Why I Want To Be Bad 31

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-31-

FUNMI

 

Nowadays, there is no small child anymore. This Indomie generation are not as naïve as our parents used to be all thanks specifically to the advancements in technology and the great worldwide web. IPads and smartphones have replaced the water and brick games as kids no longer find them interesting.

 

This change, just like most changes is a double edged sword as while the kids now have easy access to good information, they also get to see things on the internet that can damage their under developed minds.

 

As I and Ayo got home to see Greg and his ‘friend’, Susan all alone in the house, this really bothered me because I sure hated to think that my little brother was growing a lot faster than he should.

 

I was a notch relieved when he explained that Susan was our new neighbours who had only moved in when I was in school and my parents had actually been the ones who instructed her to stay with him to look after him and keep him company.

 

On that note I and Ayo went to my room and Ayo was of course ready to tease me.

 

“Hope you are not going to fall for Greg’s cheap lie?” She asked me.

 

“Thunder fire you there,” I fired.

 

She chuckled at my response, “Seriously though, you know that’s his girlfriend shey?”

 

“Na him sabi,” I replied. I was not going to give her the satisfaction of arguing with her.

 

“The Susan chick is probably teaching him how to do nasty things,” she pushed.

 

“Good for both of them,” I replied plainly, “I am going to look for something to eat in the kitchen,” I said as I walked out of her, walking towards the kitchen.

 

She followed me of course.

 

“At this rate, your bro would grow up to be a better player than even Maxwell,” she said again.

 

That struck a nerve not because of what she said really but that she just succeeded in reminding of the last person I wanted on my mind, Maxwell.

 

“That would be nice,” I refused to show any emotion. Its times like this I wish I did not know Ayo or she was still at her school.

 

I got to the kitchen and was going through the freezer, looking for some snack and Ayo was still trying her possible best to frustrate me when the doorbell came alive.

 

I rushed to open the door but Greg got to it at first. My dad and mum strolled casually into the house.

 

It was my mum who saw me first.

 

“Ah, Funmilayo come here!” She screamed in excitement and I ran into her open arms. She gripped me so tight I was scared a bone was going to break. She had clearly missed me and frankly the feeling was mutual.

 

“Good evening mummy and daddy,” I said as I freed myself from my mum’s arm.

 

“Which time did you get home?” My ever serious dad asked.

 

“About two hours ago,” I lied. If I had told him the truth he would have scolded me for coming so late and I did not want the perfect moment to be spoilt.

 

“Hope you have eaten something?” My mum asked.

 

“No ma, but I’m not hungry.”

 

“Me I am hungry o,” Ayo who had been quiet all this while blurted out.

 

“Ah! Ayo, you are here?” My mum asked the obvious and I prayed silently that Ayo don’t try to be funny and give a sarcastic response.

 

“Yes ma, good evening ma,” she said and then turned to my dad, “good evening sir.”

 

It was nice to know that she still had little sense in that porous head of hers.

 

My parents went on to as her for an explanation for why she was not in school and being a good liar, it was not hard for her to give them a cock and bull story.

 

They later retired to their bedroom and we did the same thing as well.

 

Just before we slept that night Ayo called Tunji to inform him that she was around and asked if they could see the next day. He accepted, adding that he had a surprise.

 

Judging from our history with Tunji, I was sure the next day was going to be eventful and I’m always right.

***

 

MARY-ANNE

 

I think I should drink more often. I had been going through so much issues that I had forgotten how to laugh and it took a couple of shots of Vodka for me to remember how to curves my lips into a smile.

 

Amaka assisted me to that effect though. I had not expected her to be so open and real with me so when she told me about her affair with Maxwell, I figured what the hell? I may as well open up as well.

 

I had always envied her. Not the evil kind of envy but the good type. I just wished I had a hot body like hers and behaved the way she did, I was too serious and stiff for my own liking so I felt really good when she complimented me. It would be really nice if we were a closer, I sure could use a best friend like her.

 

I was going to build on the moment by asking her about what had been bothering her so much that she too needed an excuse to stop thinking but the bald cutie who had asked her to dance with her had stopped that from happening.

 

I was not mad or angry at the very least when she left the lounge with the guy some minutes later cause I might have done just the same if I was in her shoes but courtesy demands that she at least waved me goodbye… But hey! I am not complaining, the new bottle of Vodka which the bartender had just brought was not going to drink itself.

 

As I drank all alone at the bar, my attention was drawn to a white guy who was pretty much as drunk as a fish. His dance step could be likened to one dancing to a reggae song but ironically an afro pop song blared from the speakers.

 

Although it was quite interesting to watch him, what really fascinated me were the group of girls that flooded him. They cheered him on as he danced and let him touch them in places and ways that was definitely improper for public viewing. I had been in enough places like this to know that they were prostitutes or what do they call it these days? Runs girls, yeah?

 

The girls probably assumed that since he was a foreigner, he most likely had enough money to pay for whatever services they could render. I however have an inbuilt antenna which alerts me when someone has money or not and I received no alert but who am I to judge?

 

As I drank my beautiful bottle of Vodka and watch the white guy dance with his new fans, I noticed when a random guy slipped into the stool that Amaka had sat on and from his reflection on the window just behind the bar I could see that he was staring keenly at me. He said nothing though but I assumed that he was probably thinking of a good pick up line.

 

“You know a pretty lady like you should not be drinking all alone,” he finally said.

 

That was the most stale pick up line I had heard my whole life, I did not even know that guys still used it. I was so disappointed that I decided to ignore him.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” He pushed. I kept mute but that did not deter him from going on to ask the question. “Why do a beautiful lady like you have such an ugly character?” He asked.

 

That irked me… A nerve was struck. I slowly turned to look at him and was about to spit some venom at him but the sudden surprised expression on his face made me hesitate.

 

“Mary-Anne! So it’s even you that’s doing all this shakara for me,” he said like we were some kind of close friends.

 

“Sorry, do I know you?” I asked as my brain was doing a deep scan of where I knew the guy.

 

“Oh c’mon! We’ve been in the same faculty and had several combined classes together for years and you want to tell me you don’t know this face?” He pointed at his face.

 

I am not sure I know all my course mates to start with and this guy expects me to know him when all we share is a faculty?

 

“Err… I’m sorry, I guess I’ve not been observant as I should be,” I apologised.

 

“I even helped you out in about two examinations in our year one,” he added.

 

I am not dumb so I write all my exams myself but nobody can know everything so from time to time we all copy at exams, or am I wrong? Chances are I just asked him for a couple of answers and he’s letting it get into his head.

 

“Anyway, it’s all good since you’ve apologised. I’m Ebuka by the way,” he said as he noticed I was not going to reply him.

 

“Nice to meet you,” I replied. I wondered how he knew my name.

 

“Do you mind if I drink with you?”

 

“Feel free,” I replied. Drinking alone is never fun.

 

He requested for a cup and poured some vodka in it then emptied it down his throat almost as quick as he had poured it.

 

“So I’m quite surprised to find you here, by such time,” he said.

 

I was interested in this conversation, “why?” I asked.

 

“Well, you seem like a very reserved and quite person who would rather stay at home and watch movies,” he elaborated.

 

I laughed, he had perfectly described me. “Are you sure you are not a psychic?” I asked.

 

He laughed this time, “I’m not o, I’m a serial killer though,” he joked.

 

“What prompts you to kill?” I asked. Serial killers usually killed people in a very strict pattern.

 

“I usually go for pretty girls who drink alone at lounges,” he grinned.

 

I caught myself blushing. This Ebuka guy was not as bad as I thought.

 

“So I should be worried then?” I asked.

 

“It depends, if you are of good behaviour I might let you go.”

 

I smiled, “I’ll do my best.”

 

I took a sip from my glass and watched as he brought out his phone as it seemed he just received a message.

 

“Mary, I’m having such a good time and really hate to leave but something important just came up,” he said looking truthfully sad.

 

I was sad as well, my night was looking much brighter.

 

“It’s okay,” I reluctantly said.

 

“Can I at least have your digits so we could hook up sometime?” He said as he stretched forward his phone for me to input my digits.

 

I took the phone without any hesitation and typed my number.

 

“Thanks, I’ll call you,” he said as he stood up and made to leave the lounge. I just nodded

 

I sat for a few seconds as I watched him leave and for some reasons I was already thinking about the possibility of us becoming good friends as well. When you are drunk, everything is heightened in your head.

 

I thought about the possibility of the ‘something important’ being his girlfriend who was waiting for him outside the lounge. I decided to see if my thoughts were right so I quickly ran after him towards the door.

 

I was however wrong but I saw him enter the front seat of a Range Rover Autobiography with a bald guy who looked kind of like the guy Amaka had left with about two hours ago.

 

I just wiped away that thought. Alcohol was really messing up with my head, I concluded. But maybe I should not have.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

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