My Boss, My Daddy, My Wahala / Chapter 6: California Night—Naija Drama Abroad
My Boss, My Daddy, My Wahala

My Boss, My Daddy, My Wahala

Author: Denise Robles

Chapter 6: California Night—Naija Drama Abroad

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Olamide dey busy with work, so I arrange everything for California trip. As e see say I book our seats far from each other, e face strong. I explain with confidence: “Oga, see ehn—I dey snore when I sleep.” Olamide just press him mouth together. E lean come close, voice low: “You dey call me boss even for private?”

E too near, I shift small. Which kind question be that? E fit know say I dey call am ‘Olamide Model’ for back?

Plane land midnight, jet lag hold me, I just dey follow Olamide waka go hotel like zombie. I no wake till afternoon.

See email from Olamide—e get meeting, make I enjoy myself. I rub hand together. My guy Sani, when I tell am say I dey come California, e give me list of correct bars. E promise say e go introduce me to foreign models.

I do hot makeup, wear small spaghetti top, waka out. As Sani see me, e jump from group of model boys come greet me. Na my secondary school mate. Him papa push am come US make e settle, but na party e dey party pass.

The five Naija boys wey dey form Yankee, shirts open, dey pour drink anyhow. Sani get three for him body, I get two by my side. I dey enjoy as dem dey hail me “Naija queen.” As I wan kiss one guy, na so I feel hand grab my wrist—like snake bite.

I look up, see man wey fine pass all the models stand for my front. Him eye black, gold-rimmed glasses, one hand hold me, dey look everybody down. I frown, whisper to Sani: “This guy na my spec, but e grip too strong.”

Sani just shake head, eye wide. “E fit be your boss.”

Before I fit reason am, the ‘snake’ carry me waka. E push me enter car, still hold me tight. As e drag me, the way e grip my hand, e remind me of LASTMA dey hold okada for CMS. I try struggle, e no gree. So I decide to use sense, blow hot air for him ear: “Fine bobo, abeg free me.” E still dey vex, but e release my hand, come hold my waist. I see vein dey show for him forehead.

“You like play?”

“Daddy go play with you.”

Even the Uber driver sef dey look us for mirror, dey do like say e no dey hear. Na real wahala, but me I no wan dull my shine, I cross leg, dey tap finger for seat.

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