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Hope y'all enjoyed "Campus Love" even though it ended abruptly.

Sit back and enjoy another thrilling story.





The Hustler 💡⛔

(My Life As A Yahoo Boy)

Episode 1

Two years ago. I was in the trenches. Life after school wasn’t what I bargained for. In my mind, I was hopeful to bag a white-collar job a few months after leaving the university but life wasn’t a bed of roses.
I stayed almost one year hunting for jobs, but it wasn’t forthcoming. As a second-class-upper graduate, I was very conversant with my discipline in school, but I couldn’t settle for a meaningful job.

Well, I didn’t stop sending my CV to several companies that needed employees. I was young and optimistic.

Fast forwarding to the year after I left school, due to some circumstances beyond my control, I didn’t get the opportunity to serve unlike most of my colleagues who flaunted their service pictures months after we left school. I did congratulate them and hoped that one day I would be like them, sooner or later. When the pictures were getting too much, I intentionally went on a break from social media for the sake of my mental health. At this time of my life, I was staying in Lagos with my maternal Uncle.

Living in Lagos makes you see new and surprising things every day. It could be a fight at the bus stop, a man defecating inside the gutter, or slow traffic that virtually has no cause. Lagos and traffic are like bread and butter. If you’re a white immigrant, then everyone treats you special like you’re one demigod or goddess. Nigerians in general have this differential treatment or perhaps respect for white immigrants – and sometimes it bothers on fascination.

I applied for an internship online and submitted my CV to several Textile Companies in Lagos, but nothing was forthcoming. It was as if my village people were following me. It was indeed frustrating and depressing. I never knew depression as much as I did during this period of my life. I was unhappy with myself and everyone around me. I got flared up at any little provocation.

“Dave, you’re 24. It’s never too late to start anything in life. Be kind to yourself,” my mom once told me over the phone, after I narrated how unproductive I felt at every break of the day. She told me to stay positive and keep praying. My mom was that breed of woman who believed so much in prayers. I was the son of a praying mother.

My uncle had returned from work one Saturday evening. Having slumped tiredly on the sofa.
“Dave, I have work for you in the meantime,” he said, yawning.
“Work? Where?” I uttered speedily in one breath.

There was a short silence before he continued.

“Um, one of my colleagues at work said he needs an English Language tutor, who could tutor and prepare her daughter for Jamb,” he said and paused. I wanted to add: 'So, it’s that the work you said you have for me?’ But I didn’t want to sound rude and disrespectful to him. Instead, I said: 'You mean me – as a lesson teacher?’ I queried.

“Dave, c’mon, since you’re not doing anything yet, take this offer and keep yourself busy. I know you’re good with English Language,” he said. All I did was smile and laugh involuntarily at intervals.

I attended one of the best secondary schools in Lagos. There, we were taught how to speak in a British accent – which I eventually got used to each time I spoke English. During those days in the University, my accent distinguished me from others in my department. To some, I was forming 'Behind' and all that. Whatever, I didn’t really give a damn nor cared about not being 'Igbotic' like the rest of them. You know, Nigerians are judgmental.

“In case you’re interested, the pay is 15k every month,” my uncle said and walked inside the room. My uncle and I related like we were brothers. He was 35 and unmarried. He was hoping to tie the knot with his childhood girlfriend, Esther before she dumped him at the eleventh hour for an abroad husband. One of those things my uncle couldn’t let go of. My uncle was without a job when she eloped. Six months later, he got a job at a manufacturing company here in Lagos. His salary was a mouthwatering one. I’d say he was lucky, but he would always say it was grace. He once told me a story that melted my heart. His story affirms the high rate of unemployment in the country. A master’s degree holder in Geology accepting security work – even when he knew it was far below his qualification. Though the pay wasn’t really bad but the job was not commensurate to his personality.

My uncle had never for once criticized the need to attain higher education as many unemployed graduates like myself did. The thought of having a master’s degree holder opening the gate and watching over the company really gave me goosebumps. In a country where a man would single-handedly mismanage over a billion – when we have thousands and hundreds of thousands of youths roaming around the streets. And the same man would be cruising on the streets of Abuja with bulletproof cars.. what’s the future of Nigeria as a nation? In Falz's voice.

Two days on, my mind was made up to take the offer while patiently waiting for service. The thought of going to someone’s house every day to tutor a random girl was quite disturbing. It was something I had never done before. My uncle gave me the colleague’s contact just the moment I told him I was going to do it. He told me his colleague would call me for directions to his house.

*
It was on a Tuesday evening, it was drizzling when I crossed the other side of the road en route to Ikotun. The man had called earlier and likewise sent directions to his house.
Cars and trucks swooshed past. The distinct yellow 'danfo' bus was almost filled before I struggled to enter. Everything here in Lagos was not for the feeble. One needs to be strong and extremely smart to overcome the hurdles. I could recall one incident that happened at Cele Bus stop. The day two random girls were dragging who would complete an almost filled minibus. The driver needed just one passenger before he could take off. While they fought and dragged each other, one tore the other’s skimpy top, revealing her bra and sagged breasts.

The other grew furious and tore her skirt into pieces. It was a horrible scene that drew the attention of passersby. Funnily enough, after several attempts to separate them – and they refused to leave each other, they were left at their mercy. Trust Lagos Abgeros, they turned it into a wrestling tournament and filmed them.
One of those things you get to see in Lagos. Eko oni baje.

Our bus eventually got filled and zoomed off.



To be continued..
Frank The Writer



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Episode 2

There were two girls (one was fair and the other black) seated outside a chemist's shop when I arrived at the supposed abode of my uncle’s colleague. The number on the house tallied with the one I had on my phone. I was convinced I was at the right place. I was running low on airtime too, so I didn’t want to make any further calls.

“Good afternoon,” the girls chorused when I walked closer.

“Good afternoon girls,” I replied cheerfully, letting out a smile.

“What do you want to buy?” queried the fair girl. She stood up in a quest to attend to me.

“Erm, I’m not here to buy anything,” I stuttered.

I noticed her countenance changed instantly. She had that look that literally says, 'Then, what do you want?’ The black girl gazed at us and averted her eyes for a second. She was busy chewing gum while she scrolled through her phone.

“My name is David Godson,” I said.

“Oh! David, you’re here,” someone interrupted from inside the shop. It was a feminine voice. A woman in her late forties or so – the supposed mother of the fair girl. They had one thing in common, a pointed nose.

“Good afternoon ma,” I uttered, tuning my voice in a British accent.

The fair girl went back to sit with the other girl while I went inside to meet with the woman. She offered me a seat. “My husband is not back yet. He was the one who told your uncle about the teaching work,” she said.

“Okay, that’s why I’m here to know more about it…”

Fast forwarding, our conversation summarized that I would tutor her daughter in English Language in preparation for her upcoming Jamb. According to her, she already had someone taking her in Chemistry, Physics, and Mathematics. Just like my uncle told me, she repeated 15k monthly – and the classes would run Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It was on a Tuesday, so she said I should start the following day.

“Okay, ma. I’ll do my best and I’m sure she’ll come out with a good grade,” I assured her.

The look on her face showed she was impressed. She later went to the freezer and returned with a chilled Pepsi.

“Thank you, ma,” I said, bowing my head respectfully. I wasn’t sure if she was Yoruba or not, but then, that was the norm we grew up with.

“You’re welcome, David,” she replied.

When I glanced through my timepiece, it was a few minutes before six. The sun had gone down and the breeze was so cool that it seemed it was going to rain.

“Ma, I’ll be on my way,” I said to her, as I stood up and walked towards the door.

“Alright, David. I’ll tell my husband you came, and we’ll expect you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

The moment I walked hastily through the door, the girls sighted me and they stopped talking.

“Goodbye, bro David,” said the fair girl. She waved her hand too.

“Bye,” I extended my right hand in the air.

It was getting dark, so I speeded up and soon came out to the tarred road. The cold drink had wet my back pocket. This, I noticed when I had climbed the bus to sit. I was going to drink it when I got home, so I held it in my hand amidst the ice droplets on my hand.

*
My uncle was back from work before I arrived back. He was preparing noodles when I walked in tiredly, yawning loudly.

“Dave, how did it go?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Um, not bad. We reached an agreement,” I answered.

“Okay. So, when are you starting?” he asked in between mouthfuls of noodles.

“Tomorrow!” I exhaled.

“Hmm, so quick? Are you ready bayi?”

His question seemed challenging to answer. I was mute for seconds before rebooting myself like an old computer.

“Well, I’m going to start with the easiest part. I mean the ones I could teach without mumbling words.

“Okay. Your food is over there,” he said and muscled the food inside his mouth.

What filled my heart was how I would stand before someone and teach. Even when I understood a particular topic so well, I had always found it difficult to teach the next person. I tiredly walked straight to the bedroom. I reached out to where I packed my old books and textbooks – having searched and ransacked the whole room.

Luckily for me, my SS3 textbook and Jamb Use of English and Past questions were still there. Rat had eaten the cover and some parts of the textbook. I dusted it and quickly flipped through the pages. Although I had forgotten some of the topics, but not topics like vowels, consonants, concord, and other similar ones.

The use of concord was most likely the best way to begin my teaching – to impress the girl on the first day. Like they usually say, “First Impression Matters.”

If someone had told me that a day would come when I would be in this position of being a lesson teacher, I would say 'waka' to that person. But there I was meditating on my lesson note as a lesson teacher. The same person who graduated from Polymer and Textile Engineering. The thought I had as I shook my head in despair. – the story of my life.

*
Wednesday morning soon arrived. It seemed the night had lasted just for an hour. I felt weak and my stomach felt empty too. Sluggishly like a snail, I rose from bed and went about my morning rituals. My uncle was almost dressed for work – it was 7:25 a.m. I was still brushing my teeth inside the bathroom when he informed me he was off to work. I hurried with my morning chores, so I could start rehearsing for the day’s work.

I had wished morning lasted longer, but the sun soon set out with its hot rays and shone brightly through the windows. It was around 2:45 p.m. when I finally dressed up in one of my nicest long-sleeved shirts and black trousers. My pair of black shoes shone too. It seemed like I was going for an interview. When I stood before the mirror, the reflection was enchanting; my curled and well-brushed hair, the side bears, my well-ironed shirt, and my black LED watch, all made me smile involuntarily.

That reflex action brought a flashback to my head. It was a picture of my father. I looked more like my father – a complete replica. I detest to talk about my family, most especially my father. I ha.te to admit that I came from a broken family, but that was my fate. My mother and my father had parted ways years ago. They hadn’t been together since I was 14. I’m the first born and my siblings and I were used to visiting them because they lived in separate locations. It was one of those things we grew up to embrace.

Nothing would anyone say that could change my father’s mind. He had abandoned us with our mother at Ketu and flew to Festac, where he lived in a self-contained apartment. My siblings and I were only used to visiting him whenever we were in dire need of money for school and other stuff.

Sometimes, my father would sound penniless and indirectly refer us back to our mother. Good thing, Mom was doing well too. She was into women's clothes and shoes, and I must confess, she had money! So, when Dad acted broke, we would return to her.
Then, I came to realize that in this life, nobody will ever love you like your Mom. I moved in to live with my uncle when I gained admission and since then, it has always been a once-in-a-blue visit when it comes to seeing my father, but my mom, I was a regular visitor at Ketu, where she lived with my siblings. Literally, sad to say, I was a product of a broken home.

*

When I got to my destination, it was a few minutes past three. The woman and her daughter were inside the chemist store.

“Good afternoon, ma,” I greeted.

“Good afternoon, Dave, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you, ma,” I replied politely in a polished manner. I was always mindful of the use of my English each time I interacted with either the woman or her daughter.

“Good afternoon, Uncle Dave,” greeted the other girl (the black girl) who jumped out from nowhere. I just waved to her in response.

“Jane, take him to your room. Go with Jessica, the two of you should behave yourself,” the woman said. That was when it occurred to me that I wasn’t there to tutor just one person. I was going to say: ' But we didn’t budget for two people’ but instead I thought it was unwise to make such a remark on the first day. It could just be for today, I had thought within.

“Let’s go,” Jane said and signaled me to come after them.

The living room was well furnished. The chairs and tables speak volumes of money. The interior decoration was top-notch too. There was a 32-inch Plasma TV at the center of the wall. It had four long-standing speakers by the side. Jane led us to her room. The first thing I noticed was a rosary hanging by the window side. I needed nobody to tell me that they were Catholic. Her room smelled nice and looked girlish. The walls were painted white and pink. The curtains were pink too. She brought out a mini whiteboard and two markers.

“Are we ready?” I finally uttered after a long silence.

“We are ready,” Jane announced. They were both seated on the bed with their legs crossed as they anticipated a mind-blowing teaching from one random Williams Shakespeare. Jessica wore a short skirt that barely reached her knees – the first thing I noticed when I stood before them. She seemed reserved and calm tho.

“If I’m right, you’re Jane, and you’re Jessica,” I said and pointed in turns to the duo. They just nodded in affirmation. That was the best way I could begin the class. I picked up the marker to write 'English Language.”

“You haven’t told us your name,” Jane said, laughing. Jessica joined her too. “You already know, I’m David.” Jane was already penning down something which I assumed to be the day’s date.

Long story short, after about 20 minutes of explaining the use of concord, I asked them if they were following, and Jane nodded her head. I turned to Jessica, she was busy writing something.

“Excuse me,” I said when I sneezed involuntarily.

“Uncle David, I have a question,” said Jessica when she raised her head. She looked nervous too. My heart skipped when she said she had a question. Omo! Make this girl no go ask question wey I no fit answer oo – I had thought.

“Okay, Jessica go on and ask your question,” I ordered.

“Um, sir, the question is in this paper,” she replied. Jane gazed at her, their eyes got locked in contact, but she quickly averted hers. Jane had that look that literally said, 'Don’t you have a mouth to ask your question' but instead she kept her cool and waited for me to read the question.

“Sir, what is the meaning of these English words,” she said and passed the piece of paper. When I turned the paper to see what she wrote, I felt a lump in my throat. I had goosebumps – my heartbeat increased. The duo stared at me amidst silence as they could read the shock on my face.

Omo! You won’t believe the five words she wrote down. It was totally out of context. Her question reads., “What is the meaning of these words: Orgy, Cuñt, Sem.en, Orgäsm, and party.”

To be continued…
©️ Frank The Writer


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No body should sit on my sit at the front row abeg

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Frank just drop a bomb

Abdulreheem:
No body should sit on my sit at the front row abeg

Nobody is sitting there 😂

YoungTobi:
Op didn't even mention me for this new banga

No vex Chief

Episode 3

Jessica’s question really threw me off balance. I was bewildered at how she suddenly came up with such s!lly question.

“These words are in no way related to what we have been discussing so far,” I said, after rebooting myself like a corrupt system.

“Yes, I know. I just thought you should know better as an English teacher,” she winked.

“Please, focus on what we have learned so far and ignore these for now,” I rebuked her.

“It was a harmless question, sir. I found them in one of the YA novels I read recently,” she added.

“Jessica, when you discover new words while reading, all you have to do is use the dictionary,” I told her bluntly, looking more serious than I was. And she didn’t say anything further.

Throughout the remaining time I spent teaching, she was mute and refused to say anything further. Our class lasted for almost two hours before I noticed signs of tiredness on their faces. Jane was itching to leave her seat and likewise Jessica who was long offended by my response to her question.

I was able to conclude two topics, after which I gave them some work to do against Friday when we met again.

“Thank you, bro Dave. I really enjoyed your class,” said Jane.

“You are welcome,” I replied.
Jessica said no word as she stood and left.

*

“How was the class?” Jane's Mom asked the moment she saw us coming out.

“It was okay, Mom. Bro Dave is good,” Jane answered.

“Okay. That’s good,” replied the young-looking woman.

“Thank you, ma,” I said.

“You’re welcome, Dave. When next are we seeing you?” she added.

“Um.. Friday, ma. God’s willing,” I answered.

“Okay. Take care.”

*

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday was the weekly routine. I had taught them for two weeks before I got bad news from home. And during those periods of two weeks, Jessica was like a pain in the @ss. She kept acting nas+y and would always come up with some sort of questions that were out of context. I guess she was making sure I didn’t find it easy being a lesson teacher.
I remember vividly, those days in secondary school, there were some set of students who were fond of throwing all manner of questions to the teachers, just to make sure they frustrate them. Some would go as far as getting controvers!al questions, just to stress the teacher. This was what Jessica literally did. I really kept my cool and ignored all her attempts to bring me down. I had always known that challenges are bound in everything we do. So, I let it slide.

*
The bad news I got after two weeks was from my father. He was down with sickness. Why won’t he fall sick? When all he ate was roadside foods and junk. Ever since he parted ways with my mother, all he ate was cooked by random food sellers. Even when we visit him, we always end up buying food from Iya Bolu, a popular food seller in the street. One of the reasons we hardly visit him. When I informed my mom about my father’s illness, she was worried and I said I should go see him – while I inform her if things get out of hand.
I knew my mom still loved my father, regardless of them being separated. I really doubt if my father loved her the same way she cared for him. Truth be told, he was just too stu.bborn and would hardly accept anyone’s decision, except his.

It was time to pause my teaching work, so I called Jane’s mom and informed her about my father’s illness. She felt sorry and told me to go see him with the condition that when I returned, I’d run the classes on a daily, to cover up the lapses. That’d surely be stressful, but then I was left with no option.

Two days later, I was set to go to Festac where my father lived. I had arranged a few clothes and other stuff into my sizeable bag. My uncle was kind enough to assist me with some money for transportation.

It was on a sunny Thursday afternoon when I left for Festac. There was traffic as usual and the roads were jam-packed. On a usual workday, if you step into the streets of Lagos with a plan to navigate your way to-do list and make it right on time to the comfort of your bed with your complete body intact, Lagos always comes with some form of distortion that leaves you handicapped, perhaps totally helpless.

On arriving at my father’s apartment, two little girls ran out – and embraced me. I was surprised to see the duo run out of my father’s self-contained apartment. They looked like twins but one seemed taller and older. I lifted them in turns, trying to be friendly. They just smiled and stood beside me, as if waiting to get candies or biscuits from me.

It was unusual to see strangers around my father’s apartment. My siblings and I knew how he detested having people around. He barely relates with anyone in that compound.
So, I stood, pondering who they could be. I was still in the corridor trying to unbuckle my sandal. Could it be that my father… Oh! No! I quickly waved off the thought that ran through my head. I really didn’t want to assume things on my own.

When I walked in, they followed me. My father lay on his back on the bed. He looked pale and sick. His lips looked burnt. By his side was a young woman – whom I presumed to be the mother to the little girls behind me. She should be in her late thirties – if my assumption could be right. She looked younger than my mom too.

“Oh! My God. This is serious,” I stuttered.

“Dave, you’re here. Ekeabo – welcome,” the woman said when she saw me.

“Omo mehnn, a Yoruba woman?” I asked myself, looking totally lost. How did she even know my name? How did she know I was on my way? My father must have told her.

Damn! I pondered. My heart was beating faster like a lizard that fell off a tree. I still couldn’t respond to her greetings and welcome notes. She bent down and scrolled through her phone. I was really startled by the scene. I didn’t know what to say to her. She turned again – and our eyes got locked in contact. I soon averted my eyes. Silence was what accompanied us for a few minutes. The only sound that stood between us was the one coming from the ceiling fan; it was rotating very fast. Yet, I could still notice my father was sweating.

“Your father is asleep. He’s getting better,” she said and paused. I was there contemplating what to say. There were voices saying this and that. I quickly turned to look at the girls behind me to see if they had any resemblance with my father or my siblings, it turned out wrong, they looked like the woman sitting beside my father. It finally dawned on me when finally, one of the girls said,

“Daddy is still sleeping, let’s go and play!”

A jerk of the bus brought me back to the real world. Sorry, it was all a dream. I had been sleeping right inside the bus. When I peeped through the window, then, I realized we were very close to my destination, so I stayed up till we got to the last bus stop.

To be continued...
Frank The Writer




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Episode 4

When finally I got to my father’s apartment, I met his absence. The door leading to the living room was locked – and likewise the backyard. Could it be he still went to the shop despite being sick? Oops.

I found a corner and dropped my bags before dashing out to Iya Bolu’s canteen. Thanks to God, she still had food – because I was really feeling famished. The hours trip already sapped my strength.

“Dave, o ma ti pe e – It’s been a while,” said Iya Bolu when she saw me standing before her table. She was dishing out food to another customer on a foil.

“Beeni ma –– Yes ma,” I replied lamely.

“Awon siblings e nko?” she asked further.

“They are fine. I want to buy food,” I added speedily.

“Oni elo –– how much food?”

“Put rice seventy naira, erm.. beans forty, dodo thirty naira, and one meat,” I ordered. She brought out a stainless plate to dish it. “do am well oo,” I added. The worms in my belly were already partying with my intestines.

The food amounted to a hundred and ninety naira. It’s actually one of those things I’d always prefer Lagos to Owerri. Here, you can actually buy food of any amount from the roadside sellers unlike in Owerri where you must at least have three hundred naira to buy a plate of food.

I sat all alone like a king on the long bench behind the canteen, while I muscled the food. Iya Bolu’s rice was salty. It was unlike her. I couldn’t force myself to finish the food despite being hungry. Just when I picked up the meat to throw into my mouth, I heard someone call my name from afar – and when I turned, it was Kolawale.

“Who do we have here?” he said excitedly. “Egbon!” I hailed him.
We shook hands and embraced affectionately. I felt the inviting fragrance of his perfume and it spoke volumes of money. Kolawale was dressed in Palm Angel’s top and trousers. His slide was Gucci make. He looked hale and hearty. His cheek had grown fatter – and his voice was thick when he spoke. It’s been a long we saw each other. Over five years.

“Mehnn… you look good, Kola. Show me the way naa,” I teased him. We busted into laughter. “You just dey whyne me,” he said. “Kola, no be whyning, see as you fresh like today’s bread.”

Iya Bolu was just there staring at us with a dim smile. When our eyes got locked in contact, she was giving me some kind signal which I later found out she wanted me to pay her before I forget. I soon brought out two hundred naira note and jokingly asked her to keep the balance. “How much is even your change?” she said, laughing. “I don’t know… just keep the balance,” I answered, while Kola and I walked slowly down the street.

“Dave.. Dave! It’s been long, my man.”

“Since two thousand and….”

“Two thousand and sixteen,” he cuts in.

“That’s quite a long time. How has it been at your end?”

“Not bad, Dave. Erm, how’s your popsy?” – he was referring to my father.

“My Pops man dey. Local man has been down with sickness. Na why I come,” I uttered in one breath.

“No worry, e go better,” he said.

“Amen.” –

“So, how about Amarachi?” he queried, describing her figure on air.

“Amarachi? You mean the fat one? your wife?”

“You are mad!” He responded with a friendly punch on my shoulder. We busted into laughter, laughing so hard at our jokes. Kolawale and I had known each other right from Ketu where we grew up, before his family relocated to Festac – just like my father, who left us behind at Ketu. Kola's was a different scenario; it was a unanimous decision by his parents. They all relocated, leaving no one behind.

Meeting Kolawale brightened my day. We stood and talked about old times and our naïve attitude as teenagers. The memories will always remain unforgettable. I had lost Kola's contact, so we exchanged it again. Before he left, he asked if I’d stay at Ketu till the weekend so we could hang out and talk. “Yes, I’ll.” We shook hands and bid goodbye to each other.

**
It was around 7:30 p.m. when my father finally arrived. He looked dull and pale.
“Good evening, sir,” I greeted.
“Good evening,” he simply replied. He then walked straight to the door. He inserted the key and turned it left before the door unlocked. I followed him while silence accompanied us.

Later in the night when we talked, I realized he was actually coming back from the hospital. He had locked his shop around 5 p.m. before he left for St. Peters Hospital for his daily medications – which include injections.

“Have you eaten?” he later asked.

“Yes, I ate at Iya Bolu’s shop.”

Unlike my father, it didn’t take long before he dozed off. I stayed up with my phone till 2 a.m. There was a power supply too, so I later plugged in my phone before hitting the sheet.

The following day, my dad was still asleep when I went about my morning chores. I looked around for possible things I could clean and wash. I started by washing his clothes before cleaning up the kitchen and bathroom.

When finally he woke, I was mobbing the floors of the room. “Good morning Dad,” I uttered when our eyes got locked in contact. He just nodded his head and uttered nothing. It was totally unlike him to be such dull and cold. Later in the day, we left for his shop.

Fast forwarding, weekend soon arrived. Sunday afternoon precisely. Kola called around 3:00 p.m. to remind me of the hangout. I told him I was going to come once he sent the address.
Around 4:16 p.m., I was at J. Luxzy's Villa. A popular hangout arena. Two male friends of Kola were seated beside him.

Cool music blasted from an unseen stereo. People loitered about. There were flashy cars that drove in and out of the premises. The breeze was cool and the weather was perfect.

While we sipped our drinks and ate the barbecue sauce, Kola asked what I do currently to make ends meet. At first, I felt shy and uncomfortable to begin. Where do I even start from? Should I just tell him I teach – and avoid other stories I intend to tell? No! That would surely make him think low of me – for settling down as a lesson teacher after years in the University. Kola was just a Secondary School leaver. The only thing I remember he did, was learn computer after writing his SSCE.

Kola had that pity stare at me when I was done narrating my ordeals after I finished school. “Mehn, life is not always as easy as we bargained. Oftentimes, it plays opposite of our expectations,” he said and paused. “Yeah. That’s true,” I replied shortly. “Dave, I hope you wouldn’t want to continue with your teaching work if I tell you things you could do to better your life,” Kola said and stared doubtfully. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. Goosebumps everywhere.

“Seriously? I wouldn’t mind my guy. I need to make money.”

“Well, all you need is a good system.”

“A good system? You mean a laptop?”

“Yes.”

His phone rang amidst our conversation and when he answered, “Hello, yeah. I’m yet to receive the money. Do you mean it could be network? Alright, when I receive the alert, I’ll let you know.” He dropped the call and turned towards me. “Dave, that was a call from a client,” he said. There was a short silence before he continued. “You are smart and intelligent. You would fit in so well.”

I was wowed and at the same time dumbfounded. Lots of thoughts rushed through my head –– and I was left with doubts –– if this could be a legit work. Well, legal or not, I think I’m going to take the risk. I said to myself.

Later that night, when it seemed everyone had taken enough drink. We all left on Kola's Mercedes Benz.

To be continued..
©️ Frank The Writer





Don't be a gho.st reader.

Next pls

Even if frank refuses to invite me, me don show by myself. I hope my front seat still dey for me

Candid2022:
Even if frank refuses to invite me, me don show by myself.
I hope my front seat still dey for me

Lol.. No vex o

frankwriter:


Lol.. No vex o

next pls

frankwriter:


Lol.. No vex o

Oya sama us sunday jollof as we all get time today pls

Sweet update but like Oliver twist, i want some more

Ride on

IkeIgboNiile:
Sweet update but like Oliver twist, i want some more

Posting right away.

Twelvedemon12:
Ride on

Alright

Episode 5

While we were in Kola's, car, he asked if I didn’t mind spending the night at his place. I told him my father would be worried and besides he was sick and needed my presence. I was in the front seat with him while the other guys sat at the back.

"It's fine, but I don’t know if we can see again before you go back to your uncle's place," he said.

"I don’t know yet, but I will text you," I answered him.

"Alright, my guy," he said.

He drove me down to the street where my father lived, and I thanked him for the kind gesture. We then shook hands. I bid the other guys goodbye before he zoomed off on the tarred road.

As I walked down the street approaching my father’s rented apartment, thoughts about what Kola said filled my head. He seemed to be living large already, and I could tell from everything I saw. Back then he was broker than a church rat, though he was fun to be with.

Although he didn’t really mention a particular business he was into, but my mind was telling me something.

Well, I got back home and met my father enjoying a sumptuous meal; Egwusi soup and eba. He was a good cook and that was one of the reasons he didn’t miss my mom that much. And he doesn't play with his stomach.

"Where are you coming from?" He asked when he saw me walk in through the door.

"I was having drinks with Kolawole and his friends," I answered.

"Which of the Kolawole?" He asked.

"The one you knew back then, Kola is a big guy, now. He has a car," I added, like my father cares. I was sure things like that didn't move him.

"Hmm, Kola of yesterday," he muttered and swallowed his eba.

"Dude has changed now. Power of money. If you see Kola now, you will not recognize him again." I continued with more descriptions of him.

"Who knows what he ventured into," he said. "Children of this generation, they can do and undo," my father added.

"I don’t know oo," I said and walked straight to the kitchen to dish my food. I was feeling very famished.

After our dinner, my father and I were both seated in the living room and for the first time since he left us, I summoned courage and asked him to reunite back with my mum.

"Aren’t you tired of this separation? How long are we going to keep up with this? For years now, you both have been living in a different location and that’s not what it should be. It pains me and your children, too." I said and stared into his eyes.

I haven’t spoken to my father this way before. I don’t even know what boosted my morale. Maybe the drink I had in the evening? I can’t really say.

The look on his face tells a lot. I could sense he was surprised and at the same time dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him. Silence accompanied us for some seconds before I left him and retired to bed. I was so tired that I didn’t take my bath that evening before I slept off, still wearing my outing clothes.

*

The following day was Monday and that was the day I planned to return to my uncle's apartment and continue my teaching work later in the evening. I told my dad my plans to return, but he wished I stayed back for more days. I promised him I would visit again, but before then, he should make peace with my mum. He simply smiled and laughed over it. If only he understood how we, the children feel about the separation and all that stigma.

Well, before I left that morning, he gave me some money and foodstuffs. It was unlike him and I was very surprised. "My regards to your uncle," he said. We bid each other goodbye as I left the apartment. My happiness was that he had fully recovered, unlike when I came and met him looking pale.

I found my way back to Ikotun, that was where my uncle and I lived. I got home around 11 a.m. My uncle was already at work, but I had a spare key to the apartment, so I went in and slumped tiredly on the sofa.

I picked up my phone and dialed my mom's number and she picked up immediately. "Dave, how are you and your father?"
"I'm fine, he had recovered and I'm back to your brother's apartment," I answered her.

"Okay. Thank God for journey mercy."

"Yeah."

I also chipped in that I told my father to make peace with her. "What was his response?" My mum had asked.

"Hmm. He didn’t say anything. I don’t know what he thinks."

"Don’t mind your father, he is too stubborn. I’m sure one day he will get tired of staying alone when old age comes knocking."

"I pray so. Though he doesn't seem like he’s tired."

"So what did he give to you?"

"10,000 naira and some foodstuff."

"Hmm, your father has changed."

"Yeah, same thing, I said. I was even surprised." My mommy and I laughed over it.

I have missed her so much, even though we talk on the phone often. Hopefully, one of these days I would pay them a visit at Ketu and see my siblings too, I said to myself.

As I lay slumped on the bed scrolling through my phone, I noticed Kola posted something on his WhatsApp status. Since we exchanged contacts, I haven’t seen any of his posts. So I quickly checked out his WhatsApp story. Lo and behold, Kola was celebrating a brand new car, the Black Lexus 350. And this was about three years ago. The car was worth millions of naira. He posted a video of himself with two of his friends inside the new car. I watched and rewatched them four times before swiping up one of the videos.

"Congrats, Kola, more keys," I said. It was one of those usual way people congratulate car owners. But he didn’t reply as he kept on posting more pictures and videos.

Deep down I was like, where do you people see this money? Honestly, I was tempted to ask him to show me the way but self-respect kept me. He already told me the other day that if I was interested, he would link me up, but I just didn’t want to. My inner spirit didn’t let me.
Thirty minutes later, he still didn’t reply to me. I turned off my data and had a good sleep.

Later in the evening, around 4:30 p.m. I went for my teaching work. I met Jane's mother and she asked how my father was doing. I told her he was better now.
"Thank God for that," she replied.

Jane was the only one available for the class, she said Jessica wasn’t around, but hopefully, she will join us later. We went inside and I started a new topic and towards the middle of the class, Jessica joined us. Throughout the week, I was there to cover up the previous week.

It was after one week when Kola finally replied to my message on WhatsApp. It was on a Saturday morning.

"Dave, don’t tell me you’ve gone back to continue earning 15K monthly." That was his response that pierced my heart, unknown to him. But I just replied to him with "Lol" But deep down I felt bad.

"Don’t dull yourself, my guy. Men are chopping life and updates are still much available. I know you’re very smart. Even your accents fit into this work," Kola continued.

His words were penetrating. I won’t lie. I am the kind of person who gets motivated by things I see. The evidence was there that he was making cool money.
I was like if the Kola I knew back then in school could cash out these big, why wouldn’t I? I will surely make it big too.

Gradually, when he noticed, I was showing interest, he called me via voice call and we had a very long conversation. Kola assured me that my life would soon change if I trusted the process and did the needful.

To be continued..
©️ Frank The Writer






Don't be a gh.ost reader.

Another interesting update. Keep it coming op.

IkeIgboNiile:
Another interesting update. Keep it coming op.

Alright, thank you.

The update is slowing.you are trying though

Mhizzard:
The update is slowing.you are trying though

I have been busy lately, but I'll drop another episode today.