On His Terms

○×3:ex-fiances & money losses○×

<Today's mood: bitchy with a chance of sarcasm>

|Jadesola|

Tuesday, June 8th, 2021

"HOW DOES it feel being poor now, Ma'am?"

A click.

"Can you still afford your apartment?"

A whirr.

"Ma'am, have you always had boyfriends that ran off with your money?"

A flash.

And my track suit clad form was caught on camera the moment I stepped my sneakers out of the walls of my soon-to-be-bankrupt casino.

Incensed, I curved my fingers tighter around the Starbucks I clutched. If one more idiot was to ask about my moronic ex-fiance then I was sure to bath that person in a scalding shower of hot coffee.

Unfortunately, not only are reporters hounds, they're also a fascinating breed of asses---they don't have an astute sense of knowing when to withdraw. Putting it aptly, they were foolish.

I was caged, hemmed in by mic-gripping-reporters and snap-shot-crazy photographers shadowing my every brisk move. I was quite aware that they were just doing their job---being relentless pursers but couldn't they give me some breathing space?!

Amebos.

A thick set journalist, scribbling fast on his notepad was quick to ask without glancing up, "A few months ago you told the Love Show that your fiancé is the best person ever. How do you feel now, that the best person ever has robbed you?"

Despite living in Chicago for five years, my Nigerian accent was still present and it clearly showed now in my agitated tone. "No comment."

My lips stretched into a sickly sweet smile while I chewed the insides of my cheek, ire surging furiously in my veins.

Tagged as one of Chicago's best couples, Amir and I had been invited, three months ago, for an interview in the Love Show, a channel featuring couples and relationships. We had held hands, our fingers clasped jointly in the fierce grasp of love, laughing and looking into each other's eyes as we conversed with the host.

But it had all been a façade. The adoring expression on his face, a farce. The affectionate glint in my eyes, a ruse. Every-fucking-thing, from the tender looks we'd shared to the peck he'd placed on my cheek while onscreen was false. We had just been spitting lies, bullshitting ourselves.

Amir and I had never been in a love match. An arranged union to bring two powerful families together, we'd dated for a year, our marriage set to happen in the next two months.

In spite of not being in love with each other, we'd clicked, frequenting on the same wavelength. He was fun to be with, an infectious grin always present on his charming facial features and an easygoing camaraderie within us. Back then, I might have been slightly smitten by his sweet charisma but right now, with all the rage vested in me, I ached to use an axe to hack off that sugary smile on his deceiving face.

Oloshi.

One reporter, out of the writhing throngs of dogged hunters who called themselves the press, shoved the microphone in my face, a rude startling gesture that had me gnashing my teeth.

"Is it also true that you weren't satisfying him sexually and if that's true, do you think that it was among the reasons why he made off with the casino's earnings?"

As much as I want to take the dark sunglasses off my eyes and stare icily at that reporter, throwing her a well-deserved withering look, I couldn't for two good reasons. First, I didn't desire an extra helping of bad publicity. Amir had already wrecked my notable image and I was loath to add more salt to injury. Second, the whites of my eyes were tinged in red.