Improvised Plan #ProjectNigeria

18-Two Seconds

Ola:

"Wonderful," he says.

My smile must be bright enough to power the whole of Lagos. While sitting on a plush couch in David's office, I watch him admire his reflection in front of the wide mirror panel that occupies one wall. He turns this way and that, looking at angles. He had purchased two different outfits from me: a deep red, richly embroidered agbada with multiple folds at the shoulders, and a light green 'senator' outfit with golden epaulets on the shoulders of the shirt.

"You exceeded my expectations, Ola."

I nod, accepting his praise. "I am happy you are satisfied."

"I cannot wait to wear these for functions. Heads will turn. Do you know how many people will toast me?"

We both laugh at his statement. He excuses himself and leaves the office area to change back to his work clothes. A few minutes later, David returns, holding his new outfits in a neatly folded pile.

"As agreed, I will transfer the balance to your account this evening, then?" he asks.

"Yes. Now that I have delivered and you are satisfied."

David sits on the couch opposite me, his expression curious. "Hmm. What happens when a customer is not satisfied?"

I reflect on the few times my clients have complained about my work. "It rarely happens, but when it does, I make adjustments. It is never really a problem."

"Good customer service. I'm impressed."

"People just don't pay for products; they also pay for the experience."

"Ola, how can you be so wise?"

"Enough of the flattery, Mr. Chukwueke."

David raises his brows at me. "I though we've established that it's David?"

I shake my head.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can offer you here?" he asks, while pouring himself some Fresh Yo yogurt from the bottle to a glass tumbler with an orange bendy straw. I muse at how I would have drunk from the bottle and drained the whole 750 milliliters it in one sitting.

"I just had a full lunch before coming here. There will be no need."

"Then let me get you dinner one of these nights?"

I am beginning to suspect that I David wants more than clothes from me. I turn this possibility over in my mind, wondering whether he's genuinely interested in sparking up some form of friendship or if he's heading in an entirely different direction. Instead, I smile and say, "I'll have to decline."

He looks genuinely ashamed when he says, "I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked, with you and Saheed-"

"Saheed and I have nothing going on," I interrupt, amused.

David pauses, then smiles. "I thought I was trespassing on marked territory."

This makes me laugh out loud. "Marked? What the hell is that supposed to mean, now?"

He shakes his head before sipping his yogurt. "Saheed can be quite...possessive in nature. I remembered that I've been seeing and hearing about the two of you together, and I realized I may have overstepped."

"Oh? Our 'gist' was flying around, then?"

David flicks his wrist in the air and grins. "Saheed has quite a reputation, if you haven't noticed."

"I was oblivious," I lie.

Of course, I had known. His pictures are all over Obasanjo's internet, flanked by numerous women at numerous events. He has graced magazine covers, granted interviews that have sparked fantasies, and never denies that he is a playboy at heart. Just two days ago, I had seen pictures of Saheed and I at Rexford's wedding on an Instagram gossip page, asking why we have both been spotted alone and hinting at the end of our 'fling'. I had laughed aloud at the part of the post that asked, 'Has Olaedo Matthews gotten her first sour experience of loving the bad boys?'