Ahmed kept staring at her, wondering which driver he was planning to send her with anyway and why he’d suggested it. He usually just let the women find their own way home. Highest, he’d have Thursday put them in a taxi. But Kalu was still with him, crying in this same office over this same girl. Or himself, or Aima, who knew? The guard had told Ahmed what he’d done. “Like a madman, sah,” he’d said, “the way he just threw that man on the floor like a bag of rice.” She was so damn thin. He didn’t want to put her in a taxi. He knew he was pissed at Kalu for a lot of reasons, but still, putting this girl into a car and sending her out into the night, into the emptiness, somehow it was disturbing him. Kalu had wanted her safe. Ahmed knew that didn’t exist, but what close approximation could he reach, at least for Kalu, for her?
“I don’t want you on the water at this time,” he found himself saying. “My driver will take you to my house for the night and drop you in the morning.”
To his surprise, she winced. “Oga, please.” Her voice unspun like a fraying thread. “I’m tired.”
Oh, fucking hell. She wasn’t being professional, and he didn’t know what to do. She was so obviously a child, it was easier to pretend they were adults when they wore professional masks instead of breaking down in front of him.
“Machi.”
She blinked in surprise when he used her name, and the tears dotted her lashes like crystals.
“Wallahi, it’s not like that.” Ahmed grimaced and stood from the desk, walking over to the window, passing his hand over his face. What a fucking night. He turned to her, to the suspicion and fear warbling under her skin.
“I’m not going to touch you. No one is going to touch you. The driver is just going to take you to the guest room where you can sleep, all right?”
She shuddered out a breath he hadn’t realized she was holding and nodded tearily, giving in. She really did look so young, so fucking young. He wasn’t sure she believed a damn thing he’d said. Ahmed walked to the door and called one of the guards.
“Go and call Thursday for me.” He saluted and left. Ahmed clicked the door closed and thought of Timi in the spare room, waiting, probably getting pissed off. Balogun women were not known for their patience. She’d have to wait a little more, though; he wasn’t done with what he now thought of as Kalu’s complication, this girl he felt he owed something more than money.
“How much does Promise pay you?” he asked. The girl sat down in one of the armchairs and drew her legs up under her, then shrugged. The air conditioner whirred quietly next to her.
“She never tell me yet. Maybe 40k, 50k.”
Ahmed stopped moving. “What?”
“Full night.”
He could still feel the grime of Kalu’s anger on the walls, swirling into the heat of his own, and now it was all boiling into a greasy hot ball under his chest. The price he’d settled on with Aunty Promise was maybe ten, fifteen times that, for a few hours, not the whole damn night. Fuck. He wouldn’t even have used the woman to find the girl except that a small girl was in shockingly high demand and she was an unexpected late addition to the party.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s not the correct amount. But we can handle it in the morning.”
“And you want me to sleep in your house.” She sounded suspicious, and even Ahmed had to admit, his reasoning was a little shaky on that one. He just didn’t feel like watching her get swallowed into a thick city night, especially out on the black water. Still, these ashawo-saving feelings were new for him. Maybe it was her age, her frailty, her fucking eyes. He hadn’t watched anything they’d done to her. He never watched when it involved girls this young, girls he pretended weren’t still children. He rolled his neck around and listened to it crack. Whatever. He was Ahmed Soyoye. He could do whatever he wanted whether it made sense or not.
“Yes,” he told her. The door opened and Thursday entered, his hands resting easily beside his thighs. “Good, you’re here,” said Ahmed. “Take her to the house and show her the guest room. She’ll be staying there tonight.” Thursday raised an eyebrow but nodded, and Ahmed turned to her. “Okay, go with him. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The girl untucked her legs and followed Thursday obediently. Ahmed wondered what on earth had made him say he would see her in the morning. For what? Pancakes? He laughed at how idiotic he was being. There’s a Balogun waiting, he told himself, and this is what you’re filling your head with? He held his mask up over his face, not bothering to tie it, and left the office for the spare room.
Inside, the bed was made and the lights dimmed. Ahmed could make out Timi’s form posed in the pillows. He smiled and placed his mask on a dresser. She wriggled off the bed to slide her slim hands over his shoulders.
“I missed you,” she murmured, pressing her body against his back and kissing his neck—what a convincing liar she was. Ahmed braced his hands against the dresser and squeezed the wood until his fingers felt more solid. Timi dropped slow kisses down his spine, and he felt the gold of her mask scrape against his skin.
“Take off your mask.” His voice was flat, tamped down with effort. She pulled back and he turned to watch her untie the ribbons and pull it off her face, smiling crookedly at him. She ran a hand over her hair and flirted heavily with her eyes. Ahmed didn’t smile back. Instead, he let his eyes travel the long length of her body, the smooth of her legs and the pearled lingerie she had on. “Take off everything.”
She giggled and took a step back. “No.”
His hand tremored. “I don’t have time for games, Timi.” Dimly, in the back of his head, Ahmed knew he was too volatile to even be in a room with this girl. You should leave, he told himself. Before you hurt her.
Timi laughed softly and took another teasing step backward. She was playing with him, as if he was a thing to be played with. With a quick stride, Ahmed was against her, wrenching a fistful of her hair so her neck arched back and her face tilted up toward him. He lifted his other hand and placed it on her throat, tracing her larynx with slight pressure from his thumb. Her eyes stayed hooded, amused. She was nothing like her sister.
“Do what I say,” he warned her.
“Why don’t you make me?” she replied, almost too quietly. A quick deep ache shot through Ahmed’s chest and he cupped her cheek in his hand, pressing the side of his face to hers, closing his eyes. He pressed on her face till he could feel her teeth against his fingers through her flesh. She giggled through her restrained mouth, her laugh low and cunning. “I thought so,” she whispered, her tongue thick from his hand. “I know your type.”
Ahmed released her and stepped back. He couldn’t afford to do this with a Balogun. He had other women for this. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Timi. You should go.”
Timi put her hands on her hips. “Now you’re afraid?” she challenged.
He looked at her and laughed. These innocents. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Timi.”
“I think I do,” she answered, stepping closer. “You want me to say it?” She stood on tiptoe and released a stream of words into his ear, things that made his pulse slam noisily against every blood vessel in his body. When she stepped back, she drank in the look on his face and grinned. “Do you still want me to go?”
Ahmed stared at her. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” They both knew the second sentence was a lie, but he needed to be clear.
Timi spread her arms out, presenting herself. She was tall and glowing, an idol waiting to be broken. “Yes.”
Ahmed closed his eyes and tasted the word on his tongue. Salvation in the strangest place, he thought. He opened his eyes. “Remove everything you’re wearing,” he ordered. Timi lifted her chin by a fraction and looked him in the eye.
“No,” she said.
The force of his hand against her face knocked her to the ground, her body hitting the side of the mattress as she fell. Ahmed looked down at her. “I said remove everything. Or I’ll tear it off you, and I don’t think you’d like that—it looks expensive.”
Timi touched her cheek gingerly but stood up and unfastened her bra, letting it slide off her arms and fall in front of her. Ahmed sat down in a carved chair by the window and watched her shimmy the panties past her hips. The lagoon was a black hole outside the building. She left her heels on and pushed her long hair over her shoulders so it wouldn’t cover her up. He stared at the dip in her collarbone and his hands were calm.
“Beautiful,” he said softly. “Turn around.” She obeyed, lifting her hair so he could see the notations of her scapulae, the small bumps of her spine, and the flare into her hips. Her waist was tiny. “Good girl. Back again.” She faced him and smoothed her hands over the sides of her thighs nervously.
“Come to me,” he told her. She took a small step forward and he raised his hand to stop her. “Not like that.” He gestured and watched the heat rise to her face as she knelt and dropped her palms to the carpet, crawling to him slowly. It nearly broke his heart, how beautiful she looked. She didn’t stop until she was between his thighs, kneeling up and untying the knot of his trousers, reaching in and filling her mouth with him. Ahmed hissed in air between his teeth and let his head drop back against the wood. He slid his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head and urging her deeper.
“Jesus Christ, Timi. Your father should never let you out of the house.” She looked up with mischief in her eyes and he slapped her bulging cheek lightly. “I don’t know whether to charge him more or give him a discount when he comes to the next Abuja party.” She choked in laughter and he pushed a little harder, just enough to make her start gagging, her eyes tearing up. Machi’s face flared up in his mind and he dragged Timi off immediately, breathing hard. His hands were in fine shocks, but he wasn’t going soft. He didn’t want to think about it, so he dragged Timi to the bed, threw her on it, and did things to her for a long time, coaxing out sounds from her throat that kept his people away from the door. Afterward, when he was just a slick reminder in her mouth, cavities, and skin, they lay breathing hard in their sweat and she lit a cigarette, the flame a crackle as she inhaled.
