The Irony of Life (7)😔😔

THE IRONY OF LIFE (7)😔😔

Duration: 4mins

“Fati, where are you going with those?”

“They are for Jam and his friend.”

“Not only Jam, you will soon see butter. Will you return my food before I do something silly?”

“But Mame…”

“Don't Mame me,” responded Fatima's mother, signaling one of her service girls who hurried over and took the food-bearing tray from Fatima. “Of all the rich young men chasing you, not one of them caught your attention but a fine face broke-ass. Nonsense, ” added Mame, sealing with a sharp hiss.

As Fatima made attempt to speak, she was met by her mother’s quelling gesture.

Standing, Jamani approached the counter with bouncing steps as though he had just been awarded ‘the best customer of the year' and was headed for his trophy. He wore this smile Fatima, like many others who got caught up in his web must have found irresistible.

“Ma—me!” he hailed, but met with a brick wall. “I came with my Homie,” he said, gesturing at me, 

“Don't deshine your country boy.”

As if the woman had suddenly gone deaf in one ear and had her tongue slitted, all she did was pointed up at a signpost over her head that read 'no credit today, come tomorrow’.

“Okay-okay-okay. Al-ite. I'll show you this young man is creditworthy.”

I wondered what Jamani was up to, ballooned with laughter and managed to keep myself from bursting when the proud debtor tucked a hand into the breast pocket of his black jacket and voila! Out came the $10 I gave him from the money paid by Mrs. Penelope, one-eighth of what he owed.

“Take this out of my debt. I'll pay up the rest soon, trust me Mame, ” he said as he laid the crispy note on the counter. “My Homie will pay for the meals we ordered.”

At that, Mame brightened up, broke out a smile. As though that was a go-ahead signal, Fatima raced into a corner and I was soon satisfying the worms in my belly that had gathered in a rush. 

Mame had done a good job, but she would be up learning with her hands locked behind when Maami is preparing èfórírò.

 I was thinking when my eyes suddenly transfixed in a steady gaze. My hand hung midair. I could neither get the vegetable-coated morsel of pounded yam into my mouth, or back into the plate. 

Straight ahead was a dark figure in a knee-length flowery pattern gown that concealed her pear shape. She was not slim nor fat, a perfect work of creation. She hurried in a few moments ago, stood by the edge of the counter with hand clasping a pen, dancing over a book.

“Don’t tell me you've got eyes for that chic,” said Jamani, unfreezing me.

“You know her?”

“Every regular patron here knows Cecilia.”

“Ce-ci-lia,” I tested the name in a whisper, syllabizing it as though I was hearing it for the first time and needed to keep it locked up somewhere in my head.

“You will be wasting your time over that girl, look elsewhere.”

Jamani made the statement just about the time the dashing beauty was taking quick steps into an opening. 

Did she hear him?

She peeked in our direction, caught my eyes briefly as she went on her way.

“Why?”

“Because she is not into men.”

“You mean she’s a lesbian?”

“Nah, not that. She's as straight as a ruler far as I know.”

“Then what?”

“Well, the first time I came here, I was going to sink my teeth into wooing her. But two men at different times told me I’ll be going on a wild-goose chase. Finding Fatima who didn’t just fall for my advances, but became my meal ticket, I’ll be foolish to go after another girl in the same place, right?”

“Ore?”

My mind had gone many distances away from my body it took Jamani tapping me before it raced back in. 

The girl in question had shown up again. She had changed into the restaurant’s gray and white uniform; a gown that dovetailed down her body in a perfect fit.  She was trying to strap on an apron. She now had on a smile that complimented her beauty like no one's business.

I couldn’t help but stare like an idiot. Did she notice and decided to give my unblinking eyes some emotional torture or pleasure with her sudden catwalk moves?

As though a film director had screamed, ‘cut!’ Mame's voice came calling out, 

“Cece!”

My crush raced into a corner in response and emerged some moments later bearing a tray with dishes for an elderly couple who arrived a while ago. If Cecilia were my course of study, I certainly would graduate with A+. I watched her every move with one corner of my eye while I half-mindedly chatted with Jamani. The atmosphere had become more lively since Cecilia stepped in, with her name ringing from one corner to another. Everyone especially the men wanted to be served by her. Her courtesy, her smart carriage couldn’t go unnoticed. Her lovely smile that sunk two holes in both sides of her cheek remained ever plastered on her face as she attended to customers. 

I wondered why Jamani referred to her as a no-go-area, left the place that day knowing Mame African cuisine had made a customer of me. After all, where your treasure is, there your heart will be.

Wahala be like 1 2 3, e fit ever end?

Back from Mrs. Penelope's job on the third Saturday of appointment, I was taking two gentle steps into the house so I don’t announce my return when the house manager; Monica's voice brought me to a halt from behind.

“Oreoluwa, where are you coming from?”

“A game house down the road.”

“You mean it’s a game house you resume to at dawn and return at noon since the last three Saturdays?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Steve should hear about this.”

Thaddy had warned that my job at Mrs. Penelope's place should be kept a secret as much as possible. Steve of all people, that spelt trouble.

“Wait,” I said as she turned to leave. “Alright, you got me. I have been gambling at a bar two streets away. In fact, I have lost my wristwatch and neck chain to it.”

“Why then did you tell a lie at first?” “Anyway, all I ask is 40 bucks and your secret will remain safe with me.”

“40 what? I have never made up to that.”

“You will tell that to Steve then.”

“Wait!” “Alright. Let me give you 20”

“35.”

“30.”

“No.”

Like two haggling traders, we dragged back and forth till she agreed to $25.

Feeling like James Bond, I told Jamani how I outsmarted Monica. He made me look like a fool for agreeing to that much to shut her up.

“Even Steve, what right has he to any cut from your side-hustle? For crying out loud,  the cheat gets all we labor all night for, at the factory,” pointed out Jamani, livid with anger. “You leave that bitch to me. By the time I’m done with her, she would have learnt to mind her business.”

And that was the first and only time Monica took money from me.

The following Saturday, on returning from Mrs. Penelope's place, I went straight away to Monica to settle our agreement. She was a blend of fear and anxiety as she rejected the money. She couldn’t stand my presence it was as though she would flee the next minute.

You couldn’t imagine what Jamani did to the poor lady.

============================

To be continued same time, next week. Hope you enjoyed the read? Please leave a comment. Thank you.🙏🏻