Saturday, 5:31 PM
Aima had sat in the back seat of Ahmed’s car for all of five minutes before realizing that she was alone there except for the corpse folded into the boot.
She’d reached frantically for the door then, her fingers scrabbling at the handle until she pushed it open and stumbled out onto the driveway. Okinosho’s compound was lush and tropical, and Aima felt utterly mad standing there, knowing that Seun was just a few feet away in a metal compartment. She dragged in desperate gulps of air and braced her hands on her knees, her braids falling forward. A security guard gave her an assessing look, then apparently decided she was unimportant as he looked away.
Aima straightened up and wrapped her arms around her stomach, forcing deep breaths. Why had Ijendu brought them here? What could a man of God like Okinosho possibly do to help Ahmed? Sure, there were rumors of him being a womanizer, but no one was perfect and this was Nigeria and he had too much power to fall to temptation now and again—but disposing of a dead body?
She started pacing up and down, trying to forget what Seun had looked like in Ahmed’s parlor. How Ijendu could call that an accident was beyond her—unless it was something else, like a BDSM scene gone wrong. There was entirely too much information for Aima to process. That Ahmed was kinky, fine. That he was gay? That was a whole different thing. Kalu would have mentioned it before, would have said something. How could he not have known?
A sharp suspicion ran through her, and Aima stopped dead in her tracks. The only person who took up as much space in Kalu’s life as she had…was Ahmed. Had always been Ahmed. He had been a part of Kalu’s life long before Aima had ever met Kalu. Even when she’d lived with Kalu in Houston, he had spoken of Ahmed as if the man lived down the road from them, his name constantly in Kalu’s mouth. Aima had always just seen them as best friends, as close as brothers, and after she and Kalu had moved to New Lagos, Ahmed’s presence in their lives had felt not just inevitable but even comfortable.
He’d hugged her tightly the first time they met, like she was being welcomed into a family. He’d toured apartments with them to help them pick out where they would live, commenting on the views from the windows and the security of the estates. Aima had become comfortable calling him when she needed help, a connection, the answer to a question. He had met Ijendu several times and they had gotten along wonderfully—having both her and Kalu’s best friends living there had helped Aima so much in adjusting to a new city. In short, Ahmed had been nothing but a friend to her even as he knew she didn’t like what he did with his parties. He’d kept that part of himself away and it had felt respectful, like he was bringing the best of himself into the room whenever he was with her and Kalu, whenever they went out for dinner or to an event, whenever he stepped out of his shadows to be respectable in the light.
Had she ever realized that she didn’t actually know who Ahmed was when he was alone with Kalu? Or even who Kalu was when Aima left the room and he was there with this man built out of dark secrets? This whole time…could they—no, it was impossible. She would have seen something—a stray touch, a longing look between them. Ahmed never reacted when Kalu kissed her in front of him, certainly not with anything close to jealousy. Aima could see his face easily, the fond smile whenever he looked at her and Kalu together. Still, doubt crowded her and elbowed certainty out of the way. Had that been fondness or amusement? Maybe an indulgence because he knew something she didn’t. Had she been the third wheel this whole time? Was this why Kalu didn’t want to marry her? Because his heart belonged to someone else?
Aima’s rambling thoughts were interrupted by Ijendu striding toward her, long legs gleaming in the sun. Her friend looked deeply irritated, and Aima grabbed her arm as soon as Ijendu was close.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Where’s Ahmed?”
Ijendu’s lips pressed together for a moment. “He’s fine, he’s with Daddy O. The driver’s going to take us home.” She groaned in annoyance. “Wait, my car is still at Ahmed’s.”
“I can’t go back there,” Aima said immediately. “Please, Ijendu. I take God beg you.”
Her friend glanced at her and softened out of her mood. “Fine, I’ll send someone to pick it up later.” Aima sighed in relief and Ijendu put an arm around her. They both looked at the boot of Ahmed’s car and Ijendu shuddered.
“Gross,” she said. Aima turned an incredulous stare her way and Ijendu grimaced. “I’m sorry, but it is! You think I wanted to be touching a dead body today? I’m going to need about five hot showers before I feel clean again.”
A chauffeured car was pulling up from around the back of the house, and Aima lowered her voice as she and Ijendu started walking toward it. “Ahmed murdered him,” she whispered. “I know we can’t tell the police, but how am I going to tell Kalu?”
Ijendu stopped in her tracks and grabbed Aima’s shoulder. “Babes. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, come on. It’s Kalu.”
Aima winced as Ijendu’s grip tightened.
“I’m so fucking serious right now, Aima. We were never at Ahmed’s house and, more important, we were never here. Do you get? This is Okinosho we’re talking about. You can’t say anything, ever.” Ijendu’s eyes were hard and glittering, her mouth set. Aima could barely recognize her.
“But he’s your godfather,” was all she could manage, her voice confused. “You don’t trust him or what?”
Ijendu stared at her blankly, then let go of her shoulder. “Oh my God, Ahmed was right.”
That just annoyed Aima. Ever since she and Kalu had moved back, there had been moments when she felt like Ijendu and Ahmed saw them as naïve, as if there was a secret in New Lagos that those two knew but that Aima and Kalu were excluded from. There was never anything said explicitly, just certain hesitations, small smiles wiped away quickly, enough to raise Aima’s hackles once in a while. And, yes, it was true that she was more sheltered than they were, especially given Ahmed’s work and Ijendu’s friends, but it had felt condescending then and it felt condescending now.
“Right about what?” she snapped.
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place.” Ijendu ran a hand over her face. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Aima. I should have listened when you said you didn’t want to be involved.”
Aima growled in the back of her throat. “It’s a little too late for that now, isn’t it?” she snapped. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Ijendu stepped in close and spoke in a low harsh whisper. “My godfather isn’t the man you think he is and that’s all you need to know. We shouldn’t even be talking like this in his compound. Like I said, forget everything today, for your own fucking good.” The car pulled up by them, and the driver stepped out and opened the back door. Ijendu gave him a brief smile and ducked her head as she entered the back seat. “Get in the car, Aima.”
“Wait, but—”
Ijendu stuck her head out and this time her face was unmistakably tense, her voice lashing. “Get in the fucking car.”
Aima bit down her words and obeyed, too aware of the body sharing the driveway with them and the edged strangeness of the world she had entered when they had crossed Okinosho’s gates.
“We can’t speak about this again,” Ijendu said. “I can’t explain anymore, okay? It’s enough.”
She was afraid, Aima realized, and she had never seen Ijendu afraid. That immediately silenced the arguments she had been about to make.
“Okay,” she replied, taking her friend’s hand. “I understand. None of it happened. It’s okay.”
Ijendu nodded and looked out of the window but kept her hand in Aima’s. The driver took them back out through the gates, and Aima sat there, reeling from all the worlds she was ricocheting through. Ijendu had never shouted at her before, talk less of swearing at her.
Their sinful night seemed irrelevant now, after the horror of Seun, after Aima had made her peace with God. This was what salvation could look like, she thought, being reminded that she didn’t really know the woman whose hand was in hers, that secrets were filling up the back seat of the car they sat in. Sometimes God showed you which paths to turn away from no matter how much love was there, showed you how a little darkness could lead to being swallowed by a devouring night. Aima knew with every fiber of her being that she didn’t want this—bodies and death, lies and men terrible enough to make or hide corpses. One day, maybe, she would be able to tell Kalu what had happened today, make him see that they could make a life in the light together, a cleaner life. They would stand in front of God and make everything all right again. And it would be worth it.
It would have to be.
sixteen
Saturday, 5:36 PM
Kalu wondered if he was getting kidnapped.
Felix wasn’t driving as wildly as he had before, but he was still reckless on the road and over South-South Bridge, as if neither of them could die. Kalu had tried asking where they were going, but his words were torn away by the wind ripping past them and Felix couldn’t hear him. Eventually, the motorcycle pulled up in front of an unassuming gated compound deep in the lowland.
A short gateman stuck his head out, a chewing stick rotating in a corner of his mouth. His eyes sharpened with recognition when he saw Felix, and he grunted and began opening the gate. Felix gunned the engine and the bike lazily pulled into the compound. Kalu and the gateman exchanged wary unfamiliar glances. Kalu could feel paranoia crawling over his skin like a thousand cockroaches, skittering tiny legs of panic. Okinosho’s reach was beyond anything he could imagine. Kalu had no idea if it extended here, this quiet yard with ixora bushes lining a gray house, sand underfoot as they dismounted the bike. Felix slipped the gateman some naira notes from the bundle that Kalu had given him, then jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go,” he said to Kalu.
