An Unexpected Match

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Two hours later, Farida stepped into the lobby of her office. The receptionist, Esther, behind the dark wood reception desk, sat up. On the lime-green wall at her back, the name One Plus One was emblazoned in white.

She grinned. “Good morning, Farida.”

“Good morning, Esther.” Farida glanced over at the young woman and caught the blue in her eyes. Esther loved wearing contact lenses, the more distinctive the better. The guy in the Range Rover had hazel eyes. Were they contacts? Probably not. His skin was fair, the color of toffee. He was, most probably, mixed-race.

“You have two calls. The manager of Fever Pitch night club, Mr. Osita Osondu. He says he’s been trying to reach you on your phone. He asks that you call him the minute you get in.”

Farida blew air out of her mouth. She reached into her brown leather handbag and pulled out her phone. “I’ve been driving. I haven’t had a chance to check my mobile.” She glanced at the screen. Sure enough, there were missed calls. “Okay. I’ll call him back. Who else?”

“Your father. He also mentioned that he’s been calling your phone.”

She shook her head from side to side. Gosh, again? Everything was an emergency with him. And it almost always involved money. “I’ll call him later. Thanks, Esther.”

“Just doing my job.”

Farida smiled at her. “Still... thanks.”

“Don’t mention it... boss...” Esther grinned.

Farida laughed and walked into a corridor and through that to a door on the left. She unlocked it and sauntered in, switching the lights and the split unit air conditioner on as she did so.

She gazed around her office, pride swelling her chest. She did this. She built this business. Her eyes skimmed over the glass and chrome desk carrying her laptop and desk phone, to the framed testimonials on the daffodil-yellow wall behind her desk, down to the yellow carpet and up again, to the yellow shelves on the north wall, bearing rows of books and two slender glass vases, one parrot-green, one cherry-red.

Farida dropped her bag on a hexagonal table underneath the smaller of the two windows in the room and moved over to her desk.

Sinking into her white leather and chrome chair, she smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. She loved reclining in this chair, loved working from this office. She could stay here like this all day... But... no.

Opening her eyes, she grabbed at the desk phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Osita, it’s Farida.”

The man on the other end of the line groaned and then muttered, “Where have you been, Farida? I’ve been calling.”

“I’m sorry. I drove in this morning from Ibadan.”

“Ah. And you don’t answer the phone when you’re driving. What happened in Ibadan?”

Farida crossed one leg over the other, her eyes on the desk. “I attended a wedding.”

Osita chuckled. “Clients of yours?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I, for one, will always be grateful to you for bringing me and Clara together.”

Farida smiled. “It was my pleasure, Osita. You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“She’s a wife in a million, a trillion... I’m lucky to have her. And it’s thanks to you.”

Farida glanced down at the walnut-brown peep-toe pumps on her feet that went so well with her new handbag. “Osita, I’m happy you’re happy.”

“Anyway...” Osita cleared his throat and added, “I finally talked to him, my cousin and my boss. He agreed to see you. He’ll be coming in very soon.”

Farida straightened in her chair, eyes wide. “Oh, you did it, Osita. I can’t believe it.”

“I promised you I would convince him to make use of your services. You remember that I mentioned that he’s Zik Achike, I mean, Igwe Zik’s, first son. Kurt Achike, but you may know him better as the Breaker of Hearts.”

Farida laughed. “A little. I’ve heard a bit of the gossip but I don’t know what he looks like or anything much about him.”

“Like I said... he’s my second cousin. He owns Fever Pitch and he’s single. If anyone can help him, it’s you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. I have another call coming in. Later.”

Farida said, “Later, then.” She put the phone down, a wide grin taking over her mouth. What a coup. She had snagged a big client. Whoo-hoo!

“Good morning, Farida.” Nosa, her assistant, strolled in, a mug in his right hand. “You’re a little late today. What happened?”

She glanced up at him, at his cute face and smooth features. Gosh, he looked so much younger than his thirty years. Sometimes, he made her feel older than thirty-eight. What had possessed her to get involved with him? Loneliness? Boredom?

“I drove in from Ibadan.” Farida replied, glancing away to the yellow blind-shielded window on her right. Behind the blinds, the sun glowed, its hungry rays fighting to sneak into the room.

“Oh. Well, here...” Nosa placed the mug on the desk. “I brought you coffee, just the way you like it: two teaspoons of granulated sugar, four teaspoons of powdered milk.” He bent over and his lips jumped onto her left cheek, very close to her mouth.

Farida jerked away, her hand almost shoving the coffee off her desk. She glared up at him. “Will you stop, Nosa?”

“I missed you last weekend. I thought you’d tell me to come over.”

She puckered her lips as a frown garnished her forehead. “This is an office. You’re supposed to act like a professional.”

“It’s hard to see you looking so good and not try to kiss you at least.”

Farida sighed. “I’m not your girlfriend, Nosa. We’re just... friends. Here, I’m your boss.” Gosh, this is what a few kisses had cost her. Maybe it was time to end this. Whatever it was.

Her desk phone rang. She depressed the intercom button. “Yes, Esther?”

“Your client is here. I sent him to meeting room two.”

“Thanks.” Farida inclined her head at Nosa. “You heard her. We have a new client.”

“Okay. I’m ready. You?”

She grabbed her iPad from inside her handbag with one hand and with the other, smoothed down her black weave streaked with dark brown highlights and cut in a slanted bob. “Yes. Let’s go.”

They exited her office, Nosa a few steps behind her, moved into the corridor and then turned to the right to an open door.

Farida entered first, into the spacious, white-walled room. A man in a grey suit had his back to the door, staring up into a painting of a gazelle standing poised, alert, on a plain.

He pivoted around.

She gasped. His eyes opened wide.

“You...” He said.