Chapter 6
896 Words
Chapter 6
“Goal! Another perfect one. Yes!” Leke shouted with his husky voice, pumping his right arm in the air. A part of the tattoo on his chocolate-brown bicep jumped out from under the short sleeve of his T-shirt.
Kurt flung both hands on his hair, muttering, “No, no, no...”
Jon planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head. The back of his grey T-shirt was soaked through with sweat.
At the goal post, Toke straightened up, wiping the sweat off his face with a hand.
“Another one. Let’s play one more game.” Kurt announced, crouching down to the bright green artificial turf. He glanced up at his brothers, one by one. The floodlights at the four corners of the pitch underscored their faces. Leke’s triumphant grin; Jon’s wet golden-brown hair falling over the side of his face; six feet one Toke, his hands linked behind his neck, his eyes staring up at the sky.
“You’re too competitive, Kurt.” Jon muttered, pulling up his T-shirt to mop his face, inadvertently showcasing his ripped abs.
Kurt sprang up and jammed a finger in his chest. He glared at Jon. “Me? What about Leke? Screaming about scoring another perfect goal.”
Leke hooted, clapping his hands together. “What did I do?”
Toke stalked away from the goalpost. Rooting into a pocket of his baggy shorts, he grumbled, “I’m done. No more.”
“Come on, Toke.” Kurt said.
“I’m done too.” Jon interjected. “I’m tired and hungry.”
Kurt kicked his black and pink soccer cleat at the turf. Leke laughed, his head tumbling backward. Using a silver cigarette lighter, Toke lit the end of a joint and took a hit.
“King of igbo smokers. You haven’t stopped with this.” Leke said, eyebrows arched.
Toke blew out smoke. He grinned. “It keeps me virile.”
Kurt smiled. “How much more virile do you need to be? You’re already handling one wife and three mistresses.”
Toke tossed a scowl at Kurt. “One mistress, Kurt. Get your facts right.”
“For now...” Jon said, chuckling.
“You don’t need more children, Toke. You already have four and you’re only thirty.” Leke said, squeezing Toke’s shoulder.
Toke shrugged him away, laughing. His glance swept from Leke to Kurt and to Jon. “You guys are having fun teasing me, right? At least, I have a wife and I have children.”
Kurt whooped.
“You can laugh, Breaker of Hearts.”
Kurt’s smile disappeared. “Why did you have to go there, bro?”
“Because you need to stop breaking hearts,” Jon said. “Commit already.”
“Ah.” Kurt nodded. “This coming from a man whose wife divorced him for cheating on her.”
Leke bent over, laughing.
Jon caressed his golden-brown long stubble. He eyeballed Kurt. “I have no regrets. I got my beautiful daughter out of it. And I’m ready to marry again. The problem is that there are so many stunning women in this country. Too many to choose from.”
“You guys are unbelievable.” Leke said, shaking his head.
The other three exchanged grins.
Toke muttered, “We’re not all made of steel like you.”
Leke narrowed his eyes at Toke. “I’m a man. I’m just... a one-woman man.”
“And who’re you dating at this moment?” Kurt asked, grinning.
“I could ask you the same question.”
Toke puffed on the joint and said, “Maybe you should hire the matchmaker Kurt hired, Leke. At least he’s doing something about it.”
Leke lifted and lowered both his broad shoulders. “I’m not ready for that now. I’m focused on my work as a bodyguard and security expert. Maybe I’ll marry when I’m forty... like Kurt plans to do.”
“That’s in four years. Time flies.” Jon directed his grey eyes at Leke. “You need a woman now. Look, after performing a couple of heart surgeries, all I want is to unwind with a gorgeous, cocoa-skinned beauty.”
“A man after my own heart.” Toke nodded, grinning.
Kurt glanced at his watch. Seven ten P.M. Almost time for dinner. He needed to discuss his club issue with Leke now.
“Hey, Leke...” Kurt tapped his brother on the back.
“What’s up, Kurt?” Leke’s dark eyes shone down on Kurt. The tiny scar below his right eye was the only blemish on his striking face.
“There’s been a second theft outside my club. Another guest’s car. I know it’s not my responsibility per se but I don’t want Fever Pitch to be associated in any way with anything like this.”
Leke nodded. “I get it.”
“Are you busy? I know the last time I mentioned this to you, you were helping to secure that movie set.” Kurt glanced up at his three inch taller younger brother.
“I’ll be through in a week. I’ll come over to Fever Pitch, sniff around and then check out the environs. I’ll need the police reports.”
“Osita has copies. I’ll tell him to give them to you.”
“Okay, bro.” Leke smiled. “I’ll find out who’s robbing your guests. That’s a promise.”
“One I can believe.”
Jon shot an elbow into Toke’s side. “Dad’s coming.”
“Damn.” Toke quickly extinguished the joint.
Leke and Jon smiled. Kurt’s eyes zoned in on the big, six-foot-three figure marching toward the pitch.
Zik Achike called out, “Hi boys.”
There was a chorus of greetings in response.
Igwe Zik Achike arrived. Over his big frame, he wore a short-sleeved light grey jalab and on his feet, black leather sandals. He was puffing on a fat cigar, the smoke dancing around his grey-tinged Van Dyke beard.
“How was the game?”
Kurt replied, “Good. Leke was too afraid to give me a rematch, though.”
“Give up, Kurt.” Leke growled.
Zik laughed. “No time for rematches. Diola has ordered me to tell you guys to report to the house for dinner.”
Jon exhaled. “At last! I’m starving.”
“Me too.” Toke said, his hands in the pockets of his shorts.
“You two are always hungry.” Kurt murmured.
“Enjoying your cigar, dad?” Leke asked.
Zik nodded, taking another drag. “This is not just any cigar. It’s an Opus X.”
“Whatever.” Kurt said, shaking his head. “I’ve never gotten the appeal.”
The four sons of Zik walked away from the pitch, toward the extensive backyard of the Achike Mansion, followed by their father. Above, the sky lost its pale blue light and darkened, carpeting the five men beneath with the colors of evening.
- Writer
