By Rosemary Okafor
Paul
“You like her, yes?”
Paul turned his head to look at the time ravaged man with winter-white hair and eyes way worn. He could swear that the voice he heard didn’t come from the man who had his gaze fixed on the elevator buttons, leaning on his cane. There was no way such strong voice would come out from that withering body. But it was just the two of them on the elevator…
“Beautiful face, beautiful body.” What the hell? “The lady at the hall… sure got you drooling.” The man had his gaze on Paul now. “Delicious… ripe like the Devil’s fruit in the garden of Eden.”
Jesus! “You’re such a disgusting old man,” Paul murmured. Geez! What a dirty, pervert.
“She got all your senses standing.” The man said, baring a surprising complete set of teeth.
“I don’t understand…”
Lifting his cane, the man poked Paul’s side with it. “I see the desires of your heart.”
What in God’s name…
“You were staring at her as though she was the only human in the world.”
Of cause he had stared… a little longer than he should. But that was because he… because… she was striking. Enchantingly beautiful.
“You even have something of hers to remind you—”
What… “I didn’t. God! I don’t have this time, old man.”
“Search your back pocket.” The man ordered.
Narrowing his eyes on the man, Paul wondered if he was going crazy.
“Come on, show me what you have in there.”
Reluctantly, he slipped his hand inside the pocket of his jeans. Came out with his wallet, his mother’s photo and… Jesus! How did that thing get into his pocket! His eyes moved from the Rosary in his palm, to the man who was grinning with satisfaction. Then back to the praying beads that he was sure he pushed inside the lady’s bag with her other things.
How did it get into his pocket? “I put it back…” he said, more to himself.
“You thought you did.”
“I know what happened back there, I gave her back everything…” Did he? Or was he assuming?
“Watched the scene like I was watching a romantic comedy. Well played, young man. well played. The kind of stunt I pulled during my prime, when I meet women that tickled my groin.”
Wait a minute, was this old man insinuating that… “You think I collided with her on purpose?”
Shrugging. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I know you want to see her again.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I am old but not blind. I know attraction when I see one.” The elevator bell chimed announcing their arrival on the third floor. “Don’t stop your heart from feeling, son,” the man added as he began to head out. “It’s not weakness.”
Awestricken, laughter began to well inside Paul. What just… happened? The laughter rolled up his throat and escaped from his mouth same time four people joined him in the elevator and the door closed.
****
Scarlett
Murmuring a response to the ‘goodnight’ said to her by the cab driver, she got out and trudged towards her house, groaned at the soreness that had overtaken the whole of her as she took few steps towards her house. The night didn’t end the way she had envisaged, even after seeing her lawyer, she still felt like shit.
“Nothing will come out of this, Scarlett. That man will ruin you,” her lawyer had said.
Well, every business has its own risk and bad moments. Tonight was one of hers. She didn’t set out on this particular job to become a sex toy to three perverts. Yet, she agreed with her lawyer, suing Bernard and his stupid friends would end up draining her and her bank account.
Her gait slowed as she noticed, for the first time since the taxi dropped her, that her door was left ajar. Petrified, she halted, not sure what to do if an unknown person had broken into her home. She was still racking her brain when a feminine figure walked out of the house bearing the trash can.
Melony.
Scarlett let out the air that clung to her throat and resumed walking. The woman had this weird attitude of coming into the house at odd hours to clean and do the laundry.
Crossing over the threshold, the smell of the muggy air gave way to the stronger smell of Lemon scented bleach. As usual, Melony had cleaned her house like one who wanted to scrub the stench of sins away.
Not even acknowledging her, the freckled-faced woman handed her a rumpled note without a word.
“From who?”
Melony shrugged and walked to close the door. The woman would say nothing more than a shrug, a wince, a faint smile when she was pleased which wasn’t too often no matter how much Scarlett tried.
With the paper held tightly in her palm, she walked like her limbs didn’t belong to her towards the staircase, each step a negotiation rather than an order. Her body hurt terribly, every damn part. The worst was the bruises on her self-esteem.
“What’s wrong with you?” the woman asked.
“Nothing, just a minor accident.”
“Yea right. Looks like something else to me,” the woman scoffed. “Want me to run your bath?”
“I will be fine, Melony. Lock the door behind you when you are done.”
“You are going to get yourself killed by one of them men one day.”
With one foot at the stairs landing and her hand on the polished wooden rail for support, Scarlett stiffened. She knew it was dangerous— the kind of men she provided service to were not totally decent men even though they have not posed a threat to her, as long as she doesn’t mingle in their dirty businesses.
However, Melony had just told her the truth she didn’t want to tell herself.
The money was good.
The men paid hefty price to have her and her girls.
That was all that mattered.
She quietly walked into her room, carefully undressed and stepped into the bathroom.
She was already in bed when she remembered the note. Getting up with a grunt, she picked the piece of paper off her dressing table, plop her bottom on the edge of the bed, and read through the badly written words;
Hey, kiddo.
Miss me? Now you leave in a big house and have forgotten good old Meggie…told you I’d come after you were ever you are. Okay, here is the thing- ten thousand bucks in cash and I will be gone, this time for good, trust me…
Trust her? That was what she had been doing all these whiles. Yet Meggie had kept coming back, demanding for money. Each demand bigger than what she asked the previous time. Threatening to go to the police with the secret they both shared.
Le Sainte- Elizabeth, tomorrow night 9pm. You owe me much more kiddo, and you know it.
The thought of Meggie locating her new place sent a fission of shivers all over her and kept her eyes opened for a long time.
Christ.
Why couldn’t she just have the peace of mind her life craved for? Why would trouble run after her like a vulture after a carcass? Talking of trouble, Meggie was a big one.
What was she going to do?
Unable to will her eyes to sleep, she staggered out of bed, the cold air emanating from the air conditioner in the room caressing her flesh, it was just what she needed. That and maybe something from the Tv’s local channels to busy her eyes and mind with. Positioning herself to have a perfect view of the screen, she browsed through channels.
Music. Conversations. Laughter. Gunfights and magic shows. None interested her or quenched the angry, brooding voices in her head which a long bath could wash away. Voices from long gone, from yesterday upon yesterday- yet, still so loud.
She kept flipping.
Flip, flip, flip. Hissed. More flips. Stop. Her ears picked a melody it agreed with. But… flipped past. Oh, wait… backtracked and… there.
A music concert or something, but she kind of loved the ethereal male voice floating into her ears. The Euphonic chords tangle together. Intriguing.
Her interest captured, she fixed her gaze on the screen, on the mammoth crowd singing along. Then the stage came in view. Gradually zooming closer. She could now see the singer standing with a guitar…
“I know that guy,” She murmured, getting up and walking closer to the TV. Yes, she had seen him somewhere before.
It’s him. It’s him!
The guy she collided into at the hotel porch!
With her arms crossed over her middle, she watched the man for a while. He was mesmerizing… his voice holding the audience spellbound, cracking something off her heart.
“…way maker,
miracle worker,
promise keeper light in the darkness…”
She’s heard that song before, had even played a few times while driving. But hearing it now from this epitome of angelic handsomeness added a whole new excitement to the song.
“…You wiped away my tears,
you mend the broken heart,
you are the answer to it all…”
The lyrics swan through her cerebral cortex like a wakeful dream. The notes relaxed her, when the man lifted his chin and his hands up, her whole body followed. He was so ethereal, so divine, wielding a force capable of transporting her from her room to the stage with him.
When he opened his eyes and flashed a beautiful smile as he ended the song, she realized that was the most perfect and real smile she had seen in a long while. His eyes, soft blue like a very early morning, spelt peace and contentment.
“Amazing,” she found herself murmuring. “Beautiful.”
To be continued
