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  “Good morning Mrs. Kukah.”

  The woman looked up and apologetically pointed to the telephone which was balanced in the crook of her left shoulder, something he had not noticed when he looked in from the reception. Kevwe nodded in understanding and took a seat.

  He listened as the woman spoke over the phone, wishing he had a secretary like her. Though he got along well his receptionist, she could do better on the office front. Sometimes, he did some of the filing himself, to avoid confusion.

  Kevwe looked around the walls of the cubicle, and his eyes came to rest on the framed picture displayed beside a Trusted Staff award. Two children who resembled Mrs. Kukah, a boy and a girl, were seated on a sofa. They were about the same age – maybe ten years old – and similar enough to be twins.

  Mrs. Kukah hung up the receiver and turned to Kevwe.

  “Are these twins?” he asked, with a smile on his face.

  She laughed, and Kevwe could see some of the official stiffness drop away from her features. “How did you guess?”

  “They’re about the same age I think. Are they your children?”

  She nodded, “I always wanted twins and I was so happy when I got a boy and a girl.”

  “It’s rare for boy and girl twins to look so alike…”

  “They weren’t alike when I had them, it only happened as they got older.” Mrs. Kukah sat back. “Can I get you tea or coffee?”

  “No… no, that’s fine. I’m here to see the general manager. When will he arrive? I’ve been waiting for over an hour.”

  “He’s usually here by this time.” She glanced out the door as if the manager would walk in that instant. Kevwe also looked back, but the entrance remained empty.

  “What did you want him to do for you?” she finally asked.

  Kevwe faced her. “My company just completed a supply of ice machines, and according to my contract, I’m to be paid today.”

  She shuffled the sheaf of papers before her. “Are you with Mukoro Refrigeration?”

  Kevwe nodded. “I’m the managing director.”

  “Oh I see, sorry about the delay, please. The store manager has just sent up your invoice and the other necessary documents. Since you’re here, I could start on it so only the manager’s signature would be required when he comes.”

  “That’ll be great.”

  She got up from behind her desk, and he followed her out of the office. On the second floor, Mrs. Kukah spoke with the two women, handing the papers to one of them, and then turning to Kevwe with a smile.

  “Hauwa and Mary will deal with the payment angle. You could come up with me; the reception area upstairs is more comfortable or my office. However, if you prefer, you could wait here. The minute they’re through, they’ll let me know.”

  “I’ll wait down here; thanks for everything.” Kevwe settled in one of the visitors’ chairs in front of Hauwa’s desk. She greeted him with a polite smile and got back to work. Kevwe studied her in silence. She was striking but a bit darker than he usually preferred. Efe had been a milk chocolate color…

  “This is ready now,” Hauwa’s voice prodded him back to the present. Kevwe shook the cobwebs away and accepted the file. She explained the next steps and pointed the way. Kevwe took the file and went up to a large lady who gave him a form to fill. Ten minutes later, he collected the completed and stamped form. He turned to Hauwa; she nodded at him with a smile and spoke into her intercom. When he got back to the seventh floor, several visitors milled around, the crowd he had wanted to avoid by his early arrival. He shrugged and made his way to Mrs. Kukah’s office. A musky scent assailed his nostrils before he got there.

  “Hi babe, can you talk?” Kevwe heard the drawl as he opened the door. The tall, sharply dressed young man who owned the scent and the drawl stood facing him, wearing a wireless earphone. He was on his way out, and Kevwe stepped aside to let him go.

  “The manager,” Mrs. Kukah mouthed.

  Kevwe’s nod was short with resentment at the well-dressed manager’s offhand manner.

  “Should I follow him?” he asked Mrs. Kukah when the door closed. She told him to give the manager a few minutes, so he sat, teeth clenched in a mixture of anger and envy.

  The operations manager looked his age, if not younger, but his tall frame, striped teal shirt, matching tie, and the charcoal-colored Hugo Boss suit skimming his lithe frame made Kevwe feel small. These kinds of meetings sometimes made him regret coming back to Nigeria with his parents. Maybe if he’d stayed in America with Ofure, he would’ve avoided meeting Efe Sagay, escaped falling in love with her and having his heart broken.

  “You can go in now.”

  Mrs. Kukah’s voice intruded into Kevwe’s thoughts. She nodded toward the door, and he thanked her as he left the office. At the wood door shielding the operation manager from him, he smoothed away some lint from his jeans and adjusted the wool jacket. They might not be Hugo Boss, but they would have to do. He knocked on the door and walked in at the call to enter.

  The manager was still on the BlackBerry. He gestured with his right hand, waving Kevwe to a seat and raising five fingers before swinging over to the side.

  Kevwe settled himself and dropped his file on the desk. The tidy office had cream walls with no pictures, the large windows showing a city view. Kevwe found his attention drifting to the telephone conversation on the other side of the desk.

  “Babe, I do want to see you,” Mr. Hugo Boss murmured.

  It became obvious to Kevwe the man’s low tone was not just for privacy, but because the other person was his girlfriend or someone for whom he had strong emotional feelings. Kevwe detected the vulnerability in the manager’s voice. It was the voice of a man who wanted a woman. Kevwe saw the picture of a woman bent on her independence and a man who didn’t want to let her go. Just like him and Efe during those last days in Benin.

  “Efe, don’t say …”

  Kevwe blinked, wondering if he’d heard correctly.

  “OK, don’t be like that, Efe…” the manager paused, listening.

  Kevwe shook his head. Of course, there were several girls with the same name. It couldn’t be Efe Sagay. He began to brush it off…

  “Don’t you want me to come to Abuja?”

  Kevwe’s whole attention was now focused on the back and forth. His pulse speeded up, and he reminded himself to breathe. Sweat sprang up on his palms, and he rubbed them together as he listened to the one-sided conversation. He couldn’t believe his reaction to what his mind had figured out even while his heart rejected it.

  “I will simply call Transcorp Hilton and ask for a reservation for Ms. Sagay’s fiancé…” The man opposite him laughed.

  The sound mocked him, and clenching his hands, Kevwe sank low into his chest. He didn’t want to hear anymore. Was Efe engaged again? Well, what did he expect? That they would somehow end up together? It dawned on him that since Ofure had mentioned her a week ago, his sub-conscious had been building fantasies of him going after her and finding out they could still be a couple. How stupid of him.

  Knowing why she had left him, it shouldn’t be a surprise she would agree to go out with someone like Mr. Hugo Boss. His hands gripped the edges of the seat, but he wiped all emotion from his face. Well, they were welcome to each other. He sat up, and when he caught the eye of the manager, he tapped his wristwatch. The man hung up soon after and swung to face him.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  Kevwe found he had to clear his throat before speaking. “I just delivered a consignment of machinery, and my payment documents require your signature.”

  “You must be with Mukoro Engineering…”

  “I am Mukoro, Kevwe Mukoro, the managing director.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Engineer Mukoro…”

  The other man was on his feet. Kevwe stood and pumped the outstretched palm.

  “The name is Stanley Adetiba. I joined them here just weeks ago. The hotel technicians and the kitchen staf
f are delighted with your product. Congrats on a job well done.”

  “Thanks and I also hope we’ll do more business in the future.”

  They sat down, and Kevwe pushed the file across the desk. However, Adetiba seemed to be in a chatty mood, asking about the industry and his company in particular. He wanted to know how they obtained for materials, and what the business climate was for his, and similar, made-in-Nigeria products.

  Kevwe wasn’t in the mood to talk and replied in as few words as he could. It was with a silent sigh of relief he took his finally signed cheque and the other necessary documents from the manager.

  “Just get it stamped in the payments division, and you’re done.”

  Kevwe got to his feet and cracked a tight smile while he fished around in his pocket. “Thanks again. I know you may not have this already. This is my card.”

  They exchanged cards, and he left the office after another handshake. The manager was an affable fellow, and Kevwe knew his aloofness was misdirected. It was pure and unvarnished jealousy. Efe was meant for him and no one else. No one else, agreeable or not!

  He stomped to the pay office, gritting his teeth when he passed by Hauwa in the corridor. She almost smiled at him, but she must have been put off by his expression. He couldn’t have cared less. In fact, if it was the reason the accountant finished with him in quick time, then he was happy. A staring customer, fixated on his limp, got a growl. The burning sun after the coolness of the hotel did nothing to improve his mood as he drove to the bank.

  A text came from Ofure as he marched back to his parked car, after depositing the funds. “Hope you got your payment. Call me?”

  Kevwe sent a curt reply, his fingers flying over the keys of his BlackBerry, “I’ll see you soon, in Abuja.”

  His phone began to ring immediately.

  The idea to go to Abuja had not just popped into his mind. The suspense had been bugging him, and after his reaction to the manager, he had to find a way to confront Efe. She owed him, and it seemed the fates wanted them together again. After jumping hoops to make her the most essential person in his life all those years ago, she’d thought his heart too small and had smashed her way out. Then, he’d accepted from others that she abandoned him, but now he needed to hear it from her.

  **

  6

  Abuja. November 27, 2009. 2.30pm

  Efe swung around on her swivel chair as she picked the receiver.

  “Please don’t start,” she begged when Nneka immediately lit into her, mad she hadn’t called in the week since their last meeting.

  “OK, so what have you been doing with yourself eh? I mean, apart from avoiding your goddaughter o.”

  “Sure you want to know?” Efe asked. “But let’s set the record straight, I’m the greatest godmother who walks the earth!”

  That got Nneka laughing. She told Efe about her botched shopping at Emab Plaza, and asked for them to have lunch at the new Indian place on Kashim Ibrahim Way. As they were about to agree on the time to meet, her laptop beeped.

  “Hold on, Nneka,” Efe muttered.

  “You want to cut me off, eh?” Nneka asked.

  “No please, I’ve got a message.” A window had popped up on the corner of her computer screen, and she now maximized it to scan the email from a prospective customer. A surprised and happy shriek escaped her.

  “What is it?” Nneka asked.

  “I just got a confirmation from Don Jazzy.”

  Efe clicked on a link in the email as she spoke. It led to a Facebook page about a party in Abuja with Hilton as the venue.

  “Don Jazzy? What’s the deal?”

  “He wants the hotel to host the music album launch for a member of the Mohits crew. And we’ll provide rooms for all their guests.” Efe had already planned how to handle it all.

  “Congrats! You did it, girl. But, I could kill you right now.” Nneka ended on a note of envy.

  Efe laughed at her. Her friend clearly wished to change places even more than to kill her. “I’m thinking you’ll want me alive to get you backstage with Dbanj, eh?”

  “Of course! Don’t even joke with me. Next on the agenda is Banky W. His song, dey do me strong thing.”

  Efe raised her eyebrows, “And you a married woman…”

  “Go and sit down jare!” Nneka laughed. “Are you immune?”

  Efe laughed. “Relax dearie, I no fit try you. Banky makes good music, but me I prefer Dbanj.”

  “P-square is not bad too.” Nneka added. “I can bank on tickets for the launch then? Lucky you, meeting all these Naija stars.”

  “Of course I’ll invite you and Dozie.” Efe assured as her BlackBerry began to vibrate on top of the desk. “Hold on,” she said to Nneka on the office land-line and picked the BlackBerry.

  “Hi babe, can you talk?” It was Stanley.

  “Please, hold on Stanley,” she said and switched phones.

  “Nneka, I’ll call you back. Or better yet, see you at Wakkis by three.” She whispered the next words, “And there will be fresh gist.”

  Nneka was still screeching when she returned the phone to its receiver and placed the BlackBerry to her ear.

  “Hello Stanley, I hear you’re in Nigeria?”

  The phone call didn’t last too long, and soon she was on her way to Wakkis for the lunch with Nneka.

  An hour later, Efe was full enough to glance around at the wooden tables and benches of the restaurant. Her navy jacket hung on the back of her seat, and air blew over the skin of her bare arms and pushed against the ruffled red silk of her blouse.

  It was her first time here, and she found the casual atmosphere even more charming than the food. Asking Nneka to put off all talk till they were done, she’d ordered the excellent roast lamb the restaurant was known for, the meat grilled and then prepared within their sight.

  Nneka said something as she adjusted her white cotton baby-doll blouse over her Capris, her baby snoring against her left arm.

  “Say that again?” As they ate, she’d enjoyed how the breeze from the open windows wafted in the spicy scent of grilling meat, but the non-shuttered windows also meant the noisy traffic was right in the room. Swirling her drink around her mouth to clear her teeth, Efe tried to tune out the afternoon bustle as Nneka repeated.

  “What is the gist you promised me?”

  “Stanley is coming to Abuja this Sunday.”

  A slow smile broke over Nneka’s face and then she nodded. “I like his timing. He reminds me of Dozie in those earlier years, a persistent man.”

  Efe felt Nneka’s sharp gaze on her as she speared the last of her lamb chops into her mouth, and she chewed with fervor. Nneka didn’t ask her why she was reluctant to continue with Stanley now he was back in the country. Efe guessed she already knew the answer. She’d told Nneka the break up in America was because of the distance since Efe wanted to return to Nigeria, and Stanley hadn’t been ready. Now it had to be clear it was tied to Kevwe, and the unresolved feelings Efe had for him.

  “I wish he wasn’t coming, though,” she finally said.

  “He’s coming to sweep you off your feet,” Nneka pointed at her with a laugh.

  Efe laughed too, even though she didn’t find Stanley’s renewed pursuit welcome, or funny in any way. “I don’t want any more complications in my life,” she said, her voice low but vehement. “I made a mistake when I dated him in the United States, and I’m not about to repeat it. When he called this morning and said I should meet him at Sheraton, I agreed, but I’ll use the opportunity to break it up with him.”

  Her best attempts to dissuade Stanley had not worked so far. He’d called her three times since Temi informed her of his return to the country. The first time he’d called, she picked it and had what she thought was a final chat with him. She wasn’t happy he still harbored romantic ideas about both of them getting back together. She’d made her displeasure on this issue plain, but he hadn’t been fazed one bit. Efe took a last sip from the glass of Coke and gathered the papers
scattered on the slatted table into her outsized handbag.

  “You’re so stubborn, Efe. Why won’t you take my advice?”

  “Did I tell you I joined Ovie and Bernard at Play Sports Bar yesterday, for ‘Thursday’s Bring your own bottle’?” Efe said, changing the subject. Nneka might choose to be a champion for Stanley, but she didn’t have listen. When he got here on Sunday, she would close his page once and for all.

  “I trust Ovie,” Nneka replied. “Who else was there?”

  Efe searched Nneka’s face for sarcasm. “You know Ovie’s crowd. They are fun, so I don’t complain. The more the merrier.”

  “It was never hard for Ovie to roll like that, but what about you? Are you sure this is what you want, clubbing every day?”

  “Nneka…” Sometimes, her friend’s nagging got on her nerves.

  “I know you, Efe. You may say I don’t know what happened while you were in America, but I’ve watched since you got back.”

  “Nneka, abeg I don tire for this talk. I have to go.”

  Nneka shrugged and then got to her feet. “Where are you off to?” She strapped Anuli back into the mobile carrier beside her. The baby had been shunted between their laps and shoulders while they ate, but now she slept soundly.

  Efe got to her feet too. “I think I’ll go straight to see Kevwe’s brother, the doctor. By the way, I know that’s why you asked for us to have lunch together o.”

  This was the reason she had avoided any phone calls, knowing Nneka would ask for what she would do during the meeting with Dr. Mukoro. Efe was herself unsure of what to do.

  Nneka smirked. “Will you ask him?”

  They stood in the car park next to Nneka’s car while she strapped the baby carrier into a car seat. The hotel’s official driver who ferried Efe around was right across the yard, and already waiting.

  Efe rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to, unless he brings up the topic.” She paused before adding, “If it doesn’t come up, then there’s no need. Nneka, let sleeping dogs lie, OK?”