Hey lovely people, here I am again. You know I always know when I’m wrong so I kinda always make up for it. So here is an episode of Squadi: The Originals.
Read previous episodes here
Meanwhile you might have noticed that I changed the blog’s interface. A reader, by the name of Tara complained about navigating the site so I kinda changed it to an easier style.
So now, you can basically see previous posts arranged on the right (if you’re using a desktop) and below (if you’re using a phone) on the ‘About’ page. There is also an archive of all the posts that ever appeared on this site. That way you can click on whatever you came here for anytime. 🙂
Please if you’re still having troubles, holla.
“If you let everyone smell your Jollof rice, don’t blame them when they draw spoons”
He gaped in shock at Hakeem, there was no way in hell he could be serious about what he just suggested.
When he was younger, his mother had always been impatient with rich kids. She’d always said they were like “Adiye Agric” which was a Yoruba term for Broilers (chicken) and which meant they were generally stupid and could not tell their left from their right.
She also hated to deal with them.
Once, she had been a home lesson teacher to one. The boy had been in one of the most expensive schools in Osun state, which also ranked high on the list of most expensive schools in Nigeria.
She’d suddenly quit when he felt the need to sulk and demanded she apologized before doing his homework anytime he felt she’d wronged him.
“That one needs a nanny and good flogging before he is ready for me” his mother had said after quitting one afternoon. The boy’s Parents had apologized to his mother and promised to increase her salary but she had simply refused to return. “One day he would slap me and they would think money would make it go away. I don’t trust rich people and their kids” she’d added before finally concluding not to ever tutor rich kids again.
And Ajayi had grown up with that mentality.
He had never tried to befriend rich kids and once, he’d been attracted to one, she had been the daughter of the owner of a company he interned at.
Her chocolate skin had been flawless, her teeth brighter than anyone else’s and her body similar to the ones he saw in music videos – curvy, hot and undoubtedly sexy.
However, he’d never been able to do more than kiss her because he just did not want to be involved with a rich kid.
They always came out of their mother’s uterus clutching their egos firmly in their hands and it was always a matter of time before they felt the need to remind whoever they were with that they could buy them.
And he did not want to be reminded of his current financial status, not until he could do something about it.
He eyed the rich kid he was stuck with as he threw his luxurious items in another luxurious thing he owned – a Louis Vuitton bag – while he ranted about broke people and their refusal to accept poverty as their destiny.
“Why do they always feel the need to do something about their destiny though?” he asked, irritated at their current predicament “Like if you’re broke, own it, embrace it and swim in it forever. Why the fuck would you feel the need to get out” he paused as if waiting for a response, then, he continued throwing his expensive perfume and shirts into his bag.
“So is this the part you let me go and embrace my own poverty?” Ajayi asked him and only then did he realize he’d contradicted himself.
“Your own is different” he muttered and zipped his bag
“Why? Because I am the chosen one?” he asked, his question heavily laced with sarcasm.
Hakeem ignored him and made a quick call on his iPhone, “G money, I’m ready. Please we’re going in the Ferrari.” He paused before he continued, “What does he need it for? He does not ever use it.” Then he frowned, “For real? No, no don’t ask him. I don’t want him to know I am about to leave the house. Let’s use the Range like that” then he hung up and headed towards the door.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do with the problem we have?” Ajayi asked as he joined Hakeem at the door.
“Anything asides your silly idea?” He’d listened to Hakeem tell him he wanted to give the man who’d brought them home the night before, the money for his fees the next session earlier and shock had been mild to describe the immediate feeling he felt.
“Hakeem, it is your school fees. You can’t do that with it”
“Well, I can. I’d get it back”
Their school fees was close to a million naira and Hakeem was willing to dash it out to someone because he wanted to be rid of him.
They had made it out of Hakeem’s room now and were heading for the door out of the main house.
Ajayi had barely had time to look around the night before when they came in but now he did; the sitting room was large, two times bigger than his parents’ house. It was divided into two, each separated by a transparent glass wall and with each with its own expensive décor.
One sitting room was lavished with gold interior and the other, white.
Expensive chandelier hung from both and the coffee table had legs that were definitely encrusted in diamonds.
The walk from the sitting room to the door would have gotten him out of his own father’s rented house down the end of their street if he had to compare.
This place was heaven, really.
And it made him wonder why Hakeem wanted the wealth he knew he could wait for so desperately at the moment.
He was the first son of the man that owned all the wealth, he most definitely had been well taken care of since he was born.
But again, he could never understand how it worked in his world.
Outside, the hot sun, a black Range Rover Evoque and their nemesis from the night before were all awaiting them. He reached inside his pocket for his sunglasses and covered his eyes from receiving the heat from the late morning sun.
His eyes shielded, he looked to the remaining half of their problems that morning. The man was still dressed in his clothes from the night before and if he had gotten any sleep, he did not look like it.
“Give me your account number” Hakeem snapped at the man in front of them.
Ajayi watched as he hurriedly looked through his phone for it and then, politely asked Hakeem for his number so he could text it.
That one eyed him with disdain before he said, “I don’t get it, why do you need my number? Can’t you just call it out?”
“I thought I saved it on my phone before but I did not” the Driver answered and Ajayi watched as Hakeem told him to do his worst as he headed for the car waiting for them.
Ajayi hurried to Hakeem who had now taken his space behind the wheels, “Hakeem, what did you just do?” he asked as calmly as he could, hoping he’d have a reasonable explanation for what he just did.
“Well, I just told him to do whatever”
“Dude, you cannot tell him to do whatever he has our destiny in his hands. He could walk in and blow our fucking cover before we start. Do you know what that means? It means we would get into trouble without the money you so desperately want! How does that sound huh?”
Hakem shrugged, “What are the chances that he can get through to my father?”
And then, Alhaja Rasaq strolled out of the main house, a slim light skinned girl following him.
“Seems to me like the chances are fucking high!”
He had a confession. And the confession was not shocking to anyone who came out of the hood anywhere in the world – snitching was ranked as the highest level of wrong you could ever do anyone.
Actually, it did not just rank high on the levels of wrong you could do anyone, it could justify your blood been spilled. It could justify your forceful relocation from earth to the other side – Heaven or Hell, depending on which one you made it to.
So he never had the intention to tell Hakeem’s father the plan his spoilt son had for his account.
He had only threatened to do so because he desperately needed the money and he knew no other way to make that happen.
But when the old man walked out of the house just seconds after his son had chosen to be rude, the thought had become extremely appealing to him.
“Hakeem!” he watched his forehead crease into a frown and he realized the man was currently not happy with his son. This was his chance to tell him what was about to happen to him, not like the boy could deny anyway. “Did I not tell you to see me before leaving the house?” he scowled as Hakeem jumped out of the car and raced towards him.
“I was just putting my stuff in the car” he said
Alhaji glanced at him and then Hakeem’s friend from the night before, “Are you all going to School together?”
“Hakeem, I think you should go inside, I would just collect the man’s number to say thank you again” his friend said and Hakeem convinced his father to go in with him.
“Oga, give me your number abeg. I would make him call you” the friend, who seemed more polite than Hakeem said and he punched the digits into that one’s phone.
“Make sure he calls me” Yellow said and made for the tall gates he had walked in through some minutes before.
He hoped Hakeem would call him, he actually prayed he would.
He desperately needed money and he did not trust what he could do now that he was pushed against the wall.
Alhaji always gave her money anytime she came to “service” him.
She hated when he used the word service but she’d come to ignore the way it made her feel while she simply enjoyed the money he gave her whenever she screwed him.
He liked to refer it as home service whenever she went to his Office, gave him a blowjob in his car or risked coming to his to sleep with him.
The current visit was the third since they started sleeping with each other behind Martha’s back a year before but the first two had been when Martha had been out of the Country. This was the first time she was doing it when that one was in the country.
And even though Martha was busy with work at the Salon, she wanted him to give her the money so she could get out of the house fast because she was not feeling comfortable waiting in the premises.
Leaning on the sleek Range Rover Evoque that Alhaji’s son had jumped out of earlier, she counted the seconds and waited for Alhaji and his son to come out.
She did not have to wait long for them to emerge.
“Ekanem they would drop you on your way. I would call you later” Alhaji said and disappeared into the house before she could say anything.
How was she supposed to get money from him when he never picked her calls and took forever to return her messages?
He simply responded whenever he wanted and only called when he was horny.
Disgruntled, she hopped into the backseat near his son’s friend.
The white interior seemed delicate so she sat gingerly on the space she chose directly behind Hakeem’s friend as if moving an inch might cause a permanent stain on the white leather.
The music video that popped up on the screen behind the seats in front of them was a momentary distraction, as she found herself staring at the girls wiggling and flirting with musicians with chains big enough to drown a dog and expensive bottles of liquor which they felt the need to flash in front of the camera from time to time.
But after a while, that got boring and she returned her gaze to the cars that they sped by.
The Driver of their car seemed to be in a hurry to drop them, it was either that or Hakeem and his friend were hurrying to school.
Willing to lose herself into something else that would keep her mind from her troubles, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through her Facebook page.
Someone had put up her younger brother’s photo as a post and was had written a lengthy post about the state of the Nigerian Police and their decision to be used as a pawn by a chosen people in the society.
The person was asking people to start a petition demanding the release of her brother. She recognized the person as one of his best friends and as much as she appreciated it, she honestly did not think it could do much for their situation.
Willing to push the thoughts away from her mind, she typed a quick message to Alhaji. Even if he could not give her money, he could make calls to someone at the top at the station her brother was being currently held?
As she hit send, she hoped to God that he would reply.
Her phone suddenly slipped all the way under the seat as the car lurched forward and she grabbed the seat in front of her for support.
“G Money how far na? you no see the ditch?” Hakeem asked irritated as the Driver muttered an apology to everyone in the car.
Ekanem however soon found out that her phone was out of her reach and that she had no time to fish it out because they had gotten to her bus stop.
“Please give me small time” she mumbled as she stretched her hand to pick the phone.
He could not stand clumsy bitches who came from the Hood and who probably fucked his father for money.
He just did not have the patience for them.
And that was why he did not understand why grabbing this particular bitch’s phone suddenly became so hard for her.
Clearly, she was not used to being driven in luxurious cars and she was finding it hard grabbing a phone that was not so far from her because she had never been in a good car in her entire life.
He vaguely wondered who she was as Ajayi leaned over to help her now but stopped midway when he heard his phone ring.
“Give me a second please” he said and got on the phone. “A test?” he asked, shocked at what the caller was telling him. He faced him and said, “Guy we have to be in school in thirty minutes! I have a test!”
Irritated with the bitch in the back seat, Ajayi dropped and went to the back to help her retrieve her phone.
And he got it out in two seconds like he’d anticipated. Why the hell had that been hard for her? And why the hell was she texting his father?
SQUADI: The Originals
– Tomilola Coco Adeyemo.
PS: I notice people keep copying my stuff and pasting it on their blogs without asking me first. This is so wrong, no Writer in the world who has worked hard to write anything from their heads would find that funny. Please in the name of everything you believe in, if you like something I have written and you want it on your site, ASK. It’s the right thing to do. Thanks.