is pleading with Agnes to let me stay one night. My painful thoughts are however halted when a car drives to a stop right in front of me.
That Camero looks quite familiar. I think, but I don't have to ponder on my thoughts too long as the door smoothly opens and out steps my fake fiancé in all his handsome glory.
"Miss Ada?" His tone is questioning to match his raised eyebrow and wrinkled brow. "Is everything okay?"
Obviously not. I am tempted to sass him, but decide against doing so. "No. Everything is not okay Eric." I add his name spitefully without meaning to.
"Were you kicked out?" His voice is deeper and hollow with a tinge of rage to it.
"Yes. Sadly. I could not keep up with my rent." I say quite calmly. Somehow, I am no longer worried about my situation or anything else. All my brain can process is the scent being emitted from the gorgeous being in front of me. Did he always smell this nice?
"Keep up with your rent? And you were kicked out?"
"Yes." I sigh deeply.
"Were you given a notice because a landlord or landlady is required to do so before kicking a tenant off their property."
I recall the warnings Agnes had given Dessy and I over the past few days and I know that I cannot blame her for doing her work. "Well yes, I suppose so. She issued some warnings this week. I just did not think I would be kicked out so soon and worse when I wasn't at home."
"That is totally unacceptable and absolutely rude of her!" He exclaims, then sets off marching towards the closed gate. Luckily, I am able to hold him back by blocking his path before he moves any further. "You should let me speak to her."
"No you shouldn't." I shake my head in disagreeance. "It is really not her fault. She did what she had to do, and I don't know her be a wicked woman." I add then pause to take in how stupid it is that I am standing here explaining how good my landlady is when I am supposed to be figuring out a solution to my problems.
"She does seem like one though." I pay attention to the way he pronounces 'though' as if with a hidden 'i' and I find it to be adorable enough to smile sweetly at him while gathering up my bags. "Are you leaving?" His expression softens a bit.
"Yes."
"Where to?"
"I don't know honestly." I answer, void of the energy to form a lie out of thin air. "Oh, so why are you here again?" I peek at his car humming with its door still open.
"Yes, before I forget. I came back because you left your purse in the car and I thought to return it to you."
"Thank you so much." I say as he reaches for the black Burberry clutch purse on the passenger seat and hands it to me. It proves difficult for me to hold back from hitting myself in the face with hopes that some senses can be knocked back into my head as apparently I have become so rich that I can afford to lose a seventeen thousand Naira purse.
"It's no worries." He buries his hands in both his pockets.
"I'll see you later then I suppose." I nod at his car, hinting at his leave which is already long overdue so I can continue agonising over my situation that seemingly has no solution.
"Where will you go Miss Ada?" The worry in his tone is apparent and obvious when he speaks.
"I'm not sure for now. I'll figure something out. Thank you for asking."
"Let me help you please."
"What?" My eyes widen at him. "There's really no need for that Eric. I will certainly be okay."
"I know you will but according to the contract you signed in the sugar-deal, the interests of both partners in the agreement must be protected at all times. It should be clear that the utmost measures to ensure the security of either partner will be taken in unpropitious times and this circumstance counts as such." He explains and I listen with my ears open like a satellite dish even though his words make little sense to me. By the time he is done, I fake a smile knowing I lost him fully at 'unpropitious'.
"So what am I supposed to do?" I ask, but he does not reply as he is busied with the task of loading my luggages into the boot of his car. "What are you–" I start but stop, stunned into silence mid sentence when he takes me by the hand and leads me to the car door which he opens before I step in.
"Thank you." I tell him with a disarray of emotions tumulting inside of me while I secretly surmise that I have never met a man as chivalrous as he is.
"Anything for you." His quiet response makes me stare directly at his gorgeous face and a shiver washes through my being like a sweeping wave. I look away quickly, trying not to think too hard about his utterance.
Closing my eyes, I shut out the world around me and let myself float in a fantasy where my life problems are only a dream. If only those fantasies were real. But then again, that indirectly means he also would not be existent, and I very much want him and whatever my body feels when he is close by me to be that—real.
"I will be going to the nearest hotel by here." He declares while I turn my attention to spreading my weight as evenly as I can on my seat for no viable reason.
"Wait...hotel?" The weight of his announcement suddenly drops down on me with its pressing and choking effects that remind me of the deficit in my bank account.
"Yes."
"But I don't really have the type of money to book a hotel room for even a single night."
"You need not worry about that. The expenses will be covered without fail."
"But–"
"It would ease your heart to think of this as a bonus package that comes with your acceptance of the proposal and not a kind gesture Miss Ada." He suggests as the car glides on faster. I bottle up my complaints at this.
Pitch blackness befalls the noisy sphere of Lagos by the time we arrive at the massive hotel which is known as one of the best suites in the city and is famous for its good reputation.
"Good evening!" The pretty female receptionist in a dangerously revealing shirt, pink lipstick splattered all over her lips and eyelashes that could sweep the whole lobby clean, chirps in a high-pitched tone.
"Good evening. I'd like to book a room for this night and the next just to be on the safe side." He says to her without seeming to pay any mind to her appearance. He however does when she unnecessarily brushes her fingers over his arm while handing him the guestbook he is to sign and I know because he gives her one of his rare, dashing smiles.
Behind him I stew quietly, wishing that the whole scene would be over soon. The opposite proves to be true as their conversation drags on for long and I become thoroughly irritated that he is giving her his attention when he should be giving it to somebody else. It does not even have to be me. I assure myself in the most unconvincing way possible. But I know the truth even though I refuse to acknowledge or admit to it.
"Can I get your number?" I hear her say and something inside me snaps while my blood boils in anger.
"Excuse me. Could we please get the room number and key? My fiancé and I are quite tired from our trip." I hold onto him protectively, earning a dirty look and evil glare from the formerly 'friendly' receptionist.
"Here you go." She practically shoves the keys at me before barking the directions to the room.
At my door, Eric stops to stare at me with a smirk on his face. "What?" I question.
"Miss Ada are you jealous?"
"Jealous? Jea...jea...jealous for what?" I sputter like an idiot.
"It's okay. I don't mind it." He grins widely then surprises me by planting a kiss on my forehead before he spins around to leave. "I'll go get the suitcases now."
Whatever in the world just happened?