When A Playboy Loves

|| 19.

King

Strips of sunlight seeped through the window I was standing in front of, turning the brown shelf a shade darker. With a hand in the pocket of my grey slacks, I stared at the buildings of different heights that lined my vision in no particular order. Then at the tall shrubs that decorated the entrance of the building that housed my office, which was located several stories above the ground.

Retracing my step back to my swivel chair, I placed both hands on the edge of the desk, closing my eyes as I took deep breaths. My fingers drummed against the desk in a sharp staccato when my gaze descended on the date circled on the table calendar. It was four more days until Monday, my deadline and there was still no luck with the land ownership. 

Instantly, my left hand went to my face, pinching the bridge of my nose. I couldn't concentrate. The only thing I managed to accomplish since stepping into the office today was ruining my mood with a constant replay of my last meeting with Tibi. I should never have gone to see her.

"We don't need to have sex."

Her voice floated into my subconscious and I scoffed. Not only was she asking me not to be a part of the child's life, but she also wanted me to masturbate into a container. I scoffed again. I'll be damned if I let a kid of mine, wanted or not, roam this earth without knowing me.

Mild scratching of an object against a surface filtered into my ears, reminding me of the rats from boarding school that would scrape the edge of our cupboards. Those creatures always knew the locker with the highest number of provisions in it. The sound persisted and my head steered in the direction of the noise, somewhat thankful to have a distraction from my haphazard thoughts.

Esther was seated on the tiled floor with her book on one of the two beige sofas, scribbling aggressively into the note as though her life depended on it. Curiosity gnawed at me and my neck stretched to have a look but I couldn't make out what she was writing neither could I explain why she was awake, unlike Emma who was snoring gently on the other sofa. 

"What are you writing?" I asked, already moving towards her. 

Her back was to me so she didn't realise I was standing behind her until she heard my voice. It must have startled her because she flinched then shut the book with force, shoving it into the backpack that was beside her. I had already established since picking them up from school -based on Uti's request- that she didn't like me but her action still amused me. 

Plopping onto the sofa, I stared down at her, trying to figure out her line of thoughts. She peered at me with eyes a tone lighter than her mother's, blinking thick lashes that looked too long for a child her age. With her hair braided into two cornrows, she looked like a younger but unfriendly version of Uti.

She made no motion to talk, glaring defiantly at me like I was the reason their mother didn't come to fetch them from school herself. Tired of our staring bout, I redirected my attention to her brother who shivered slightly at that moment. Picking up the AC remote, I reduced the temperature and then shrugged off my coat to place over him.

Esther's eyes followed my movements like a hawk ready to attack, waiting for me to make the wrong move on her brother. I would never harm him or her and I was about to tell her that when the door pushed open. Groaning internally when I saw my unwanted visitor, I stood up to greet him. 

Mr Wole strutted in like he owned the office, a mocking smile on his face when his eyes rested on me. I wanted so badly to knock that smug look off his face but we had a strict no fighting policy. So, I consoled myself with images of me using his head -after thoroughly squishing it- as a golf ball.