||KIMULI||

I woke up in a good mood today. I feel like the sun is finally showing a good phase on me despite my horrible deeds to an innocent woman. Kelvin called at around four to tell me that they had finally nabbed the whole drug syndicate. I was close to shedding all my clothes, head to the bathroom and sing in the shower from relief. Finally, I do not have to worry about my business being in jeopardy. It was a gnawing feeling that I dreaded so much.

He filled me in on what he could. Even the main reason why he never gave me a heads up when I asked if there was anything I could do to help. He said was protecting himself, my friends and me. The rest he is going to have a personal meeting with me. In the meantime, I will work on thinking about what I can do to earn Zawadi's forgiveness. It bothers me like a plague. My guilt won't leave me alone and if I don't do anything to lift it I'll be going crazy.

We are having breakfast at the dining table. I am going through the Daily Newspaper reading the report on the syndicate. I'm not a newspaper guy but today, I had to buy it. Mom is quiet on her side. She seems to be in deep thought. I want to ask her about last night. However, it makes me feel as if I am intruding. But I have to know what she is up to.

"Mom, last night," she looks up at me with a hard look.

The translation is that she doesn't want to speak about it. I give her my puppy dog eyes. She can never resist those. She glares but I protest until she rolls her eyes and huffs in defeat.

"I was late from the set. We left the place at ten and the traffic was still heavy around the CBD," she says. I get wind that she is hiding a lot from me.

"And it ended up lasting you four more hours?" I ask curiously. She scowls at me and I smile. She can't fool me. She uneasily cuts on her bacon and takes a bite. Perhaps she is buying time to decide on what to tell me.

"Mom, you know you can tell me anything, right?" I say. She looks up chewing on her bacon. She waits until she swallows.

"How can I be sure you won't go spiralling around when I tell you whatever is going on?" she asks.

"Because I am promising not to," I smirk. If it is something worrying I will for sure go crazy. Though by her relaxed mood, I can see it isn't that bad.

"I told you about this new series we have been working on, right?" I nod. "The producer asked me for a late-night coffee on the first day of set. It's been like that since then," she says.

"Is he trustworthy? Does he look mysterious or something? What's his name? Does he make you feel uneasy? What's he like? Do you like him?" I wink. She shoots me a hard look. I resume a serious face instantly.

"You're acting protective again," she smiles.

"Mom, I can't help myself. You're the only one I have. So, I have to make sure you're in good hands that's all." I say as a matter of factly.

"Sweet Evans. You do care," she teases.

"Of course I do," I grumble. She smiles. I like to see her smiling. "So, tell me more about this producer."

She tells me his name is Aaron. He's older by three years. According to my mom's judgment on looks, he is a telltale for magazines. She must like him. I see it in her expressions as she tells me about him. She goes on and on. At a point, I ask her the names of the films and TV shows he has produced so that I can check them out. When we are done talking about him, she asks if I am okay with everything. My selfless mother. Always putting others before herself. I want her to be happy. I am grown and she doesn't have to always put me before herself.

"I am more than okay, mom. As long as he treats you like the queen you are. I am okay. I want you to find happiness. And I want you to find it somewhere comfortable. It's time you find someone who will care for you as much as you care for us, mom," I tell her happily. She looks at me with a proud smile. I feel proud and humbled at the same time for having her.

"I am so happy that you're content with it," she says.

"It's settled then. Just don't forget to introduce me when things get really serious, "I tease making her chuckle.

"Not happening," she says cutting on her bacon. It must be cold by now.

I say a short prayer to thank God for answering my prayers. And also ask Him to bless their budding relationship. That it remains alive till they are grey and old. They be happy and content with each other. Always.

I take a bite of my cold bacon. It still tastes sweet. As I chew on it, I flip on the newspaper leafs scheming through stories. None of them seems interesting. Just normal politics and propaganda. Sports and entertainment of all sorts. As I am checking out last nights game results between Manchester United and Tottenham Hotspur, I feel my phone vibrate before the ringing tone comes up. I fish in my pocket to grab it. I get a hold of it, on the display is Kes' name. My heart starts pounding thinking that Zawadi told her all about my little act. I hope she didn't. Kes will skin me alive. Literally.

"Hi, Kes," I answer in a breathe.

"Hi," she responds in a panicked voice. That was not what I expected if she knew about Zawadi and me. "I was just wondering, would you by any chance know where Zawadi is?"

Panic strikes me. I can't even tell why. Perhaps it's because I just realized that it's a new dawn and it could be worse if she didn't go home. I was the last person to see her and after I told her to run away from me I thought she would directly go home. Seems like I was wrong. I wonder where she went. Kes can't know that I was with her last night. She may jump to conclusions that will favour none of us.

"Not really. Why? Didn't she come home after her shift?" I ask in a worrisome tone.

I stand from the table. Mom wears a questionable and worrisome expression. I mumble an excuse and walk away.

"She didn't and I am starting to freak out. It's so unlike her and if anything happens to her I don't know what I will do, Kim," she says vulnerably. Her tone is enough to make me feel guilty. Perhaps it's my fault that she is nowhere to be seen right now.

"Have you tried calling her phone? What about Jason? Has he said anything?" I ask walking upstairs to get my jacket and car keys.

"Her phone is off. Jason doesn't even know about it. The last time he saw her was yesterday when she was supposed to meet you. You saw her right?" she asks. I am busted.

"I did. What else did Jason tell you?" I inquire to see if he told her more.

"Just that. Nothing much. Wait, is there something I should know?"

"No. I just thought there was more," I lie to her.

It's good to know that Jason did not go spilling the beans. I know it makes him feel bad but he'll survive. He can live with it. The good thing is that he doesn't know the gory details. He only knows that we were supposed to meet and talk like adults. But I could imagine the sinister thoughts that were running through his head.

"You don't think something has happened right?" she asks still panicked.

In this city, people mysteriously disappear at times and they are never found again. No one knows whether they walked away on foot to only they know where or they were just swept from the face of the earth. Thinking of something of the sort happening to Zawadi makes me feel horrible and mysteriously afraid. I do not understand why I have to be fragile where she is concerned.

"No, Kes. She must be fine. Perhaps she stayed at the club or somewhere. Relax, I'll see what I'll do," I tell her. I try to convince myself it will be alright but I cannot ignore the possibility of getting something negative in return.

"Thank you," she says before hanging up. She shouldn't be thanking me. Instead, she should be hating on me for ruining her best friend. For making her life miserable than it already is.

I have picked my jacket and car keys. I am on my way out. Mom is still staring at me with a questionable face as I walk towards her.

"I'll see you later, mom. I got something to take care of," I say.

"You better tell me all about it when you come back," she says hugging me.

"If you mean the whole story, then I am not so sure you're going to like it," I tell her. Surely she will not like hearing that I am the cause of all this saga. I step out of one pit hole into another. So much for thinking that the sun was finally showing some kindness to me.

"Doesn't matter. Now, go," she says.

I head out walking straight to my truck. On my way, my phone rings again. I am hoping it's Kes and with some good news. Looking at the display, it's not her. It's Kelvin. I slide to answer.

"Kelvin, it's not a good time," I tell him.

"How would I know that? We have a problem. We just realised that we have your employees here," he says. The day just seems to be getting better and better.

"How many exactly?" I ask as I open the door and settle behind the wheel.

"Three. Two women and a man." He says. He should give their names if he wants me to get them fully. Not just going bit by bit.

"Who are they?"

"Josephine Atinda, Zawadi Adan and Japheth Musoli," he responds. My heartbeat picks up again and my mind starts racing trying to wonder what the fuck Zawadi is doing at the detention centre.

"No! Heck! What are they doing there?" I ask.

It's as if I do not know about Mike and his possible accomplices. It was a shock to know that he was one of the traffickers. But Zawadi is not one of Mike's friends. So it makes me wonder how the hell she ended up there.

"All three of them were caught with the alleged drug traffickers. Josephine is a friend of Mike's. So is Japheth. They were both caught with another member. A nasty one," he explains.

"What about Zawadi?" I ask.

"She just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person," he continues.

"What the fuck does that mean?" I growl.

"She was with Mike when we caught him at Central Park while he was doing his nightly peddling of Heroin."

"No, no, no. Shit. Did he give it to her?"

"No. We happened to be following him. So when he went to the park, we were seeing whatever he was up to. Though this girl, Zawadi. She seemed lost or something." He explains. I rake my hands through my hair in confusion.

"Lost? How exactly?"

"She was drinking a bottle of Gold and sobbing helplessly." That's all my fault. Shit. "And I guess that Mike was on his way to make her his little doll. He's a sadistic man who I'm pretty sure was going to take advantage of her. Good thing is that we were there on time. Though she is still freaked out. And the phone is off. We wanted to help by calling her someone but she says she has no one to call."

She probably doesn't want to call Kes. Either because she is worried about what she'll tell her or she isn't planning on doing it.

"Shit. Watch her. I'm headed there."

He mumbles a yes. I think of telling Kes about it. She will be mad. But if Zawadi didn't want to call her, it means she doesn't want her to know about it. So, I should just keep my mouth shut until the news come from the horse's mouth. I drive out of my mom's gate and head to the police station. I can't believe how things are going. One woman arrives and everything starts going haywire with me. This is whacked.

☆☆☆☆

I pack my truck on the designated lot beside the parade ground. Few police officers and inspectors are walking up and down. I should have known that Mike dragged along two workers. I do have soft spots for my employees. And when I see things turning against them I tend to feel bad for them. Even when it is their faults that landed them there.

Thank goodness he didn't infiltrate so much. When Kelvin started working on the undercover mission, he told me that they only suspected that the gang had moved into my club. It's good they have been caught without doing much harm to my place. Things would have become ugly.

I head to a building that looks like the office across the parade ground. There, I meet a female officer. She looks at me with shining eyes. I get that a lot from women. They always like flirting with pretty faces.

"Good morning, I would like to speak to Detective Kelvin Mbatia, "I say to her.

"Sure, I'll call him," she stutters. I hate it when they do not have enough self-control. It nags me.

She calls a number on the office phone. Again, she turns to look at me while she waits for someone to answer on the other side. I shoot her glare enough to steer her gaze to something else. An impatient Evans isn't the best human you can deal with. All I feel is the urge to see Zawadi. To make sure she is okay and out of this place. The phone is answered. They talk with the person and after she hangs up she gives me directions to the office I should go to. I follow them, and soon I am standing outside Kevin's door. My knuckles knock and he calls me in.

"Good thing you came. First, we need you to answer some questions," he says even before ushering me a sit.

"Thank you for the warm welcome," I grumble taking a seat.

"You're welcome," he says sarcastically. I smile. He flips a few pages on a file and then looks up at me.

"I want you to tell me where you met this Mike and what followed after that," he says.

"Around last year, at the club. I was just about to enter when he stopped me at the door. He seemed to know me as the owner. I told myself that perhaps he was some influential persona who happened to know I own the club as not many know about it. Many think that I'm just a random person," he is listening keenly while taking short notes on the paper.

I tell him how we became friends. Later, we drifted when he left after a few weeks. When he came back I was working in my parlour. We never met until my return the other day. He asks a few more questions which I find irrelevant until his previously empty sheet of paper is half full when we are done.

"Is that all?" I ask impatiently.

"Yes. That is all," he heaves.

"Now, what are they going to do to Zawadi and why did they bring her along?" I ask curiously.

"She will be released soon. My colleagues thought she was also with them but after assessing her condition they found out she wasn't plagued as they thought. Just emotionally disturbed." Thanks to my selfish self.

"Where is she?"

"She is in a detention room. She looks worse. More so from the hangover. She has been sick but the nurse tried to give her something."

I am not enjoying anything he is telling me. I dread it. I cannot imagine her in a detention cellar. No. Sick and terrified. And it's all because of me. I need to learn and grow up. Cause I am realising that I am a boy in a man's body. If I was a gentleman, I wouldn't have done what I did. But since I am still a boy, it explains my immature behaviour. How unlucky I must be.

"I want to see her, " I tell him. "I can take her home. I am familiar with her best friend, Keseli. You might recognise her."

"Yes, I do. Come, I'll take you to her," he says standing.

We walk out and head to the detainee cells. When he opens the steel door at the main entrance, a shiver runs down my spine. I do not know how Zawadi will react when she sees me. Though it's guaranteed that she will not be wearing a freaking banana smile. Regardless, I hold on to myself hoping she will not be so much to handle.

"Zawadi Adan, someone is here to see you," Kelvin says.

My eyes immediately shoot to his subject. Pretty Zawadi. Huddled in a corner shivering. She looks pale. Worn out and distressed. She looks up at Kelvin before her eyes shoot to me. She looks scared upon seeing me. Expected. But there is a little light shimmering from her eyes. I chose to bet my hope on that. Even though I do not know what it means.

"He is here to take you out," he tells her. She swiftly stands. Her shoes are beside her. No purse and phone.

"Where are her belongings?" I ask.

"At the front office. They should give them to you while heading out," he says. "I'll leave you. I'll be outside," he walks out leaving us in awkward silence.

I can't form a word. I feel so ashamed and guilty for bringing all this upon her. I step into the cellar. She is still shivering. I remove my jacket and give it to her. She doesn't resist. I am thinking she is too worked up and cold to start resisting.

"Are you taking me home?" she asks in a painful whisper. It stabs my chest like a shard of glass being twisted in my flesh.

"Yes. I'm going to take you home," I tell her.

She eyes me for a while as if to make sure I am not lying to her. Then she bends to pick her shoes. She almost trips but holds herself up. She may look weak but she is still strong.

"You refused to give them contacts, why?" I ask. She remains silent for a while.

"I did not want Kes to worry."

I guessed that right. She never wanted Kes to find out. But something is for sure, she will still get to know all about this. It's better to keep her in the light.

"What about your mom or anyone else?" she eyes me curiously.

"She has a lot to handle. Why are you helping me?" she asks hesitantly.

"Because I want to," I tell her.

The real reason I want to help is that I feel bad for messing her up. I want to make up for it. Oh, and of course to satisfy the deep and dark part in me that wants to feel her near again.

"Thank you," she says humbly.

"You shouldn't be thanking me. I want to apologise for my bad behaviour. I know such an act will not be easy to forgive but when you're ready, I will be waiting for your forgiveness," I tell her sincerely. She keenly looks at me. A tear falls.

She looks away, quickly brushing it off. I look at her questionably wondering why she is tearing up.

"Why the tears?" I ask.

"It's nothing."

"It's a lie. It's something."

She likes shutting it all in there. And that weirdly bothers me. I want her to open up so that everything will not become too much of a load for her. It can easily break her even though I doubt that she is an already broken woman.

"It's nothing." She insists. "Please take me home," she begs tearing up a bit more.

"Let's go then. Kes will be happy to see you. She is worried sick," I tell her. We start walking out of the cellar. "You won't put on your shoes?"

"No. I am okay this way," she says through a sniff.

"Can I carry you?" she looks back in shock.

"You're being too nice you're confusing me. One minute you're demanding the next you want to help me. I'm getting confused. I do not know what to believe," she says shaking her head incomprehension. For the record. That is the longest speech she has made.

"I am not always bad. Just when a little bad boy wants to get out. Now, do you want my help?" she seems to think.

"I will walk," she says.

"Zawadi," I warn. It scares her.

"I'll wear my shoes. You don't want to see me walking barefoot, right? I will wear my shoes," she says as she struggles to wear the shoes. Kelvin is right. She is lost and scared.

"Zawadi," I call softly as I squat to her level, "I just don't want to see you getting hurt by stray wood splinters or shards of glass or even datura," I tell her. She doesn't know how to keep her emotions in check. Her eyes are still watery. Though she is trying.

"Okay, I can walk with the shoes now," she says when she is done. We both stand and resume walking. She struggles a bit but manages. That's good. I will not push her into doing anything. I already damaged her life enough.

We walk through the front office and pick up her stuff. She checks her phone. It's dead. She mumbles something to herself. She is annoyed by the phone. Her annoyed face looks cute it makes me smile in admiration. Damn it!

"Want to use mine?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Come on, you need to call Kes and tell her you're okay. She'll at least relax until you get home," I tell her. She stills to consider my suggestion.

"Okay," she says.

I get my phone and dial her number. She is quick to answer.

"How is she?" Kes asks.

"Looks like Jason filled you in," she mumbles a yes. "She is fine. She didn't want to call before leaving here. We're on the way."

"Thank you for not being a jerk. Bring her home safely," she says. Her tone is full of excitement. Of course, she should be happy that her best friend is safe and sound.

"I will. See you," I hang up. Zawadi looks at me curiously. She is trying so hard to read me. She can't. Unless I let her. I schooled my facials into revealing nothing when I don't want anything to be seen.

"That woman is a piece of work sometimes," I grumble. She tries hard not to smile at my comment. She knows it's all true.

"Come on, let's go." She follows until we are at the truck.

She eyes it weirdly. It does not give her any good vibes. Perhaps she is thinking of a way to evade the ride. Too bad I can't let her out of sight no matter how uncomfortable she may feel. I know I promised not to push her but right now she can't be given an option. I open the front passenger seat for her. She eyes it before she hesitantly gets in.