Chapter 2: Checkpoint Wahala

I sabi the two of them.

The one wey post the picture na one babe for university wey dey come watch my show lately. She never tip me before, but she dey always praise my magic. Sometimes she go even ask me make I teach am small trick, say she wan use am catch her boyfriend. I never know say na Judas dey my midst.

The supermarket owner na middle-aged man. I dey buy cigarette from am. E dey like magic, we don gist before, even talk say e dey envy my free life. Sometimes, im dey hail me as 'chairman of the street.'

Why dem go do me like this?

No be say e go benefit them, dem just dey spoil another person own. Na so life be—person wey dey smile with you fit still carry your matter go WhatsApp group.

But I reason am—na normal thing be that. Lagos life na sharp-sharp, everybody dey hustle, but dem dey use person climb ladder sometimes.

Seven hundred million dollars—enough to make anybody eye red. Even your best friend go dey reason how e go chop from the cake.

But some people know say dem no get liver, or dem no fit risk. Dem no go try collect the coin. For Naija, not everybody get mind for wahala.

But dem no wan make another person just hammer like that. If dem no fit chop, dem no wan make you chop—typical crab mentality.

This city go soon scatter. For my mind, I dey see riot, I dey hear police siren, I dey imagine people dey para for street because of my matter.

No wonder, when the billionaire give me the coin, e just smile:

"Good luck."

The way im smile, e be like Baba wey don cook stew, just dey watch pikin taste am pepper. My mind dey heavy, but as Naija pikin, I gats show face.

Na now I really need luck pass. I dey sweat for armpit, dey feel the pressure as if exam dey next day and I never read.

About five hundred meters ahead, people dey block road. E be like say dem dey do checkpoint, but this one no be police, na muscle men.

Some big, rugged guys with walkie-talkie dey for north end of Palm Grove Avenue. Dem dey size people up and down like bouncers for club gate. Their eye sharp like hawk.

Dem dey stop every guy wey resemble my age and height, dey use phone compare face with the picture. If dem catch you, your matter fit end for back of keke.

Plenty passersby vex, but as dem see as the men strong, dem just bone. Nobody wan collect slap for face because of another man wahala.

Most of them dey wear singlet and shorts, muscle everywhere—na gym people. Dem be like people wey dey win Mr. Nigeria every year. Even the way dem dey waka get confidence.

Compared to them, I be like stray dog. My slippers even dey make kpa-kpa sound, show say I no fit stand for fight.

Any of them fit just pin me down. I dey reason say even police go need back up to handle this kind men.

But to turn back now, no make sense. If I try waka back, e go look suspicious. For Naija, na who run first dey guilty.

Dem just dey ten meters apart—no need walkie-talkie sef. The way dem position, na military formation, no space to pass.

The fact say dem get am mean say person dey watch from up. Na so dem dey operate for area—once person dey watch CCTV for upstairs, everybody dey coded.

For this kind distance, if I turn back, dem go catch me sharp. Dem go just lock gate, wahala go start.

Plenty things dey run for my mind. I slow down small, but still dey move, shift small to left. My mind dey think escape plan like Nollywood James Bond.

Even that small move, one of the guys pick walkie-talkie, tiptoe to see me well. Im eye dey scan like scanner for airport.

Lucky for me, still get some hundred meters between us. The road get small curve, so dem never too see me finish.

Im squint, dey try see me well. I sharply adjust my cap, bend head like person wey dey find change for ground.

For this distance, I just be another face. I don remove the jacket wey I wear for the CCTV video. Na plain T-shirt remain; the kind wey you fit see for traffic light vendors.

Im no shout, no wan make I run, but call im guy. The two of them, one each side, begin close in from back. E be like say dem dey do Sango dance, position sharp.

I just bone, come smile, hail:

"Oga, madam, una go buy gold?"

The two people for bench shock. Their eye big like boiled egg.

"Oga, abeg, na pure scam? We dey manage zobo, you dey talk gold," the guy reply, laughing but eye still dey fear. The girl hide her smile behind her cup.

Na young guy and babe, maybe twenty years, dey sit together, each dey hold empty plastic cup of zobo, dey look each other shyly. Dem dey play love, dey whisper soft-soft.

I just reason am—

First love, first date, dem never sabi how to yarn. You go see as dem dey play with straw, dey look shoe, dey shy to touch hand.

This kind people no go check phone anyhow. Dem never see the billionaire livestream. Na only people wey dey inside hustle dey follow that kind gist.

The main thing be say, the guy resemble my size, and im jacket resemble mine. Na God hand dey work for me today, I reason.

And magic na about light, angle, and timing. If you miss am, e go spoil like jollof rice wey dem no stir well.

I smile. "No be gold I dey sell. Na our jewelry store anniversary, we dey run couples’ challenge. Make una try?" I dey talk like those people wey dey promote for Shoprite entrance.

The jewelry store dey like three, four hundred meters down. Everybody for area sabi the shop, na old place.

I just run mouth: "If the guy fit run from here reach the shop for under ninety seconds, the babe go get gold ring as souvenir." I dey point down the street, dey gesture like MC for wedding.

"True?" Dem doubt. The girl dey look me like say she wan believe, but fear still dey.

Gold cost now—this one too good. Everybody know say even 18 karat no be beans.

As gold no tempt them, I use love yarn. For Lagos, if gold no move you, love go surely do am.

I bring out one gold ring from my pocket, hand am to the guy, make im put for the girl hand. Na street magician prop—pure brass, but e dey shine for eye.

Na just fake ring, prop wey no pass small change. Na so all street magician dey do, na packaging.

But both of them blush, dey shake as dem put am for her finger. The babe dey smile, teeth white like Omo detergent advert.

"See as the ring fine for your hand. Oga, you sure say you no wan try?" I talk, hand dey out. "If you no run, I go collect am back o." I dey use my playful street style, make dem laugh small.

The girl whisper, "...I want am." Her voice soft like Agege bread, but I hear am clear.

The guy, wey don dey inside the magic, nod sharp. E be like say love don win.

Corner of my eye, the two muscle guys dey close, less than hundred meters. My heart dey beat like talking drum.

I just press timer: "The challenge start—run!"

The guy jump, shock, just begin run opposite direction, dey dodge crowd like say im be wind. Everybody dey look am. Even old mama wey dey fry akara stop to watch.

Im too fast, na only im coat tail you fit see. The guy waka sharp—na Olympics sprint e dey do.

"After am!"

The two muscle guys sharply turn, begin pursue the guy. As dem dey run, crowd dey hail, people dey record with phone, dey shout, "E for energy!"

The girl shock, ask, "Why una dey chase am? Na part of una jewelry store game?"

Few seconds pass. No answer. Everybody just dey look, the place don scatter.

She turn, see say me—wey suppose dey time—don vanish. As Lagos boy, I sabi disappear pass magician for Nollywood film.