PANTY RAID

67| The Omar's cousins

NICON TOWN, LEKKI.

ENIOLA BIT HER lips nervously as the car stopped in front of a large two story building that was surrounded by thick groves of palm trees. Dayo leaned out of the window to insert a key card into the metal card-box and immediately the black iron gate swung open.

He drove inside and around the circular driveway to park directly in front of the massive building. He turned off the car's engine and stepped out, going around to open the door for her.

She stepped out of the car, marveling at the grandeur of the mansion. The imposing structure stood amid acres of land decorated with exotic well trimmed flower gardens.

The building was coated in white paint with gray roofing. More than a dozen of shiny, expensive cars were parked under a blue carport. Security men strolled around the property in identical black suits and dark sunglasses.

The harsh glare of the sun cut directly into her eyes, and she raised her hand to shade to her eyes from the rays. "Are you okay?" Dayo asked.

She turned to him with a nervous look on her face. "Maybe this was a bad idea," she said. Dayo chuckled. "You'll be fine babe, I promise."

Eniola nodded, though she was really nervous about meeting his family. Of course, she knew that his family was wealthy, but this was more than what she'd expected. She felt way out of his league. Was this the way he'd lived all his life, in such luxury and with everything at his beck and call?

Dayo snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Hey, you zoned out on me." She gave herself a mental shake and forced a reassuring smile. "I'm just so nervous," she admitted.

He gave her a half smile. "You don't have to be nervous, I'm going to be with you the whole time," he said assuredly.

Eniola opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again. "Okay, let's go in," she finally said. Dayo grinned and laced their fingers as they trailed along the path that led to an outdoor party tent in the backyard.

The tent was packed with pot-bellied politicians in flowing agbada attires. Uniformed waiters moved swiftly around the small round tables with various kinds of food.

A popular juju band had even been hired to entertain the guests. One of the guests was dancing in front of them in his voluminous black agbada, his ringed fingers poised on his protruding pot-belly.

He raised his hand and a tall guy raced to his side with a black briefcase. He clicked open the briefcase and took out wads of money. The leader of the band who had been singing his praises grinned widely as he pressed crisp dollar notes on his sweaty forehead.

The dollar bills were quickly collected into a carton as it rained on the floor. More people approached the danced floor, spraying money lavishly all over the makeshift stage.

Eniola's heels dug into the soft grass as they made their way into the giant tent. "Adedayo?" someone called.

They both turned at the sound of the woman's voice. "You didn't tell us you were coming," she smiled.

She looked young, maybe in her early forties, dressed in a very expensive-looking burgundy lace material and gold gele (headgear).

Dayo leveled a cold gaze at her. "I didn't realize that I needed permission from you before coming to my own house," he gritted out.

The woman smiled, hiding her growing irritation. "Of course not, my dear. Who's this young lady?" she asked with smile.

Eniola started to answer her but he cut her off, "Why don't you ever mind your own damn business?" he snarled. What's up with him? she thought.

The woman plastered a fake smile on her face but Eniola could have sworn there was steam coming out of her ears.  A deep voice growled behind them. "That's no way to speak to your mother!"

Dayo mumbled a curse under his breath. "She is not my mother," he said, his jaw ticking. Eniola knew he was his father at the first glance, their was a striking resemblance between them. His father was a splitting image of him, only with grey hair and a bellyful of the national cake.

He was immaculately dressed in a white well tailored agbada and a black aso oke cap. He stood facing his son, his ringed fingers gripping the knob of his walking stick.

Now standing next to him, she looked at least twenty years younger than her husband. "Chief, it's fine. He's just a child," she said.

Dayo glared at her, but unconsciously he gripped her fingers a little tighter. His father's gaze dropped to their linked fingers and he scowled.

Eniola bit the inside of her cheek. "Good afternoon, sir," she mumbled. He merely acknowledged her greeting with a nod as he stared at her and she swallowed nervously under his intense scrutiny.

He returned his attention to Dayo. "Come with me to my study. I have something to discuss with you," he said, gesturing with his walking stick towards the mansion.

Dayo hesitated for a moment before letting go of her hand. "I'll be right back, okay?" he assured her. "Okay," Eniola smiled.

His father called to his wife. "Abike, take care of the girl," he said. Dayo gave her one last glance before leaving with him.

Abike turned to her after they left. "What's your name?" she asked, leading her to an empty table. "It's Eniola, ma," she answered.

"Eniola. What's your last name?" she asked.  Eniola sat on one of the decorated white chairs. "Craig. Eniola Craig," she replied.

The way she kept throwing questions at her made her feel uncomfortable. She asked where she was from, what her father does, and where she lives in Lagos.

She didn't feel comfortable divulging so many personal details to a total stranger but she answered her questions anyway.

She looked frantically around the party silently praying that one of the other guests would save her from her probing questions.

Fortunately, the vocalist of the juju band started showering her praises, inculcating her name in the lyrics of the song. "Excuse me please, I'll be right back," she said, clapping her hands gleefully and disappearing into the sea of colorful outfits on the dance floor.

Eniola exhaled a breath of relief and reached into the purse hanging on her shoulder. She pulled her phone out, unlocked it, and clicked on the last message from Lara asking her where she was and if she'd 'done it'. "Done what?" she texted back, smiling to herself.

She was so busy with her phone that she barely noticed someone set down a black Hermès bag on the table. She stared at the bag before glancing up to see who was joining her. Why was she here? She groaned inwardly.

Novah sat down next to her, gracefully crossed her legs, and took off her Yves Saint Laurent glasses. "Dayo never ceases to amaze me. I can't believe he actually brought you to his mom's remembrance party," she said, her mouth twitching.

Eniola sat up. "Hello to you too, Novah," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She didn't like her, and she wasn't going to pretend she did.

A smirk crossed her face. "Where's he?" Novah asked, scanning the crowd. Eniola ignored her question, asking one of her own. "Where's your cousin, Jamal?"

"Looking for me, sexy?" an all-too-familiar voice said from behind her. Speak of the devil, here he comes.

He dragged an empty chair from the next table, sat down, and swung his arm behind his cousin's chair. "We meet again," his dark eyes skimming over her body.

Eniola clenched her fists to stop herself from grabbing the collar of his black leather jacket and punching him on the nose. She would have broken his nose for spiking her drink - but her ringtone stopped her.

She glared at him as she brought the phone to her ear. The music was so loud, she could hardly hear the she couldn't hear the person on the other end of the line. Eniola stood up from her seat and walked farther away from the tent.