Page 44

T imi didn't know what to expect when he pushed open the metal door at the Fash's backyard, but it wasn't stumbling into who he'd been out of his mind with worry about.

Hand on the doorknob, Alex's face went through a quick succession of expressions.

A surprised squinting, a frown, then a careful blankness.

As their eyes locked, Timi had to acknowledge the real reason he'd been frequenting this pastry shop despite his unrelenting schedule.

He hadn't bought all those snacks for his colleagues because stuffing them was his responsibility. Nor sat cross-legged before Mrs. Fash, meditating and chanting strange lines to redirect his energy pathway because he believed in that shit.

He'd come for this. To catch a glimpse of the additive drug that had left him battling withdrawal symptoms since the hill encounter three weeks ago. A glance he never caught as Alex had refused to show up.

And he'd practiced what to say to him. Every word spoken within the confines of their strained relationship.

Reasonable. Mildly scolding. Concerned. But the more his eyes absorbed the fading contusion below the left eye, thin slashes across the bridge of that nose, cheek and jaw, and the stronger the smell of iodine, the more irrational his anger and fear got.

“What were you thinking?” his mouth shrieked without his brain's consent. “Who made you the hero? What SK brand did you smoke to think you could fight him? What if he hurt you? Did you even think for a second how I…we'll feel?”

Way to go, Timi. So refined. So mature.

His next words came out as enraged garbles, as a hand slammed over his mouth.

“Stop shouting,” Alex hissed over the soft acoustic music, propelling Timi out the door.

Mrs. Fash appeared, drying her hands on a napkin, and carrying a faint smell of iodine. Her gaze fell on Alex's hand on his mouth, then the other gripping his shoulder, and Timi stumbled out of his hold.

Mrs. Fash scoffed. “Was that lame attempt to hide whatever this is for me?”

“Mrs. Fash—” Alex began.

“You don't say a word,” she snapped. “The one person I thought would show up after your…fight, decided to stay away for almost a month. Only to return with a bruised face, and instructions in case something happened to him.”

Timi's fear again surged to the surface. Ominous and consuming. “What something is happening to you?”

Alex exhaled. “It's nothing, Mrs. Fash. I promise, I'll be back soon.”

Timi stepped closer, the squeak of his sneakers on glossy tiles slowly turning into the crunch of worn leat her boots sliding through moss, wet grasses and stones.

“It's okay, Eyi. I'll be back soon.”

“Pa. Don't go.”

“If…if something happens, take care of your mother and sisters, okay?”

“Pa. Please.”

The music and low chattering of the diners became the wails of the Witches of the West and other townies as they stood over Pa.

Cheek and forehead bones jutting out. Body covered carelessly with palm fronds, a foot and an ear missing, but the counterfeit Rolex he only took off at night still attached firmly to a swollen wrist.

Timi, nodding at the police officers, eyes gritty dry, breathing heavily through his nose to keep himself from throwing up. “That's him. That's my father.”

It took his hip bone pushing into metal to yank him out of his head. By then, the noise had died down, and they were out the door with Alex's hand gripping his wrist and Mrs. Fash staring wide-eyed at him.

Timi swallowed. He'd lost it again. His fear tumbling out of his mouth in screeches. Everything wasn't going as planned. He'd envisioned a cool and collected approach and hadn't considered how much resentment he still had for the way his birth father had died.

Alex wasn't Pa, but Timi knew what facing someone like Agu with brutal force meant.

For the chief witch to keep her gold jewellery and her wrappers, and maintain bragging rights amongst her fellow church women, Pa had gone to that meeting.

Despite getting intel about his superiors' plan for him to take the fall for the illegal activities being investigated.

Pa had died a disgraced police officer. Allegedly murdered by the gang of kidnappers they claimed he worked for.

How could Alex have forgotten subtlety was the only way to handle people who abused their power?

“I'll get him home, Mrs. Fash,” Alex was saying. “Please do not worry, we'll be fine.” Like he truly believed it.

Mrs. Fash gripped Timi's arm and he raised his gaze to hers. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes were soft. “Please, don't stop taking care of him for us, okay?”

Timi swallowed. She must have misread the situation. He was the bag of problems Alex had been hefting since they met. He was the cause of his battered face and him staying away from his family. And it was because of him he believed something bad would happen .

He didn't say a word, until Alex drove out of the gate.

“Where are you taking me to?” he asked.

“Home,” Alex said. “Or at least, halfway.”

“No. I'm coming with you.”

Alex's fingers clenched the steering. “Where do you think I'm going?”

“You could be going to the sun for all I care. I'm coming with you to every place you think you're obligated to go to.”

“Aren't you impudently meddlesome for someone who has no business with me anymore?”

“You butt into my business first.”

“Not everything's about you.”

Timi faced Alex. His heart clenched at the bruise on his cheek, and his fingers twitched from an urge to trace it. “Then, tell me why you went after Agu, despite you not working for me anymore.”

“He eats too loudly. Thought he should know.”

Timi turned away. “You're such an idiot.”

Silence settled for a while, before Alex said quietly. “I have my own thing going on too, you know? You didn't have to abandon your job and come running. Agu won't touch me, so you can stop feeling guilty and return to work.”

“I'm not—” Timi began, then snapped his mouth shut. What part of Alex's words wasn't the truth? Or was he ready to tell himself guilt had little to do with him driving through traffic like a mad man to get to Alex? Why presently, his heart still thumped seeing him whole?

“Where are you going?” he repeated instead.

“I'm meeting up with someone.”

“Who?”

“None of your business.”

His words being thrown back at him hurt more than he imagined it would. It used to be all about their business. Them. Together. And maybe it could still be. They were friends before that night. Why couldn't they return to that?

“Alex, see— ”

His phone lit up with an incoming call, and his heart dropped at the caller ID flashing. It was only a matter of time before Uncle Jude's family struck again. And seeing their brother's name entangled with the recent horrid speculations was enough to drag them out.

Mr. Joshua dived right into the bush. “Since you've decided to keep quiet, we've also decided to let the world know the true story. Lagos FM has been booked. The world would soon bear witness of your emetic past and my brother's innocuousness.”

“Sir, wait—”

“I only called to let you know your threats won't work anymore.

I'll tell them you bewitched my brother. Arm-twisted him into taking you in. You and your whore of a mother. Only a trip to Ewekoro would tell everyone how my brother stood no chance against your wiles. Should he be crucified because he chose to rescue a…rent boy who grovelled at his feet to save him and give him his name?”

Something cottony began filling his head. “Please, I—”

“And you can tell that your hunky bully of a guard to get ready to be sued for…”

His phone got snatched from him. And only then, did Timi notice they'd parked under a foot bridge. Alex held the phone to his lips, Mr. Joshua's shrieks now on loudspeaker.

“Mr. Dressman,” he called as soon as the man paused to draw in breath.

“Who's this?” the man snapped.

“Doesn't matter who I am,” Alex said. “What matters is, how fast can you get to this Lagos FM?”

“What?”

“You should leave now, because I assure you, in the next one hour, the canary will be singing a different song.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking sex for marks, Mr. Dressman.

Abuse of power. Bribery. Domestic abuse.

Rape. Be sure to bring in enough evidence to counter mine, cause I'll be barrelling down on you with a truckload of documents and witnesses anxious to bury you.

You should drink enough water too, since you'll be defending two names. ”

“Duplicitous! I haven't done any of the—”

“Save your strength for the folks back at Lagos FM, Mr. Dressman.

One hour. That's all the grace I'm giving you. And you and your people better lose this number. Or your kids, Rejoice and Thank God, and everyone associated with you will be buried in filth so deep, the words making up your blasted name would opt for other synonyms.”

Silence came from the other end.

“Good,” Alex said. “I believe we understand ourselves thoroughly. Have a good day or not.”

He cut the call, handed the phone back to Timi, and restarted the engine. At Timi's continued silence, Alex threw him a quick glance. “What?”

Timi resisted the urge to grip his head trying to float off his shoulders. “There are some things you can't lie about.”

“Who says I'm lying?”

“You really—”

“In the next hour or so, something will definitely change. In your favour, I hope. As for what I accused him of, he threatened you with lies. It's only fair he got his own taste of it.”

“So, all those things you said…”

“He knows whoever tells the story first dictates its tune. I just matched him shittiness for shittiness. The only language people like him understand. Again, what I said may not be completely far-fetched. I finished from a Federal University. I know his type.”

Something hot and sharp had taken hold of Timi’s chest, but he had no time to unravel the strange feeling as Alex began pulling up beside a roadside car wash.

He licked his lips. “Why are we stopping?”