Paul

Mr Adams calm exterior cracks for a second before his mask of indifference comes back on when I show him the message. It is a picture of Pauline with her legs and hands tied to a chair. I run my fingers through my face and take another look, she doesn't seem awake which I am glad about because I can't imagine the pain she's going through.

This is on me. I have to fix this and I need to do that soon. But where will I start?

Zooming in on the picture for any clues, I groan, nothing stands out except for the time of the message which sends me into a mini panic. I grit my teeth and let out my breath slowly, the text was sent six hours ago. Six fucking hours and I was there, in the comfort of my house napping while my girlfriend was being tied to a chair. Fuck.

Is she hurt? I hope not or I won't be able to forgive or live with myself. Forcing myself to take another glance at the picture, I sigh and try to avoid conjuring gory images in my head since the quality doesn't give the best view of her face. I dial the number on my phone, it's unreachable. I repeat the action on her iPhone and Mr Adams's only to get the same automated reply. Pulling out a strand from my beards, I pace in front of his car while the gateman stares at us with curiosity written all over his face.

Mr Adams collects his phone, I motion for us to leave the house, already thinking up lies I'll give the gateman should he decide to satisfy his curious mind. I don't want the neighbours knowing how worked up I was over something that doesn't concern them. My feet drum into the floor in agitation as Mr Adams taps numbers on his screen and I hop into the car. We are wasting time.

Beads of sweat break out on my forehead, the driver turns on the AC without a word to me. I murmur my gratitude with my forehead pressed flush against the window, watching as Mr Adams speaks softly into his phone. Why can't he make his call inside the car? Doesn't he get it? Six long hours have passed since they sent that message and he's acting like we have all day. We don't.

"Where are you?" I hear him say into his phone and I wonder who he's speaking to but I don't bother to ask. Whoever it is, I do hope the person can help. Of course, he should, daddy only works with the best. Mr Adams nods to whatever the person says and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. "Good. Stay there, we are on our way."

Sooner than later we are on our way to the hotel. The silence in the car is stifling and as soon as the driver finds a perfect parking spot, my fingers reach for the door. He stops me with a hand over my shoulder, I don't hide my irritation and glare at him. None of this is his fault, I know that but he doesn't get it. His job is to make sure my sister and I are safe, we are but Ify isn't. She needs help.

"Stay here," he says, "I'll be just a second."

This is not the right time for arguments so I nod and he leaves through the other door after patting my back. True to his words, he returns in a few minutes with Chi who joins me at the back while he moves on to the passenger seat. The driver starts the car, I sigh and look out the window. Ifunaya likes to do that and I try to picture what she sees. I don't try to imagine what must be going through her mind but I hope she knows we are doing our best to get her back. To me.

"What's up?" Chi asks with her eyes darting between me and Mr Adams. Her expression is hopeful and for a brief moment, I wish I can share in her ignorance of the current situation. Bringing out my phone to show her the picture and also update her on the state of things, my eyes meet with Mr Adams in the rearview mirror and he gives a subtle shake of his head. "Anything?"

"Nothing yet," I say and a wave of anger surge through me. I am lying again. It is my lie that got us to this point in the first place.

I cast Chi a glance, her eyes are closed with her head against on the headrest and a sigh escapes me. Shaking my head, I clench and unclench my fists, telling her the truth will only do more harm than good and she looks tired. I sigh, I will worry for the two of us.

"We will find her," Chi mutters as if she can read my mind, her hand gives mine a small squeeze and I manage a smile. "We will."

We soon arrive at a manor with tall, black gates that makes me wonder what the occupants of the house are protecting. The driver honks and a man dressed in a guard uniform opens the gate, bringing into view what I will best describe as a mini-mansion.

Chi steps out of the car first and motions for me to follow her, making her way into the entrance of the house like she has been here a countless number of times. Maybe she has. I won't be surprised if that is the case, after all, she knows him better than I do and it leaves me curious about the other things I don't know. But I don't care to ask.

She stops at a door which she pushes open and a small wow escape my lips. Our house is awesome but this, it comes close. She pulls me further into the room, laughing at my comical expression and I frown. I am not over her betrayal yet but we will get to that once we have some privacy. We can keep secrets from everyone but ourselves.

"I know right?" Chi comes to stand in front of me with her arms crossed. Her eyes scan the length of the room, I smile. "I said the same thing the first time I came here."

Opposite the door we walked in through is a curved staircase with wine coloured rug placed at the centre. On our left, two paintings hang above the fireplace whose glass door reflects our feet. Chi with her short heels, me with my Adidas sneakers.

A round table propped on a rug graces the centre of the room with a gold chandelier hanging above it. Two seats surround the table with a bowl that seems to be made of the same quality as the chandelier resting on top it. There is a single sofa which Chi goes to sit beside the fireplace, two more sofas long enough to accommodate at least three people each sit on our right.

My eyes follow the rectangular sized rug I am standing on and it leads me to a long dining table that can seat thirty people at once. We have something of this nature, it's the public dining room where we entertain our long list of unending guests. Our main eating room is smaller, more intimate. In all, the room is a work of art and it feels like being back at home but with less splendour.

Chi soon joins me, mischief evident in her eyes as she holds a remote which she dangles in front of my face. Her eyes are trained on me when she presses a button on the tiny remote and my eyes widen slightly as a flat television slides up from what I initially thought to be the fireplace. Wow. If daddy sees this, he will want one of it in the room he entertains his visitors, to show off.

Hiding my awe behind a veil of aloofness, I level my gaze at her and her smile curves downwards. I know the theatrics is her way of cheering me up, though it warms my heart, she owes me an explanation. She purses her lips, her nose scrunches and I nod twice, waiting for her to defend herself.

Matching each step I take backwards with one of her own, I am forced to tell her, "If you come close to me, I'll tickle you."

Her face contorts as if she wants to cry but no tears drop from her eyes. Even if she ends up crying, I will not be fooled by her crocodile tears. I scoff, that will work for daddy, not me. I cross my arms on my chest, arch an eyebrow without breaking eye contact, she will have to do more than that.

"Udo," she whines and wrings her fingers. "You know I am your only sister, we can't be quarrelling." She takes one step forward, I match it with one backward. "Sorry na."

"What are you sorry for?" I ask.

"You know what I'm sorry for," she retorts. At the twitch of my lips, she continues in a calmer voice, "You refused to talk to him so I had to do it. He is our dad, he needs to know where you are staying, how you are doing." I swallow down the snarky reply that comes to mind, he could have called me himself if he cares enough. "You sef, you don't have sense." My anger morphs into surprise and my jaw drops. That's the thing with Chi, she always finds a way to put you right back into the spot where she wants. "Are you not tired of this beef? Since when?"

"Fine. I will call him," is what I find myself saying and she jumps on me before I can get another word out. I chuckle, she sighs.

"You see," she mutters with her arms around me, "I know you still have sense." I reluctantly return the hug, I can't be upset at her for long and this beef with my father has gone on for longer than it should have. "He will always be our father no matter what happens," she murmurs and I nod.

We have not spoken or seen each other in almost a year and I miss them every day. At first, I thought he would change his mind but I came to realise he meant business.

"I miss home," she says into my chest, I sigh and squeeze her tight as a tide of memories washes over us. Once upon a time, home was full of laughter and light banters. "I miss mummy Sunday fried rice and peppered turkey with cold zobo. Her chinchin too."

Without meaning to, I roll my eyes. "I make fried rice for you almost every Sunday." And I dare to say my food tastes better, I am the best cook in the house even if they will barely let me into the kitchen with the maids always around. "Even that rubbish zobo you like to pack in your fridge."

She pulls away from the hug to glare at me. "On God, I am just managing that your yeye food," she replies and I nod. She can't make any meal without help but I don't bother to call her out on that. "Besides, you are not mummy so it doesn't taste the same."

My reply is interrupted by Mr Adams who walks in with the composure of a man who has everything under control. His presence reminds us of our reason for being here, I look to him for some sort of good news.

"You two will stay here for now," he waggles a finger at us, "until all this is sorted out."

"Is there really a need for that?" Annoyance laces my voice, anger seeps into my words. He ruined a moment with my sister. I know he said he is friends with daddy but I don't want to spend more time than necessary in his big, empty mansion. "We can take care of ourselves like we have been doing."

That annoying smirk is back to his lips, he stares at me like he has better things doing than conversing with the only son of the Governor of Enugu state. I avert my gaze, already feeling foolish for voicing out my thoughts. He acts like daddy sometimes; daddy doesn't need to say much, his silence and glare are enough to make you tremble.

"We don't know what's going on and until we do, I want you two to be safe," he finally says, but more to Chi. "I will do a better job of protecting you from here." I nod, that's the only thing I can do right now. "Your dad gave me a simple job and I intend to do it."

"What about our clothes?" I ask, I know the argument is weak but I have to try, this feels like being back in Enugu, hiding away from the paparazzi. "We need to get them."

Turning to Chi for support, I scowl and sigh when she shrugs. This version of her is new to me. How is she so comfortable with this?

"I'll sort everything out, stay here."

The words are barely out of his mouth when Chi wraps a hand around my wrist.

"Come," she starts, "it's not that bad." I shrug out of her grasp, she rolls her eyes and continues up the stairs without me. She stops at the bend of the staircase to beckon on me but I shake my head, she can pretend to be excited all she wants but I won't. "Let's go."

My phone starts ringing, I retrieve it from my pocket without giving her a reply. I cast a furtive glance at Mr Adams at the strange number on my screen, thankfully, he gets the hint and asks Chi to check on a Sam. She frowns and flips me her middle finger, then resumes up the stairs, a bounce in her step.

"Answer it."

His voice returns my attention to the phone which stops ringing. My finger is already reaching for the call log button when the number calls again and I swipe on the screen so fast I miss the answer button.

Mr Adams pats my shoulder, I take a deep breath and pick the call. I don't wait for the caller to speak, I am the first one to say, "Hello?" My voice comes out shaky, a physical manifestation of my insides and my fear grows at the sound of uneven breathing. I try not to think of my baby being hurt as I repeat the word, "Hello?"

"H-Hello," Ifunaya replies and relief floods my vein like sunshine on a cloudy day.

The sound of her voice already has me feeling better, my tensed shoulders sag and I let out a breath. My fingers run through my face, emotions course through me and I have a hard time forming coherent words. Mr Adams takes the phone from me to put it on speaker, I send him a grateful look and he nods. His presence lends me courage and I manage to ask about her location.

"I don't know," she says and the pain in her voice tugs at my heartstrings. "I shouldn't have left." She is crying now and I have a tough time keeping up the hard guy facade, her words pierce right through my heart. My baby is hurting. "I'm scared," she sniffs, "I should have waited for us to talk. I shoul-"

My hand goes over my chest, I cut her off before she heaps more blame on herself. I caused this and I will fix it. "Babe, it's not your fault, it's mine." I exhale slowly. "You didn't do anything wrong." Mr Adams taps my shoulder to request permission to talk to her and I nod, now is not the time to apportion blame. "We are coming for you."

Her soft cries has me clenching my fist and my heart breaks all over again. This is on me, this is all my fault. Mr Adams takes the empty seat beside me so he can speak to her, I drum my fingers onto my knees. Why will anyone want to hurt her? I don't get it, she is one of the best people I know.

"Ifunaya." I tense at the mention of her Igbo name, I am the only man allowed to call her that. "I know it's difficult to believe it right now but you will be fine," he says. I nod, he sounds so convinced I start to believe him. She has to be fine. "Try to be strong for us. You know what your father would say?"

But her father is dead. My eyes wander to his face but he is focused on my phone on the round table. I inch my seat backwards as theories begin to form, what if he is the bad guy? How come he also knows her father? Fuck. Am I a pawn in his game?

"If life gives you lemon, you make lemonades and if life gives you tea, you sip it," they say in unison and my eyes narrow as I stare in disbelief at him, that doesn't even make any sense. It is the worst cheer up line I have heard and I've heard a lot.

To properly cheer her up, I say, "Hold on a little longer, we are coming for you, I promise. When you get back, I will make you so much shawarma you will be tired of it." The shuffling of feet in the background interrupts her reply, I go rigid when she whimpers. "Babe? My love? Ifunaya?"

The next person who speaks isn't Ifunaya and his request grips me with fear. "Time's up loverboy. Get your father to step down and the lady is all yours. Tick tock, tick tock." The phone clicks and the call ends.

**********

Picture: Mr. Adams parlour.

I was trying to describe Dangote's parlour in Abuja, you could check it out in the picture.

Zobo = Hibiscus tea, best served chilled.

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