Chapter 6: Suya Test and Lagos Confession

One night, my babe come back late from real company dinner. She even video call me to prove.

She show me buffet, greet one or two colleagues, laugh. Everything package. "See, babe, I dey office people dinner, nothing dey happen." She even wave phone, show banner for back.

I message the guy for WhatsApp (he don ask for my number but I never gree—always dey use WhatsApp).

Sharp. E get as e dey beg for number, but I just dey dodge, dey keep boundary.

I ask about investment insurance, whether e make sense. He send long reply, dey analyze everything. I no even read am.

The message long like sermon, with attachment, but my eye no even dey there.

After about ten minutes, I message am again.

I say, "Even though I don marry, I still no fit forget you. After we meet again, all those old feelings come back. Maybe life just too dry now, the rush dey sweet, but I no want betray my wife."

I just wan see reaction—make e suspect small.

He reply with question mark. I delete the message sharp sharp, then send voice note.

You know that WhatsApp delete, before e see am. Then voice note follow—my voice low, "Omo, sorry, wrong chat."

"Bro, no vex, wrong person."

He say no wahala, e no even check am well.

Guy too chill—maybe e dey used to all this kind error.

I call am for voice, ask if he get chance make we go chop suya, say I no dey happy, wan talk.

I yarn like person wey need advice, say make we see for suya spot. Na test of loyalty.

He gree quick. "Bro, no wahala."

You see Naija men? Once you talk beer and suya, wahala don end. "Bro, location and time?"

The reason why I gree see am na because, from their chat, I see say he no know say my babe get boyfriend. She tell am say she break up with her short-term boyfriend after Christmas.

See as my babe dey rewrite history. Me wey dey here dey arrange marriage, she don clear me from her CV.

Chop my food, sleep for my house, spend my money for braid stand, drive my car go flex with her girls, but for her old flame side, she dey act single.

All those errands—hair, food, Uber—na my money. But to her knight, she dey write love letter like secondary school babe.

Na wa.

Omo, na real Naija movie. If dem carry this story go Africa Magic, dem go say e too much.

I drive go pick am. First thing he talk as he enter car: "Bro, I never see you post this car for your WhatsApp."

You know boys, once dem enter new car, eye dey everywhere. He adjust seat, smile. Na so he yarn.

I just smile, no answer.

Na the vibe I want—person wey no send all this material things.

I no talk too much, just dey observe. I wan see whether he go carry himself like boss.

He dey gist, say, "You rich people na so una dey, dey change car anyhow. E dey sweet."

I just laugh small, shake head, talk say, "Na God o."

Maybe because na me invite am out, he dey feel big, dey talk pass me. I just dey flow.

Na so men dey behave, once dem see person wey fit pay bill, gist go plenty. I no even vex, I dey wait him mouth loose.

Fan dey blow dust, Alhaji dey shout price for beef, but my mind dey another place.