“I see what’s going on. You two like each other,” Grandy concluded with a dry grin. “The only way you know how to chat is to fight. Go on. I’ll stay out of it, so I can live long. Fight. Argue. Don’t stop.”
“Other jobs would come along, but I’m here for a day, or two,” Maxwell insisted as if he had a right to ask for a second of her time.
“That’s not for you to decide, is it? I’m working. You’ve got no say in what I do with my life, or my time. Understood?”
“That’s a shame. I think I’ll have more fun with your grandaunt anyway.”
Grandy shook with laughter, wiping her sweaty face with her forearm as she headed toward the kitchen. “Fight on. Two bickering adults performing for an old lady. Are you going to help me prepare the meal?”
“Grandy, you’re encouraging our guest to disrespect me,” Lola grumbled.
“Respect is earned,” he countered under his breath.
“Whoa! You’re so full of it, Maxwell!” Lola snapped.
“I thought you would’ve cooled down after the other day. Your head must ache from all that grudge you carry around.”
For the first time, laughter simmered inside her. His comment was not funny. But she laughed because it was inconceivable that a man, she allowed to stay in her home got a kick from quarrelling with her.
“I told you before and I’ll say it again. You’ve got no conscience. You’re dead inside, Maxwell. You need Jesus Christ to save your dead soul.”
“For someone who thinks I’m arrogant and dead, you’re twice as bad. You say things without giving it a thought,” he countered.
Grandy made funny coughing noise in the kitchen.
“Oh, you’ve got no moral leg to stand on,” Lola argued. The man was terrible, honestly.
“When you’re done getting to know each other, I need help over here,” Grandy called out.
Both of them strode toward the kitchen.
“I don’t want that attitude from the two of you. Lola, rinse the shrimps,” Grandy instructed. “Maxwell slice the fish.” Gesturing with her head, she added. “The chopping board and knife are over there.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Maxwell smirked as if he was being oppressed by Lola.
With three of them working together, the meal was ready in less than half an hour. They sat at the wooden dining table and paused to pray. Afterward they started eating eba and Ẹ̀fọ́ riro garnished with salmon fish, shrimps, dried stock fish, cow skin and beef.
“What’s the soup called?” Maxwell asked after he drank half a glass of water. He had only swallowed a few morsels of eba with the soup.
“We, the Yorubas call it Ẹ̀fọ́ riro, or Nigerian spinach stew,” Grandy replied with a smile.
Lola wiped her mouth with the heel of her palm. “Is it too spicy for you?” she asked.
“A little. But that’s cool. I like spicy.”
For some odd reason, she was not sure he was referring to the soup, or her temper. Maybe it was the mysterious glint in his eyes.
“This yellow ball of eba is made from what?” he queried as he licked his bottom lip.
Squashing her sprinting warm feelings, Lola dipped her head and faced her food. When she did not respond, Grandy spoke up.
“Eba is made from grated cassava tubers, milled and then fried into cassava flour commonly known as garri.”
Maxwell nodded. “Garri. The soup is very tasty.”
“Thank you.” Grandy sounded amused.
When they were done, Lola reached for the serving ceramic bowl. Maxwell stretched out his hand at the same time and their arms clashed.
Lola pulled back her hand fast. Maxwell gave her a cocky gaze and arched one faint eyebrow.
“Something wrong, Lola?” he queried.
Grandy gave her a pointed stare and a crafty grin.
Shoving back her chair, Lola cleared the dishes alongside their guest. She washed up quickly and was ready for work within a few minutes. In truth, she could not bear to be with Maxwell for a minute longer. Fresh air was what she needed to clear her head. If she was not careful, he would drive her crazy with rage. Saying goodbye would be the easiest part.
Maxwell followed her to the car later on.
“When are you getting back?” He leaned his side hip against the front passenger door.
“I’m not sure why you’re asking. I would’ve thought you’d be excited to see my back.”
“Ten, eleven?” he quipped in a dry tone.
He had a way of cutting through to the chase. She found that very annoying.
“Maybe midnight, or later.”
“Don’t stay that long away from home.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”
“I just want you to be safe.”
Puffing air through her mouth, she shook her head. “One minute you make me so angry, now you’re concerned about my safety?”
Giving off a casual shrug, he steadied his gaze on her. “I’ll wait up for you.”
“Don’t! I don’t need you, or Grandy worrying. I’m covered by the blood of Jesus Christ.”
“Fine. Come back before midnight.”
“For what? Round two of our wrestling matches?”
Grinning, he corked his head. “Fighting with you isn’t half as bad.”
She sighed. “Talking with you is exhausting. I need a long break.”
Lifting one brow, he shrugged. “What’s your story?”
“I’m not doing this with you right now. Duty calls. Keep busy in my absence.”
“Yeah! Waiting up for you will keep me busy.”
“If you say so.”
“Drive carefully.”
“Go to sleep, Maxwell Legend.”
Rounding the 4-wheel drive with his long strides, he opened her car door for her and shut it after she climbed in. The gesture softened her anger in a small way, maybe because it was totally unexpected.
“I’ll see you later,” he said, waving her off.
While she sped off, her eyes kept darting to the rear-view mirror. Maxwell stood on the same spot until she made a right turn.
For the next hour or so, she did not know what to think. But she was right about one thing–the man was trouble for sure. And unpredictable.
On Sunday evening, after church service, Lola drove Maxwell to a different hotel.
According to him, he had now put the unpleasant robbery incident behind him.
Lola had expected to be very relieved to see his back. But when she got back home, nothing was the same.
It was as if Maxwell had marked the entire house with his touch, his strong male presence, his sarcastic remarks and sexy cologne. Every corner of her home had a reminder of him. Between the threadbare cushions of her tired couch she had found a gold necklace with a dancing diamond pendant she believed belonged to Maxwell.
Even Grandy had mentioned his name more than thrice in the last few hours.
Throughout the day, a feeling similar to sadness piled around Lola’s heart, but she knew she had to forget about him and move on with her life. But first, she had something of value that was not hers.
Chapter 3 – Just One Thing
Lola
Five days later while on her second job, Lola was about to drop off a female passenger at Balogun Market in Lagos. Before she came to a stop, her mobile phone vibrated on the holder. It was a call from the owner of Atlantic Luxury Cars, her main job.
“Hello Boss,” she greeted as soon as the passenger shut the taxi door.
“Lola, we’ve got a special request from one of our important clients.”
On the verge of asking what the request had to do with her, she paused.
“Are you there?” Mike Oshodi asked.
“Yes, Boss.”
“I need you to pick up a client in an hour. He has an impromptu wear-a-mask party happening tonight in Victoria Island. You’ve got to be by his side throughout the party, then drop him off wherever he wants to go. After that, you sign off.”
“Escorting clients isn’t part of my job, Boss. I can do all the driving, but someone else–”
“Listen Lola, the client asked for you by name.”
Without doubt, many clients respected her professionalism and quality of customer service. Still, she wondered which one of them requested for her.
“Who’s the client, Boss?”
“You’ll find out when you arrive at the pick up point. Your fee is a thousand dollars on this job. Don’t share this information with your colleagues.”
Her throat jammed with happiness and disbelief. She danced in her seat and covered her mouth to cap her overwhelming joy. Then a thought occurred to her and she made a split-second decision.
“Escorting a client is very risky. I’ll do the job for two thousand dollars, Boss.”
Driving a hard bargain with her big boss like that was unusual and she knew she was pushing her luck. But it had to be done. She and her family lived from hand-to-mouth. Opportunities like this did not come often. Make the most it, a tiny voice whispered.
A stiff pause dragged on.
“Lola Lawson, deliver on this job and you’ll get one thousand five hundred dollars,” came Mike’s counter offer.
The fact he negotiated convinced her she needed to put her feet down. This was a high-paying job for sure.
“No Boss. I’ve got to leave my young kids and my old grandaunt the whole night to be at a party with a bunch of strangers. That’s very risky. I’m trying to make ends meet, not get killed.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Lola.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Get over to the pick-up destination by one thirty.”
“Confirm the fees, Boss. I need to buy a new dress and a pair of nice shoes along with an evening bag.”
“I’ll send you a confirmation text soon.”
When he rang off, she released air from her mouth and clutched her chest with both hands. Filled with excitement, she banged her wrist repeatedly against the steering wheel.
“Thank you, Lord.” She swung her elbows from side to side and rocked on her seat.
In all her life, she had never earned a thousand dollars for a single job. The highest tip she had got so far was the two hundred dollars, Maxwell–the rude passenger–dropped inside her car on the first day she met him. Who tipped with so much money?
It had been over a week since she first met the American, yet she had not been able to wipe his harsh words, or arrogant attitude from her head. His foreign accent constantly played in her mind as if he stood nearby. Up till now, she had not summoned the courage to return his gold necklace.
Igniting the engine after letting go a short sigh, she weaved in and out of traffic for ninety minutes.
When Lola finally got home, she sighted her grandaunt in the compound chatting with Mama Bola, one of their neighbours who gossiped for a living.
Sneaking in through the back door to avoid getting delayed by the woman whose husband beat her at least once a week, Lola waved discreetly at Grandy. Mama Bola had her back to Lola, so she had no clue about the hand gestures going on behind her.
Minutes later, Grandy made her excuses and joined Lola in the parlour.
“Why are you home early?” Grandy asked, grinning. “You didn’t want to greet, Mama Bola eh?”
“é Kaasan, Grandy,” she greeted in Yoruba, meaning, good afternoon. “I need to dress up quick. I’ve got a big job today. You know, Mama Bola talks too much.”
Grandy’s dark eyes lit up. “How big is this job?”
“The client is paying very well.”
While she got dressed, Lola explained the details to the older woman who nodded in understanding until she got to the point when she mentioned she had to spend the night at a party with the client.
Grandy clapped her hands, a sign she disapproved.
“A mother of two young children is expected to abandon her little ones to chaperone a man?”
“It’s not like that, Grandy,” Lola continued as she applied makeup and brushed her hair. The client is paying more than one thousand dollars.
The older woman gently reached for the edge of the squeaky chair in Lola’s bedroom and sat down while her jaw hung low.
“Dollars? One thousand? Where do people get that kind of money, eh?”
“Grandy, I don’t know. We need the money. We’ve got to complete our project urgently before this poorly-maintained flat collapses on our heads.”
“Olorun maje!” the Yoruba phrase meaning, God forbid was Grandy’s go-to phrase to ward off negative words. “My child, don’t sell your body for money. Jesus Christ will not be happy with you ooo. Run away from sin.”
Nodding, Lola curved her lips and applied gloss.
“Grandy? You raised me right. Trust me. I’ll never do that. I’ve got self-respect.”
“I know, my child. But I also know that poverty can make a good child do things that are unexpected.”
Sighing, Lola gazed at her older relative.
“Never. God has always provided for us, no matter how little. He can’t abandon us now when we need him. I believe God brought this job to help us with our project and many needs. It’s a party, that’s all.”
“It’s not just a party,” Grandy argued. “If they want you to spend the entire night with one man. Even in the daytime, men think with the blade between their legs, not their heads. What about when they drink too much alcohol?”
Caught off guard by Grandaunt Aduni’s ‘blade’ comment, Lola burst out laughing.
“Do you want me to collect Amaka and Nonso from school then?” the unsmiling older woman asked.
Before Lola replied, her phone beeped. She reached for it as she responded. “If the client’s pick-up point isn’t far away, I’ll collect the children and drop them off at home. I don’t want you straining your legs and hips, going up and down the bad road.” Then she scrolled to see the text.
“You don’t have to do everything by yourself. Let me help you, my child. Go to work and I’ll look after–”
Smiling wide, Lola lifted her hand.
“No need. I can do it. I’m picking the client from Seriki Williams Slave Museum Port on Marina Road in Badagry Town here. My boss just confirmed the client is paying me two thousand dollars for the job!”
“Praise the Lord!” Grandy wailed in joy, getting to her feet slowly. “Collect the money in advance ooo.”
Lola launched forward and embraced her grandaunt. “Hallelujah! Grandy, can you believe it?”
“Convert it to Naira. How much is that?”
“It’s about nine hundred thousand naira!” Lola cried, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. “One thousand dollars is in my account already!”
“Don’t cry my child. Our God is good.”
“All the time,” Lola responded laughing hard.
“And even now, HE is great!” Grandy cheered. “That can pay for the roofing of our new house.”
“More than the roof. It can do more in the house. Our dream will soon come true, Grandy.”
Building her family, a home from scratch had drowned every saving and spare change she earned in the last few years, but it was well worth it. A three-bedroom, two-bathroom bungalow would be their own soon if she kept working and gathering every penny. Depriving her children of expensive fun trips and toys were part of the sacrifices and her kids understood.
“It will. Now hurry and go to work,” Grandy urged, cheering and smiling.
Lola wiped happy tears from the corner of Grandy’s eyes before she hurried out.
“Don’t allow Amaka and Nonso to stress you,” she told the excited older woman who delighted in indulging the kids.
“Their happy talk keeps my old bones young.”
Moments later, Lola exited through the back door to avoid the neighbo
urhood gossip pair of Mama Bola and Mama Karo.
Chapter 4 – Play Nice
Lola
With her heart battling with anticipation, Lola called the client’s phone number as she parked outside Seriki Williams Slave Museum Port.
While she waited for the client to answer the call, someone tapped on the car window.
Lola removed her sunglasses and pressed the button to power the tinted window down.
The man stepped back.
His electric sky-blue eyes clashed with hers.
She panted as her heart clenched and stopped. It skidded and crashed, all of this within a few seconds. Her sweaty fingers gripped the steering as she stared at Maxwell with her lips ajar.
He lobbed a cocky grin around his thin lips before muttering, “Hello?”
Lord no, Lola groaned inside. Outwardly, she sighed.
“Please, please tell me you’re not my client for today. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Feeling instantly off, she opened her door, climbed out of the Mercedes Benz G-Wagon and paced the white sandy ground in her black high-heeled sandal.
“Hey.” He lifted both hands. “I come in peace today. I’m not going to argue with you. Take me at my word.”
Straightening up after she dragged in a mouthful of refreshing air, she shook her head.
‘“What happened to you saying to me, ‘go ruin another client’s mood’, hmm?”’
“Forget I ever said that. I’ve since had a rethink.”
She sucked her teeth. “Did you get drunk to the point you completely forgot about last weekend at my place too? Because I’ve relieved it every day. We can’t stop fighting. Admit it, we hate each other.”
For a brief moment, Maxwell’s eyes narrowed and then widened. “Let me make it up to you. I don’t hate you, Lola.”
Pushing her hair over her shoulder, she swung her head to the side.
“No! What I need is a heartfelt apology for your nonsense behaviour. But as I recall, you are dead inside, so that’s not going to happen.”
“Correction,” he insisted, waving one hand. “I was dead inside until you shocked me with your vicious tongue and welcomed me into your home when I was burgled. You’re kind of hard to forget.”
Irresistible Driver ~ A BWWM Sexy Romance Page 4