Coincidence VIII

 

Daramola looked at his wristwatch. She was late and it pricked him. He glanced at the entrance to the reserved area of the restaurant, hoping for a glimpse of her when his eyes rested on a painting on the wall. He stared open-mouthed at it. It was of a lake. The water was still and as clear as a crystal. Lavenders and lilacs graced the scene too. As well as red roses and white lilies. The sky above was as bright as day, so he thought the artist must have painted during the day. How long he or she had taken to capture such a masterpiece, he would never know or care. He mentally traced his fingers over the painting and knew that he would either be getting it or something similar to it.

It spoke to him in ways he couldn’t understand. The painting might bring him peace, a peace he had been searching for. He had wanted to feel peace in the purest of forms for a long time but had long given up on that dream. There was no sleep for the wicked, right? Somehow, he believed that the painting could help put him at ease with himself. All he had to do was stare at it and he’d be calm.

All he had to do was block the chaos in his mind and he’d be fine, right? This spot was a good place, away from the entire restaurant. It had the privacy he wanted. 

The extra privacy.

He got distracted by a movement to his right and tilted his head in that direction. There she was, looking like a full meal. She wore a black gown with an off-shoulder neckline. He had imagined his lips and tongue on the nape of her neck and her shoulders for a very long time. All he had to do was look at her and a flame was ignited in him. He watched her hips swaying as she walked towards him. Why couldn’t she see that he wanted her so much? Why couldn’t she see that he’d give her anything she wanted if he could just have one night with her? One night of exploding passion was all he wanted damn it. Maybe not one night, but he had to start from somewhere and he felt once he had a taste of her, he’d want more and more. No man can have that kind of body in his bed and not be insatiable.

Forget the painting, what he wanted tonight was Amara, and he’d get her.

Daramola felt a bit of power surge through him. It wasn’t the first time he was using the tactic of “dinner with a client” to get an employee to go out with him, and it had always worked to his advantage.

He picked up the glass of wine he had been nursing since he arrived and gulped the contents. He adjusted his jacket and stood as she got to the table.

“Good evening, Sir,” Amara said. She glanced around.

“I’ve told you to call me Daramola a million times,” he growled. “Anyway, you’re  welcome.” He took her right palm and planted a kiss on it.

“Daramola!” She cleared her throat and took her hand from him. 

He came around the table and pulled out the chair for her to sit on. He watched her contemplate sitting or standing. I guess the former won because she sat down. He smiled to himself and went to his chair.

“Where’s the client?” she asked as soon as he sat down.

“Would you like some wine?” He asked instead.

“No, thank you.” She replied. “Where’s the client?” She asked again. It irritated him.

Just then, a waiter came bearing a platter of appetizers. He placed it on the table and was about to pour wine for them when Daramola asked him to leave it.

“Are you ready to order now, Sir?” The waiter asked.

“No, come back in five.”

He watched the waiter walk away, then looked at Amara. Her hair was pulled back in what was a ponytail and her face shone in the dim lights of the restaurant. He forked a pastry and popped it into his mouth.

“This is good,” he said, swallowing. “You should try it.”

He watched her pick up her fork and pop a small piece of samosa into her mouth.

“There,” she said to him. “I’ve had a bite. Now, where’s the client?”

“There’s no one coming.” He took a napkin and patted his lips. “It’s just you and I.”

Amara couldn’t believe her ears. Did he just say no one else was coming? She swallowed the words that were threatening to jump out of her throat and said instead. “Excuse me? I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand, Amara?” he asked, irritated. He poured wine for her into the glass she had just noticed was in front of her. She wasn’t going to drink that. For some reason, she felt she needed to be aware of her surroundings if she was going to be alone with him.

“Have a sip, the wine is good,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

“Ok, this nonsense has gone on too far,” she muttered to herself. Then out loud, she said, “Daramola, you said we were having dinner with a client of yours. Now you’re saying no one else is coming, I need to understand that.”

The waiter appeared again and asked. “Are you ready to order now?”

“Yes,” Daramola said.

“No,” Amara said, simultaneously. She glared at the waiter who had just interrupted her. 

“Ok?” the waiter looked from her to him and didn’t know who to obey.

“We’ll order now,” Daramola smiled at the waiter and placed orders for both of them.

As soon as the waiter left, Daramola said, “You need to relax, Amara. I got this reservation for us. For you to enjoy yourself. For us to enjoy each other. You shouldn’t be this uptight. It’s a beautiful evening and all I want to do is spend it with a beautiful woman.” He cracked a smile she had come to loathe.

She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. Clearing her voice, she said. “Did you trick me into having dinner with you?”

“I wouldn’t call it a trick—”

“Oh, my God!” She exclaimed and stood up.

“Sit down, Amara!” His eyes darted towards the entrance. She guessed he was hoping she hadn’t made a scene. She didn’t care.

“What is wrong with you, Daramola?” She flared up. “How could you be this petty? Tricking me into having dinner with you. For the love of God, I don’t want to date you.”

“Would you relax and let me talk?” 

Amara willed herself to be calm and sat down again. “What the bloody hell do you want to say?”

“Don’t forget I am still your boss,” he hissed. “Watch that tongue of yours.”

“Wow!” She clapped her hands. “Way to play that card with me, Boss.”

He looked at her malevolently and she muttered an apology for swearing at him.

“Look, you don’t have to date me.” He began, ignoring her apology. “All I want is one night with you. I just want to feel you under me. And I know that after one night, you’d want more. I know I’ll want more too.”

“Huh? Excuse me?” She was astonished at what he was saying.

“Look, if you think it is not worth your while, I can always pay you. We can work out the details of the arrangement. It’s just something we both have to agree on. We’re adults after all.”

Her face contorted in fury. This was even worse than dating him. Did he want to pay her to sleep with him? How on earth was he friends with Lucas? How on earth was she working for this maniac?

“You think me a whore?”

He scoffed, “you all are whores. You’re just waiting for the right guy to sell yourself to.”

She couldn’t bear this anymore. She stood to leave.

“My resignation letter would be on your desk, first thing Monday morning,” She spat. “I’m done working for you.”

“Do you know how many girls would want to be in your shoes right now, Amara? Tons of them. I’m giving you an offer of a lifetime and you’re just gonna throw it back in my face?”

“Why don’t you give the offer to the other girls that want to be in my shoes then? I’m not interested.”

She spun to leave. In a flash, he caught up with her and forced his lips on hers. She struggled to extricate herself from the embrace. “Get off me!” She yelled.  He had her hands behind her back with one of his hands and squeezed her breasts hard with the other. She yelped in pain. He tried kissing her again, but she moved her face away from his. Where was that waiter when she needed him? 

“Why don’t you want me?” He asked her. “Why don’t you want me, you little whore? Who do you have that’s making you ignore me?”

She found a way to raise her knee and hit him in the groin. She slapped him across the face as soon as he let go off her and groaned in pain. In a second she was at the door.

“You won’t be getting any recommendations from me, Amara.” He yelled at her back. “I’ll make sure you suffer. You won’t have a job and you’ll come begging to work for me again.” 

He rubbed his cheek which was still throbbing from the slap and rubbed his groin too. “Damn it! This didn’t go the way I imagined it. How could that bitch not want me?” He limped to his chair.

The waiter walked in with a tray and noticed Daramola talking to himself. “Sir?” He inquired.

Daramola spun to face him and lashed out. “Get out! Get the hell out of my sight!”

The poor waiter bolted with the tray of food.

***

“I found the restaurant as you said and got a good angle for pictures,” the photographer said to her in her hotel room.

She sat on the bed, sipping wine. “So, you did get something?” 

“I got as many pictures as possible,” he replied. “You’d be impressed. A lot of things happened, but I only got what you required.”

She smiled maliciously. “Can I see them?”

The photographer handed her the camera and she scrolled through the pictures. She saw the picture where he kissed her palm. It was perfect for what she wanted. She scrolled some more and found the picture where he kissed her on her lips. That one was more than perfect. She hadn’t for long to get what she wanted. A few days of following her and knowing exactly where she’d be had paid off. Now, she’d  make her pay.

“Excellent job,” she said to the photographer, sipping her wine.

“Thank you,” he smiled at her. “About that payment?”

“I’ll transfer the funds to you tonight,” she said, “but, before that…” she placed the camera and the wine glass on the table beside her and opened up her bathing robe to him. She watched as his eyes widened at the sight of her nudity. She bit her lower lip and gestured for him to join her in bed. “Come here!”

He didn’t waste a beat as he went for her like a hungry lion. As they made savage noises in bed, she thought of how those pictures would destroy the woman in them. It drove her to cloud nine.

***

“Amarachi, good morning.” Patricia greeted. She was standing at the entrance of Amara’s room. Amara was on her bed and her back was to the door.

“Good morning, Mummy,” she mumbled, not facing her mother.

“It’s a Monday morning, Amarachi.”

“Mummy, I know.”

“Aren’t you going to work?”

Amara wanted to take her pillow and cover her face. She didn’t feel like telling her mum about Daramola and she sure as hell wasn’t ready to see him that early. The resignation letter can wait a few hours.

“I’m not feeling well, Mummy,” she lied. She faked a sneeze.

“Ahan, since when?” Her mother had come to sit on the bed in a flash and touched her palm to her forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

Amara pulled her wrapper over her head and mumbled that she just wanted to sleep.

“Ok o. Nsogbu adiro. Let me make pap for you.” Patricia walked out of the room and Amara threw the wrapper away from her face. The next second, Amuche bolted into the room and shut the door.

“Can’t you knock?” Amara growled at her.

Amuche hissed and sat beside her on the bed. “I don’t understand you, Amara. Why didn’t you tell Mummy the reason you don’t feel up to going to work?”

“Tell her that I have quit my job in my head because my boss sexually assaulted me?”

“Yes, Amara. Yes.”

“I’ll pass abeg. I’m not ready for the questions and answers. I’ll drop the letter as soon as I can.”

“And sue him too. Cos I don’t believe you’re his first victim.”

“Well, there’s that too,” Amara scrunched her face.

“Have you finally told Ngozi, Luc?”

“Not yet.”

“And why the hell not?” Amuche demanded.

“Because I don’t feel like talking about it,” Amara yelled, exasperated. “Look, I’m sorry, baby sister. I’m sorry that you had to be the one to calm me down when I came home crying that night. But, I just don’t feel like reliving the whole thing again.”

“I understand, but we need to sue that useless boss of yours.”

“Sure, I also need to tell Olaitan,” she said as her phone began to ring. “I don’t know if he has made advances towards her before or if it was just me.” She found her phone and checked the caller ID. “It’s Ngozi, talk of one of the devils.” She picked the call. “Hey, girl—”

“Have you seen the IG post of gossipwork?” Ngozi interrupted her. “Or their website?”

Amara frowned. “No, I haven’t been online today.”

“Check it ASAP, I’m calling you in 2 minutes.” Ngozi hung up.

Amara looked at the phone, puzzled. 

“What is it?” Amuche asked her.

“I don’t know,” Amara frowned. “She asked me to check gossipwork on IG right now.”

Amuche didn’t waste a moment as she searched for gossipwork on her phone. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

“What is it?” Amara was alarmed. Amuche only put her hand over her mouth.

“What is it, Amuche? Give me that phone.” She wanted to yank the phone from Amuche, but Amuche moved away from her and stood.

“I don’t think you should see this. Why did Ngozi ask you to check this?” Amuche’s face contorted in horror.

Amara couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t even know why I’m asking, I have my phone.” She tapped on her screen, searched for gossipwork on IG, and almost had a heart attack at what she saw.

“No! No! No! This wasn’t what happened. This didn’t happen. Oh my God!” she put her hand over her mouth as the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Amuche just stood there, not knowing what to do. Just then, Amara’s phone rang and she dropped it on the bed in shock. Amuche picked it up and answered. It was Ngozi.

“Yeah, Ngozi, we’ve seen it. Why did you tell her to check it out like that, she’s a wreck!”

“Amuche,” Ngozi said, calmly, “give the phone to your sister now.”

“But—”

“I said now!”

Amuche put the phone on speaker and gave it to Amara. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Amara, can you hear me?” Ngozi asked.

“Yes,” Amara responded between sobs.

“Now, can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it.” Amara wept.

“What? You don’t want to talk about it? Let me read the caption for you, in case you didn’t read it well; “A little church rat, Amarachi Eze, @hergrace decides to put her claws on the CEO of Daramola tech @daratech. She is seen having an intimate dinner with him and kissing him. Daramola is said to be engaged to our darling Miss Folake Coker @4coker, the ex Miss Lagos state. Folake and Daramola have been dating for a while and the engagement was a quiet affair. This has come to the limelight after this stunt. Amarachi is said to work as an HR personnel for Daramola and has been throwing herself at him for some time now. We can all agree that this Amarachi is nothing but a gold digger, a home wrecker. All she wants is to snatch Daramola from his fiance so she could be the new fiance—”

“Enough, Ngozi!” Amara exploded. “I read the bloody thing.”

“And we are going to talk about it now. Amuche, open the door for me.”

“Wait! What? You’re here?” Amuche asked, confused.

“Get your ass up, Amuche!” Ngozi yelled and cut the call.

“Yes, ma’am.” Amuche bolted for the door and left Amara alone. She walks back into the room two minutes later with Ngozi.

Ngozi went straight to Amara in bed and pulled her into an embrace. Amara wept profusely.

“Shh! it’s ok baby. I’m here! Zii’s here,” Ngozi soothed her. “It’s ok.” Ngozi beckoned for Amuche to take out a handkerchief from her handbag, then she handed it to Amara to wipe her eyes. Ngozi spoke to her in a soothing voice again after Amara had calmed down, “what happened?”

Amara recounted what had happened at the dinner between sobs. She also told her that Daramola had been hitting on her for some time.

When she finished, Ngozi was a bit furious. “I don’t understand, Amara. How could this be happening and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought I could handle him myself. I thought he would take the hint that I wasn’t interested in him and leave me alone.”

“And after Saturday, why didn’t you tell me the moment you got home?” She glared at Amuche. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to say anything to anyone,” Amuche replied sadly.

“Pfft,” Ngozi puffed. “What happened to tell each other things, Amara?”

“I’m sorry ok, I just don’t need this now. My career is ruined. I’m ruined.” She cried some more.

“You’re not ruined dear, we just have to lay low for some time until I get this under control.”

“We?” Amara blew her nose.

“Yes, we. Did you think I’d let you go through this on your own?” Ngozi asked her.

“But, this could stain your—"

“Look, you’re my best friend and no one soils your name and gets away with it.”

“What if your parents think this is bad for your reputation?”

“Huh? Then you don’t know the Peters,” Ngozi declared. “No one messes with one of us and gets away with it. And, Amarachi, you’re one of us.”

“Wow!” Amara exclaimed.

“Uh-oh! Someone’s gonna collect,” Amuche commented. “Do you guys think it was Daramola? I think it was him, he threatened to make her suffer when she fled from him that day. This can’t just be a coincidence.” She made air quotes on coincidence.

“I don’t think he’d be foolish enough to leak that,” Ngozi said, pacing now. “Those pictures came from the night he tried to force himself on her in a restaurant, it’d be too risky for him.”

“Then who?” Amuche inquired.

“It’s either gossipwork did this themselves or someone leaked the pictures to them.” Ngozi mused. “Either way, I’m going to find out who’s behind gossipwork and who the photographer was. Their days of terror are over.”

“How are you going to do that?” Amara asked.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Zii has her ways.” She smiled maliciously.

“Lucas was right, you are scary,” Amuche said.

“Oh no!” Amara exclaimed. “Lucas! I don’t know what to tell him. Daramola is his friend. He—”

“Amara, for crying out loud,” Ngozi interjected. “Tell Lucas the truth. You can’t leave anything out of this.” 

“He could help us kick Daramola’s ass,” Amuche said.

“Well, there’s that. But that man needs to be sued for sexual harassment.”

“No one will believe me,” Amara wailed.

“They’ll believe Ngozi Peters. For now, we’re laying low while I do my thing. Now, go speak to Lucas.”

“It’s a Monday morning, he should be at work.”

“Call him and find out where he is. He must have seen this shit by now.” Ngozi hissed. “You guys could have lunch, in his place preferably.”

Patricia opened the door and stepped into the room. “What’s happening here? I’ve  been hearing crying.” She looked at Amara. “Amarachi, why are you crying? Is it the sickness that’s making you cry?”

Amara stood up and walked to her mother. “Mummy, I’m not fine, but I can’t explain everything to you right now. There’s somewhere I have to be and I promise to tell you what’s going on as soon as I get back.” She hugged her.

“What?” Her mother didn’t understand.

“Mummy, we gotta go.” Amuche draped her arm over her mum’s shoulders and turned her away from the room.

Patricia protested. “Amuche leave me alone, allow me to speak to my daughter.”

“I’m your daughter too na,” they heard Amuche say.

“Amarachi, your pap is ready oh,” Patricia yelled.

Amara wiped her eyes and looked at Ngozi. “Thank you, Zii.” She threw herself at her.

“I love you girl, and I’ll always be there for you. Now, go take a shower. You have a boyfriend to see.”

Lucas couldn’t think straight. His head had been buzzing since Chuka called his attention to the gossipwork post. What in the world was going on? His friend and his girlfriend? He didn’t know what to think. He thought of calling Amara to ask her what was going on. He thought of calling Daramola to ask him too. He remembered how Amara had told him not to talk about her to Daramola. Could that have been because something was going on between them? No, he shook his head. She wouldn’t deceive him like that. He wasn’t an idiot, of course, she’d know that he would find out sooner or later if she was having an affair with her boss. But then again, Amara was a decent woman. Surely she wouldn’t ruin herself with such a scandal. Something didn’t add up, but he didn’t know what.

 He looked at his screen and realized he hadn’t done anything substantial since he got to work. Exhaling loudly, he raked his hands through his hair and realized he shouldn’t have done that.

“Now my hair would look like something rats ran through,” he grumbled. “Maybe I should call her,” he said to himself. “No, shouldn’t she call me to explain what’s going on? I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should call Chuka.”

He picked up his phone and called Chuka.

“Guy, how far?” Chuka said the moment he picked the call.

“I’m really confused, Chuka.”

“I understand, but, shouldn’t you be talking to your girlfriend now?”

“I want to call her, but I don’t know what to say.”

“Ok, what of Daramola?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to the guy. He has a fiance and he was kissing another woman.” Luc hissed. “My woman.” He added for emphasis.

“Well, the more reason you should be talking to her now, and not me.”

Luc sighed, “you’re right. I guess I needed to hear that from someone. I just…”

“You just what, Luc?”

“What if she’s seeing Daramola? That means she deceived me. Does that mean I lost her? I don’t want to lose her, as silly as that sounds.”

“Luc, you wouldn’t know anything if you don’t talk to her,” Chuka offered.

Luc drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’ll call her after work.”

“Whatever you think is best. Just take it easy, Guy.”

“It’s how calm and collected you are today, Chuka,” Luc joked. “Ngozi speak to you?”

“Ngozi is a loyal comrade. Rest assured that she won’t tell me anything about this, except Amara is ok with it.”

“You’re right. You’ve been right a lot today.”

Chuka chuckled. “Bomb dey your head, Luc. Talk to Amara.”

“I will, later fam.”

Luc ended the call and had a little peace. Five minutes later, his phone rang. It was Amara. He contemplated picking it up. What would she say? Would it ruin the rest of his day? The urge to hear her voice won the fear of the conversation.

“Hello,” he said into the phone.

“Hi,” she said. She didn’t sound like her usual self.

“How are you?” he asked her.

“Honestly, I’m a mess.”

“Amara, what’s going on?”

“I’m guessing you’ve seen the tabloids,” she said wryly.

“I have,” he raked his free hand through his hair again. “I didn’t like what I saw.”

“Me neither. Are you busy now?”

“Honestly, I can barely concentrate at work.” Then he asked, “Hol’up, where are you?”

“I’m home, but I want to see you. I want to explain everything.”

He stood up. “I could come pick you up for lunch.”

“I thought you’d say that,” he could hear her smile sadly. “But, you don’t have to worry about picking me up. Ngozi is here, she’ll give me a ride.”

“Ok, where should our rendezvous be?”

“Your place,” she said. “I need to keep a low profile at the moment.”

“Ok, I’ll see you at 12.”

“Thank you, babe. I appreciate this. See you at 12.” She hung up.

Luc counted the minutes till it was 12 noon.

***

She scrolled through her screen at the comments on the recent post of gossipwork on IG. She smiled. Nigerians had the vilest tongue. She read the insults friends and fans of Folake rained on Amara and basked in the satisfaction it gave her. That would teach her a lesson. No one messed with her and got away with it.