Love's Second Chance (5 page)

“
Hey Efe, it’s been a long time.”

“
Yes, it has. How’re you?” Temi had not called for the past two months, and her American accent hit Efe with a wave of nostalgia. Temi’s parents were Nigerian immigrants to the States, and she was more American than Nigerian.

“
I’m okay.” Temi said. “I came back from the club and couldn’t sleep so I called you.”

Efe thought of those nights when she couldn’t sleep, tortured by dreams. She would call someone in the States next time. The timing would be perfect for a midnight chat.

“
Thanks for thinking of me,” she said to Temi. “I’m in the middle of work, but I can talk for a bit.” She leaned back in her seat, “So tell me what’s been happening. I miss you guys sometimes and may be coming to America soon.”

“
Already tired of Nigeria? How is Abuja?”

“
So-so,” Efe replied with a shrug.

“
You’ve started saying that again; where did you even pick it?”

“
I can’t remember, it must have been as a child,” Efe said, though she knew where or from whom she’d learnt it, and also why it had crept back. However, Temi didn’t know about Kevwe, and she wasn’t about to tell her.

“
I’m thinking of visiting. I’ve heard so much about the place.”

“
Temi, you should. The city is beautiful.”

“
Abuja is in the northern part of the country, right?” Temi asked. “Aren’t you afraid of ethnic clashes? What was the latest one on the news, about western education being forbidden or something?”

“
You mean Boko Haram?” Efe did not laugh this time. She’d been terrified while it raged in August, before the police killed the leader. The only reason she hadn’t run back to Lagos was because Hilton beefed up security, and she’d taken to sleeping at the hotel where she could feel safe. Her parents had called every day.

“
Yes, that’s the one. Did they get there too?”

“
No they didn’t, and actually, the Boko Haram episode was more of a religious crisis than an ethnic one.”

Efe still had terrible flashbacks to the violence in Warri all those years ago, with dead bodies on the streets, explosions and looting. She had panicked while the Kano riots lasted, only taking solace in how multicultural Abuja was, without much of the ethnic and religious problems affecting other parts of the country.

“
To be honest, Abuja is OK; some say it’s boring, but I call it peaceful.”

“
I heard the internet connection is unreliable,” Temi said, “How do you deal with it? And I also want to know if there are places one can have fun.”

Efe smiled. Since Hilton hotels most times operated bars and nightclubs, her friends often depended on her for information on party venues. “Oh, there are some great clubs. I was out with friends some nights ago, and it was off the hook. People here sure can party.”

“
Have you met up with Stanley yet?”

“
Stanley?” Efe laughed. “No, why do you ask?”

“
Stanley’s been in Nigeria for the past one month!”

“
No!” Efe jerked to her feet, and then immediately regretted the outburst, but it was too late. Temi loved gossip and would always harp on this information she’d passed to Efe. Efe rolled her eyes as Temi crowed in her ear.

“
Didn’t he tell you? He asked me if you’d changed your number because he said you hadn’t been replying his calls or texts. What’s happening? Are you guys off again?”

“
We were off even before I left the States. I stopped reading his texts some months ago. He wanted us to get back together which I didn’t want...”

“
Well, he’s in Lagos, and you should talk to him…”

Temi trailed off, and Efe said a silent prayer for the call to end. In the course of the conversation, she’d been reminded of two people she’d rather not think about.

“
Efe, I have to go.” Temi said, “I’ll call you later.”

Efe thankfully clicked her off and leaned back with eyes closed. She thought of sending Stanley a BlackBerry ping but put it off for later. She’d had enough distractions in the past couple of days and wished she could concentrate on work.

But she couldn’t stop thinking of the two men who were mistakes in her life. One was a disaster she’d still been trying to get over when she allowed herself to be persuaded into the second. Wasn’t it strange they’d both become problematic about the same time? What was she to do, and about Kevwe in particular?

**

5

Lagos. November 27, 2009. 9.30am

Kevwe strode into the Sheraton Hotel Friday morning, and was quickly directed to the reception for operations manager. His technicians had been able to complete the project without any hitches, producing and installing all the units the hotel ordered for their kitchens.

Thirty minutes later, the man was still absent, and taking a break from the journal he’d come with, Kevwe
looked around him. One would have thought a private hotel chain like the Sheraton would have more punctual managers. In the glass paneled office beside him, an assistant was elbow-deep in papers. After checking her name tag, he walked over and knocked.

“
Good morning Mrs. Kukah.”

The woman looked up and apologetically pointed to the telephone which was balanced in the crook of her left shoulder, something he had not noticed when he looked in from the reception. Kevwe nodded in understanding and took a seat.

He listened as the woman spoke over the phone, wishing he had a secretary like her. Though he got along well his receptionist, she could do better on the office front. Sometimes, he did some of the filing himself, to avoid confusion.

Kevwe looked around the walls of the cubicle, and his eyes came to rest on the framed picture displayed beside a Trusted Staff award. Two children who resembled Mrs. Kukah, a boy and a girl, were seated on a sofa. They were about the same age – maybe ten years old – and similar enough to be twins.

Mrs. Kukah hung up the receiver and turned to Kevwe.

“
Are these twins?” he asked, with a smile on his face.

She laughed, and Kevwe could see some of the official stiffness drop away from her features. “How did you guess?”

“
They’re about the same age I think. Are they your children?”

She nodded, “I always wanted twins and I was so happy when I got a boy and a girl.”

“
It’s rare for boy and girl twins to look so alike…”

“
They weren’t alike when I had them, it only happened as they got older.” Mrs. Kukah sat back. “Can I get you tea or coffee?”

“
No… no, that’s fine. I’m here to see the general manager. When will he arrive? I’ve been waiting for over an hour.”

“
He’s usually here by this time.” She glanced out the door as if the manager would walk in that instant. Kevwe also looked back, but the entrance remained empty.

“
What did you want him to do for you?” she finally asked.

Kevwe faced her. “My company just completed a supply of ice machines, and according to my contract, I’m to be paid today.”

She shuffled the sheaf of papers before her. “Are you with Mukoro Refrigeration?”

Kevwe nodded. “I’m the managing director.”

“
Oh I see, sorry about the delay, please. The store manager has just sent up your invoice and the other necessary documents. Since you’re here, I could start on it so only the manager’s signature would be required when he comes.”

“
That’ll be great.”

She got up from behind her desk, and he followed her out of the office. On the second floor, Mrs. Kukah spoke with the two women, handing the papers to one of them, and then turning to Kevwe with a smile.

“
Hauwa and Mary will deal with the payment angle. You could come up with me; the reception area upstairs is more comfortable or my office. However, if you prefer, you could wait here. The minute they’re through, they’ll let me know.”

“
I’ll wait down here; thanks for everything.” Kevwe settled in one of the visitors’ chairs in front of Hauwa’s desk. She greeted him with a polite smile and got back to work. Kevwe studied her in silence. She was striking but a bit darker than he usually preferred. Efe had been a milk chocolate color…

“
This is ready now,” Hauwa’s voice prodded him back to the present. Kevwe shook the cobwebs away and accepted the file. She explained the next steps and pointed the way. Kevwe took the file and went up to a large lady who gave him a form to fill. Ten minutes later, he collected the completed and stamped form. He turned to Hauwa; she nodded at him with a smile and spoke into her intercom. When he got back to the seventh floor, several visitors milled around, the crowd he had wanted to avoid by his early arrival. He shrugged and made his way to Mrs. Kukah’s office. A musky scent assailed his nostrils before he got there.

“
Hi babe, can you talk?” Kevwe heard the drawl as he opened the door. The tall, sharply dressed young man who owned the scent and the drawl stood facing him, wearing a wireless earphone. He was on his way out, and Kevwe stepped aside to let him go.

“
The manager,” Mrs. Kukah mouthed.

Kevwe’s nod was short with resentment at the well-dressed manager’s offhand manner.

“
Should I follow him?” he asked Mrs. Kukah when the door closed. She told him to give the manager a few minutes, so he sat, teeth clenched in a mixture of anger and envy.

The operations manager looked his age, if not younger, but his tall frame, striped teal shirt, matching tie, and the charcoal-colored Hugo Boss suit skimming his lithe frame made Kevwe feel small. These kinds of meetings sometimes made him regret coming back to Nigeria with his parents. Maybe if he’d stayed in America with Ofure, he would’ve avoided meeting Efe Sagay, escaped falling in love with her and having his heart broken.

“
You can go in now.”

Mrs. Kukah’s voice intruded into Kevwe’s thoughts. She nodded toward the door, and he thanked her as he left the office. At the wood door shielding the operation manager from him, he smoothed away some lint from his jeans and adjusted the wool jacket. They might not be Hugo Boss, but they would have to do. He knocked on the door and walked in at the call to enter.

The manager was still on the BlackBerry. He gestured with his right hand, waving Kevwe to a seat and raising five fingers before swinging over to the side.

Kevwe settled himself and dropped his file on the desk. The tidy office had cream walls with no pictures, the large windows showing a city view. Kevwe found his attention drifting to the telephone conversation on the other side of the desk.

“
Babe, I do want to see you,” Mr. Hugo Boss murmured.

It became obvious to Kevwe the man’s low tone was not just for privacy, but because the other person was his girlfriend or someone for whom he had strong emotional feelings. Kevwe detected the vulnerability in the manager’s voice. It was the voice of a man who wanted a woman. Kevwe saw the picture of a woman bent on her independence and a man who didn’t want to let her go. Just like him and Efe during those last days in Benin.

“
Efe, don’t say …”

Kevwe blinked, wondering if he’d heard correctly.

“
OK, don’t be like that, Efe…” the manager paused, listening.

Kevwe shook his head. Of course, there were several girls with the same name. It couldn’t be Efe Sagay. He began to brush it off…

“
Don’t you want me to come to Abuja?”

Kevwe’s whole attention was now focused on the back and forth. His pulse speeded up, and he reminded himself to breathe. Sweat sprang up on his palms, and he rubbed them together as he listened to the one-sided conversation. He couldn’t believe his reaction to what his mind had figured out even while his heart rejected it.

“
I will simply call Transcorp Hilton and ask for a reservation for Ms. Sagay’s fiancé…” The man opposite him laughed.

The sound mocked him, and clenching his hands, Kevwe sank low into his chest. He didn’t want to hear anymore. Was Efe engaged again? Well, what did he expect? That they would somehow end up together? It dawned on him that since Ofure had mentioned her a week ago, his sub-conscious had been building fantasies of him going after her and finding out they could still be a couple. How stupid of him.

Knowing why she had left him, it shouldn’t be a surprise she would agree to go out with someone like Mr. Hugo Boss. His hands gripped the edges of the seat, but he wiped all emotion from his face. Well, they were welcome to each other. He sat up, and when he caught the eye of the manager, he tapped his wristwatch. The man hung up soon after and swung to face him.

“
Sorry about that,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

Kevwe found he had to clear his throat before speaking. “I just delivered a consignment of machinery, and my payment documents require your signature.”

“
You must be with Mukoro Engineering…”

“
I am Mukoro, Kevwe Mukoro, the managing director.”

“
Pleased to meet you, Engineer Mukoro…”

The other man was on his feet. Kevwe stood and pumped the outstretched palm.

“
The name is Stanley Adetiba. I joined them here just weeks ago. The hotel technicians and the kitchen staff are delighted with your product. Congrats on a job well done.”