PREVIEW: A Forever Kind of Love

13 Aug PREVIEW: A Forever Kind of Love

CHAPTER ONE: DRIFTWOOD

 

NOVEMBER 2021

 

Nonso

IT WAS ANOTHER ONE in the bag.

Walking out of the Anambra State Governor’s office flanked by his team – executives of his power generation company, Agran Grid – Nonso raised his right hand to his mouth and kissed it in reverent thanksgiving like he did after every successful meeting. Having secured the contract for the deployment of gas-fired independent power plants across twelve of the twenty-one local governments in Anambra State, the only state in the region where his company hitherto had no presence, there was even more cause to be grateful. It had been three tedious years, during which time there had been an election, a transfer of power, a nullification of the progress made with the ousted officials, and a restart of the bidding and lobbying required to get there. It had been a long, hard road and even though he hadn’t secured a clean sweep like he’d managed in Abia, Ebonyi, Enugu, and Imo States, this win was more than enough reason to celebrate.

“You know this is when the real work begins,” he said to Kekachi, Agran Grid’s Managing Director, as the Mercedes GLX carrying them pulled out of the Government House and connected with the Onitsha–Enugu Expressway. “We can’t rest now. We need the remaining nine LGAs.”

Kekachi nodded but his lack of enthusiasm was clear, and with good reason. Cornelius Uzochukwu, chairman of Uzochukwu Power, the company previously contracted to supply alternative power to all local governments in the state but now limited to only nine, was widely feared and his company’s loss of most of its LGAs to Agran was considered a major coup. But Nonso hadn’t gotten where he had by worrying about people’s feelings. If Uzochukwu had performed and generated power like his company was contracted to, he wouldn’t have lost business to Agran. So, his loss was Agran’s gain.

Nonso’s gain.

“Let’s start with the twelve we’ve been awarded and do a great job with those,” Kekachi said. “Then we’ll take it from there.”

Nonso bit back the admonition trying to pry its way out of his mouth. Kekachi was right. There was no point getting worked up about the nine LGAs they didn’t have when they should be celebrating the twelve they did. But like the biblical parable, Nonso was always on the lookout for that one sheep even with ninety-nine others idling in the field. This was the ethos by which he did business, the ethos that had created for him wealth beyond his wildest imagination. So, yes, they were going to figure out a way to win more LGAs, but no, it didn’t have to be today.

“You’re right,” Nonso said with a manufactured smile. “I fly back to Lagos in a couple of hours, so why don’t we head back to the office to go over the O&M contracts?”

Kekachi’s nod was more enthusiastic, the topic having shifted to the area of expertise that had him headhunted from the States eighteen months before. He was fishing into his briefcase to retrieve one of the draft contracts when Nonso’s phone rang. It was Bari, the Chief Operating Officer of the oil and gas company Agran Holdings acquired earlier in the year. As Nonso listened to the news Bari relayed, the semblance of a smile on his face disappeared and all the endorphins from their earlier success evaporated into thin air. After months of worrying about it, the worst had happened.

“Is everything okay?” Kekachi asked when Nonso set his phone down.

“It’s the pipeline thieves,” Nonso answered.

Since acquiring the asset, it had been plagued with heavy losses of crude oil from its facility as it journeyed to the terminal from which it would be lifted for sale. In the months since the asset’s acquisition, the percentage of theft had been on a slow but steady rise.

“What was the percentage loss this time?” a visibly worried Kekachi asked.

Nonso looked up at him. “A hundred.”

It didn’t get any worse than that.

_

With crisis mode activated and an emergency conference call scheduled, not only was Nonso’s plan to return to Lagos that evening scuttled, he didn’t walk into the hotel room his team hastily booked until almost midnight. Having long lost his tie, he exhaled as he shrugged out of his jacket, stepped out of his shoes, and sat on the firm yet plush bed. Without the adrenaline that came from brainstorming his business emergency with his team, in the dimly lit room, his mind had liberty to roam, to drift to the pertinent reminder that his mother was in that town and that he hadn’t been allowed to see her since the visit that left her screaming herself delirious when she’d believed him to be his long-departed father. Nonso knew her Alzheimer’s Disease was to blame, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Even though his older half-brothers forbade him from seeing her, it didn’t stop them from demanding he foot her medical and living bills. But it wasn’t the heavy expense that broke Nonso’s heart. It was not being allowed to see his own mother for four long years.

Reaching for his phone, he smiled at the message from his girlfriend.

OGONNA: I’m going to bed now. Call me in the morning.

Emphasis on morning. She hated anything that would disrupt her beauty sleep.

Scrolling through his phone, he was relieved to see a message from his late friend Omoruyi’s brother, Olumese.

OLUMESE: I’m doing great, thank you. Thanks for checking. Talk to you tomorrow.

Even though it was longer than the monosyllabic responses Olumese had been sending in the week it had been since being publicly rejected by the woman he’d proposed marriage to, Ogugua, a woman who, incidentally, went to school with Nonso, Ogonna, and Omoruyi, it did little to ease Nonso’s concern for his young friend. As a man who had been publicly humiliated once, he could empathise with Olumese’s pain. He knew the feeling well, and it wasn’t a good one. He made a mental note to assess Olumese’s actual state on their video call scheduled for the next day.

A quick glance at the time showed it was 11:50pm, a time too late for many but not his nocturnal older brother, Chidi, who had no qualms contacting Nonso in the wee hours of the morning for the most mundane of requests. Well, it was Nonso’s turn to return the favour.

“Good evening, Brother Chidi,” Nonso said when the line connected, the nerves he felt when he was in his brother’s company, even over the phone, working their way through his body.

“Yes, Nonso?” was Chidi’s gruff response. “Why are you calling at this hour?”

“I’m in town,” Nonso answered, as if his earlier plan hadn’t been a quick in and out of the state. “I had a meeting with the Governor this afternoon.”

“Good for you.”

Time was when Chidi’s aloofness cut deep. Time was when Nonso craved the affection and approval of his older half-brothers, Chidi and Okechukwu, more than he craved breath. But he was old enough to know that would never come. Not even if he were the wealthiest man in the whole world.

“Can I come see her tomorrow?” Nonso asked, despite knowing what the answer would be. “Maybe we could try again…”

“If you want to come by the house, you are free to do so,” Chidi cut in. “But unless you want to plan a funeral, you can’t see her. Have you forgotten what happened last time?”

“It’s been four years, Brother Chidi. Doctor Nwosu says she’s making progress…”

“Speaking of Doctor Nwosu, Oke and I think she needs to see a functional medical practitioner. She might do better with herbs instead of all these big drugs they are pumping her with.”

Nonso’s brows furrowed in a frown. “Okay…”

“But, as I’m sure you know, that will come with its own cost. We will need another three to five million every month for that.”

Nonso’s frown deepened. “Brother Chidi, I already send thirty million a month.”

Twenty to Chidi and ten to Okechukwu.

“And that isn’t even enough to cover the time and energy expended by myself, Oke, Adaku, and even Julie to guarantee the woman’s care,” Chidi bellowed, his voice rising the way it did when they spoke about money.

Adaku was Chidi’s wife and Julie, Oke’s.

“We had to shut down Adaku’s shop for her to care for mommy full time. You don’t think she should be compensated for that? You don’t think Oke and Julie who drive all the way from Onitsha every weekend should be compensated for the fuel they burn and time they spend?”

“No, Brother. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“One would think after what you and your godforsaken father did to her, you would provide what she needs without argument.”

And there it was, the dagger Chidi was always sure to throw, the reminder of what Nonso represented to the woman that bore them.

“I’m sorry. I will send the money.”

“Good night,” was Chidi’s brusque dismissal before the line disconnected.

Nonso lowered the phone to the nightstand and tried to swallow down the painful lump forming in his throat. Chidi was right. As the spawn of the man who had destroyed their mother emotionally and mentally, her condition was partly his fault. He had no right to argue or push back on the demands of the people caring for her.

No, that was the penance he would live with for the rest of her life.

Or maybe even his.

 

Zinna

“There’ll be a driver waiting when you land. I’m sending his contact card now, in case you need to reach him before you board the plane from Lagos.”

“Thank you, Joella,” Zinna said to her boyfriend Kalu’s assistant, equal parts impressed by her efficiency and peeved about having spoken more to her over the last forty-eight hours than the man she was headed to see.

“Also confirming your dress size is a US six?”

Zinna nodded. “A UK ten.”

“Great. I’ve sent the details to the Neiman Marcus personal shopper, and she’ll be ready to fit you with options on Saturday at 11am.”

Kalu had invited her as his plus one for a colleague’s wedding in Martha’s Vineyard and insisted on paying for her attire. A romantic gesture, no doubt, except not quite so romantic when someone else was doing it on his behalf.

“Mr. Igweonu has a fifteen-minute window at noon, before his conference call to Singapore. Does that time work for you for a quick phone call?”

Zinna’s lips pursed in an involuntary frown. Kalu’s habit of having his assistant schedule their calls no less annoying now, five months into their relationship. Noon was 6pm her time and even though her calendar was clear, she decided to give him a little taste of his medicine.

“Tell you what, Rayo will call you.” Rayo was her assistant. “And you two can figure out the best time for our calendars.”

“Great, I’ll wait for her call. Or better still, I’ll call her right now.”

“You do that, Joella. Thank you.”

Off the phone, Zinna exhaled as she placed the phone on her table. Yes, it had been a while since she’d dated before Kalu – five years to be exact – but using assistants to schedule time to talk had to be bizarre anywhere it was situated in the space-time continuum. Thankfully, in less than forty-eight hours, she’d be able to express her displeasure to Kalu in person. Busy though they both were – her as Managing Director of the fast-growing Capital Trust Bank and Kalu as an Executive Director with Harrington Fairfax, one of the largest investment banks on Wall Street – conversing through their staff couldn’t be the best way to go.

The flashing reminder across her screen alerted her to the meeting notification she’d been ignoring while on the phone and which she was now five minutes late for. Six months since beginning investments for a trust fund for her recently deceased friend Omoruyi’s kids, it was time for another review meeting with the other trustees; Omoruyi’s brother, Olumese, and an old classmate who also happened to be one of the wealthiest men on the continent…and the single most annoying human being she knew, Nonso Aguta. Tapping open the recurring Microsoft Teams link, she joined the meeting and frowned when her entire screen was taken up by only one box…only one face.

Nonso’s.

If the frown on his face was any indicator, he wasn’t pleased about it, either.

“Olumese hasn’t joined the call?” she asked without bothering with any pleasantries.

“If you’d joined on time, you would have heard him excuse himself from today’s meeting,” was Nonso’s retort.

Her annoyance was tempered by her concern for Olumese. Apart from having witnessed the botched marriage proposal, the woman he’d proposed to was one of her closest friends, Ogugua. And, considering Ogugua was also not in a good emotional place, it was taking everything for Zinna to respect her friend’s wishes and not meddle until both grieving lovers saw reason.

“What about Nelson?” she asked, ignoring Nonso’s jab, and referencing the Wealth Manager they had appointed for the fund’s investments.

“You clearly also don’t read your emails. He sent his report two days ago.”

“I wasn’t asking for Nelson’s report. I was asking about Nelson,” Zinna said through grit teeth as she glared at the obnoxious face on her screen. In a light blue shirt with no tie, Nonso was less formally dressed than he was for these meetings.

“Nelson’s report was explanatory. My expectation was for us as trustees to review it and make any decisions we need to,” Nonso’s response indicated his own rising irritation. “I just got off a plane and have several fires I’m quenching right now. I don’t want to be here any more than you do, but we made a promise to Eva that we would do this for the kids.”

The reminder of why they were doing it in the first place was enough to take the edge off her anger.

“Looking at the report,” Nonso’s eyes drifted to what was possibly another screen. “I think we need to diversify the investment portfolio. Eurobonds and Treasury Bills are not enough. We need to include some high risk, high return options.”

“We can’t gamble with anything high risk,” Zinna cut in. “There’s nothing wrong with Eurobonds and Treasury Bills.”

Nonso’s lips upturned in a smile that couldn’t have been more condescending if he tried.

“As someone who has been an employee all her life and never owned a business, I can understand your low risk appetite.” He said low risk like it was a curse word. “But no good thing comes without a little risk…”

“Well, as someone that has been doing this for almost two decades, I believe I’m in a better position to tell you this is not the investment for that kind of speculative gambling. Eva and the kids are counting on this fund, and we need to focus on growing it steadily, instead of taking the kind of gambles that could make them lose everything.”

“Or triple everything,” Nonso countered.

“With Eurobonds, the investment can make up to five percent a year,” Zinna continued, ignoring him.

He scoffed. “That’s no money.”

“Some Sovereign Eurobonds can yield even as high as eight percent!”

He sat back in his chair. “I’m not going to argue with you. I’ve expressed my concerns to Nelson and Olumese. But it’s fine. I’m currently speaking with Bonju about cryptocurrency trading and will make investments on the children’s behalf. Independent of the fund, of course.”

It was Zinna’s turn to scoff, just about fed up with reminders of the separate ways Nonso was supporting their late friend’s family. While the rest of their class had committed to substantial monthly contributions to the fund, Nonso was, in addition, heavily financially supporting Omoruyi’s widow, Eva, out of his pocket. Laudable and admirable though it was, it irked Zinna regardless.

“You do that then,” she muttered. “I’ll also have a chat with Nelson later.”

“If we’re done here, then I think we should…”

She disconnected the call with him mid-sentence. If there was one person guaranteed to get under her skin, it was Nonso Aguta.

Ironic, especially considering they had once been good friends.

 

Nonso

“Well, twelve local governments isn’t bad,” Ogonna remarked over dinner that night.

Getting home and finding Ogonna fussing in his kitchen over a pot of aromatic Ofe Nsala soup had been enough to seep out of his body all the stress and strain he had returned to Lagos with. And, after a refreshing shower and change, tucking into the delicious meal with his beautiful girlfriend by his side had relaxed him enough to forget the loss of his crude oil and worries about his rival power company, even if only for a little while.

“Yes, we’re quite pleased with that,” he said, despite everything he had said to his team to the contrary. “We just need to figure out a way to safeguard the pipeline to keep vandals from stealing our crude. A few other companies who inject into…”

“Did you speak to Olumese?” she cut in. “How is he doing? Gosh, I can’t stop thinking about that awful evening. How could Ogugua do a thing like that?”

Having already had this conversation at least twice with Ogonna, gossiping about Olumese’s botched proposal was the last thing Nonso wanted to do that night.

“Olumese is fine,” he answered. “He’s going to be fine.” He cleared his throat. “I also spoke with Chidi to see if I could see my mom, and…”

“Ogugua wasn’t even grateful a man like Olumese wanted to marry her?” Ogonna said, clearly intent on a different conversation than any Nonso wanted to have. “How could she have done that to him?!”

Nonso listened as Ogonna reeled off all the theories she had – of Ogugua’s low self-esteem catching up with her, of her only having used her younger lover for a financial boost, of her never even loving Olumese in the first place – and he knew whatever unburdening he’d hoped to do that evening wasn’t going to happen. As Ogonna talked, his mind wandered, drifting to the zero dollars in revenue the oil company was set to make that month…and the growing ache he had for the mother he hadn’t seen in four years. The longer the conversation about banalities went on, the heavier his heart was and, lying naked in bed with Ogonna later that night, his eyes stayed open while she slept, his spirits lower than when he’d walked into his apartment that evening. It was unfair to expect his girlfriend to understand, or even be interested in, his business when she’d done neither in the two years of their relationship. Almost all his adult life, he’d never had anyone to bare his heart to and, apparently, it wasn’t about to start today.

So, also like he’d been doing almost all his life, he buried his angst deep and compartmentalised his other worries and fears. Tomorrow would come with a solution for everything.

It had to.

 

 

CHAPTER TWO: SACRIFICES & WINS

 

JANUARY 2022

 

Zinna

JUST LIKE SHE DID EVERY TIME SHE was in Abuja, after the meeting that had brought her there, Zinna headed to Wuse 2 to see Eva. Even though the last few visits had been tension-laced because of what sides they stood in the Ogugua and Olumese impasse – Zinna on Ogugua’s and Eva on her brother-in-law Olumese’s – Zinna continued these visits, regardless. Thankfully today, two months after the botched proposal that had strained so many relationships, Eva was in a better mood.

“I’m glad to hear things are going well with Kalu,” she remarked after Zinna gave her a summary of how things were progressing with the eligible bachelor she’d met the previous year, which comprised the two visits she had made to visit him in New York and his visit over Christmas. “It would be so lovely to attend a wedding this year.”

“Babe, take it easy,” Zinna chuckled. “We’ve only been dating a few months.”

Eva rolled her eyes. “A few months is more than enough time. You’re almost forty.”

“I only just turned thirty-nine, Ma’am.”

“Same difference. If he likes you and you like him, why waste time?”

Zinna shrugged, not wanting to place that weight on the relationship just yet. Yes, she and Kalu vibed well and, since she’d complained, he didn’t communicate via his assistant quite as much, but marriage was something she wasn’t going to venture into lightly. Not after the disaster that her parents’ had been.

“How is Ogugua?” Eva asked.

Zinna raised a brow, surprised by the pivot, but even more so by her interest. Even though Eva and Ogugua had once been close, Eva hadn’t taken too kindly to her friend dating her much younger brother-in-law, a situation worsened by Ogugua’s public rejection of said brother-in-law’s proposal.

“She’s doing okay,” Zinna answered, carefully choosing her words because, as far as she knew, Eva wasn’t aware of the pregnancy that was the reason behind the breakup. “Trying to get used to Lagos hustle and bustle again.”

Eva scoffed but didn’t say any more, which was for the better as one thing Zinna wasn’t going to stand for was any Ogugua slander, not even from her old friend who was also another old friend’s widow.

“Anyway,” Eva said, changing the subject. “Please tell me you’re not leaving town anytime soon. I desperately need you here this weekend.”

“I leave tomorrow morning,” Zinna laughed. “Apart from seeing you, what else would I be doing in Abuja?”

“Please, you have to help. Olivia’s school organises a novelty basketball game for parents this time every year, to raise money for its building projects. With Uyi gone, there’s nobody to represent her. You know how woeful I am at sports.”

“Oh, Eva! Don’t do this to me!” Zinna moaned. “What about Olumese?”

Eva rolled her eyes. “He’s been like the walking dead since last November. Yes, he’s better now than he was a few weeks ago, but he’s still not in a good place.”

“What about Chinelo? Emily?”

Chinelo was Eva’s best friend and Godmother to both her kids. Emily was her older sister.

“Chinelo is even worse than me at sports and you know very well that Emily lives in Port Harcourt.”

With everything in her heart, Zinna wanted to refuse. Granted, her calendar for the next day, Friday, was clear, and apart from making up for lost hours at the gym on Saturday and visiting her sister on Sunday, her weekend was free as well.

“Please!” Eva pleaded, clasping her hands in supplication. “Olivia would be over the moon. Especially if someone who’s actually good at it plays for her. With all the younger, fitter daddies, even Uyi barely got by.”

Zinna’s heart softened as Eva pleaded, knowing she couldn’t pass up the chance to do something for Omoruyi’s kids. Even though she was indirectly active in their lives by virtue of her role as trustee of their fund, it would make even more of a difference for her to be actually present for them.

“What would you have done if I didn’t visit today? What was your plan?” Zinna teased.

“I woke up this morning asking God not to disgrace me,” Eva answered, the small smirk playing on her lips the indicator she knew she’d successfully arm-twisted her friend. “You’re an answered prayer.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll stay,” Zinna said with a resigned sigh, but not even getting the words out fully before being pulled into a suffocating embrace by Eva.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Eva squealed as she hugged her. “Olivia is going to be so thrilled!” Then pulling away, she yelled, “Olivia! Olivia! We have a complete team now. Aunty Zinna is going to play!”

“A complete team?” Zinna repeated.

Eva nodded. “Yes, this year, it’s moms against dads, so each kid has to have a team of both. Nonso has agreed to play with the dads.”

Nonso?!

She had to be kidding!

 

Nonso

Nonso mindlessly tapped his fingers on the oak table as his financial advisor and the executives of Agran E&P talked in the boardroom of Truvest Capital, the company engaged to guide them through the crises faced by his newly purchased company. For three months straight, no crude from the asset had made it to the Bonny Terminal, meaning that for three months straight, Agran E&P had lost almost a hundred million dollars.

And counting, considering nothing was being done to stop the nefarious activities of the pipeline thieves.

While that was bad in and of itself, because he had assumed the asset’s one-billion-dollar debt upon acquisition, even though three hundred million dollars of the purchase price had gone toward part-repaying this debt, there was still a very imposing seven hundred-million-dollar loan that needed to be serviced.

“No, I don’t advise that,” Wale, Truvest’s Managing Partner, protested. “Agran can’t pay Q4’s debt service from its purse. You already did that for Q3.”

“I agree,” Ndubuisi, Agran E&P’s CFO, chimed. “Paying one quarter was bad enough, but two? What happens if this theft continues this year? We pay the next quarter again out of pocket? That will ruin us.”

“We can’t default on the facility,” Nonso muttered, remembering the caustic back and forth with the syndicate of banks that had provided the loan to Clearline Energy, the original owners of the asset. “We made commitments to those lenders, and I’m not going to renege on any of those. Not to mention the press would have a field day if word got out that Agran is defaulting.”

“Nonso,” Wale said, directing a grave gaze his way. “The whole country is aware of this crude oil theft. Agran isn’t the only company affected. Your lenders will understand that there haven’t been any crude proceeds for three months now.”

“I can’t default, Wale.”

“Let’s declare a force majeure or something!” an exasperated Ndubuisi exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “We barely have a balance sheet. Don’t forget this company was created as an SPV just for this transaction. Where will we get fifty million dollars from?!”

“I’ll pay it,” Nonso answered. “Like I did last quarter.”

“Nonso, that’s fifty million dollars,” Wale warned. “Out of pocket. Again.”

But Nonso was resolute in his decision. Yes, it was another hit to his personal finances, but no, he wasn’t about to subject himself to the mercy of the syndicate of lenders he had unfortunately inherited. He was going to keep paying out of pocket until the crude evacuation issues were resolved. Hopefully, if volumes remained consistent and crude price stayed at seventy dollars a barrel, he’d recoup his money soon.

Hopefully.

_

“Schedule that meeting with Vitol,” Nonso said to his assistant, Osagie, as they walked out of Truvest’s Maitama building, the meeting having ended earlier than anticipated. “We should make it back to Lagos before 5pm, so we can squeeze them in today.”

“But you’re committed to remain in Abuja this weekend,” Osagie answered. “The novelty basketball game for your friend’s kids.”

Nonso cursed under his breath, having forgotten the promise Eva had guilted him into making. He glanced at his watch. At 3pm, there was too much of the day to waste. The co-working space Olumese and his team operated from was a few streets away. A surprise visit might not have been Nonso’s first choice but given how evasive Olumese had been over the phone, it was the only way for him to confirm the young man was indeed okay, not only because he felt responsible for him as his late friend’s brother but also because of the business they did together on occasion.

“Let’s go to Pixel Space,” Nonso said to Osagie, not breaking stride. “You remember the place, right?”

_

Apart from the relief of seeing Olumese in better spirits – the weight regained, the scruffy beard gone – Nonso also managed to squeeze in a meeting with his former teacher turned good friend, Abolore, to pick his brain as he was wont to do. So, it was with that sense of accomplishment that he arrived the sports complex in Lifecamp the following afternoon, for the basketball match. Even though his grueling fitness regime had kept his body honed and toned over the years, it had been a long time since he’d played the game, so he was justifiably worried about embarrassing himself.

He’d come without any security detail, not wanting to attract undue attention to himself or steal Olivia’s thunder. Walking into the rec center, his eyes scanned the packed room for Eva. As he pushed through the crowd, he hated that he hadn’t had the heart to turn Eva down. He hated crowds, and he hated unfamiliar company even more. But his commitment to Eva and her kids was more than just financial, and if stepping out of his comfort zone was what he needed to do at times like this, then so be it.

“Over here!” Eva’s voice rang out.

He looked in its direction and smiled, grateful for her wisdom not to shout his name.

“You came!” an elated Olivia squealed, launching herself into his arms when he walked up to where she stood with her mom, her brother, Julian, and a third person.

His brows furrowed when he recognised Zinna Aniche as that third person.

The fuck was she doing there?!

 

Zinna

It took everything for her upper lip not to curl at the sight of Mr. Richest Man in Africa in a black logo print Emporio Armani tracksuit. Of course, the pretender would choose any opportunity to show off. Zinna’s resentment was heightened by the loose neon yellow t-shirt and green shorts she had been forced to wear for the game.

“Where’s your uniform?” she retorted as Nonso exchanged an embrace with Eva.

The lazy, borderline inconvenienced glance he threw her way only served to aggravate her more.

“Hello to you, too, Zinna.”

Realising all eyes were on her, she forced a smile, swallowing down anything else she had to say about his extravagant attire.

“Hello,” she muttered.

“Okay, daddies, please come this way,” a man speaking through a megaphone announced. “And mommies, please head to the north side of the court.”

“Good luck!” an elated Olivia called out, her excitement infectious.

“And thank you,” a more somber Eva said, first to her and then to Nonso. “I’m so grateful for this.”

The smile Zinna directed at her friend was more heartfelt, but it was the flash of movement that drew her gaze in Nonso’s direction as he peeled off his tracksuit top to reveal the bright orange t-shirt that was the daddies’ uniform, which was nowhere near as baggy and ill-fitting as the t-shirt she wore. Her eyes remained on him as he pulled down the tracksuit bottom, the blue shorts also looking like they were tailored just for him. Even though she had seen him enough times in the last few years to know he had bulked considerably from the lean and gangly teenager she’d once known him to be, this up, close, and personal view of a more pronounced chest and toned, veined arms with more bulk than she’d anticipated took her by surprise.

“I’ll hold on to this for you,” Eva said, taking the tracksuit from him. “Good luck you two.”

Zinna scoffed as she walked away, competitiveness that was two decades old reawakened. Yes, he was going to need the luck, alright.

 

Nonso

He watched Zinna walk away, her garish uniform billowing around her slender form. He chuckled under his breath as a memory formed in his head, a memory of her in similarly ill-fitting sportswear chasing after a ball in a basketball court from a lifetime ago. Back then, they’d mostly played on the same side so it was going to be interesting to see how playing on opposite teams would be.

Interesting and satisfying…because he was going to kick her ass.

 

Zinna

With narrowed laser focused eyes, Zinna stood coiled and ready to spring to action as the tallest woman from her team stood with the tallest member of the opposing team, with the referee – the man with the megaphone – between them. As the referee tossed the ball into the air and both players jumped into action, Zinna was relieved her teammate gained possession of the ball and she was on hand to receive it when it was thrown in her direction. With her fingers wide on the ball, she ran, her eyes scanning and reading the court, spotting her moving teammates and the defenders from the opposing team that were closing in.

With a tall and lanky dad running towards her, she threw the ball at a mom whose hands were raised to receive it, not breaking her run as she ran past the mom in the direction of the hoop. But Nonso was already running in that direction, his eyes on her, clearly anticipating her move.

’Are you going to take a shot or are we going to run around all day?’

His voice from years before echoed in her head, making her even more determined to take the shot. The pass from her teammate came fast in a blur of motion, but Zinna was ready, catching the ball on the move.

And she didn’t hesitate.

Her feet adjusted mid-stride, and with knees bent, she threw, the ball leaving her fingers and entering the net in a smooth swish. As her teammates and the mommy-supporting side of the court erupted in a cheer, her eyes held Nonso’s as a smug smile spread across her face.

No, they weren’t going to run around all day.

 

Nonso

‘Just because you’re loud and tall doesn’t mean you own the court!’

Zinna’s taunt from their teenage years combined with the arrogant smile on her face was enough to propel him faster, muscle memory of the game he hadn’t played in too long kicking in.

‘Keep up, Aguta. Keep up!’

With her teasing jibe resonating in his head, he chased after her teammate that now had the ball.

Oh, he was going to keep up alright.

As they both chased after the ball, even though Zinna didn’t look at him, her awareness of him was evident. He marked her anytime she was near the ball, their exchanged glances like loaded guns, ready to detonate at any moment with the mutual animosity and loathing that had accumulated over the last two decades.

Even though she was fast, he was faster, everything he remembered from how she had once played working in his favour as he anticipated her moves like they had played the game a thousand times in another life.

Because they had.

When he finally had the ball, as he raced towards the hoop, she lunged at him. He spun just in time, barely dodging her reach, but she stayed on him like a shadow, jumping with him as he dove toward the rim. He threw the ball.

But missed.

She landed first, that annoying smirk back on her face as she snatched the rebound. Incensed, he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he chased after her.

 

Zinna

After throwing the ball to her teammate when one of the dads closed in on her, she was already moving before the ball left her teammate’s hands. Her teammate aimed for the net but missed, and as the ball ricocheted off the rim, Zinna made a break for it.

And Nonso did as well.

All the noise around her faded into a blur. All that existed was that loose ball swirling in the air. She dove for it first, but as her fingers brushed it, Nonso’s shadow fell across her. They collided, hip against hip, shoulder against shoulder. The ball bounced again, caught between them now, trapped between two pairs of desperate, clutching hands. With locked eyes and grit teeth, they fought for the ball in silence, neither speaking, neither blinking, neither letting go. A second passed, and then another, before the whistle blew and the referee called for the jump ball to restart play.

As they walked away, Zinna returned Nonso’s glare, more determined than ever for her team to beat his.

More determined than ever to beat him.

 

Nonso

Nonso watched as the ball bounced between the hands of the opposing side, the men on his team too helpless, too inexperienced, or both, to gain control of it. He closely guarded Zinna, his goal more to stop her than her team, moving when she did and tracking her every moment. He was on high alert when she snatched control of the ball from a member of his team. Nonso tried to close the gap, but Zinna was already running toward the basket. His breath caught in his throat as she jumped, elevating effortlessly toward the rim, and the world slowed for a split second as the ball sailed through the air in a textbook shot.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He watched helplessly as the ball swished clean through the net, his eyes staying on it as it made its perfect descent.

And everything went even further downhill from there.

 

Zinna

At the sound of the final buzzer, the court erupted in cheers, especially from the side supporting the team in yellow and green.  It was a resounding victory; the mommies having won by a decisive ninety points to the daddies’ sixty. Standing there amongst the jubilating women who, less than an hour before, had been strangers, the rush Zinna felt was warm and delicious.

As the daddies shook hands with the mommies in congratulations, Zinna smiled as Nonso approached, his reluctance evident in his tight-lipped smile.

“Nice one,” he said, when he reached her, not bothering to extend his hand for a shake. “Good game.”

“Great game,” she gushed, the victory even sweeter as she reveled in the soreness of her opponent.

And later, as a delighted Eva and Olivia embraced her, as she lifted the trophy for her team, as she joined the crowd to rejoice over the seventeen million naira raised from the event, the victory was the sweetest thing she had tasted in a very long time.

 

Nonso

So as not to come across a sore loser, Nonso hung around through the jubilant merrymaking and the victory lap the triumphant mommies made round the court. One would think they’d won more than the brass cup they were lifting and jubilating over like it was the World Cup. With money raised from ticket sales, the school would have made money regardless of which team won. The real win for Nonso was the joy on Olivia’s face, even if part of that joy was pride in her Aunty Zinna being selected Most Valuable Player of the game.

Most Valuable Player indeed.

After spending a reasonable amount of time post-game – thirty minutes, to be exact – Nonso took his leave. Because he had a lot more on his plate than the loss of a basketball game. Back in his hotel room, he reviewed the agreement that backed his E&P company’s loan, wondering if he could, indeed, default on the previous quarter’s loan repayment like his financial team was advising. He read news articles and updates from other injectors to the pipeline, hoping to find something that indicated a resolution was in the offing, but he found nothing. There was no update, no encouraging information. The pipeline was still a literal basket, and he was still losing millions of dollars every single day. It didn’t get more dire than that.

It was no wonder sleep eluded him that night. Tossing and turning, he contemplated other means to safely evacuate his crude, other ways to make his lenders happy without having to service the debt from his pocket. But as the night wore on, it was the other dagger in his heart, the fact he hadn’t seen his mother in four years that kept him awake. And by the time he gave up on sleep and got out of bed at 4am, he had made his decision. While he had no control over the pipeline or his lenders, he could at least take some control of the situation with his mother. If he showed up in Chidi’s house, maybe this time his brother’s heart would soften enough to let him see her.

With his decision to fly to Awka before heading to Lagos made, he finally fell asleep on the couch while mindlessly scrolling through social media. Incessant knocking on the door woke him up a few hours later. He opened his eyes, squinting in protest at the blinding rays of sunlight that had flooded the room. He should have closed the damned drapes. The knocking continued and he rolled his eyes as he pushed off the couch.

Ogonna was too predictable.

“Surprise!” she declared, sweeping into the room as soon as he opened the door, her eyes darting this way and that, looking for what she always did when she made these ‘surprise’ busts. Except it couldn’t really be considered a surprise when it happened almost every time he was away.

“Hey,” Nonso managed to mutter, shutting the door behind her.

“How have your meetings gone?” she asked, opening the bathroom door and looking inside.

“You want to check the closet? Under the bed?” he asked, hoping his sarcasm would communicate how much he did not appreciate her habit of showing up in his hotel room first thing in the morning, expecting to catch him with another woman.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” she retorted, sitting on the couch. “Nobody can blame me for staying one step ahead. One can never trust you men.”

He exhaled and walked over to the bed. Her asking for his room number before she made these busts also stole the surprise element she hoped for. Glancing at his watch, at 9:20am, the day was well underway.

“Well, aren’t you glad I’m here?” she asked, rising from the couch and walking over to the bed, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Considering I’m leaving this morning, we could have spared you the trip,” he answered, putting his hands on her waist as he looked up at her.

“I thought Osagie said you would be here for a few more meetings tomorrow.”

While that had been the plan, the need to see his mother had upended that. The meetings weren’t that important. His rekindled need to see his mother was.

“I’m headed to Awka this morning. I want to see my mom,” he answered, his eyes widening at the radical thought that followed. “Come with me.”

“Come with you where?” she scoffed, pulling away from his hold and walking over to the mini bar. “You’re not the only reason I flew to Abuja at stupid o’clock in the morning. I’m also here for Bioye’s fortieth birthday.”

“Abolore says she’s not having a party,” Nonso repeated what his friend, who was also Bioye’s husband, had told him on Friday. With Bioye heavily pregnant, that she didn’t want any fuss was no surprise.

“I’m her best friend, so of course she wants me here,” Ogonna answered with an eye roll as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

Considering the two women had spent over twenty years hating each other, hearing them refer to each other as best friends was still an oddity.

“Her birthday isn’t till Tuesday,” Nonso pressed, rising to his feet and walking across the room to join her. “I can have you back here by then.”

“I don’t want to go to Awka,” Ogonna said, her face contorted in a way that expressed surprise he was suggesting such a thing. “Why would I follow you there?”

“Because I need you, Ogonna. Please.”

It was out before he could stop it. It wasn’t something he ever did; ask people for favours. He had learnt early the futility of trusting anyone but himself. The only person he showed some vulnerability to was his best friend, Ikenna, and only in small measures. He didn’t let people in. But as his eyes held Ogonna’s, extending the plea his mouth already had, he wasn’t about to retract it. The truth was he did need her. He needed to hold her hand when the anxiety of not knowing whether Chidi would let him see his mother became a full-blown panic attack. He needed the warmth of her embrace in the possible event of the journey being a wasted one and the clock since the last time he saw his mother ticking past four years

He needed her.

She said nothing in response, her face instead smoothening out of its frown and setting into impassivity, her gaze steady, her jaw relaxed, and her lips set in a line that was neither tight nor soft. Her face was unreadable and gave nothing away, but its stillness communicated more than the most articulate words ever could.

“I’m not about to disrupt my plans for a man who isn’t my husband,” she finally did say.

And there it was. The end of the truce they’d reached since their reconciliation the previous April after a short breakup following the ultimatum she had given him.

“Are you going to marry me or not, Nonso? It’s been two years. People who weren’t together when we started, people like Ikenna and Tomi, Abolore and Bioye, and now Bonju and Alero, are either married or set to marry. We’re not getting any younger and I’m tired of waiting.”

Those had been her words as they’d sat for dinner the previous March. As deeply as he’d felt for her, he hadn’t been sure it was what he wanted, not after the history they had. And he’d told her that.

“If you don’t see marriage in our future, then we have no future,” were her final words.

He hadn’t pushed back, instead agreeing it was best to release her to find the love she yearned for, the kind of love she deserved. But two weeks later, he’d walked into his apartment and found her cooking there like the last fortnight hadn’t happened.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nonso,” she’d said. “I’m going to fight for us with everything I’ve got. You’d best believe that.”

They had fallen right back into dating and there had been no more mention of marriage since.

Until now.

A humorless smile curved his lips. “I see.”

“If you want me to risk my life to travel to the east to see your family, you know what you need to do,” she went on.

Funny how she had no qualms about risking her life when she accompanied him on trips to luxury destinations around the world.

“Understood,” he nodded as he stepped back, his vulnerability calcifying and the door he’d opened slamming shut. “I better hop in the shower so I can get a move on. I want to get there early.”

“My luggage is downstairs,” she said. “I’ll have a porter bring it up. Is it okay if I stay here? As much as I love Bioye, I don’t exactly want to stay at her place.”

“Sure,” he answered, turning and walking in the direction of the bathroom.

“I’ll be here about a week or so,” she called to his retreating back.

“Stay as long as you want,” he answered, raising his voice over the running water. “If you need anything, let me know.”

Closing the door, he made no move for his toothbrush, staring at his reflection in the mirror as water continued to run from the faucet. He was a lone wolf. He’d built enough walls around himself to keep him standing. He didn’t need an emotional crutch.

He didn’t need anyone.

Need made people weak.

And he hadn’t built a billion-dollar empire by being weak.

 

It’s one more week to secure your (electronic) copy at the discounted price. Click here to preorder.