Heels, love, money.

Chapter Two.

Like any other city, Nairobi city in the dead of the night was only safe a few areas, but certainly not this section.

" If I die my ghost will haunt you ! " I yelled.

Gruesome imaginations of my possible night abduction and murder taking residence in my mind.

" Couldn't you just let me spend the night ! " A cry.

" Okay, even a good-bye would do ! " A last attempt.

It was hopeless.

The door to the agency motel was shut as soon as I stepped out and despite my pitiful cries for the past thirty minutes no one came in sight apart from a mean looking security guard who chased me away with words I dreaded to hear - what I had actually became.

" Go away, Malaya wewe ! "

I sank down on the pavement.

You know, the gift of parenthood is so underrated and it would actually take one to be in my shoes to understand what I meant.

Then, if my parents were still alive I would be running around their mansion, sashaying in every type of red heels I ever owned.

I wanted to become a designer, I had the talent for it. Only at eleven I drew master pieces that my mother tailored and would uniquely stand out whenever she went . It was a gift that saw us open a design business alongside our chains of family businesses, I'd draw, she'd tailor and sell.
I'd draw, she'd tailor then sell ...until that night.

That cruel night that my life was reduced to zero. A grisly accident that claimed my parents' life when they were about to deliver a bale of master piece designer clothes to a few clients in another county.

I was an only child, they were a young couple . My mother seven months heavy with another child, so no will was ever jotted down and due to silly tradition, all my father's wealth was reclaimed by his brothers leaving me with nothing. I was like an outcast, kicked out of my parents home like a rogue dog.

Kicked out of school for no school fees, I was out on the streets, poor than a church mouse and to survive, I stepped foot inside the very first agency in town.

A hidden motel in a rundown building. As usual, the pay was pathetic but I had a roof over my head and a promise of food by the end of the day.

It was almost bearable, almost.

I felt used, misused and I could not take it so I was kicked out. They kept at it and looking up I was out of the sixth motel only in four months.

I pulled my brown worn out coat tighter about my small body when I noticed a movement from the corner of my eye.

Two blocks across from me, a shadow was moving.

Maybe, I could join my parents by the end of this night.

That was not a bad idea.

Frankly speaking, I had been through enough but I was on my feet when I actually saw the shadow cross the street and a metal glinted in it's hand.

Change of plan.

I bolted, not caring to pull my suitcase - it had nothing that important anyway.

I glimpsed back.

The shadow had broke into a run, tailing behind me.

I spotted a club a few blocks down, my only savior.

The alley was dark, a norm in downtown - River road. I sped up not daring a look back huffing and puffing by the time I paused Infront of the entrance.

A huge bouncer sat at the door, his facial features akin to a bulldog that just had it's meal snatched.

I looked back, down the dark alley though I saw nothing I knew the shadows lurking within craved blood...my blood.

" What do you want ? " He growled.

I had to make a choice, I  unbuttoned my coat, a slow seductive movement that had his face softening into a scowl.

I stalked closer to him, his hands clearly in view itching to grab what he could see.

" If you let me in, I'll give you more by the end of the night, "

I had no intention of living up to the bargain.

He let me in, the stench of alcohol and smoke assaulting my nose.

I knew I was safer here.

I walked around, hugging my coat tight around my body.

Seductive dancing,

Spilled alcohol bottle,

A drunk singing on a table,

Underdressed waitresses,

Jamaican music blasting,

" Hey , watch it ! "

" Sorry," I mumbled at a drunk who rammed into me.

He staggered backwards, gave me a once over but got easily distracted by a scantily dressed waitress and walked away.

I found a corner to sit, a safe haven to think about my situation.

Not that I could apply for a job anyway, I was twenty and as far as education was concerned the only paper I had to indicate my scholarly level was my highschool certificate and slip, getting a job was out of question with that.

How about a menial job ?

Good question.

The same question my mind kept asking whenever I sat down to think about my fate but that too was hard to find especially in the city.

In Nairobi even the toilet cleaners were graduates, the building contractors were masters holders, a mama mboga franchise was the toughest to get into they were good at math.

Was I calling my self dumb ?

Of course not.

Let me  tell you, the situation was tough.

I had knocked around for the first week for any type of manual jobs around. They were willing to hire me, more than willing but when it came to payment all I ever received was.

Such little work and you expect pay, work more mrembo.

And I did.

But still...

No pay.

You haven't looked hard enough.

The random thought dropped into my head making me laugh out.

Hard enough...where ? That was the question.

I managed to steal a plate of french fries from the bar counter while no one was not looking.

I had become a thief .

One thing about this lifestyle is that it taught you never to judge.

Circumstance is all it took,

Fate.

And you would become something you may have despised so much.

Glossary.

- Malaya - a harsh Swahili term for ' prostitute'.

- Wewe - a Swahili word for ' you '.

- Mama mboga - A local Swahili term in Kenya referred to a woman that usually sells groceries in the neighborhood.

- Mrembo - A Swahili word for beautiful one.