CHAPTER TWO

DRAVEN'S POV

I walk down the tarred road of Coal Street in Port Harcourt. Though it's quite bubbly, I rather Lagos with all the daily dramas of Casanovas and side chicks, the hounding traffic, and weekend vibes.

'Grab a Bite' sits pretty in a corner. It's quite small a size to cause this amount of chaos. The incessant buzzing and praises my colleagues sang of it, is both astonishing and appalling.

I crush the leftover of my cigarette into the empty packet, dumped it in the trash at the left end of the shop, and take a seat. A perfect angle to watch the brown-skinned petite lady whose head is barely above the counter as she struggles with her orders.

A paged menu is on the table. I pick it up to make a choice, almost tempted to ask for a slice of the different flavours of cakes. Not because I'm much of a junk freak, but because Neth loved junk, cakes to be precise and I'm determined to let him live through me.

"Mixed berry smoothie and a slice of vanilla cake. Would you?" I screamed for the umpteenth time. Just ten minutes in here and I'm exhausted. Perhaps the sizzling aroma of freshly baked cakes is messing with my head. Being Neth sure doesn't hurt.

She doesn't respond, and for a second I could swear I heard her hiss. Her hair is neatly bound in a cap, and her small face is decorated with beads of sweat.

"Skies! It sure costs hell to grab a bite." I mutter, loud enough to get heads turning in my direction, not like I care.

The petite lady walks into view with a tray in her hand, she seems to be in her late twenties, not far gone. She sets it down on the table.

"Here you go." She forces a smile.

"You should invest this energy in time management..." I survey her physique. She's wearing an apron that's loosely tied around her slender waist and hangs freely on her broad hips. "...Miss Emilian." I add, after reading her name tag.

"It's thirty-five hundred, sir." She makes a straight face.

"How so, ma'am?" I make a jest.

"I'm certain you saw the prices on the menu before screaming your orders."

"Maybe you could read it out loud." I hand her exactly the amount she stated.

"Or maybe you could invest your energy in reading menus before screaming, it saves a whole lot..."

"What! I bet your oven's best is still hot and untouched, you could possibly take them back, I'm done..."

"A candid advice..." She points at a post that says 'No Refund Policy.' "...so don't be in a haste to leap." With that, she walks away, her hips rolling with pride.

I scoff, such attitude from a tiny fragile lady. I take off the lid, revealing a pristine slice of vanilla-flavoured cake. I pick my fork, ready to dig in and find the most fault I could, too angry to be Neth for a moment, and let it slide, so long as he gets stuffed with goodies.

My taste buds savour the velvety texture that melts on it, its creamy taste coercing me to close my lids and satisfy my cravings. A soft hum of pleasure escapes my lips right before I could stop myself, making a fool of my decision to revenge.

If I believe in ghosts, I would pin this shameless act on Neth.

The glass of mixed berries drips water on the tray, and the colours of the fruits swirl enticingly within its walls. With a trampled ego and curiosity, I take a sip. The sweetness of the berries dances on my tongue, complemented by the subtle tang of yogurt and the refreshing ice, crushing me further and harder... It sucks envisaging myself as another colleague buzzing her praises.