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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - the waitress who was stepping, This is a university community, some well woven hook lines, lilies in their full bloom, light showers on a very hot day, creation process was fair to every creature, host, killed by the police, never to return to Lagos, waving the money in the air.

Osun State University
“Waitress! How much is my money?” Suzan asked. Michael walked very fast toward the waitress who was stepping into the restaurant from the kitchen and whispered, “How much is her money?” “Three hundred and fifty naira,” she replied. Michael removed his wallet and pulled out a crisp five hundred naira note and gave it to the waitress. From where she stood, Suzan smiled. “Freshman, I see your pocket is very deep at this stage. Keep your money o! This place can get really tough. Soon you will need every kobo you spend now,” Suzan cautioned.

“Don’t worry baby girl, there is more from where that came. I arrived here prepared,” Michael bragged. “For your sake, there had better be much from where that came. This is a university community, there is no money to be made here,” Suzan said smiling. Michael bowed a bit before her and said jokingly, “Okay ma’am. I will heed your advice from now on.” The waitress returned with one hundred and fifty naira and gave it to Michael. He took it and they left.

Outside the restaurant there was no sign of Tosin and Deji. Since Michael had won Suzan’s attention, they had left to go do other things. On the walk to the school medical center, Michael tried to get into Suzan’s head with some well woven hook lines. “The first time I saw you I thought you were unreal,” he said. “Why would you think that?” “Because your shape… your skin, they are not normal… your shape can drive a man nuts frankly… in a good way though,” he explained. Suzan smiled and smooched her seductive hips. “There are many finer babes on this campus biko. Stop flattering me.” “You are dead wrong. I have not seen a lady as perfectly shaped as you. I know you might think I am like a normal guy, but I am letting you know the impression I have about you. You are not normal.”

Suzan busted out laughing. “Do you tell every girl that?” Michael made a face, and for once since he met her that day, he looked very unhappy. “What?! Why are you looking that way?” she asked, still laughing. “I hate to be treated with levity when I am damn serious. I am yet to see a lady as intricately shaped as you. If lilies, in their full bloom, stood beside you, believe me, you will make them pale in beauty. If you don’t hear words like mine a very day, then you are dating a jerk. Sorry I but it that way,” he said still wearing a frown.

His words broke over Suzan like light showers on a very hot day. She blushed and looked away from him. For like three minutes none of them spoke a word. “I am dating a…” she paused. “You are dating who?” Michael asked. “It’s nothing. Forget what I was going to say.” Michael saw a little chance in there. It gave him hope that maybe the prettiest of them all could perhaps become his if he worked harder and pushed her for it. He drew closer and let his flailing arm caress her hands. Suzan felt the electric touch and folded her hands beneath her breasts. “Be frank with me, in your short life, how many girls have you turned inside out with your sweet words? I can see it in your eyes, you are a gigolo… well I won’t blame them for falling for you. You are charming, and in a bad way,” she said, keeping an expressionless face.

“It would be a lie to tell you I haven’t had a thing or two with several girls, but the truth is you are way above their league. I would live and die happily just to live close to you or even wake up and see your face next door. Perhaps God made you the day he made some angels.” “Stop that Michael! My heart is not your playground. You should show some sense of responsibility when you tell a girl these things…” she paused and drew a long sigh. “Why do good girls meet bad boys when they are desperately in need of a good guy for company?” she asked almost in a whisper. “Yes, I am a bad boy, but I know what to mess with and what not to. You are the type I should worship and not play with…” “Stop yapping Michael Adedeji!!” Susan interjected. “Yes, ma’am!” Michael said, lowering his heard in a mock bow.

He slowed his pace and dropped behind Suzan. He ogled at her unbelievable shape and shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if the creation process was fair to every creature. All these are too much for one girl,” he said to himself. “You are still talking, Michael!” “Sorry, I was soliloquizing.” “But I heard you! That was no soliloquy. You wanted me to hear it!” “I am sorry, please forgive me your majesty. I did not mean for you to hear it.”  Suzan turned smiling, and waved at him to step closer to her. She pulled at his ear when he drew closer and warned, “Make sure you don’t dream about me. Dreaming about me will break your heart and might get you killed.” There was that look in her eyes which gave Michael the impression she meant her words and was pleading for him to listen to her words. “Did you hear me?!” she asked, raising her voice. “Yes, I did,” replied a somber Michael.

“You are only permitted to admire me from a very far place. I don’t want blood stain on my hands,” she blurted. Her last words hit Michael like bullets. He wanted her to clarify what she meant, but was afraid to probe further. “Could she be from the water cult or is she dating a cult guy,” Michael thought. Nothing more was said between them until she asked Michael to let her have his number. Shortly after they exchanged phone numbers, she led Michael into the medical center.

Back in Lagos
Chima peeped through the hole on the door, his heart beating very fast. Laren was standing outside, his eyes darting about. Chima was not sure if he had led some policemen to the apartment where he was hiding. Slowly he inched away from the door and headed for the window. Before jumping out of the room, he looked outside to make sure no one was hiding at the back of the house. His host entered the living room and motioned at Chima, wondering why he refused to open the door to Lanre. Chima motioned at him to come closer. “I heard his father had a lengthy meeting with the police a few days’ back. If he sees me here, he might use me to wriggle out of the case. Tell him I am not here and send him away please,” Chima whispered to his host. His host nodded and went to get the door as Chima leapt over the fence.

The knock on the door reverberated once more. “Who is that?” the host asked from inside the apartment. “Ochuli! Open the door, it is Lanre!” “Who you carry come my house?” Ochuli asked. “Nobody! Open the door guy!” Ochuli unbolted the iron door and slowly opened it. Lanre rushed in and banged it shut hastily. “Guy, lock this door. I am in a mess right now! Priye is dead! The police shot him dead last night,” Lanre announced. “What?! Priye is dead!!” Ochuli exclaimed with his hands on his head. “I need to tell Chima what is happening. I came back to Lagos because my father told me he had handled the case, only for me to hear from the motor park that Priye has been killed by the police,” Lanre explained.

“Guy, you need to leave my house. If the police find you here, I will be in trouble. Please leave!” Ochuli barked. “Wait, I need two thousand naira from you now. I can’t go to the bank right now. I am scared shit.” Ochuli ran into his bedroom and returned with four five hundred naira notes and shoved it into his hands. “Thanks man. If you happen to hear from Chima, let him know what has happened, tell him never to return to Lagos ever again,” Lanre said as he headed for the door. “When I get out of Lagos, I will give this back to you,” Lanre said waving the money in the air. At the door he stood and peeped through the hole on the door. Satisfied no one was outside, he unlocked the door and let himself out. Once, outside he put his fez cap back on and with a half run, left the premises.

Ochuli picked up his phone from the dining table and dialed Chima. After three rings, Chima picked the call. “Chima, Lanre was not here for you. He has left, but there is a big problem! You need to come back now and remove your things from my house,” Ochuli said. “What happened?” Chima asked in fear. “According to Lanre, the police have killed Priye.” “Ye pa!! When?!!” “I don’t know. You have to get in touch with Lanre. He said you should never come back to Lagos ever again. Please come now. If the police find you in my house I will be in a mess! You know I live with my sister, I don’t want her to come to harm or to start bothering about me.” “Guy, pack my bag and take it to Iya Sunday’s shop. I will come to pick it from there later. I don disappear be this,” Chima said as the call ended.


                                  CLICK HERE TO READ EPISODE 12

Written by:
Andrew Magege

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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - the waitress who was stepping, This is a university community, some well woven hook lines, lilies in their full bloom, light showers on a very hot day, creation process was fair to every creature, host, killed by the police, never to return to Lagos, waving the money in the air. An African Literary Blog
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