Chapter 3: Tobi’s Arrival and the Heat Rises

2.

I just laugh out of anger.

My laugh cut through the noise, short and sharp. Even the okada man sipping La Casera paused mid-gulp. “This girl dey craze?” I muttered under my breath.

Who dey waste who time? I sat there for two hours, scalp burning, head cut, braids no even straight.

I remembered my mother: "No let anybody take you for mugu, Amaka." My palm pressed against my head, feeling the sting where she scratched. The braids pulled like they wanted to collect my destiny.

She really think say I be mumu.

Her confidence dey too much, as if she fit read my bank balance from my face. Small girl, big wahala.

As I wan vex, a familiar voice sliced through my irritation.

“Amaka, you finish with your hair? I come carry you go chop.”

There stood Tobi, shirt rumpled, smiling easy like nothing for this life fit shake him.

Bullet comments blast: “Ahhh, main guy don land! Protagonist’s saviour don show…”

Tobi entered, noticing how tense everywhere be.

His eyes scanned the faces—mine, Halima’s, the small crowd. He always sabi read room, but today confusion clouded his brow. He squeezed my shoulder, like to say, “No fear, I dey.”

“Amaka, wetin happen?”

His voice was gentle but steady. My chest tightened. For a moment, I remembered why I liked him.

But Halima jumped in: “Oga, your babe do hair for our stand, but now she wan run bill. Her bag alone fit pay my school fees for two semesters. Abeg, settle the bill.”

Halima’s voice rose above the crowd, her hand on her hip, daring anyone to challenge her. She squeezed her face, even forced small tears.

The tears sat strange on her, like borrowed property. Her voice broke at the right places—pure Nollywood. The crowd leaned in, hungry for gist.

People began to pity her. “Na wa o, rich people dey enjoy while poor dey suffer. You no need this small money—just pay, take am do good deed.”

Voices overlapped, some shaking heads, others wagging fingers. One mama hissed, tying her scarf tighter. A young hawker weaving through the crowd paused, meat pie tray balanced on his head, eyes wide for gist. Another woman shifted her wrapper and sucked her teeth, soaking in the drama.

To do good and to allow person use you no be the same thing.

I remembered my papa’s words: “Charity no mean make you close eye when person dey chop your eye.”

I no lack money, but I no be fool. If person scam you and you pity the scammer, na who lose?

Tobi tried to calm me. “Amaka, time don go. Forget am.”

His voice was soft, pleading. His eyes begged me to let it slide. He always played peacekeeper.

“If you no wan pay, I go pay. She really work for two hours.”

He brought out his wallet, searching his cards, but his hands shook small. I saw he didn’t really want to.

“Everybody dey hustle. Make we just overlook. As dem talk, to lose small sometimes na blessing.”

I sucked my teeth. I’d heard that line before—always when someone wanted to guilt-trip me.

I could almost feel bullet comments blasting, the virtual crowd pressing in, fingers pointing, voices echoing from WhatsApp groups and late-night gist.

All of them dey call me wicked supporting character, dey hail Tobi say him gentle.

But na my right I dey protect—e bad?

Because I no be protagonist, I suppose just swallow am?

Halima wiped tears, kept pushing: “Oga, you know say we part-timers dey suffer. How about this: let your babe buy membership card, deposit ₦1 million, today’s hair go free. After that, every time she come, na 20% discount.”

She eyed Tobi with watery eyes, as if her life depend am. The market crowd nodded—na this kind drama dey sweet them pass.

“This one na special offer—I dey run am while oga no dey. Pay quick! If boss come, she no go gree.”

She pressed the POS close, the green light blinking, daring me to back down.

I hissed and flicked her hand away, wrist snapping Naija style. Even the crowd stepped back, expecting wahala.

“Na money dey your mind. Since we no fit talk, I go call community police make dem judge who dey run 419.”

As I dialed, Tobi held my hand, whispering, “Amaka, this thing reach like this? She just dey charge the price wey dem write. I check am—the attachments na this price. You suppose pay.”

His hand was warm, but his voice had hardened. He sounded like a lecturer marking scripts with red pen.

Once police enter the gist, Halima drop pride, looked at Tobi with pity, started begging.

She switched fast, voice trembling for real. I saw fear climb her face, like she knew she don overdo.

“Oga, I just be poor student dey hustle. My papa dey hospital, na money remain to save am. Your babe wan push me reach edge?” She even dragged Tobi’s sleeve small.

She nearly knelt, desperation raw. The crowd was loving it—some shook heads, others sighed, "Chai, life hard for this country."

Bullet comments explode:

“Ahhh, see as protagonist dey cry, too fine.”

“God, if na me be main guy, I go hug Halima, pamper her.”

“Author dey pair everybody, good or bad.”

Tobi looked convinced. He held my arm, voice strong, “Amaka, if you no pay, I go pay. But after today, we don finish. I no fit date person like you.”

His words landed heavy, echoing. For a moment, the crowd went quiet. My heart skipped, but pride no let me bow.