Chapter 1

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This was no stranger! I had seen that face before, sometime that week. I blinked, shook my head, and risked looking up again and I ran straight into his stare. Impeccably dressed he was, you could smell class on the man and I'm very sure I wouldn't have given him a passing thought had it not been for the eyes; one white and one bloodshot. I could feel a nagging in my brain. Something Important, something that made my hand stop in the process of returning the cash book to the customer I was attending to. The red-eyed man was in between both lines and although Fumi's line was shorter than mine I could sense him edging my way. I made a show of checking the cash book again then pressing several keys on my desktop with a frown on my face as though there was a slight problem i was immersed with but as soon as I felt Fumi stamp a teller and signal for the next, I hurriedly released my customer with a hasty: "thanks for banking with us."

This charade would go on with my brain racing in all directions. Was it possible this man knew about the money? But that was absurd or was it? Did Chief send this man? Where had I seen that face before or those disturbing eyes? The few times I glanced up he was watching me, no expression on his face. Once or twice he glanced at his watch and seemed to be in a hurry.

Finally, I had managed in delaying my queue that when Fumi called for the next customer Mr. Strange eyes had to step forward lest risk strange and wondering looks in his direction. I tried to listen in on their exchange but he said really little and just handed over a slip. I glanced over nonchalantly and caught him looking dead at me with a sly smile on his lips. Suddenly it hit me; that was the very same mechanic who had come for my car less than 24 hours ago. My heart literally stopped as the possibilities began to take root. If this man was in any way linked with the Chief then I had just handed everything in my car (personal details about family) to the very last person who should see anything like that. The weight was crushing and I had to rest my head in my hands for a moment. I closed my eyes and saw it clearly; the 3 piece suit exchanged for the stained jumpsuit, the clean nails for the black oil-smeared one. Even the clean-shaven jawline for the scraggly beard of old. His pidgin English and illiterate look exchanged with the air of sophistication. The only thing he couldn't change was the eyes.
I heard a customer clear his throat in impatience and when I looked up strange eyes was gone. I looked sideways and caught Fumi looking at me strangely.
I hurried on with my duties, a bit embarrassed as to what she might be thinking. It was no secret that ever since Fome' called off the engagement I had gone through a really bad phase. I still heard whispers here and there but ignored most of it and had been doing fine and not even pretending until that very week....

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I have succeeded only in painting a small portrait, something like a passport. For you to see the bigger picture, however, you need to understand my frame of mind, to understand what drove my actions cause they were not pretty nor would be the repercussions as it would turn out. But that's getting ahead of the story.
My name is Obasi. Rex Obasi. Usually just Rex but during my school days, it was Oba.
I'm the only son with 3 sisters. I guess my parents were prepared to keep trying for a boy had I not come along when I did. And so my mother could finally 'hang her.....' (Boots doesn't quite apply) and thus became my journey in life. Typing these words, I swore to be honest to the letter and I plan to keep to that word because the truth is all I have. If only I had used it while the blade was sharp. Now I have learned, not being blunt cuts the deepest and I want no more cuts.
I was brought up in an environment with a mentality that most feminists fight against today, call it misogyny, elitism, whatever it is...was probably ingrained into me by my father who was also brought up that way. My parents were not one to display affections of love or even closeness. They always came about as a necessity-as something that had to be. They ran the house effectively, with my father working (as a physical laborer) and my mother running the house smoothly always in her 'wrapper' which my immediate elder sister referred to as her uniform.

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