A ROMANCE STORY THAT WILL CAPTIVATE YOU
Maria and I promenaded through the town, our extravagant expenditures rivaling those of the most profligate aristocrats. Our lives were a testimony to the excesses of wealth, a genuine spectacle of opulence.
Maria’s credit card,… a seemingly bottomless well of riches made my own lavish spendings appear almost frugal by comparison.
“Let’s give all this to the poor”, I teased with a mischievous glint in my eye. Her response was a throaty laugh, a joyous sound that belied her usual reserve.
“You bet”, she giggled. “It’s your birthday girl. If you can’t eat all this food then take all the cash you want. Bills on my dad.”
I smiled, a mixture of panic and delight. Maria’s jollity proved infectious yet my countenance soon faltered for the weather was dimmer than I expected, casting a pallor over our revelry.
C-Note, that most elusive of gentlemen had failed to materialize despite my numerous, furtive entreaties. The hour was nigh on two, and I began to fret, my anxiety threatening to eclipse the festivities.
“What’s up J?”, a voice low and husky sent shivers coursing down my spine.
I turned around, my senses arrested by the brief tantalizing touch upon my waist. Alas, ’twas not C-Note, but Kwame, that most vexing of souls who stood before me with an appearance of urbane nonchalance.
“Happy birthday love”, he intoned, his demeanor a studied coolness.
As I inclined my head, a vision of displeasure emerged from the periphery of my gaze – Maria’s face was a guilty picture of irritation stood poised like a camel perturbed by some unknown vexation.
“Maria,” I mouthed, my lips silently forming the word, accompanied by a vehement gesture. “I’ll
… kill…you.”
Her countenance, far from exhibiting offense appeared to regard my outburst as an auspicious means of extricating me from C-Note’s affections.
“Don’t blame her. She really cares about you”, Kwame interjected, his confidence a complete turn off as he intruded upon our fierce stare.
I bestowed upon him a mortifying distance, a clear indication of my displeasure.
“Sorry woman beater” I entreated, my anger palpable. “This ship of ours crashed months ago and I’m done with all your theatrics.”
His fingers immediately clenched into a tight fist at the completion of my statement. “I told you Joanne unless I say I’m done, we ain’t over.”
A giggle threatened to escape my lips for how had I become embroiled with such a nincompoop, a supposed gentleman who subsisted upon his mother’s hard-won wealth?
“Listen broke boy” I chided, my pinky finger extended to push against his chest. “I speak with utmost respect – had it not been for your mother, the esteemed Mrs. Afua, I would have sent your abusive head to jail.”
Maria’s chuckle, an offensive sound chipped in ,a reminder that she stood ready to defend me, should Kwame dare to offer me violence.
“Fine boy no sense” I shook my head, a congratulatory pity for him.
His rapid respiration bespoke his keen resentment but mindful of our surroundings – a luxuriant eatery – he restrained himself, aware that any untoward behavior would incur severe censure.
“You really know I don’t care right?”, he looked around with that devilish smirk, a visage now tougher than the most resilient of fried meats.
I nearly retracted my previous words as he advanced towards me heedless of the numerous onlookers.
“If you lay a hand on me Kwame, I will scream” I warned, my heels faltering beneath me yet he remained unbothered.
How could I have known that he was affiliated with a gang, one that commanded respect in East Legon, courtesy of the Afua name?
“Scream!” he goaded, shattering a wine bottle in plain sight.
The sound echoed through the establishment causing even Maria to appear disquiet but what recourse had she? A spider had led a scorpion into my midst… I would surely address her treachery later.
“Joanne, I asked a question,” Kwame persisted, his cadence reminiscent of drumbeats. “What would you do?”
I retreated,….my polished nails digging into the wooden desk as I climbed seeking escape. Then he spoke in vague ominous tones, “Even fine girls dey die”
I could have begged for mercy, but then the man of my dreams burst forth, brandishing a wine bottle adorned with an apology written in 200 cedis notes. “What the hell is happening here?”, C-Note demanded, his presence a welcome respite.
Maria replied with a scoff as if aware of the heroics he was about to display but the dreadlocks framing his face were unfathomable, a true enigma.
“Save me C”, I hastened towards him with the urgency of a damsel in distress. “That is my ex. The woman beater I told you about.”
My finger pointed accusingly at the enraged six foot before me. Ordinarily, C-Note would bristle with indignation but his countenance betrayed a shocking familiarity with Kwame.
“Kwams,” C-Note addressed him, employing a colloquialism reserved for intimate acquaintances. “C,” Kwame retorted. “That girl is my fish, not yours”, he declared with a possessiveness that ignited in his eyes.
Maria interjected, her voice a beacon of reason. “We’ll call the police for you now Afua!”
I felt a surge of relief wondering why I hadn’t considered that decision earlier. No doubt a wealthy abused woman like myself won’t captivate Accra’s society.
C-Note’s actions however left me perplexed as with a single mighty blow he struck Kwame’s teeth. Without exaggeration, it was with the force of a sledgehammer upon metamorphic rock.
“Fish?” he spat at the nearly insensate Kwame. “She is no one’s fish.”
I smiled unable to conceal my approval of his actions, though I knew it wasn’t becoming of me.
“It’s over C”, I turned my back upon him.
From their address earlier, it was vivid he was a member of Kwame’s so-called gang.
“What?”, C-Note exclaimed, his heroism forgotten in the tumult.
Maria’s facials was a picture of astonishment as well, her jaw agape at the unfolding drama.
The evening nevertheless took a darker turn when C-Note followed my beautiful car with a wine bottle. “Bro!”, Maria cried, diving out of harm’s way as a shard of glass tore across my cheek.
C-Note’s ferocity knew no bounds as he tossed Kwame aside like a rag doll.
“How stupid are you Joanne?” he raged. “You’re breaking up with me over this. I just saved you”, his eyes blazed with fury.
I hesitated not, summoning the authorities to restrain his madness with immediacy. Yes, they would handle this infantile behavior and don’t you dare look at me like that,……what do you know about abuse?
Better to buy a toy for a man than deal with their insecurities. No way I’m tolerating another Kwame even if it means arresting my best friend’s brother.
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