Chapter 1: Slap, Chain, and Thunder

After the villain boss lock me up for him mansion, anger just boil me reach bone. I raise hand, slap am, the chain for my wrist just dey jingle kpa-kpa. The slap loud, echo for the big parlour like thunder wey break silence for harmattan morning. My hand dey pain me small, but I no show am — pride still dey inside me.

But as my palm land for him cheek, my eye quick dart go him face. My hand dey tingle, sharp pain run my finger. I pause, heart dey shake—na so I dey wonder if I just sign my own death warrant. Who dey slap villain boss and survive? For my mind, I dey pray make breeze just carry me disappear.

WhatsApp comments just burst everywhere:

[This wicked side chick dey craze. Apart from the villain boss, who else really care for you?]

[LOL, the side chick just dey fall for the main guy, abi? Make she just dey dig her own grave dey go.]

Even my neighbour for block D drop voice note: "Ifeoma no dey hear word! You slap oga, ehn? God save you say na mansion, not barracks."

I look up, confused. My heart dey beat kpim, kpim. This one don pass reality show for Africa Magic.

The comments pause small, then rush enter again:

[Chei, nobody tell me say this side chick fine like this!]

[Villain, you dey craze? If you no wan be her mumu, abeg make I do am!]

[Baby, abeg no dash am anything, na old perv, I dey fear say e go lick your hand.] [Insert Mr Macaroni GIF: “You are doing well!”]

As I dey try read finish, before that last comment even land, I feel something cold and wet for my palm. Na real wetin, no be imagination at all. For my mind, I just shout, "Blood of Jesus! Wetin be this one again?"

I open eye wide, sharply pull my hand back. I nearly throw am for ground, if no be say na chain dey hold me. I wan vomit, the thing be like when dog lick your hand for market, but this one get cold power, e dey make my skin crawl.

Obinna push up him gold-rimmed glasses, him voice deep:

"You still wan slap me?"

The muscle under him suit just set well, shoulder broad, waist slim. Cold, proud, the kain person wey no dey smile anyhow. The tailor wey sew this suit sabi — suit tailor na Baba Tunde from Surulere—if e sew for you, even governor go jealous. You go think say na agbada but e still get oyibo swag. Him wristwatch flash like say e dey show time for London and Lagos together.

You no go ever believe say na this same guy just lick my palm now-now. All those yeye movies for Africa Magic never prepare me for this kain wahala.

I just chicken out, no fit slap am again. I hide my hand, dey bone face for am. My mouth dey form strong, but my heart dey skip beat. Na so e be when lion dey lick your paw.

For Abuja, everywhere just dey buzz with story about Obinna. Na him face dey trend for Twitter, people dey argue for Instagram: "Who get pass money, Obinna or Dangote pikin?"

Unilag graduate, join international peacekeeping at twenty-two, take over the Okafor family at twenty-four. Person wey still dey drink malt for suya spot that year now dey chop caviar for villa.

But the one wey stick for my mind na last year, when I follow my ex-fiancé go Okafor family party. The memory still dey fresh, like yesterday, even though my life don scatter since then.

By mistake, I carry Obinna medical report. The thing get some big bold words:

Dysfunction.

I look am like mumu, then look up at him. My mouth open, I nearly forget to close am, like fish for market.

"Erm, Uncle Obinna, you, you..."

I dey stammer:

"You... no fit use am again?"

Obinna pinch the report with two slim fingers, no even shake:

"Mm, na battlefield injury."

"But... e still dey work at all?"

He think small, then laugh:

"If I jam person wey I really, really like, e go work."

My brain just blank:

"Haha, mm, eh, okay, I pray make you use am soon."

I nearly bite my tongue:

"No, no, I mean, I hope you find person you like quick."

After all the wahala, na myself I put for trouble. I blame my own over-sabi mouth.

I shake the chain for my wrist, vexed:

"When you go free me?"

Obinna voice just cold:

"Wetin, you dey rush go meet your ex-fiancé?"

I think am well, answer serious:

"No, you just carry me come here sharp-sharp, I never even resign for my cyber café work."