Chapter 2: Halima’s Beauty and the Tattoo

That time, the young woman drag the curtain for back room comot and call out with sweet voice, "A’Yusuf, why you never come out? I don already clean my skin finish."

Her voice na like jollof rice wey dey steam for fire—soft, warm, get that aroma wey dey make head turn. As the curtain open, small perfume wey she rub just follow breeze come out. The girl fine no be small, she fresh like say she never reach twenty, bookish and gentle—really dey easy for eye.

Na the kind fine wey dey quiet, no be the one wey dey shout for social media. Her eyebrow arch like Fulani girl, her skin dey glow like early morning light. Even as she dey talk, small shy smile dey her lips, as if she dey think of better thing. If she waka for Balogun, even agbero go pause just dey look.

The young prince remove the coldness for him eye, smile just touch him mouth.

I observe say, the way Yusuf dey look this girl, na as if she be gold. E shock me small, because big men for Abuja no dey always get that patience. You go think say na love wey dey pepper them. Na so Naija rich people dey pamper their babe—sometimes na for show, sometimes na for real.

"You dey rush? I dey come now. Abeg, Halima, just relax for there, I dey come."

His voice low, but sure. The kind tone wey person go use talk to pikin wey e cherish. I quickly keep the cheque, wash and disinfect my hand, then follow the young prince, Yusuf, go out.

My heart dey race, as I dey reason wetin go happen next. For Naija, you dey learn to dey careful when you dey work with people wey their hand dey government. Since I start this job, Yusuf no gree leave my side, the way him dey look me dey make my head dey hot.

If to say no be big money, I for just talk say make dem carry their wahala go. But street no dey smile for poor man.