Coincidence III

 

Amara remembered the day she met Ngozi. It had been a long day and meeting a rich brat wasn’t part of how she expected her day to go. She had boarded a bus from Lagos to Nsukka, where the university she attended was located. The University of Nigeria. She was about to begin her second year in the den. Things hadn’t been rosy at home. She had to work as a waitress in a restaurant close to her home to be able to survive the coming semester. Her father could only afford her school fees. Her mother wasn’t doing anything then to help. They had argued that morning before she had left.

“Mummy, you used to bake so well. Start baking again and sell the cakes so you can take some of the weight off Daddy’s shoulders.”

“Are you drunk, Amara?” Patricia had practically yelled, causing Mr. Kenneth Eze, Amara’s father to come to the living room. “What’s the problem, Pat? It’s still early in the morning, why are you yelling?

“Oh, I’m yelling okwaya. You and your daughter have decided to gang up against me this morning. First, she accuses me of being lazy, now you say I’m a mad woman.”

“Mummy!” Amara was shocked. “Nobody called you lazy or mad. I was just making a suggestion and daddy was just—”

“Mechie onu gi ebe ahu. Shut that mouth of yours.” Patricia bellowed. “I don’t blame you. I blame your father for all this. He gave you long hand to insult your mother.” Then she started to weep. Kenneth had managed to stop the weeping and take Amara to the bus park so she could leave for school.

“Don’t worry about us, Amara,” Kenneth had tried to reassure his daughter. “We’ll be fine. Just concentrate on your studies.”

“But Daddy—”

“Enough. You are a strong lady and I thank God every day for giving you to me. But now,” he held her in his arms, “now you have to have faith that we’ll be fine.” He kissed her forehead and Amara tried not to cry as she said goodbye to him and boarded the bus.

Now sitting beside the window in the bus, the girl who sat beside her smelled of money. Her handbag looked like something that could cost the same as Amara’s school fees. Her manicure was absolutely the kind that didn’t cost #300 to fix. She wore a very simple gown with the Armani logo on it. Her phone was the latest iPhone then. She couldn’t remember which it was. The girl had said hello to her when the journey had started. Then tried to offer her some snacks she was eating. Then tried to engage her in a conversation. But Amara wasn’t in the mood for any of it. She had had a sour morning and all she wanted to do was to be left alone. The girl couldn’t get the memo. Amara had pretended to sleep several times just to get her to shut up.

  Amara couldn't understand why a rich girl, a pretty good talkative rich girl, was sitting on a bus with her when she could have been on a plane and disturbed whomever she wanted. It was as though the girl read her mind because she spoke up immediately after the thought flashed through Amara’s mind.

“Hmmmph. What on Earth made me think a road trip would be fun?”

They were in Ore. Their bus had broken down immediately after they had left the filling station where they had stopped to get something to eat.

“First time?” Amara had asked before her brain could tell her mouth to stay shut.

The girl had glared at her for what seemed like hours before she answered, “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Oh great. Sorry, I asked that question.”

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Amara looked up to the sky as if praying, “I don’t even know you. I don’t have an opinion of you.”

“But you have tried to avoid me even though we’re sitting beside each other.”

“It’s because you’re too chatty. We’re not friends. You don’t have to be nice to me.”

“Oh, and I thought being nice was what the world wanted. In that case, I won’t be nice to you.” The girl turned away from Amara.

Amara sighed. She wasn’t usually like that. She hated that she was letting the troubles of home travel with her. It was making her unbearable.

“I’m sorry I didn’t accept your snacks, but then, they might have been poisoned.”

The girl snickered and turned back around to face her. Then put her hands on her hips. “Go on.”

“What makes you think I have more to say?”

When the girl didn’t respond, Amara just decided to continue, “I’m sorry I didn’t engage in your conversations or return your greeting. It was rude of me. I am just having a bad day.”

“We all have bad days. And I’m not usually nice. I just thought that if I was going to enjoy my road trip, I should get along with who I’m sitting with. Apparently, that didn’t work out.”

Amara snorted, “you’re not nice?”

“No.”

“Ok, if we’re gonna keep talking, you’re gonna have to be nice.”

“What makes you think I want to keep talking to you?”

“Because you want to enjoy your road trip. It’s a long way to Nsukka dear.”

“I can be nice,” the girl had responded mischievously.

“That was very creepy. Anyway, I’m Amarachi. You can call me Amara.”

“Ngozi.”

Amara watched as the driver reassured the passengers that they would be moving in 10 minutes. “So, Ngozi, I believe this is your first road trip.”

Ngozi had shifted on her feet. “Yes and no. First long road trip. I normally—"

“You normally fly.”

“Yes,” Ngozi had replied reluctantly. “How are you figuring this out?”

Amara smiled and whispered in her ear, “you smell of money. Hopefully, no one else on this bus will notice your pretty expensive handbag, wristwatch, phone, and sneakers.”

Ngozi's face had contorted in worry. “I err, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Amara had loved watching her fidget. The truth was the bus they had boarded was from a genuine bus park. She figured they were relatively safe from thieves. As long as they kept an eye on their belongings. And that’s what she had been doing for Ngozi without the girl knowing. She briefly explained everything to her as they boarded the bus again and the journey continued.

“So, where are you headed?” Amara asked.

“School,” Ngozi said. “Normally, I take a flight to Enugu then take a private car to Nsukka, courtesy of my father. I’ve never gone on a long road trip alone. My parents would kill me if they found out.”

Amara wanted to say many things at once, but she decided to take them one at a time. “So, you’re a rebel.”

Ngozi scowled at her, “it’s not like that. They never let me do some things by myself. I decided that going on the trip alone would make them know that I can be responsible.”

Amara thought of how she had taken so many jobs to be responsible and this rich kid thought going on a road trip by herself was being responsible. People were different.

“That’s nice. But they’d kill you afterward.”

“Maybe, but I’d have proven my point.”

“So, you attend UNN.”

“Yeah, I do.” Ngozi looked at her briefly and gasped. “You do too, don’t you?”

Amara replied, “yes. Department of Mass communication. You?”

“Fine and applied arts. We’re even on the same faculty. This is great.” Ngozi giggled.

“Chill. How are you even attending UNN? You’re rich right, couldn’t you like, leave the country or attend them private unis?”

“Well, I could have, but I chose the school. It’s far away from my home and still in Nigeria. I wanted to stay in Nigeria.”

“Wow, you’re so weird. I’d have loved to get out of this place if I were you.”

Ngozi laughed, “I’m sure you would. But I’ve been outside the country a lot. I can go whenever I want to.”

Amara finally asked the question she had wanted to ask from the beginning. “What’s your surname? Are you like rich popular or silently rich?”

“I’m Ngozi Peters, the last child, and daughter of Chief and Lady Njoku Peters. My father is Njoku Peters, CEO of Peters Shipping company, Peters Manufacturing Company, and Peters Hospital.”

Amara’s mouth had been agape. Ngozi wasn’t just rich, she was wealthy. And it was generational wealth. The Peters date back to her grandfather’s days when Ngozi's grandfather had started his company and diversified. “Shh, don’t talk again.”

“Why?” Ngozi frowned.

“Because if people knew who you were, they’d kidnap you.”

Ngozi swallowed, “then my parents would kill me.”

“Not if you’re already dead.”

Ngozi gasped in horror. Amara had chuckled but had told her taking a long road trip by herself wasn’t such a wise decision.

They had been talking in hushed tones before, but they spoke in more hushed tones after Ngozi's fear had evaporated a bit and Amara’s shock had passed. Luckily, they arrived at Nsukka at 8 pm without Ngozi getting kidnapped. Ngozi had made sure Amara stayed over in her secure apartment that night. She hadn’t wanted to be alone and she hadn’t wanted Amara to start looking for a place to stay that night.

“I heard getting a room in the school’s hostels is a rigorous process. Do you have a place to stay this night?” Ngozi asked.

“A classmate of mine already got a room, I was going to stay with her and keep applying for accommodation.”

“You could stay with me tonight, then go to your classmate’s tomorrow?” Ngozi suggested. “I’m being nice.”

Amara smiled and accepted her offer. And since then, they had been friends. They even became best friends. Ngozi couldn’t forget how Amara had made sure she was safe during that trip by telling her what to say and how to act. If not for Amara, she probably would have been robbed or kidnapped. Eventually, in their third year, Amara moved into Ngozi's apartment as her flatmate. They had become inseparable ever since. Amara was the cool-headed one, while Ngozi was the crazy one. They had continued to share the inside joke of Ngozi being nice whenever someone did something utterly annoying and Ngozi had wanted to rain hailstones on such a person.

“Be nice, Zii.”

“Gozi, try to be nice.”

“Ngozi Peters, could you please be nice.”

Ngozi was there for Amara a lot. She knew of the financial difficulties Amara’s family had and she had helped, against Amara’s furious objections. She’d say, “what are friends for? I can’t do nothing when I can do something.”

“Madam. Hello? Are you even on Earth?” Ngozi snapped her fingers in Amara’s face, snapping her back to the present. Amara blinked twice and answered, “Yes, I’m on Earth, where else would I be?”

“Probably in cloud 9, thinking of man.” Ngozi tsked.

Amara sighed, “I wasn’t thinking of him. I was actually thinking of us. You remember the day we met?”

Ngozi smiled and continued applying mascara on Amara’s lashes, “of course I do. I was scared to pieces when you told me going on a road trip myself was a bad idea.”

“Well, it was a bad idea. Ngozi Peters had acted stupidly. Such a big surprise.”

“If you don’t sit still or shut up, you’re gonna ruin your makeup.”

Amara chuckled and Ngozi had to stand upright to stare at her. “What? You’re the one that brought me out of my thoughts, now you want me to stay quiet.”

“You know what, I’m done anyway. You can finish applying your own mascara,” Ngozi handed Amara the mascara and turned to face the mirror to adjust her own makeup.

“Ahan na,” Amara pouted. “Small thing I said, you’re doing shakara now, because you’re a badass makeup artist.

Ngozi laughed, “the shakara is justified. I am a badass makeup artist.”

“Abeg make we hear word,” Amara finished applying the mascara. The truth was, Ngozi was done with the makeup. The mascara was just a finishing touch.

“My dad won’t stop telling me to open a real art studio, instead of the makeup one I have,” Ngozi sighed, “but mummy loves it because she gets to use the studio for free. Funny woman.”

“Your parents are a couple I love. Can’t wait to see them again.”

“Yeah yeah. 35 years of marriage isn’t beans oh.” Ngozi looked up, as if to heaven. “God when oh.”

Amara looked at her, “I thought you and Chuka have been hanging out.”

“Chuka is cute alright, but I’m not the lovey-dovey girl right now. You are.”

“Well, is Chuka coming for your parents’ anniversary tonight?”

“I thought I told you he’s not in town.”

“Err, no you didn’t,” Amara said, putting on her gown.

“Oh. Must have slipped my mind. Anyway, he’s not in town.”

“Hmmm.”

Ngozi paused to look at her friend smoothen her red gown. The left arm had no sleeve, while the right arm had a long sleeve that stopped at the wrist. It was done with a silky material, totally different from the material used for the rest of the gown. The gown stopped at her knee and she looked really spectacular in it. Her shoes would add to the magic no doubt. Too bad Lucas wasn’t gonna make it. He would have dropped dead seeing her in that dress. The dress Ngozi had made sure she acquired for Amara.

“You can say that you’re sad he’s not coming too, babe.”

“He said he’s busy, that he has work to do and all that. Today’s Saturday and he’s still busy,” Amara replied absent-mindedly.

“You can say that you’re sad he’s not coming,” Ngozi reiterated.

Amara threw her hands up. “Ok, fine. I’m sad he’s not coming. Today’s supposed to be the day we see that’s not going to be a coincidence and he can’t make it.”

“There’ll be other days, you know.”

“I don’t know when that would be.”

“Oh baby, you really are smitten.”

Amara gave a wry smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve been excited about a guy. This one’s really cool. I mean, we’ve spoken every day since Cubana—”

“Which was a month ago,” Ngozi interjected.

“Don’t interrupt me. It’s not like you and Chuka don’t speak or see each other.”

Ngozi kept her lips sealed. She and Chuka had met once since that day and even exchanged kisses. Details which she had shared with Amara of course. This was not a good time to bring it up. “Sorry, continue.”

“We’ve spoken everyday and I can feel that there’s something there. It can’t just be from my end. And it’s definitely not just the school girl crush I had on him back then—”

“Oh my goodness,” Ngozi gasped. “You had a crush on Lucas when he was dating boss bitch Beverly in secondary school?”

Amara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, I did. No one knew. I kept it to myself.”

“Yes, you did. Clearly. You even kept it from me when you told me about your first running in.”

“Ok, I forgot to mention it.”

Ngozi squinted at her friend. Of course she didn’t forget. She just didn’t want to say. “Ok, if it isn’t a school girl crush, what is it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. And I want to see him again to know. And the day I finally find the courage to see him again, he can’t make it.”

“Never say never dear,” Ngozi replied, putting on her own white dress. She and her siblings were wearing white for the anniversary. “You could show up at his place in that dress and he’d forget whatever’s keeping him busy.”

“Gozi!” Amara exclaimed. “I’m going to wait for you in the living room. Hurry up so we won’t be late.”

Ngozi snickered as Amara left her alone in her bedroom.

Amara sat on the couch and wore her pair of silver heeled slippers. She had chosen her outfit days before the event. Ok, Ngozi had chosen the outfit for her. Then she had invited Luc to the Peters' anniversary party. She just didn’t know he wouldn’t be able to attend. What was she thinking, dreaming about how the night would go when she finally told Luc she has feelings for him. Would he say he had feelings for her too or would they just keep being friends? She wouldn’t know tonight anyway. She pushed Ngozi's suggestion out of her head. Definitely because she didn’t want to look desperate for his attention. Also, she didn’t know where he lived. She took her phone out of her handbag and dialed Luc's number. It rang, but there was no answer. He was definitely busy. She decided to text him that she would be leaving for the party soon. She forced herself not to end the text with 'thinking of you’. Sighing, she decided she would enjoy the party tonight, with or without Luc.

Her phone rang and without checking the caller ID, she picked the call.

“Luc?”

“Luc kwa?” the voice at the end of the line said.

Shit. It was her mother. And she had been avoiding this particular call.

“Look, as in look where you’re going, Ngozi,” she managed.

Patricia scoffed, “so you’re going to hang out with rich people.”

“Mum please. I was invited by the Peters'.”

“And you couldn’t extend the invitation to your mother also.”

She would never tell her mother that the invitation was extended to anyone she wanted to invite. If Amuche were around, she would have invited her. She would never extend the invitation to her mother. Patricia wouldn’t keep her mouth shut and would want to be noticed and identified amongst the rich. She’d use her daughter if she had to. As much as Amara loved her mother, she didn’t want the embarrassment.

“Mummy, I’ll get you lots of souvenirs, I promise.”

“Ok oh, add money to it. And ask your friend to introduce you to her rich male friends too.”

“I’m ready. Let’s hit the road.”

Amara couldn’t have been more happy that Ngozi chose that moment to come out. “Ok Mum, I gotta go. Bye.” She didn’t wait for her to say anything else.

“Mum still pissed she ain’t coming?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to be you when she finds out you deliberately left her out. And chose man.”

Amara rolled her eyes at Ngozi. “Can we leave now?”

“Yes, we can.” Ngozi stifled her laughter.

They both left Ngozi’s apartment in Ngozi’s car and drove to Osbourne Estate, Ikoyi. The Peters’ home was a white mansion hidden behind a massive gate. Ngozi had easy access driving through as the daughter of the house. Amara had been there a few times, but each time she came, she was as awed as the last time.

“I still can’t get over your house,” Amara said to Ngozi as the car traveled the road from the gate to the house. They passed the fountain which was glowing now. She wondered how they set the lights in the water.

“Correction,” Ngozi began, “my parents house.”

“Oh please, you grew up here. It’s still bloody well your house.”

Ngozi sighed, “you’re right. It is. It is home.”

Ngozi stopped the car somewhere in front of the house and threw the keys at a valet to park the car well. Amara was really excited to be here. She put Luc aside and decided to enjoy the party.

***

The party took place in what could be a ball room in the Peters’ residence. The high walls were decorated with long flowing colors of gold and white. Different pictures of the couple, representing almost each year of their marriage, were stationed here and there. There was enough to eat and drink. After greeting Ngozi’s parents, laughing with them, talking with Ngozi’s older siblings and their spouses, playing with Ngozi’s nephews and nieces, mingling with a few of her friends, dancing and singing for Ngozi’s parents, taking lots of pictures, Amara and Ngozi were finally alone at a table. They had just had a very light dinner and were both sipping red wine.

“This party is great, Zii,” Amara said in between sips. “The event planner over did herself or himself.”

“I know right,” Ngozi concurred. “Mum and Dad are very happy. Mummy even made sure I refined her makeup.”

That made them both laugh. It was a great night.

“Is that Lucas?” Ngozi asked looking across the room. Amara had to tilt her head to the left to see for herself. She had a smile on her face, until she saw who he was with. “And who is that woman that has her hand crooked in his elbow?” Ngozi added.

Amara gasped. The night just went from great to horrible.

“He didn’t come for you did he?” Ngozi asked noticing the horror on her best friend’s face.

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t been able to reach him all night.” She turned to face Ngozi and muttered to herself.

“What did you say Amara?”

“What is she doing here?” she asked no one in particular.

“Who? The lady with him?”

“Yes, yes, her.” Amara poured more wine for herself and took a long gulp before continuing. “That’s Beverly.”

Ngozi gasped, “what? Boss bitch Beverly from secondary school?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, for real. What is she doing here? And is that an accent?” Ngozi asked as she heard Beverly speak out loud.

“I don’t know, Zii.” Amara tried not to hyperventilate. What was Luc doing here with Beverly? Were they still seeing each other? Why did he lie to her that he couldn’t come to the anniversary party and then show up with his Ex? What sort of game was he playing? To think she almost laid bare her heart to him.

“Say the word and they’re both out of here.” Ngozi cut through her thoughts.

“No, gosh no. They both haven’t seen me. So we’ll keep it that way.”

“If wishes were horses,” Ngozi said. “I think the princess has noticed you and is currently making her way towards you with prince charming. I’m loving the look of terror on his face.” Ngozi grinned menacingly.

Amara tilted her head again to the left and saw them walking towards them. She locked eyes with Luc for a second and did see the terror on his face. She sat upright and said to Ngozi, “Zii, please be nice.”

Ngozi kept smiling, “but I’m always nice.”

 “I mean it, Zii. Just be nice,” Amara massaged her temples and gulped more wine.

“Fine,” Ngozi gritted her teeth.

“Amara, is that really you?” Beverly said in a British accent. She had a smile on her face that was anything but real.

Amara turned to look at her and plastered the most beautiful smile she could create. “Wow, Beverly?” She heard Ngozi snort but ignored her. She stood to have a better look at Beverly. Damn she was gorgeous. She hated her instantly again.

“Oh I knew it was you. I kept telling Luc here that it was you. You know my boyfriend Luc, right?” Beverly rubbed her palm over Luc’s chest. Amara tried not to cringe or lock eyes with Luc. Boyfriend?

Then she said, still with a smile on her face, “your boyfriend? I don’t think I remember.”

“Oh I don’t blame you. You weren’t exactly popular in school to know these things. Besides, my Luc is sexier now.” Beverly said, still with her fake smile.

Amara spared Luc a glance and noticed how uncomfortable he was.

“I’m not your boyfriend, Beverly.” Luc finally said.

“Would you look at that?” Ngozi said from the table. “You guys aren’t sure if you’re dating?”

The three of them turned to look at Ngozi. “Sorry, and you are?” Beverly asked.

“Oh, my bad. Amara’s best friend. Ngozi Peters.”

Ngozi noticed the shock on Beverly’s face at the mention of Peters.

“Surely not related to the Peters celebrating today,” Beverly said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, very much related to them,” Ngozi said with satisfaction. “I’m their daughter.”

Luc could think of many ways his mood could be ruined. The first was to spend time with Beverly. And he wasn’t just going to spend time with her, he had to lie to Amara to do it. After he had made up the lie, he suddenly wished he had told her the truth. Amara had invited him for Ngozi’s parents' anniversary. It would have been great to see her again. He wanted to see her again. He had wanted to ask her out on many occasions since they met at Cubana, but he had balked at the last minute. Now, she was the one who asked him and he couldn’t help but be more attracted to her. The only problem was that the day of the week of the anniversary was the same day of the week he had to be Beverly’s date at a function. He had agreed to it long before he had started liking Amara. It was just a favor Beverly had asked for after she helped him get a client.

Chuka had warned him to cut Beverly out of his life completely and he was going to do that.

 After the function.

 He didn’t want her interfering with his life anymore. She had caused him too much pain. When Amara had asked him to come with him to the Peters’, he had told her he had to work that night. Something that couldn’t wait. He felt bad lying to her, but he also didn’t know how he’d sound telling a girl that he fancied that he couldn’t go out with her because he had to go out with his Ex. Not just any ex, the ex she knew. The ex that was his first girlfriend. His first love. The ex that broke him. Why had he accepted Beverly’s help? She had said she was trying to make amends. To help him. She had landed him a client through her influence. Then she had said it’d only cost a tiny favor. He had agreed, against his better judgement and drove to her house to pick her up. He wasn’t surprised when she started flirting with him. Typical Beverly. He wasn’t surprised when she started making comments about wanting him back. Still typical Beverly. He wasn’t going to fall for her antics again. He just wanted the evening to be over. He wasn’t prepared for what she had been doing all night; introducing him to everyone who bothered to listen as her boyfriend.

And he definitely wasn’t prepared for what he witnessed at the party. He had seen the banner of the couple celebrating. He would have termed it a coincidence that they bore the same surname as Ngozi if he hadn’t seen the resemblance between Ngozi and the woman on the banner. And it was also a wedding anniversary celebration. And these weren’t ordinary people too. Amara had once told him Ngozi was wealthy. The Peters were not your regular rich people. They were freaking wealthy. And now he was having a heart attack.

Damn it!

Amara was definitely at this same party. He hoped he’d have the chance to see her if he could just extricate himself from Beverly’s grip on his arm. She smiled at people, greeted some, laughed out loud, took as many photographs as possible and introduced him as her boyfriend again. What the hell was wrong with her?

“I’m not your boyfriend, Bev,” he said to her when she had greeted someone she supposedly knew. “You need to stop introducing me as that.”

“I like how you call me Bev,” she purred.

“I mean it. Cut it out.”

“Oh don’t be such a spoil sport,” she said, caressing his cheek. He had to move his face away from her. She only smiled and continued talking. “I can’t keep explaining what you aren’t to everyone. Imagine me saying, this is my ex or he’s just someone doing me a favor or someone I’m trying to—”

“My name is fine. More than fine.”

She snorted.

“What are we even doing here? He asked. “How did you get invited to the Peters’ anniversary?”

“Oh, I know someone who knows them. I made her get me an invitation.”

“How did you make her get you an invite?” Luc was more than sure Beverly didn’t ask nicely.

“Oh, I won’t bore you with the details. The good thing is I’m here.” She stopped talking and stared at someone or something. “And it’ll be good for the publicity of my blog.” She continued. “Is that Amara?”

Oh shit. Luc didn’t want to look in the direction she was looking. “Who?”

“Oh, some lame classmate of mine at Morning Dew.”

“Lame?”

“Yes, lame. She wasn’t popular, so you wouldn’t know her,” she said matter-of-factly.

 You’d be surprised, Luc thought to himself.

“I wonder what she’s doing here. She looked poor then.”

Luc hadn’t looked at Amara’s supposed direction and he tried to cajole Beverly into minding her business. “You shouldn’t say that about people. Now, we’ll mind our business and leave this Amara alone.” Of course that didn’t work.

“Oh darling, I own a gossip blog. Do you think I wouldn’t want to find out what a commoner is doing at a party like this.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Common, let’s go meet our school mate. Whoever she’s with looks a bit familiar too.”

She dragged him and he had to finally look at the direction they were going. He could see Ngozi clearly as she was facing them. Amara was sitting sideways. Yes, it was definitely Amara. They locked eyes for a second and he knew he was in trouble. She didn’t smile at him.

“Amara, is that really you?” Beverly asked as soon as they got to the table the ladies were.

Amara tilted her head to gaze at Beverly. She looked beautiful as always.

“Wow, Beverly?” she said. He thought he heard something from Ngozi. He looked at her and saw the scariest grin he had ever seen. Amara stood up and he felt safer looking at her than at anything else, even though he knew she probably hated him at the moment. She wore red. Why had he chosen Beverly over this wonderful creature?

“Oh I knew it was you. I kept telling Luc here that it was you. You know my boyfriend Luc, right?” Beverly rubbed his chest. He tried to get out of her grip. She just introduced him as her boyfriend to Amara.

He thought he might throttle her.

Amara smiled, “your boyfriend? I don’t think I remember.”

She pretended not to know him. Of course she would.

“Oh I don’t blame you. You weren’t exactly noticeable in school. Besides, my Luc is sexier now.” Beverly continued.

Amara glanced at him then, her expression was blank. It made him uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t let Beverly cut the thin line he was still hanging on with Amara.

“I’m not your boyfriend, Beverly.”

“Would you look at that. You’re not sure if you’re dating?”

They all spun to face the person that spoke imperiously.

“Sorry, and you are?” Beverly asked, the disdain dripping in her tone.

“Oh, my bad. I’m Amara's best friend. Ngozi Peters.”

Luc felt Beverly stiffen. “Surely not related to the Peters celebrating today?”

“Oh, very much related. I’m their daughter.” Ngozi still had that look on her face and the imperious tone. If he wasn’t so scared of her at the moment, he would have hugged her for making Beverly uncomfortable.

“This would be a good story for your blog, right?” he asked Beverly. She shot daggers at him with her eyes and tried to smile at Ngozi and Amara. He noticed what she was trying to do. Such an ass kisser.

“Oh, my bad. I thought you looked familiar though—”

“I don’t much care about what you thought or didn’t, dear.” Ngozi cut her off. “Who are you anyway?”

Beverly swallowed, “Beverly Oche.”

Ngozi narrowed her eyes in recognition of the name. “Beverly Oche? Of Bev’s Juices?” Amara sat down. She was clearly forgotten by Beverly. He couldn’t read her face. What was she thinking? He’d do anything to be alone with her now.

Beverly’s face lit up like a child’s after his or her parents' praise. “Yes, you’ve heard of my blog. How amazing.”

“I wish I could say the same about your blog,” Ngozi fired.

Just like that, Beverly’s face crumpled.

“Zii,” Amara said.

Ngozi smiled, she picked up a glass of wine from the table and sipped.

“Would you like to sit with us?” Amara asked. Why did she ask that?

“Oh, I’m sure Beverly would want to get all the juicy details at this party. She can’t possibly sit in one place.” Ngozi smiled.

“Yes, I do have a job to do.” Beverly rolled her eyes. “It was nice meeting you Ngozi. And seeing you again Amara.” She tried offering a tight smile before pulling Luc away.

“That stupid girl thinks she can insult me because I’m at her parents’ party?” Beverly thundered as they walked away.

“You sorta looked for the insult,” Luc said.

Beverly glowered at him, “don’t take her side. She hasn’t heard the last of me. She and her lower class best friend Amara. I’ll drag their names in the mud if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Or, you could just be friendly.”

“Maybe, then rip them apart from the inside.

Luc was tired of Beverly. “Don’t be petty, Bev. Maybe you should enjoy your party on your own, while I try to find my own fun.” He extricated her hand from the crook of his elbow. “I’ll see you when you’re ready to leave.” He didn’t wait for her response. He walked back to Amara and Ngozi.

“I asked you to be nice, Zii,” Amara lamented the minute Beverly and Lucas left. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Oh please, that was as nice as I could be to that gossip. She felt you were beneath her. She felt like the queen of the party. I’d like to know who invited her here.”

Amara sighed.

Ngozi looked at her, “why didn’t you tell me Boss bitch Beverly is the same person as gossip girl Beverly Oche?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“You didn’t—” Ngozi took deep breaths. “You didn’t think it was necessary for me to know that? Just as you didn’t think it was necessary that I know you crushed on Luc in secondary school. I thought I’m your best friend.”

“Zii, please. I don’t want a fight with you. Not when I feel this terrible.”

Ngozi took Amara’s hand and stroked it gently. “I forgive you.” Amara wrinkled her nose at her. “But I’m here, B. You gotta tell me things. The good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful. Even the most irrelevant.”

“Ok, I’ll tell you every irrelevant thing too,” Amara gave a wry smile.

“Good.”

“Like how you might get drunk if you keep drinking.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine.” She scrutinized Amara. “And you, how are you?”

“I just told you I feel terrible.”

“Jeez. I’m sorry. I really don’t know why Luc would bring her here. I thought he was cool, seems he’s just an asshole too.”

“I wished he hadn’t lied to me,” Amara responded. “I don’t want to talk about him. It’s a party and we should keep having fun.”

Ngozi clapped her hands, “that’s the spirit. When we get home, you can tell me how you want me to kill Luc.”

“Kill Luc?”

They both raised their heads to find Luc staring at them with horror.

“Yes, kill you,” Ngozi said flatly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Luc evaded Ngozi’s question and spoke to Amara, “can I talk to you?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Amara said.

Luc took a chair and sat beside Amara, “please. Just hear me out. I can explain everything.”

“I need some air,” Amara stood up to leave. “I’ll be in the garden, Zii.” She walked out.

Luc didn’t wait a second, he was on her heel.

“Amara, please just listen to me,” he said, walking through the crowd. Amara tried to breathe as she made her way to the garden at the side of the house. She found a spot that wasn’t occupied by anyone. Of course Luc was at her side the moment she stopped walking.

“What part of ‘I didn’t want to talk to you’ didn’t you understand?” She glowered at him.

Luc removed his glasses and placed them in his pocket. Amara tried not to notice how beautiful his eyes were. She wasn’t sure she had seen him without them since they started seeing each other coincidentally.

“I know I messed up, Amara-”

“Yes, Lucas. You messed up. Big time. What do you want to say? Fancy meeting you here?”

“No, not that. Would you please hear me out?”

“No, you hear me out. I thought we had a connection. I thought we could build something. But maybe I was wrong, maybe it was just one sided.”

“It wasn’t one-sided, babe. I swear to you. It wasn’t.” He tried to take her hand but she stepped away from him.

“I don’t believe you. It seems you’re still with Beverly. I am such an idiot.”

Luc massaged his temples. “I am not with Beverly. She was just making it all up. You gotta believe me.”

“You lied to me about where you’d be tonight. I don’t think I believe anything you say at the moment or if I’ll ever believe anything you say again. Just leave me alone.”

“Amara—”

“Leave me alone, Luc.” Amara said adamantly. She turned away from him and walked away. This time, he didn’t follow her.

Luc wasn’t prepared for the rejection from Amara. He knew she’d be angry. He knew she’d be upset. But he didn’t know she wouldn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t know she’d term him a liar. He was a liar. Maybe he didn’t deserve her forgiveness. He really didn’t know much about women. It felt like the chance he thought he might have with this beautiful woman was destroyed before it could even start. He let out a deep breath as he stood alone in the garden. He couldn’t stay at this party. Beverly would have to find her way back home if she still wanted to stay. He turned to find his way to the hall and almost jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus! Ngozi, how long have you been standing there?” he placed his hand on his chest to steady his heart.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t hear your conversation with her.” Ngozi said.

Luc remained silent. Ngozi was looking at him menacingly again. The girl gave him the creeps. She walked towards him and it took everything in him not to take a step back. Why the hell was he scared of a girl?

“If I see you anywhere close to her again. I’ll chop your head off.”

Luc gulped.

“If she as much as tells me you made contact with her and she cried. Lucas Maduka, if Amara cries, other than because of tonight, I’ll skin you alive and feed your corpse to the dogs. Do you hear me?”

Luc nodded, unable to speak.

“I need to know you understood me. So, speak up. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Luc mumbled.

“Good,” Ngozi smiled again. “Enjoy the rest of the party.” She sauntered towards the direction Amara had gone.

Now he knew why he was scared of Ngozi Peters. The rich brat just threatened him. He didn’t bother finding Beverly. He texted her that he was leaving, found his car and left the party. How on earth was he going to win Amara back if talking to her meant he would probably be dead the next second?