Ijendu rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t know.” She opened her car door and stepped out. “Come on.”
Ahmed exchanged an anxious look with Aima, both of them unmoving in their seats.
“What the fuck is going on?” he said. His shock wasn’t so much about Okinosho being her godfather—her parents attended the church, after all—but for Ijendu to show up so casually with Seun cooling in the trunk? Ahmed had always just thought of her as Aima’s friend, far removed from the slinking dark world he and Okinosho truly moved in. How close was she to Okinosho for her to come here? How many other things had he missed?
Aima just shook her head, her eyes frantic. “I don’t know, mehn. This is too much. This is insane.”
Ijendu banged on the glass of the window. “Are you people coming or what?” she asked.
“Is she about to tell the pastor that you killed somebody?” Aima asked, her face twisting in disbelief.
Ahmed couldn’t even reply. Aima and Ijendu couldn’t know anything about last night, about Kalu or Machi or the hit that was out. Unless Okinosho had told Ijendu? But then Ijendu would have told Aima, and if that had happened, Aima would have been panicking long before she saw Seun’s body. For God’s sake, Aima wasn’t even supposed to be here. He looked at the fear marking lines in her face and pulled up some sense in himself.
“Why don’t you wait in the car?” he suggested. Okinosho would have undoubtedly looked into Kalu and he would know who Aima was to him. It was better to keep her away, keep her safe. Besides, she wasn’t designed for things like this, stories like this. She already looked like she was breaking. “Stay here,” he said. “I don’t know what Ijendu is doing, but I’ve already dragged you into too much of this.”
She looked at him and wiped her eyes, trying not to cry. “I’m scared, Ahmed.” Her voice broke and he leaned over to hug her, the seats of the car cutting into them.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered against her braids. “It was an accident. I’ll take care of it. Just stay here.”
“Where’s Kalu?” she asked.
He hid a wince and cupped her face in his hands. “I don’t know. We’ll go and find him as soon as this is over.” It was true, but his mouth felt swollen with all the things he wasn’t telling her.
Ijendu banged on the window again, looking annoyed now.
“I’m coming, okay?” Ahmed kissed Aima’s cheek. “Stay here,” he said, and she nodded. He stepped out of the car, and Ijendu folded her arms.
“What were the two of you talking about?”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s going to wait for us in the car.”
“Why? What did you say to her?” She stepped toward the car door, but Ahmed grabbed her arm.
“I don’t know what we’re doing here or why you came to Okinosho,” he said, his voice low. “But if the place you go with a dead celebrity’s body is here, then you know Okinosho in a way that Aima doesn’t. We know what he is. She doesn’t need to find out.” He bent his head to look directly into her eyes. “You know that’s not safe information to have. Leave her out of it.”
Ijendu narrowed her eyes at him for a few moments, then nodded and shook her arm free. “Let’s go, then,” she said.
Ahmed walked a few steps behind her as she went down a gravel path that curved beside the mansion, winding through small gardens filled with hibiscus and cattails. They came to a set of double doors on the side of the house and Ijendu rang the doorbell there. A steward opened the door and greeted them, standing aside to let them in.
“Hello, Cletus,” Ijendu said. “How’s the family?”
“They’re doing well, madam, thank you. Pastor said you should wait for him in the study.”
“Okay, thank you.”
He led them down a few corridors before opening the door to a large room lined with books, a large desk sprawling over a Persian rug. Ijendu smiled politely as Cletus left, her face falling back to neutral as soon as the door closed behind him.
“Do I want to ask how well you know your godfather?” Ahmed asked.
Ijendu paced the room slowly, trailing her hand over the books, light reflecting off her manicure. “Mind your business,” she said lightly.
Ahmed raised his eyebrows. “Okay o.” He sat down in one of the armchairs. “I want to say thank you, but I really don’t know what the fuck we’re doing here so I’m not sure what to thank you for yet.”
Ijendu laughed. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s been a strange day.” She glanced over at him. “So, you’ve been fucking Seun.”
Ahmed put his head in his hands. “Guy, I just met him last night.”
“Wow.” Ijendu stopped pacing. “Shit.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
She grimaced. “I’m sorry it got out of hand.”
Ahmed didn’t reply, simply pressed his fingers into his temples. He wondered if he should’ve mentioned the blackmail but was interrupted by an errant yet urgent thought—what had he done with Seun’s phone? He sat up and patted his pockets, not finding it. Probably still in the house. Fuck. He was trying to remember where exactly it could be when the study door swung open and Okinosho walked into the room wearing a gold caftan and leather slippers, rings studding his fingers. Ahmed shot to his feet nervously and Ijendu gave him an amused look.
“Good afternoon, Daddy,” she said to the pastor, walking into his embrace and accepting his kiss on her cheek.
“Is it not just this afternoon that I saw you?” he joked, smiling at her. “You missed me like that?”
She laughed, a ripple of sound snaking around the study. “Always,” she joked back, linking her arm with his. “I wanted to ask you for a favor.” Her voice lowered and he bent his head to listen as she whispered into his ear, her eyes flickering over to Ahmed, who was standing by the armchair, waiting awkwardly. Okinosho hadn’t even acknowledged his presence since he’d entered the room. Ahmed was having trouble believing Thursday’s assertion that the pastor wasn’t holding the fiasco of last night’s party against him. He watched Okinosho concentrate on whatever Ijendu was telling him, the man’s face still and deceptively amiable until a sharpness rose in his features and he tilted his head slightly to look at Ahmed, interest entering his eyes. When Ijendu was done, the pastor straightened and patted her shoulder.
“You are a good friend,” he said. “Ahmed and I can take it from here.”
Confusion flitted over Ijendu’s face. “Wait,” she said to her godfather. “You know him?”
Okinosho grinned like an oil spill. “Oh, Alhaji Soyoye and I have done business a few times before, isn’t that right?”
Ahmed nodded and said nothing. He wasn’t sure how much Ijendu had told the man, but she obviously hadn’t even mentioned his name yet.
