When A Playboy Loves

|| 30.

Utianle

Out of sight, out of mind. Lies. Big, fat lies. The image of a particular brown-eyed man plaguing my mind was evidence of that and Faith was to blame. She should never have made mention of her research - implantation genetic or whatever she called it. The procedure was as expensive as purchasing a new home here in Calabar, I would never be able to afford it, not now.   

I played with the ring on my middle finger, half hoping that by doing that, the blurred image in my head that were struggling to form would morph into the face of the man who proposed. The image vanished, replaced by an all too familiar voice that whispered, now smile for zaddy all over again in my head like a broken record. 

On cue, my eyes scanned the rows of cars parked in front of this monstrosity of a building for that beautiful Black, Mercedes Benz. The thought of seeing its owner today made my heart pound and my stomach contracted into a tight ball. I swallowed dryly, unable to wet my parched throat. Most of the cars parked were sleek, expensive, they spoke volumes of the wealth of the invited guests but none of them was a Brabus. 

A heavy feeling settled in my chest, disappointment. I tried to shrug it off but the heaviness remained. Somehow, I knew that a few hours with him, no talking, just enjoying the comfort of each other's presence would ease me. At the same time, I was glad he was absent, we needed the space and as much distance between us.

Though it didn't seem like it, I knew I was doing the right thing and sometimes, the right thing has to hurt. My hands shook as I made to unbuckle the seatbelt and it took a few trials for me to finally succeed. 

"Ow, what was that for?" Faith cried out, holding the side of her arm I just pinched.

"Sorry?" I wasn't remorseful so it came off as a question rather than an apology.

If she hadn't talked about all those big, foreign words, I wouldn't have known them. If I didn't know them, I wouldn't be spending hours at night doing what I now liked to call, a sorry excuse for a research.

We were already a few minutes late, I was reluctant to go in and Faith didn't seem to mind staying outside here with me. 

Today was the boring part. Dr Becky, the co-host and Governor's wife would give the first lecture, a supposedly interactive session on Fashion meets Technology. Then a spree of exhibitions, Fashion Business Series, Master Hair Class and runways would conclude the show tomorrow.

"How much did you two finally agree on?" Faith asked, taking a look at her tiny gold wristwatch. She pressed a button by the left side of her chair and the upper part of her seat moved to form a slant line. 

"25 a week," I responded.

"That's fair." She banged her head continuously against the headrest, making a mess out of her already messy bun.

It was. At first, Courage, the man I hired to drive my car wanted to remit twenty thousand naira per week but after much back and forth, we settled on this amount. It was more than feasible, he could make times five of that amount in a week.

My car. The words felt good on my lips, I wanted to tell everyone I knew that Uti now had a car, a property to her name. Property I got from the money I earned, no borrowing. The feeling was euphoric, similar to getting pregnant for the first time.

When the one whose name sounded like royalty talked about joining the logistics business, I was barely listening. Buy a car, sign it up on Uber, have another person drive it instead and pay me weekly. It sounded like a joke, an avenue for someone to steal my vehicle until Faith brought in Courage, a jobless youth who recently concluded his service year. She trusted him, I had to.