Writers 
Chapter 6
I couldn’t get Chioma out of my mind after that night. I kept remembering the bruises, the way she cried and the things she had said.
Mama Chi was her mother.
I went back to the bar the next evening and, as expected, Chioma wasn’t around. Mama Chi saw me and greeted me with a smile.
“Folarin, welcome.”
“Good evening, ma,” I replied with a smile.
I kept looking at her. She was fair, big and beautiful too, but she didn’t share any resemblance with Chioma. At first, I wanted to doubt what Chioma had told me, but I decided to believe her.
“Would you like to eat pepper soup?” she asked.
I requested goat meat pepper soup before going to sit down.
One of the bar attendants brought my plate of pepper soup and a bottle of beer.
I was restless. I kept looking around for Chioma, hoping she would come again that night so we could finish our conversation, but there was no sign of her anywhere.
An hour later, I gave up.
Then a man walked into the bar.
He looked simple. He was tall and dark, and he seemed to be in his early fifties. Mama Chi’s smile disappeared the moment she saw him.
She made an attempt to take him to her office, but before they got there, they stopped to talk. I couldn’t hear what they were saying because of the loud music and the distance between us, but I knew it wasn’t good news. Mama Chi wasn’t smiling anymore. She looked angry.
After a while, the conversation ended, and Mama Chi went into her office immediately with the man.
I was about to leave when a dancer walked up to me. She looked beautiful and well-endowed, but she wasn’t smiling, and she didn’t look calm either.
She squeezed a piece of paper into my hand.
“It’s from Chioma,” she said. “She said I should give you this.”
With that, she walked away.
I left the bar before opening the paper.
A phone number was written on it, followed by a simple instruction:
Call me by 2 a.m.
I didn’t sleep that night.
I kept checking the time, waiting impatiently for 2 a.m. The moment the clock reached the exact time, I dialled the number.
It rang four times before someone picked up.
“Hello,” came a whisper.
“Hello, Chioma. Good morning,” I said excitedly.
“Good morning, Folarin. I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she said. Her voice was very low, and I knew she was trying to be as quiet as possible.
“It’s fine. I’m happy to hear from you. How are you now?”
“I’m better, thank you. I should return to the bar by next week.”
“Great. Everyone has missed you.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad I have your number now. I can call and talk to you anytime.”
“This is not my phone or my number. Mama Chi doesn’t give her girls phones. I borrowed it from someone.”
“Why? When you’re not prisoners.”
She sighed.
“You can’t understand. There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“Tell me everything. I’m willing to listen.”
“Folarin, I’m happy you’re interested in me and my story, but some matters are better left unknown. My life is complicated, and I wouldn’t want to involve you in my mess.”
“Chioma, I don’t care about your mess. I want to know you.”
I paused for a moment.
“I want to be your friend.”
“It’s not possible. We’re from two different worlds. You already know too much.”
“Please, Chioma. Don’t do this to me.”
She laughed softly.
“You’re sounding like we’re lovers.”
“Maybe we can be. I think I like you, Chioma.”
The moment the words left my mouth, the call ended.
“Ha! I don mess up.”
Why did I say that?
I had successfully chased her away once again.
