Bro Digging Golder.
It was just another morning for me; waking up early, grooming myself, setting out, and looking for prospective clients. I browse through all the high-rise places where my clients would always be.
Making sure I look nothing but the part, I observe then approach them, earn their trust then go for the kill. Money for me, happiness for them, we all win. At least until they by some weird coincidence met each other and I have had a success rate of 80% which is saying a lot.
I didn’t start this business myself, I was introduced to it. I had just completed NYSC and was job searching when I met Ekene. If I was a girl, I was sure I would have swooned the moment I saw him.
He was very masculine alright but he also had this venerableness that pulled you to him. What made him extra special apart from his slenderness and his fair skin were his eyes. The colour of stormy seas. I will get to know, years later and after we got closer and became business partners, his mother was Dutch, and people thought he was using contact lenses.
Ekene was an administrator at the 13th place I applied for a job, he looked at me twice, a thoughtful long look that took in everything that he saw, smiled at me then told me to sit. He interviewed me and I was proud to say it was the best interview I had ever had.
I was so calm and left happy wanting to see him again. A week later. I got my appointment letter and I danced for joy. Looking back if I knew what the job entailed, I wondered if I would have joyfully accepted the job.
It was 11:35 am and I had three prospective clients to pick from. I had been trailing them for a while now. I knew Shola was a loaded single mom who wanted to settle down, Amarachi was a Run’s girl who wanted a young lover since her Alhaji wasn’t performing as much as she wanted and Adeola was an emerging entrepreneur who would soon take the Fashion world by storm.
Now I had to be careful and not show my hand too early. I also do not want media coverage as that will place me in the spotlight yet I mustn’t come across as someone who had something to hide.
I entered the restaurant looking every inch like a young executive coming in for Brunch. I picked this time because I needed to space my arrival with my clients. Adeola’s time was in the afternoon and I only had two to contend with. Piece of cake. I had once juggled 4 clients at once and won one bid. I sat in the middle of the restaurant but a little to the left. My clients like sitting towards the edge of each side of the restaurant. If I wanted to approach any of the tables, I could do it from my vintage point.
When the waiter came to ask for my order, I asked him to come back in 20 minutes and get out my gadgets. Nothing fancy. I put my Ipods, my Tab, and my phone on the table. And started to type furiously. That was how Aramachi saw me as she came in, in a jumpsuit and peep-toe heels.
In my Ray Bans, I saw her glance at me and then look away. I have caught her attention at last it was only a matter of time. I continued what I was during, and by the time the waiter came back, Shola was there too but this time with her kid. Pretty thing if you like kids, lean like a pole, she will make a good model someday.
I ordered a Salad and Moin Moin, something both women enjoyed, and asked for a bottle of water. While I silently chewed my way through the meal, my eyes were on Shola and her kid while my ears were listening to Amarachi’s conversation.
If I wanted a girlfriend Armachi would never have made the cut, never. No, she had no physical defect in fact she was blessed in that aspect, it was her insides, her thought process that was scary and impressive.
Through the aid of the listening device I had carefully placed at her table when I passed her table to the men’s, I could hear her telling a friend how she was ready to leave Alahaji but no one in her inner circle was as rich as he was and she was thinking of casting her net wider. She would have made a wonderful co-worker but she was a one-woman show.
While she would be an easy catch, she would cause a lot of trouble so I decided to ignore her and work on Shola. Ever since I have been watching her and her child, I could see she was nervous yet her daughter was anything but respectful. She was eating what was placed in front of her and asking questions. A thousand questions.
If I was a self-respectful genuine man, I should have asked what the daughter was doing out of school on a Wednesday morning but as you might have already guessed, I wasn’t genuine and I don't care. I just wanted to take advantage of the situation.
I had just decided to make contact by letting the strap of my bag hang behind the chair of her daughter, almost falling then keeping my attention on the daughter while apologizing furiously. It was a good plan. I stood up, went to the Restroom, and while passing Amarachi’s table, I let my pen fall around her table. I quickly retrieved my device while she got the pen.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” She introduced herself “I am Amarachi”
“Joseph”.
Rule number one: never give a surname at the first meeting. They will find out everything about you in 15 minutes. If she is that interested and the mystery is gone, I will know- that is how I meet my clients too. No surnames and no pictures for the same reasons. Her hands held my hands a bit too long.
“I notice you frequent this restaurant a lot.”
I gave her my signature smile. “ One of my best spots in the city for great food”
Her eyes widened and I could feel the wheels clogging her brain calculating my worth by my hands, clothes, and speech. I know she will summarise me as — a young 8–5 Executive willing to experiment but not share.
“It was nice to meet you, Amarachi.”
“Same here”. She smiled back, fluttering her eyelashes at me.
One of the oldest tricks in the book. Works but not on a veteran like me. I smiled back, turned around and picked up my bag, and was already planning my move on Shola. If she was someone I had wanted to take seriously. I would have kissed the back of her hand, saying I hoped to meet her again but wouldn’t collect her number. That will get her attention. It was all in the book and I was about to pull one out of the book again.
Just as I got to Shola’s table, I pulled back my hand and left the bag strap swing a little hanging around her child's chair and pulled hard, just hard enough to be obvious but not cause damage. I turned around, shock coating my face, and stooped to apologize to her girl.
“I am sorry. Are you hurt?”
She turned her head left and right, like a windscreen. Shola was already on her feet but I didn’t dare look at her.
“I am really sorry.” I offered, sounding disturbed while sitting down next to her.
“It is okay. I am not hurt. I am fine but Mom isn’t.”
I turned to look at Shola, she was staring, not at me but at a man behind me, a well-muscled and built man who seemed stunned by each other. A quick appraisal tells me I no longer have a client here.
The man and the child were carbon copies and the reason for her nervousness was apparent. The way he was looking at her was the way you look at a chilled drink that was out of reach while you were dying of thirst. I stood up and smiled at the girl.
“ I wish you all the happiness you can get.”
I nodded at the man and left the restaurant with my dignity intact and tears in my eyes. Tears I had refused to shed since I was older enough to understand what happens between my parents. I lifted an imaginary glass up when I got to the car, “To your happiness, dear girl. I hope your childhood is way better than mine.”
I went back to my office, wrote a report, and settled in to get ready for my 3:30 pm appointment.
