Chapter 7: Chapter 7

When I was in senior secondary school, I remember learning about idiomatic expressions. I used to wonder what kind of dumb phrase was, to wish the ground will open up and swallow you.

First, how the hell was it possible for the ground to suddenly split up like an earthquake and swallow a person? How logical and realistic could that be?

I didn't quite agree with the phrase, but anyway, for the sake of coming out in flying colours in my exams, I accepted the definition, hook, line, and sinker. I remember my teacher used to say it meant one wish to escape or some instant relief from being mortified or extremely embarrassed.

It was today I realized that what an adult can see while sitting, a youth will never see it even if it is right under their nose, or even if they are at the top of an aeroplane.

All of a sudden, I craved for the ground to open up and swallow me. All I wanted was to curl up into a ball and die because I couldn't stand the embarrassment. It was now I realized that it was my sole destiny never to get a job because, at this moment, I have just fucked things up, big time.

My mind did a short flashback on our last meeting.

"Watch your mouth, you are nothing but a snake. You are just like the other girls that stage drama just to get money."

"And you watch how you display your stupidity, spoilt brat. If you think I'm a snake, then you must be an anaconda."

At first, there was silence, a misty haze upon the horizons of my mind. That was where I kept everything in my mind. That was until now, I could feel the painful lump at the back of my throat as I struggled to say something-- anything to get me out of this mess. But I ended up opening and closing my mouth like a fish that leapt out of a sea, gasping for breath.

I began to weigh my options like I was weighing my scale, trying to choose what is best for me. Yes, that seems like the only logical idea my mind could come up with. If I run, it will Portray me as a snub which I am not, plus I will lose this job opportunity that I'm quite desperate for. If I stay, I'm as good as dead because someone definitely looks like he is ready to bash my head against the wall ten times till they combust with my brains spilling out. I blinked repeatedly trying to get the stupid image of my head.

"So, cat got your tongue now?" He chuckled. "No more razor blade mouth with a badass trait? No more insults? No more bad bitch vibes?" He massaged his hands.

"I'm so sorry sir, I am usually not like that." I sniffled, bowing my head in shame.

"Oh!" His brown eyes widened. "Please do tell me what you are usually like because this is not the persona I saw the other day." He smirked.

"I was having a bad day so I agree that I might have overreacted." I shifted my weight on each leg as my body seemed too heavy to carry all of a sudden.

"Bad day? Overreacted? Tell me about it." His lips curved in amusement while my head screamed, ginormous bastard.

"I lost a job opportunity and the manager also pissed me off." I swallowed hard and began cracking my knuckles. An act I tend to do when I'm nervous or angry.

"Can you now see that the world is a small world?" He drummed his fingers on the mahogany table, giving me a small-- devilish smile.

I stared on, anger beginning to bake inside of me. He knew what he was doing. He was taunting and mocking me. How much exactly do they have to offer? Probably not up to a hundred thousand, yet an arrogant jerk is utilizing this opportunity to his advantage. I can't put up with this nonsense, after all, he was the one at fault from the onset.

"This world is truly a small place indeed." I cocked my brows with a serious expression on.

"What are you talking about?" He closed his Mac book pro, staring at me in confusion.

"I'm saying you should suck the job up your ass and learn some manners, you bloody asshole." I snarled, balling my fists.

"Ah! And her true character is finally surfacing." He grinned and stood up.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I stared at him as he advanced slowly my way. He took off his dark jacket revealing his white crispy shirt and purple tie. His hair is styled in normal afro cut, with the middle hair higher and the sides, lower.

"What that is supposed to mean sweetheart," his heels clicked as he advanced towards me slowly with a smirk on, his strong cologne hitting me hard in the nostrils.

He stood behind me, his hot breath fanning my neck. My weak point, as I trembled, trying so hard to focus. I stayed rooted to the spot. I dared not move, I dared not breath, not when I'm getting turned on by the little gestures of this perfect stranger. I could feel my legs turning into jellies.

He stood behind me for seconds, probably checking me out, he then spun me around to face him. He caressed my face tenderly.

We both gazed in the eyes of each other longingly, not a word spoken by either of us. I was lost between the breathless paradise of his dreamy eyes, when he muttered, "A bitch will always remain one, so drop that stupid meek act of yours it makes you look stupid." He spat at me.

I frowned, totally offended. "To hell with your job and every other fucking thing you own." I tapped his chest repeatedly as I muttered each word.

"And to hell with you for not being able to amass such wealth. Jealous creature." He pushed my head and dusted his hands like he just touched a garbage dump.

"I'm so done here, goodbye for life. I hope we never meet again, cocky bastard." I said, squarely meeting his gaze and began leaving the room.

"Not so fast." His hand caught my arm, dragging me back in a swift motion.

"How does five hundred thousand naira every month sound to you?" He tilted his head with a smirk on, waiting for a response.

"Bloody stupid money, you are just so obsessed with dominating people aren't you?" I jerked my arm hard away from him.

He grinned. "I knew you had the poverty aura around you." His voice was deep. "But I never knew your village people will let you lose such a great opportunity of becoming a millionaire by the end of this year." He flicked the pen cover he was holding, on and off.

"You are a jerk." I cried out in frustration. "A stupid wealthy jerk with no human emotions whatsoever." I punched his chest. It was as hard as a punching bag. I could tell he visited the gym regularly.

"I have heard all that before." He taunted, spreading out his arms as the sun rays cascaded on him.

"I won't accept your offer, I'm sure if I go job hunting for a week or two, I will find a better offer so keep your stupid, nonsensical offer to yourself." I hissed and began walking out.

I knew it was a stupid thing to do and where the hell do I plan on getting that kind of Job with such pay in two weeks when I have clearly job hunted for eight months. If mom was here, she would have slapped senses into me and forcefully made me apologize to him. But pride they say comes before a fall.

"I will pay you two hundred and fifty thousand naira extra for monthly allowance, nothing more, nothing less, so you can either choose to be stupid and poor or smart and rich." He hollered just as I was about to step out of the office, making me stop dead in my tracks. I turned around, facing him with a questioning look.

"All you need to do is to sign up the contract to work as my personal assistant." He said with a knowing smirk since he knew he had obviously won.

Stupid, attractive, arrogant idiot.

"You will need to sign a contract to be under me." He walked closer to me, his tall dominating heights reminding me that he was two inches taller than I am.

"Under you?" My face scrunched up in disgust.

"Oh, get your dirty mind out of the gutter, you are not my type anyway, I like my girls model-like, white-skinned and beautiful." He spat.

"Not like you are my spec either. I like my guys smart, well-mannered and hot, it is not like you met my standard." I hissed.

His clenched his teeth since I just bruised his ego. "Poor people don't have specs." He spat. "Care to know why?" He replaced his frown with a smile.

I stood still boiling in anger, how can someone be so insensitive and always love rubbing my nose about my financial status. I didn't choose to be poor.

"I will tell you whether you care to listen or not." He chuckled and circled me. "Because poor people have no fucking choice, so you will either accept the damn job or you get your poverty aura out of here before business starts going bad." He spat with his frown resuming back.

How horrible can a person be? He is quite handsome and good looking but is that an excuse for his bad attitudes, I wonder how his staffs cope anyways.

I sighed, if I want to be fully financially independent or liberated, then I must accept this offer because it is too good to be true. After all, everything in this life has its merits and demerits, the demerits will be tolerating his excesses which I think I can put up with for the sake of money.

"I'm still standing right here, you know that right? And so many people sitting out there will jump at this offer." He pointed at the next room that had a whole lot of applicants sitting and awaiting their fate.

I sighed deeply. "When can I start?" I scratched my head and watched him snicker. It was a taunting and mocking chuckle but at this point, I'm going to screw and dump my ego.

Working with him for a year can't be that bad? I can become extremely rich at the end of the year by taking this offer. So becoming a personal assistant to the general manager of access bank founder can't be too bad.

"So," he continued and sat on his chair. "You are going to dump sleep and rest for good and do whatever I tell you to do. I hate tardiness, clumsiness, laziness, and late coming."

I groaned at the crazy rules he just gave me. I once got an award in school as the best late commer of the year thrice in a row and sleep? I once slept through a robbery without knowing anything was going on.

"So you want to be a dictator?" I folded my arms to my chest, my feet ached terribly. Walking around with an unbalanced shoe sole does that to a person. I can't even remember the last time I bought a new shoe talk more about changing my wardrobe. This job is really going to change my life for the better.

"More like a boss." He winked.

"I hope we can work hand in hand to make things better." I picked up the document and pen he threw my way.

"You are going to be a rich girl soon." His eyes twinkled, reminding me of pure brown honey and hot chocolate.  He has that brown skin adonis look. A pop of melanin mess making me realize that brown is a beautiful colour.

"Go and meet Ngozi, my secretary. Tell her to show you to your office and ensure you return with a coffee. No sugar, no milk, just a shot of black coffee." He said without sparing me a glance, he typed away on his laptop with clenched teeth and pointed jaws sharp enough to slice a metal.

I stood there blinking, trying so hard to comprehend things. Has work started just like that?

"A c-- coffee? Sir?" I stuttered, looking flabbergasted.

"Yes, a coffee." He looked up from his mac book pro. "Do you know what one looks like? Liquid in form, brown--"

"I know exactly what a coffee looks like," I interjected. "Sir." I finished off, getting angry already.

"Good, then get to work because your pathetic ass is beginning to infuriate me with my patience wearing thin." He continued typing.

"Excuse--" I started.

"No more rude words, I'm your boss now." He frowned, sounding so authoritative and ferocious.

"Definitely sir, right on it." I nodded aggressively without moving an inch.

"And the door is right that way." He said pointing at the door while I headed out to do my first task.

____

Shopping with Harriet is always a hardcore. She was so excited about my new job and the awesome pay so she decided to get me some classy and trending outfits for work like she named it and wanted us to have a beauty day before I resume work fully on Monday. If it was a choice between shopping and diving into a swimming pool filled with cold vomits. I will rather pick the latter. As a matter of fact, I will tie my braids into a bun, get in a bathing suit and dive right in amongst the chunky bits.

Every time I went to the mall with Harriet, she always ensured I tried out hundred outfits and eventually ended up buying five. Crazy right? She will also comment on how she thinks I'm getting too fat and why can't be like the sexy, hot, and trending her.

And with mom? She will end up picking old styles with a distasteful look. She never failed to remind me how she thought I lacked good taste in fashion and while trying to pass my point across, she will yell at me, reminding me that she was spending her money on me and I should get mine. She was quite ecstatic to know I found a good-paying job on the Island but her major worry is transportation, time, and beating the terrible Lagos traffic daily without getting fully exhausted. She is also positive I will find a better husband on the island and dump my boyfriend for good. That woman can be so frustrating.

So we spent a large chunk of the morning, shopping and getting massages in a very expensive spa. Harriet made sure to sort all bills on our behalf, she claimed she was only doing her job as a best friend. We are currently heading into a huge female salon because she wants to take out her Crotchet and fix twenty-two inches, human hair. Guess who gave her the money for it?

The hair salon is a wide-open space of mirrors and comfortable leather chairs that swivelled around. The floor was black tiled probably to hide stains and the walls are a brilliant white with spray-painted graffiti art.

"Hi gorgeous ladies, what will you like to do to your hair today." A slim fair-skinned lady asked in a sing-song voice as her gaze shifted between us when we settled on the chairs.

"I will be taking out this crotchet hair and I will be fixing this twenty-two inches weavon," Harriet said while munching her plantain chips she bought few stalls away.

"Beautiful hair, how much did you buy it?" The lady asked, admiring the wavy curly hair.

Harriet's eyes lit up in happiness. She always loved people praising a thing or two about her. "I bought it three hundred thousand naira, it is an original human hair. It was shipped from the US yesterday." She chuckled, swivelling her chair around.

"Wow, this is really beautiful indeed, but I'm afraid you have been scammed because this hair costs just fifty thousand naira in Nigeria." The lady pouted apologetically.

"Give me that," Harriet snatched it from her hand in anger. "This hair is hundred per cent original and the cheap ones in Nigeria are Aba made." Harriet clicked her tongue.

"I didn't mean to upset you ma, we will get started right now." The Lady hurriedly brought out her combs.

"You better do." Harriet pointed a blazing red nail at her. "And learn to mind your business." She hissed, while I watched the drama with interest. Typical Harriet to get vexed when a person criticizes her things and the lady added salt to the injury by praising her hair before criticizing it.

"And you ma'am?" A round dark-skinned lady walked up to me. All the girls were putting on a green T-shirt as their uniform and any random pair of jeans trousers or skirt.

"I'm not here to make my hair." I gave her a small smile and began typing away on my phone.

"And what the hell does that even mean?" Harriet blasted me with a glare.

"My braids are still as good as new." I stared at my hair from the mirror, patting it.

Harriet's eyes narrowed into slits. "How long has that hair been on your head?"

"A month I guess." I shrugged.

"That nonsense thing on your head has lasted more than enough, it looks dirty." She glared.

"Oh please, do you know how much I spent on the hair, I spent six thousand, buying two big packs of attachments, the braids aren't rough abeg, they are still attractive." I tilted my head to a side.

"I'm here because of you." She pointed at me. "So get that crap off your head and let's give you a totally new look so your boss can fall crazily in love with you." She chuckled, wiggling her brows.

"Stop it, I don't like it." I hissed, a frown marring my face.

"You have no other choice but to like it, can't you see you guys are just like some cheesy romance chapter in a book?" She cocked her brow. "And I'm a die-hard fan, a crazy shipper of you both." She began laughing and clapping excitedly.

"Can you just shut up?"

"Not until the ship lands." She winked as the hairstylist began styling her hair.

Two hours passed and Harriet is ready to bring down this beauty palace.

"What the hell did you do to my hair? Where are my edges? This looks horrible." She screamed, tugging at the extreme end of the black silly weavon.

"You said you wanted a style that will cover the baldness of your front hair." The fair-skinned stylist raised her hands in gesticulation.

"It is your entire head that will be bald." Harriet spat with nose flared in anger and irritation.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I just did what you told me to do." The stylist frowned.

"I just did what you told me to do." Harriet mimicked her in a terrible accent. "Don't you know this will only make my front hair bald?" She fired.

"I'm sorry ma, your bill is five thousand." The stylist pouted.

"You have got to be kidding me." Harriet spat with venomous anger. "I'm complaining that I don't like your services and you are billing me, do you by any chance know how much I bought this human hair you just ruined?"

The stylist scoffed. "Fake human hair you mean?"

"How dare you." Harriet hollered and made a move to slap her before I came in between them.

"You guys should calm the hell down and not bring down this whole place," I screamed at them, my gaze shifting between them.

"Look at how she ruined my hair? Where is my baby hair?" She cried out, checking the hair in the mirror with a disapproving look.

"I only did what you told me to do o." The stylist fired with a nonchalance look.

"Harriet breathe, calm down na, let us resolve this thing amicably. Screaming will only compound things." I said to her, tapping her shoulder. She hissed and walked towards a chair to sit.

"And you." I pointed at the stylist. "Haven't you heard the phrase that customers are always right? Doesn't that policy work here." I fired at her with scrutinized eyes.

"I know, bu--"

"There is no but here, you should try to always satisfy your customers. Don't you know if she is happy with your services, she will refer more of her friends here?" I said to her, watching her look down in shame.

"After all, I never knew this place existed till she dragged me here." I looked at a quiet Harriet who was busily making calls.

"I'm so sorry ma." She sighed, looking remorseful.

"I'm not the one you should be telling sorry. Go and meet her." I nudged my head in Harriet's direction.

"Yes ma'am, thanks for understanding." She smiled and walked towards Harriet with shaky hands.

After several pleadings and promises from the fair-skinned lady, Harriet gave her an acknowledging nod.

"So what's the way forward now?" The lady asked.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" A lot of disbelief was on Harriet's face.

"All you need to do Is to uninstall what is currently on her head and do what she wants." I rolled my eyes.

"And hope you know I won't be paying a dime for your previous mistake?" Harriet asked with a crossed face.

"Oh no ma, you will have to pay for the hairstyles." The lady argued and soon another ear-splitting argument began with the both of them raising their voices so high while I stared on in anger.

Harriet has a temper of TNT, once the sparks have started to sizzle there will be very little time to duck and cover. She didn't argue with her fists but her words packed a powerful punch. Her words were said with anger and all form of drama as her body kept vibrating like the engine of a car.

Like trained boxers, they circled each other as if it was a fighting arena. She traded slur for slur, insult for insult, dig for dig till I screamed I was going to foot the bills. Then everywhere became as silent as a graveyard as they both exchanged murderous gazes.