𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 (𝐀 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧-𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥) ✔

- 2 -

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"I swear I'll transform to a boy o.. But wait first so they don't know that what a man can do a woman can do better kini."

pweety_1
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Unpopular opinion; being broke AF could let you think more than the person above the IQ of 170. People believe that when there's no money, you tend to think about the impossible. And right now, let just say I was thinking about the impossible.

"Bodyguard is out of it." I blinked once, twice, sigh.

"What?!" My brows knitted.

"I said bodyguard is out of it." It was really the next morning and Christy's arrival. Once Christy had walk passed the door, the first thing I showed was the opportunity set before me. If only she had looked.

"Stop looking down on me," I became overly dramatic, hoping Christy would look at things in my point of view. Christy let out a sigh as her legs got freed from the high boots she was putting on, then scurried towards the bed. "I can definitely beat boys."

Okay, that was totally a bluff.

"I'm quite certain the biggest requirement is that you have to be a boy. Boy! Last time I checked, you weren't a boy neither were you a transgender." Christy began to wriggle herself out of the skimpy red gown, till she laid flat on the bed with Just her bra and panties. "Barbecue dey inside black nylon."

I let out a squeal, happy she bought what I asked for, then stopped. I won't be distracted by a dead delicious garnished roasted catfish. I had serious matters on ground." I could cut my hair."

"You're mad," Christy sat and gave me the Waka sign. "See Cherry, you're not fine. So don't let anybody deceive you. Your beauty is in your hair. Barb it and your worwor will come out."

I scoffed, moved over to the plate rank to grasp a ceramic flat plate and two sachet pure water.

"Who even told you if you Barb your hair you'll automatically transform into a boy?" Christy readjusted her position so she could eat well while I opened the barbecue's silver wrap.

"Inside Korean film," I chewed on my platonic breakfast.

"Chai," Christy shook her head. "Nigerians."

"But Christabelle, serious na." I grumbled while eating. "There must be something."

"Hope, there's nothing." She decided on calling me by my actual name. "Look for another job."

"I can't—"

"Who dey house!" We knew that voice even in our sleep. Before saying come in, Baby walked in like his father owned the room we lived in.

"Ah, I waka well." Before I could say Jack, Baby moved over to our large drum and bailed water from it, before moving out to rinse his hands. Once he was done with that, he stepped back in, helped himself with a sachet pure water and found his way beside me.

"Where were you last night?" I settled on asking. Like I said, Baby, Christy and I, were close. Baby was twenty-three, a year older than I was. His complexion was at the middle but could also be classified as fair. He was also incredibly handsome. Get fine friends, e get why.

Baby had a reason he was called such name. Baby had two elder twin brothers and were all living together in the same room in this compound and Baby, was the youngest. His actual name was Rotimi. Mary and the others knew he was the youngest in the room and actually looked small in the midst of his brothers. So they began to call him Baby. Now, the name Baby has overshadowed his actual name.