Chapter Twenty-one

**BUMMI'S P.O.V.**

I could already read the expression on Mom's face, but I wasn't worried. I just kept telling her I'd explain everything when she came in. It's been about an hour since she arrived, and I still haven't told her anything. She's obviously curious.

I prepared a dish of jollof rice, well garnished with her favorite assorted meats—beef. There were two assorted non-alcoholic drinks, her favorite kind, and two Malta Guinness for me and Nife.

"Sit," I gestured to my surprised mother.

Nifemi is always early when it comes to food, like 'ERF DOUBLE OH DEAN.'

"Oof, oh boy," he rubbed his palms together as if expecting friction in cold weather.

I served Mom and myself. Nife can help himself before he starts silently cursing me for giving him a small portion of food. Even if you soak him in a pot of food, Nifemi will never gain weight. He's always thin like a tailor's thread.

The jollof rice smells nice; I know. It's my favorite food. Mom didn't say anything until the end of dinner, where the plenty of food turned half to finish. I heard the slow gulps of drinks in her throat, and I thought it would end there—well, not until she served herself a third dish.

"I can't remember the last time I ate such a delicious dish," she said, relaxing back in her seat.

Dinner was quiet, and when we were done, I packed the empty plates into the kitchen. Not even a drop of oil was left in anyone's bowl. From the fried meats to the bones, everything was eaten.

BINGO!

A few minutes after, dinner was over, and everyone settled in their rooms, probably sleeping, except for me who just finished a cold shower and was lying on my bed.

A few seconds after I landed on the bed, there was a knock on my door. The first thought that came to my mind was Mom coming to my room at exactly past 10 pm to talk about where I got the money spent on the house's expenses. But it was obviously not her; it was just Nifemi at the door, standing there alone to give me my ringing phone.

** ******************

"You are one big bad ass bitch." I know Lola knows I'm smarter than her.

When I felt embarrassed about asking for support from my besties—Lola and Ojo, who was still reconnecting to join the video call—I devised a tight game plan.

Sitting in-between can be very sweet, just like eating from two different bowls at the same time, but when the danger comes, it will hit hard later.

My two Nigerian colleagues, Damian in London and Christopher in Hong Kong, have great reputations to keep, but I don't see any of that. Spend it while you own it.

I didn't think twice before having Mr. Headstrong—Christopher, drop the bill of a hundred and fifty thousand naira for just airtime after lying about the twelve missed calls he gave and I couldn't call back because my Wi-Fi ran out of data.

Then, I also tricked Damian by lying about going to an important meeting with my dad in Mali, but I couldn't book a ticket because my credit card expired, my bank accounts were dormant, and my dad's number wasn't reachable at that moment. So stranded, isn't it?

Well, the world's most famous handsome Yoruba devil sent me one million naira to clear my issues!

"Call me genius," I gloated, wetting my right palm as I ran my tongue across it and traced it through my dark corn-row hair.

Lola hissed, rolling her eyes. I could somehow smell jealousy in the air. "Oh please."

Maybe she's actually pissed because she's just finding out now. But it wasn't my fault. I went to their shop earlier today and was told that they had just left for their goods in Onitsha.

Your bad, Lola.

"You know you will soon get caught finally, Abi?" Ojo's network finally came back to life, and—

"What is this?" This girl-boy or boy-girl creature is a clown. "What are you wearing, Ojo?"

"I was going to ask him the same," even Lola was fed up with him.

Same stilettos, same hairdo, same makeup on the same nightwear—he looks so much like James Brown, a famous Nigerian celeb, in a Japanese temple.

"Ojo looks great in pink anyway," I commented dryly. Lola eyed me, and I shrugged, 'What'?

"Thank you, Jare. Gracias amigo, mi carino, mi amor." He flicked a strand of his pink bone-straight wig. "So, when is Chris coming to pay your full bride price—I mean Damian joor—he's the one who paid the biggest sum for your lies, so he won the lottery—"

"Huh?" Lola changed her posture on the bed.

"It is your stepmother, Zaria, that will marry them." I retorted, reversing Ojo's words to his lineage.

"Duhhh," as if he cares? "Thank God you just said my stepmother, and I'm glad you did."

Ugh!!!!!!!!

Two flashing notifications on Telegram from Chris and one from Damian via my business WhatsApp.

Sweet mother of Jesus. Don't tell me to call Chris first because he is not equal to the task. I deal with DONS like Damian.

"Guys, let's talk later." Why am I suddenly getting so excited and nervous at the same time?

"No, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait—" Oops! Did my finger mistakenly touch the hang-up button?

I got up ASAP, headed to the bathroom, checked my face in the mirror—because it's a video call from Damian—my first video call with him. Today, we will be seeing each other for the first time in months and—

SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What the hell did I just say? First video call with Damian? Oh my Goodness, what am I going to do? He will definitely find out my true identity—and what if it turns out that my face doesn't match the photographs I last sent him?

Oh Bummi.

What a big time mess I've caused myself.

I stood in the bathroom, wandering impatiently as I thought of what to do at the moment—but nothing keeps coming into my head. Absolutely ZERO ideas.

UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know what? I really messed up big time. I'm in the journey of DOOMSHIP. How do I save my ass now?

YE!

Please tell me what to do. I'm blank, honestly—wait a second.

Wait a second.

I think I just realized something spontaneous. That is—

Yes!!!!!!!!!!!! I got it! I got it!

How about I use Lola, my friend, as a stone to hit two birds? How about that?

** ******************

"No, no, no, no, no, NO WAY!" She freaked out. I knew she would before appointing her to take the risky task.

I sighed. There's not much time left. Damian has given me five missed calls already. He'll start getting suspicious if he calls again and I don't pick up. "Lola, please do this for us. It's for the betterment of all three of us."

"Look, Bummi, I would rather own a boutique shop with Ojo for the rest of my days than pretend to date Damian Ayomide Kunle just so we could get our jobs back." She snapped.

This is her problem. She is hardly convinced. "Okay, how about I compensate you each month—every month?"

She kept quiet for a while then sighed tiredly, "Bummi, money is not everything. Have you ever thought of us getting caught at a bad time?"

"There will be no bad timing, Lola. All we have to do is draw this map properly and we will have no errors."

Look who's giving someone hope if I, myself, am hopeless as nothing.

"Besides, why do you pick me as the bad ass genius for this shit? Do you know if I am competent?" She hesitated.

I shook my head vigorously. "You are more than just competent, Lola. Moreover," I exhaled, shrugging as I relaxed my crossed arms on the soft pillow. "The last picture I sent him was a sweetheart looking just like you—you know what, I was thinking if she wasn't your twin or maybe you have a twin who was adopted by some—"

"You sent him a photograph of me?" Her brows furrowed.

Oh come on, I wouldn't do that. I don't know how to play dirty games to that extent, Lola. "Of course not! I swear with my father's life that I didn't."

"Oh, why won't you swear with your father's life because he left you guys for some other woman?" I overheard her muttering.

"Excuse me?" Speak louder, Lola.

"Fine!" She rolled her eyes.

Sorry, can you come again? I misheard you.

"I'll go with the flow but—"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you." I grabbed my phone, slapping kisses all over the screen. If she were here in person right now, I'd have done the same. "I love you, I love you, I love you, BITCH. You're the best!"

"Hey, there's not much time. I thought you said he gave missed calls?"

"Yes," I slapped my forehead lightly. "First, I'll be sending you his mobile number and email so you two can keep in touch and um, don't say anything you don't know to him. If you have difficulties answering some weird questions, you can keep in touch with me, okay? And lastly