Must Date The Chef

|| 30.

Paul

The sharp ringtone of a phone cuts through the air but my sleep foggy brain refuses to register the sound. I stretch my legs and use the back of my hand to stop a traitorous yawn. My eyelids flutter open, I pick my polo shirt threatening to fall off the edge of the couch I am seated on and scan the length of my parlour with a bemused frown like I didn't ask the driver to take me home.

Memories come flooding back, my heart grows heavier at the flashes of events. Chi must be worried, I am too, at the same time, I am not ready for the questions that will follow in my current state of mind. Hiding my face in my palms, I let out a sigh, I shouldn't have fallen asleep but the burst of energy that spreads through me makes the nap worth it. I need my strength to figure out my baby's mysterious disappearance.

The phone continues ringing, that annoying voice finally pierces through the fog in my brain and my eyes lower to Ifunaya's phone on the table. I misstep as I get up to pick the phone and my morale takes a big dip when I see the caller. Mr Adams; the Big Boss. I have never gotten a chance to speak to him but the other cooks claim he's nice.

"Hello?" I say into the phone. Mr Adams rapid flow of Igbo is cut short when he realises he is speaking to a different person.

"Who are you?" he asks without formalities and the niceness people always talk about is missing. "Why are you with her phone?"

Clearing my throat and deepening my voice to sound more confident, I introduce myself and offer a reply that leads to more queries. With each new question he fires at me, my patience wears thin and I pull the phone away from my ear to take a deep breath.

"Where is she?" he asks when he observes the silence from my end. "Where is she?"

I don't know if he reiterates the question to grate on my nerves or the accusation in his voice implies I have something to do with her disappearance but it irks me. Tugging on a strand of my beard, I grunt and retrace my steps to the couch. I already explained the situation to him, maybe not completely but I gave him the most important details.

"Ifunaya never goes out without her phone."

"I know that," I snap and heave a sigh. "I have no idea where she is." My shoulders sag, I cross and uncross my legs, wondering if it is in her best interest to inform him of my additional role as her boyfriend which I failed to mention. "But she spent the night at my house." He cuts me off to demand an explanation for that, I sigh again and pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm her boyfriend."

After that, he says no more and I restart my explanation, making sure to go as far back as the day I asked her out until the moment I found her phone in her handbag. Tapping my fingers on my knee in anticipation of the questions I know will come, nothing, save for his breathing greets me from his end.

"Why don't we meet at Pavilion?" he says. I nod but when I remember he can't see me, I mutter a small yes and he ends the call.

A heaviness settles on my shoulder when my gaze lowers to the mess I made on the floor and my heart hammers in my chest. I miss her. I created a list from her recent call log, dialling the numbers to know if anyone has seen or heard from her and the balls of paper strewn across the parlour increased as my frustrations grew with the number of negative responses I received.

Where can she be?

Kicking a piece of paper on my way out of the house, I send Chi a text to inform her I am on my way back to the hotel and hop onto a bike that slows down in front of me. The ride to the hotel is a blur, I realise we have reached when the bikeman calls my attention and I give him a thousand naira note without waiting to collect change.