"Nice," Lawrence commented, eyes roving the place as he closed the door. There were pictures on the walls---artwork on closer inspection; a mini fridge hummed quietly in a corner alongside a standing fan; a reading table and chair was placed between the bed and curtained window, a polished bookshelf gleamed next to them. Overhead, the fan whirred and colored lights produced a relaxing ambience. The air, he sensed, was scented with stew. Or is it Jollof rice? He found himself hungering for whatever it was. "Your roommate went out, I suppose?" In a murmur, Lawrence said to himself. " Uhm, what's her name again?"

"Forgotten her name already," Grasping the rod leaned on a wall, Uche bent over to sweep up the curtain into an arm, wincing as the headache lodge forward, and slipped it in, capping both ends with finials after. " Too many girls in that head of yours?"

Indeed he had. He faltered. "I've never been good with names-a bad memory if you like to call it-- but in my defense I've heard it just once. Neither have we been properly introduced. You won't tell me?"

"It will stick better if you asked her," Uche said. She picked up the hammer. "The easy way is never the answer. There's no such thing as bad memory, just untrained. Although, it's dependent on certain factors, but improvement is improvement, and remembering a name is simple enough, even if you just heard it once. You simply weren't focusing."

"True," Lawrence nodded, pocketing his hands. "Not at that time. But it's not that simple. Sometimes there are just too many people."

"And yet you managed to remember mine. And I happened to mention it just once." Uche missed his wince as she reached over for the nails, but Lawrence snatched them up instead; they rose together, with him stepping back, and her fumbling for the curtain. "She'll submit the form tomorrow when she moves in. I've informed the main desk."

That means she's been up and about all week, he thought. "You should be resting."

"I'm resting enough," She held out a hand, palm up. "It would do your business a lot of good if you learned to, not just those you want to sleep with,"-- Lawrence's mouth opened then closed at her raised brow-" It's amazing how much importance people place on their names."

With a sheepish grin, he said, "I'll keep that in mind. Let me hang it up," and snagged the hammer before she could protest, got atop the stool. A nail was lodged in the wall, halfway through. He began hammering. "Any tips on how I can improve?"

"That's what the internet is for."

"Not everything it says is accurate."

"A lot are, if you check properly."

"Or, you could teach me," Lawrence gripped the bracket, evaluating its sturdiness, "I'll pay, of course."

"I doubt you'd pay attention," Uche remarked, her tone bland, and he smothered a smile. "I'm sure you'll figure something out, that's the whole point of having an evolved brain after all." She kept the curtain aside, hesitated for a moment. "Would you like something to eat?" Unsure that he'd heard correctly, Lawrence paused, turning to her with an incredulous expression on his face. Irritated, Uche repeated in Igbo. "O ga - amasi gi? Better? English isn't your forte, is that it?"

"No....i mean, I understand English perfectly," Lawrence chuckled half heartedly, distractedly, watching her scowl. In the privacy of his room, he'd dwell on her local accented lilt, but for now. "I just want to be certain I heard you offering to feed me this evening. What about your questions?" He added before she disappeared into the kitchen.

"While you eat."

Still baffled, he fiddled about readjusting, improving; meanwhile utensils clattered.

Few minutes later, Uche emerged with a single tray of steamy food and water. With a critical eye, Lawrence was appraising the artwork like she had hours prior, one arm crossed so that it propped up the other from which an immaculate, long finger tapped his lips. The hand under his elbow, she noticed, held her material, one she couldn't quite study, being all headachy, and had abandoned on the bed. The curtain of earlier draped over the door to hover appreciable inches.

Lawrence snapped back as soon as she padded in. "She's interested in what makes people ticc." He smacked the material on his palm, smiling thoughtfully. "I'm not sure how I should feel about that. Not sure I'd like anyone prying in here," he tapped his temple with the paper then replaced it. "But don't fret it's not enough to send me running."

Stiff-backed, she went to the reading table. He sat as she set down the plate heaped with stewed rice, topped with fried chicken, her lids lowered and face impassive.

Like a disgruntled housewife. The thought oddly warmed him. "I'm getting conflicting signals, Uche." He remarked tongue in cheek, rubbing his thighs anticipatively. "You know it's harder to get rid of a man once you've fed him good food. Do I take it that you secretly want me to keep advancing? "

"First guest privileges," She said tartly, and without looking at him, grabbed both medicine bag and cup afterwards. It was what her mother it. Every time they moved into a new neighborhood food always awaited the first amiable neighbor to come bearing good will. Uche remembered her petulant whines and the churlish manner with which she'd offer them scrumptious lunch or dinner that ordinarily they couldn't afford, thinking such altruistic acts were wasted. 'Feed a guest, make a friend.' Either way, they never lasted; soon jealousy roused, news spread. But she'd maintained the habit despite, ingraining it in her daughter who'd later skulk off to beat the audacious daughters and sons of the offending mothers.

"I'm honored then."

Uche sat on the bed, placed the cup beside her and started snapping out tablets. "Water's in the fridge."

"You're too kind," Lawrence watched her gather them in one hand, saying, "Did you eat properly? Those are pretty heavy...." He trailed off as she tipped back her head, swallowing all at once with two gulps of water. A moment or two passed during which neither said nothing. While his food cooled, Lawrence sought conversation. "Interesting artwork,"

A frown crossed Uche's face as she propped up pillows to lay her back on. She didn't have to ask which.

"You don't agree?" Lawrence glanced its way, smiled lopsidedly. It depicted a woman one would consider the embodiment of African beauty, with ebony black skin, isi owu coiffure (an Igbo hairstyle), and attired weft-float patterned wrappers that creased across endowed hips and bosom. Sparkling red beads adorned her waist, wrists and ankles. A frozen dancer, she stood tall in a circle of silhouetted seated drummers, arms flung out, hips thrust to a side. There were no facial features but she had a vivacious air about her that riveted the men playing and anyone who so much as glanced at it.

"It's the unrealistic work of a libidinous artist."

Lawrence chuckled. "Is that really all you see?" when she didn't respond he continued. "She's elegant, powerful, and talented and she knows it. She doesn't shy away from attention, rather courts it. Granted. He or she may have paid more attention to some areas, but it's not unrealistic. It's very real. I've seen it. In fact, I'm looking at a beautiful, realistic example right now."

Her features altered momentarily then regained composure but not before Lawrence caught an almost imperceptible flicker of her lashes. Blinking up at the ceiling, Uche smiled a little, stretching out long legs. Lawrence looked away. "My, my, don't you have a way with words. One of the things they love about you right? You must have the women dropping dead."

"Although sweet talking has its benefits I only speak the truth." There was a smile in his voice. "I'm sure you've been told countless times. If you thought differently why purchase it?" He added after a pause. Now warm enough to eat, Lawrence spooned rice into his mouth, savoring the taste as he chewed. It tasted good. Really good. He was reminded of Christmas specials and destitute children.

"I didn't. It's a bonus piece." The old man had been more than glad to; he had been feeling 'generous' that afternoon. "Why did you lie about this place being the only one available?" Rolling her head on the pillow, Uche pinned him with a look.

Lawrence swallowed heavily. "Lie?"

"There are tiles with numbers above every door here. When we checked the place out, the number 24 was covered with some kind of cloth and now it's not. Across all blocks, there are both covered and uncovered tiles. Since this one is occupied, the tile is left open to signify that, just like Henrietta's and a lot of others. Asked someone and they confirmed it. Obviously, you don't have to be Sherlock Holmes."

"No, a nosy Miss Marples is more like it," Lawrence bantered. Then he was intently studying his spoon. It wasn't a question he intended to answer truthfully. "It's just part of the sales pitch, nothing more. It's not uncommon to lie a bit when it's beneficial. The occupancy is rotated and it was block four's turn. This one is as good as any. Everything is functioning properly, isn't it?" He ate another spoonful.

"Sure, I can't complain." Dissatisfied with the answer, Uche said, "And is lowering the rent beneficial too? I questioned the main desk. Apparently, it's 120k for a person, 200k for two. Expensive."

Lawrence paused, letting the spoon hover briefly. "You say that like it's a bad thing. If I recall correctly someone told me she wanted something affordable, and I made it so."

"Because you own it, everything here," Was he going to deny it? Uche thought as Lawrence leaned back in the chair, giving her his full attention, jaws tense. He smiled grimly.She suddenly felt woozy, and turned to her side, shifting further into the bed until she was lying straight. "It's either that or you also lied about not being close with the owners. To my knowledge, a caretaker's job doesn't include tampering with the prices."

"I merely discussed with them." Lawrence shrugged.

"Was that before or after you told me? Unless you have psychic abilities that enables you see the future, a future where you saw us coming here, I don't see how that's possible. If you discussed after, you must have been certain they wouldn't disapprove."Drowsily, she blinked.

"The prices are negotiable, Uche. Have you considered that?"

"But we didn't negotiate, did we? You chose a rather fair price." Uche hummed, eyes closed, voice husky. "Or perhaps, you paid off the rest. If you did, you better ask for a refund because I paid in full."

"You could afford it after all." With a chuckle, Lawrence turned to his food. "You must have given it much thought. They are all plausible. Sorry to disappoint you though, but I really am just a caretaker. As for the rent..." He was soon aware of the serene cadence of her breathing. She was asleep, part of her face nestled into the pillow. Relieved, Lawrence expelled a deep, long breath and finished eating as quietly as possible, after which he cleaned up, replaced every item used, and went to the fridge for a bottle of water.

The closet was locked, the key nowhere in sight. Her phone was not without a password. She was up to something. He wasn't oblivious any longer to the change she'd undergone: perhaps he was the one who had been blinded, seeing her through that beatific image. Lawrence drew the chair closer and sat watching her as he sipped water. If only he didn't know what he knew now, maybe his intentions would have been......... He tapped a finger on the bottle. The fact that his brother had found out so much so fast was unsettling as well as suspicious. A murderer had invited him in. A murderer had fed him. A murderer was a really good cook. A murderer was....beautiful. And a murderer was also talented. He hadn't expected any of it.

Smart, too. Almost found him out. Maybe she eventually would if he wasn't careful. Was she really no different? Lawrence trailed his gaze from her feet, up creamy thighs, to the curls teasing her forehead. She looked so vulnerable. He still couldn't believe she had fallen asleep with a man around. Surely, she knew better. Any desperate animal would.....Lawrence grinned. He'd seen the video. Uche stirred, sucking in air sharply. Lawrence didn't move until she'd settled into sleep again then he went to turn off the fan and draw the curtain over the window.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was his brother again. He terminated it, glanced her way and texted someone. Standing beside the bed and folding his arms, Lawrence gazed down at her, brooding. How was he supposed to do it? He never had to seduce a woman or even flirt with them. They came to him. This one wasn't exactly going to be easy; not to mention, he was already compromised.

His brother would say: "Look for her vanity, feed it. Everyone has one; you just have to find it."

What's yours?

He waited until the knock sounded.

*************

When Uche awoke it was to darkness and something enveloping her body. A cloth? Languorous, she moaned, burrowing into the warmth.

Then she sat up, blinking bleary eyes. She had slept off while........Quickly, Uche felt for her phone that protruded from under the pillows, turned on the flashlight. It was Ten o'clock (so late?). The cloth was in fact her blanket which she'd folded neatly on the other side of the bed. Uche checked herself: Fully clothed underneath, she didn't feel tampered with. Rubbing her forehead, she uttered an expletive. Had it been the tablets? How could she have fallen asleep at such a moment? What if he had tried something? What if...What if..

But he didn't.

Despite the blunder, however, Uche couldn't deny that she felt better--even the headache had subsided-- for the first time in weeks. Climbing out of bed she remembered the food still in the kitchen, which should have been refrigerated long ago, and her unlocked door (secured hostel or not, one still had to be cautious). But the door was locked (he must have used a spare key; hers was where she kept it under her pillow) and when she opened the fridge, blinking groggily into the warm yellow glow, saw the pots there, cooling. Just to be certain, she counted her chicken. So he didn't take anything, except water.

Lights were off; The fan, too; Curtains drawn---all his doing.

As Uche scuffed to the bed, turning off her phone's light and putting it aside, she felt a brief cramping pain in her stomach. Uche grimaced. Then, sighing, she slid under the blanket, drawing it up to her chest. The night was chilly, and she felt herself shiver feverishly. Supine, Uche draped an arm across her forehead, eyes closed, breathing evenly.

She still had some questions, and he had barely answered any; he neither denied nor confirmed her deduction..but floundered all the same. What did that mean, that she was in the right? Also why didn't he wake her up? Did he leave immediately or tarry?

In the silence, Uche found herself recalling snippets of their conversation.

Am looking at a beautiful, realistic example right now.....

There was that frission leap again. From somewhere, spreading warmth.

I'm sure you've been told countless times.....

No, she hadn't been told. They didn't think her beautiful. Sexy. That was the term, often said while eyes leered her way and gleamed with lascivious intent. And he was no different: she'd caught him several times, looking at her, like......

"A piece of meat," Uche muttered into the dark. Another cramp seized her and she baulked. Her period was here, after almost two month's absence.

Great. The joy of being a woman. Out of painkillers, she prepared for a tough night. Soon she lay dozing, only to be snapped back by pain, each sharper than the last, and the lewd, throaty noises from the next room.

They were at it again. Exasperated, she plugged in her ear buds, played random music, wondering how Huma would react any time the frisky couple got started. For such a prude, she'd probably lie awake, appalled, those big eyes of hers wide open. The thought had her laughing uproarously, hissing through painful intervals. And when she finally fell asleep, the pillow was damp against her cheek.

A/N

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