Chapter 6: Betrayal

The man jump from bed, hug Amaka tight.

He spin am small, like say dem just win lottery. For him voice, you go hear hope and fear join together.

"Once money enter, I go carry you comot. We go Abuja, Port Harcourt, anywhere you want. Na you I go marry."

He dey plan escape, like say Nigeria na only big men get passport. Amaka dey nod, dey tap his chest like say she dey dream.

Amaka touch, hug am. "I dey wait for this day. I no fit continue like this."

Her voice crack, tears for her eye, but smile dey her face. She dey find reason to believe am.

"No worry, once I invest, money go flow. Believe me."

He kiss her forehead. Hope dey his eye. Na street love, na Lagos love, na hustle love.

"Na my bride price and savings be that o. No fall my hand. I go bank tomorrow withdraw am. Come collect."

She talk am with warning, but na plea dey inside. She dey pray say this one no go use am run.

The man dress, waka go. As he dey go, Amaka call am, "Emeka."

Her voice soft, almost like whisper. For Emeka ear, e be like promise wey him dey fear to break.

Baba Musa don give all the bride price and family savings to Amaka, but she wan use am please customer.

As I dey reason say I need 1.5 million to marry Zainab, I dey jealous of Emeka. As I dey pity Baba Musa, one dark idea enter my mind.

The thought dey heavy for my chest. For Lagos, temptation dey everywhere. If person see big money, na only God fit hold am back. As I dey stare wall, my hand dey shake, sweat dey my palm.

Early the next morning, Amaka follow Baba Musa comot, come back almost noon, carry one big bag. Three million naira—she put am inside three brown paper bags, hide am under the freezer for the door. That freezer na for Baba Musa to keep food; another big one dey shop. This one na the old one.

She tiptoe, dey look back, carry bag like say na egg. She kneel, open freezer, push bag enter, wipe sweat, then carry mop dey clean floor. If you pass, you no go know say money dey there. Lagos women sabi hide money well.

As she finish hide am, phone ring.

Her ringtone na old gospel song—she rush pick. Na Baba Musa: "Amaka, I make new food. Come help me taste am."

"Okay, honey, I dey come down, just in time for lunch."

Amaka go downstairs, me I quietly pass window, carry the paper bags, rush back my place.

My body dey hot, my heart dey beat like drum for mosque. I pray make neighbor no see me, I hide the bags under my gas cooker. For my mind, I dey justify: 'Na just help I dey help myself.' I dey pray make CCTV no dey this compound, but for Lagos, na only mouth dey record.

I know say I dey do bad thing, but I wan bet say Amaka no go talk. If I win, na she go suffer, and I fit marry Zainab. If I lose... I no wan even think am.

My conscience dey fight my body. I dey sweat, dey shake, but hope dey hold me. For this city, if you wait for miracle, you go old. Sometimes, na who get liver dey chop.

I sit for house dey shake, hide the bags under my gas cooker.

All afternoon, Amaka no come back.

I dey peep window, dey wait. The street quiet, sun dey hot, but my heart dey cold. No footsteps for corridor, no sound for wall.

Late night, Amaka and Baba Musa come house together.

I hear their steps, Baba Musa dey sing old Fela song. Amaka dey drag leg, her voice low. Na so I know say trouble dey brew.

"I wan bath. Enter bed wait for me—no remove your cloth," Baba Musa talk.

His tone hard, e dey command. Amaka no answer, she just walk go room, eyes red. Baba Musa off slippers, enter bathroom.

Amaka wear skin tights and leather boots, sexy like summer. Lucky say she dey busy for phone, dey chat, no look under freezer.

Her phone dey light her face, message dey pop up. She dey type fast, sometimes she dey smile, sometimes she dey frown. For my mind, I dey wonder if na Emeka she dey chat.

Tonight, I no even get mood watch their show. I just dey pray make dem off light quick.

The tension for air na real. I hide under blanket, dey pray make night finish fast. For once, I no get interest for next door drama.

Next morning, Emeka come.

He no even knock well, na sharp movement. My own spirit jump, as I sense say wahala go blow.