Chapter Five

*A GOAT IN A TUXEDO*

Into the weeks of experiencing Lagos life, things seemed to be going simply well. The hub kept attracting more aspiring souls, and life was good—especially for Nike and Darey, who were reaping significant benefits.

Just recently, a newly launched beauty brand approached the hub to sign a contract worth hundreds of thousands on the condition that Nike would model for their makeup line. She had proudly agreed, marking her first modeling gig.

"Hey! How's it going?" Jimi greeted Darey with a cheerful tone as he strolled onto the set where the brand's photo shoot was taking place.

"I'm good," Darey chuckled, standing with his arms crossed as he observed the bustling activity. "Just supervising in case something comes up. It's Nike's first modeling job, after all," he added with a mix of pride and apprehension.

"Wow, that's big," Jimi remarked, nodding in admiration. After a brief pause, he scratched the back of his neck, clearly contemplating something. "Uh, Darey… I've been meaning to ask you something," he began, his voice unsteady.

"Bro, just ask. I'm not a girl; why are you nervous?" Darey laughed, giving him a curious side-eye.

Jimi sighed, hesitated for another moment, and finally blurted out, "Okay, this is just me trying to satisfy my curiosity… Are you and Nike dating?"

The question hung in the air as Darey blinked in surprise, caught completely off guard.

"Uh… no," Darey finally replied, his voice slow as though he was processing the implications. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened as realization struck. "Wait a minute! Oh my God! You have a crush on Nike?" he exclaimed, his voice rising dramatically.

Jimi's expression shifted instantly, and he lunged to hush him. "Hey! Lower your voice!" he hissed, glancing around to ensure no one overheard.

"Please, what would make you think that? I only asked to satisfy my curiosity," Jimi said, laughing sarcastically as he attempted to downplay the situation.

Darey wasn't convinced and raised a brow. "Right…"

"And anyway, that's crazy," Jimi continued with a casual shrug. "It's kind of an abomination… you get what I'm saying?"

Before Darey could respond, a voice interrupted them from behind.

"So… liking me is an abomination?"

Both dudes froze in place before turning slowly to find Nike standing there. Her arms were crossed, her expression cool but laced with subtle annoyance.

"Damnit, bro," Darey muttered under his breath.

Jimi, on the other hand, flashed an unapologetic smirk, the corner of his lips revealing a deep dimple as he said with a low chuckle, "Well, this just got interesting."

****

"So, liking me is an abomination? Wait, are you for real? What kind of line is this?" Nike asked, her brow arched as she lifted her eyes from the script she was holding.

Both Darey and Jimi let out an audible sigh of relief.

She'd been reviewing the script for the new skit they were planning to film, and the line just happened to align with their conversation.

"So…" Darey cleared his throat and spoke up. "What's wrong with the line, Nike?"

"Actually, nothing," she replied with a small chuckle. "It's just the 'abomination' part—it sounds crazy." Her laughter faded as she frowned slightly. Darey caught on quickly.

"Feeling nervous?" he asked with a gentle smile, patting her shoulder. "Don't worry, you've got this."

Nike smiled back, visibly reassured. He excused himself to see progress of the setting.

"Ahem!" Jimi cleared his throat unnecessarily, breaking the moment.

Nike turned to him. "Oh! Hi, Jimi," she said casually. "I think I remember you now."

"Oh, really?" he replied, smirking.

"Yeah, you're Jimi from that cursed cruise group chat," she said, her tone flat and uninterested.

"What makes it cursed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe your presence in the group?" she quipped, her eyes darting away, clearly not interested in gauging his reaction.

Jimi blinked, caught off guard, but before he could respond, she added, "It's nice to finally meet you in person, though." She extended her hand for a handshake, which he took hesitantly as a small smile crept onto his face.

"Now that I've met you in real life," she continued with an innocent-looking smile, "I can officially announce that you're still no longer my daddy."

Jimi froze, utterly speechless. Their online group chat had once involved a playful father-daughter dynamic between them, a fact well-known within the group. When he'd started drifting away from her, Nike had swiftly and publicly "disowned" him as her online dad.

For what felt like the first time ever, Jimi had no witty comeback.

"Nike! You're needed on set!" someone called out.

"Coming!" she replied brightly. Then, turning back to Jimi, she winked playfully. "See you later, Daddy."

As she walked off, Jimi scoffed, muttering under his breath, "Winking at someone you have no relationship with? Seriously?" He sounded like a grumpy old man scolding a mischievous child.

"Wait a second," he said aloud, eyes narrowing as he replayed her words in his head. "Did she just call me Daddy?"

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I don't even care," he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. Not that he'd admit it, but he didn't entirely dislike the wink… or the teasing.

But he just frowned realizing that the conversation they just had is lasting longer than expected.

****

The vibrant lights illuminated the set, casting a golden glow on the busy crew. Nike stood in the middle of it all, wearing a bold makeup look that transformed her into a walking masterpiece. The stylist adjusted the hem of her outfit one last time, muttering instructions while Nike nodded, half-listening and trying to calm her nerves.

"All right, Nike. Let's see some attitude! Confidence! You're the star!" the photographer called out, lifting his camera.

Nike took a deep breath, struck her first pose, and held it, her sharp gaze locking onto the camera lens.

From the sidelines, Darey clapped dramatically, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.

"Work it, Nike! Show them what you're made of!"

Nike paused mid-pose to shoot him a playful glare. "Darey, you're not helping!"

"Oh, sorry, my bad," Darey grinned mischievously but kept cheering anyway.

As the shoot continued, Darey was joined by Adesua, who had just arrived with a smoothie in hand. She slid up beside him, curious.

"What's going on here?" Adesua asked, glancing at the bustling set.

"Nike's first modeling gig. She's killing it," Darey said proudly, nudging her lightly with his elbow.

Adesua sipped her drink, her lips curling into a smile as she watched Nike nail her next pose. "Ah! That's my girl ooo!! She does have the vibe for it."

"She's a natural," Darey said, and then turned to her, grinning. "What about you? You ever tried modeling?"

Adesua chuckled. "Me? Please, I'm more of the creative behind the scenes type. You know, the brain of the operation."

"I don't know… I think you've got the look," Darey said with a wink.

Adesua rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "Right. Says the ex-model who's now hiding behind a microphone."

"Touché," Darey laughed, and they both settled into an easy banter. "It's not really my fault" he shrugged.

Meanwhile, Nike continued with the shoot, finally getting into her groove. She twirled for a full-length shot, her movements smooth and natural. The photographer gave an approving nod.

"Nice, Nike! Now give me something playful but fierce," he instructed.

Nike grinned, throwing in an impromptu wink and a finger-gun gesture. The crew laughed, and even Jimi, who had been quietly observing from the corner, allowed a faint smile to break through.

Darey caught Jimi's expression and smirked then leaned closer to Adesua.

"Look at him. He's trying so hard not to be impressed," Darey whispered, smirking.

Adesua followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing mischievously. "Ooh, I see it. I'll bet he's already planning an excuse to talk to her after this."

The two burst into laughter, their quiet jokes forming the first thread of their connection.

Finally, the shoot wrapped up, and Nike strutted off the set, her makeup still flawless, and her confidence shining brighter than ever. She walked straight to her friends with a triumphant smirk.

"Not bad for my first time, huh?"

"Not bad?" Darey scoffed. "You were amazing!"

Adesua nodded in agreement. "You owned it, Nike. That brand definitely got their money's worth. But make that your head no bust ooo!!"

As they all laughed and congratulated her, Nike couldn't help but notice Jimi lingering near the exit, his usual cool demeanor intact. She locked eyes with him briefly, and for a split second, his expression softened—but only just. Then, he turned and walked away.

"Hmm," Nike mused aloud.

"What happened?" Adesua asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nike just shrugged. "Nothing actually!"

**

Some few moments later, the makeup was carefully wiped from her face and she was changed into her normal outfit then everybody dispersed to their respective houses.

"See, with the way things are going, I think you will just have to find a smaller university and go." Nike's father said over the phone. She had just arrived home and hearing this isn't the coolest thing.

He continued as she was just silently listening expressionlessly.

"Maybe…the federal govern…"

"Ah, no ooo!!! Lie lie," Nike cut them short with a polite tone and a very deep frown on her face. "See, those universities that are competing with thunder strike on which can strike better… in fact they are currently on strike as we speak now," she added shaking her head like those elders in Nollywood movies when they hear of an abominable situation.

"I know, but that's the only option or do you want to go to Bingham?" her mom asked knowing fully well that her answer will come as this…

"No ooo!!" she exclaimed throwing her face away from the phone as if she was not still holding it her ears. Firstly, the location was what was killing her, secondly the 'phones not allowed' rule was another hectic problem. Thirdly, why should the school restrict everybody from living where they want to live? Boarding school? Fourthly, what's up with the 'no trousers allowed' rule?

She knew the school was one of the elite schools in Nigeria and affordable for lightly above average families like hers, but NO was the answer. Her life in Lagos was going well so far and she just wasn't ready to forfeit it for anything.

"Look at you! You are even lucky to have the option of schooling in a school like Bingham and you are refusing!" her mom began and Nike groaned silently. "Are you going to school to wear trousers? Aren't you going to school to read?" she asked and the talk began to annoy her.

"Huh? Hello? I don't think I can hear you! Yes? Hello? I can't hear you ooo!!" she started acting like network was having issues and through that means, she swiftly cut the call.

"God Abeg!" she sighed heavily as laid flat on the bed staring straight at the designed POP ceiling.

****

First-time modeling today had to be one of the coolest things that had happened to her in a long time. Nike hadn't expected it—not even a little. Why on earth would a brand specifically come looking for her? She wasn't sure, but deep down, she couldn't deny the truth. On days like this, when she felt exceptionally good about herself, she'd admit it: she was an epitome of Black African beauty, with a body sculpted like a perfectly designed mannequin.

It was the kind of beauty that turned heads effortlessly, but she never used it to boast. No, staying low-key gorgeous was far more satisfying.

She chuckled, remembering how the camera lights had danced around her. The photographer had been surprisingly cool—definitely the kind of guy you'd hire as your personal photographer if you wanted to feel like a star every day. Then there was Darey and Adesua, cheering for her like she'd just won an international pageant. Their over-the-top excitement had been infectious, and for a moment, Nike had felt genuinely happy for Adesua. After all the endless fantasizing about Darey's god-like looks, her friend had finally met him.

"May their relationship be as lovely as her daydreams," Nike muttered under her breath with a small smile.

Then her mind just drifted towards Jimi, who was standing near the exit door like some spy in disguise that wasn't doing his job properly because he was behaving so creepy and suspicious. She couldn't help but remember the slight transition of his expression when their eyes met.

Out of nowhere, she found herself humming softly, her voice laced with mock pity. "Souls are crying…"

She giggled, shaking her head at her own theatrics. Before she even realized it, she'd picked up her phone and started scrolling through a job listing site she'd bookmarked. A cleaning job popped up—near her area, easy money, flexible hours. In the warm, buzzing spirit of the night, she clicked "apply" without a second thought and went offline.

Then it hit her.

"What did I just do?!" she exclaimed to no one in particular, staring at the screen like it had betrayed her.

****

The midday sun cast golden rays across the open hub as laughter and chatter filled the air. Nike leaned casually against the counter at the juice bar, sipping on a cool smoothie, her eyes darting over the lively crowd. Everything seemed routine—until he walked in.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding a natural charm, the new guy strolled into the hub with the kind of presence that demanded attention without asking for it. His fair skin seemed to glisten under the sunlight, and his well-defined jawline framed a boyish yet strikingly handsome face. His confident stride and relaxed demeanor caused heads to turn instantly, especially among the girls.

The whispers started immediately.

"Who's that?" one girl asked, barely able to contain her excitement.

"I don't know, but he's gorgeous!" another giggled, clutching her friend's arm and squealing.

Nike noticed the commotion, her interest piqued. She lowered her sunglasses and gave him a quick once-over. He was undeniably good-looking, and the way he smiled at people as he walked through the crowd—polite but not overly eager—gave off a sense of quiet confidence.

"Just another pretty boy," Jimi muttered under his breath from his spot near the shaded bench. He didn't bother looking up from his book, he just knew that hearing the kind of comments that randomly sprang up.

The guy eventually approached Darey, who was talking to someone who seemed like the lead camera man of the crew that took care of Nike's shooting yesterday. The two exchanged a quick handshake, and Darey gestured toward Nike, pointing her out in the crowd. She raised a brow as the new guy started walking toward her.

"Hey," he said, his voice deep but smooth. "You must be Nike. Darey told me you're the go-to person around here."

Nike arched a brow, setting down her drink. "Go-to for what exactly?"

"Getting to know the hub," he replied, flashing an easy smile. "I'm Anthony, by the way. Just moved into the area."

Nike extended her hand, shaking his firmly. "Well, Anthony, welcome to the circus," she said, her tone light and also easy. "What brings you here?"

"Trying to get a feel for the place," he said with a shrug. "And maybe see if I fit in."

"Well," she said, crossing her arms with a playful glint in her eye, "fitting in isn't exactly the goal here. Standing out is more fun."

Anthony chuckled, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "Noted. Maybe you can teach me how to stand out?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out," she replied, winking at him before picking up her drink again.

From his bench, Jimi finally glanced up, his expression unreadable as he watched the exchange. Nike didn't notice, but Anthony did—his lips curled into an uneasy smile.

"Seems like some people don't like newcomers," Anthony said quietly, his tone more amused than offended.

Nike followed his gaze, her eyes landing on Jimi. "Oh, don't mind him," she said, waving dismissively. "That's just Jimi. He pretends not to care about anything… and I don't care about that," she said shaking her head like it was something pitiful.

Jimi, still watching, scoffed and returned his focus to his book, though he turned the page with a little more force than necessary.

As Anthony and Nike continued their easy conversation, the girls nearby giggled and whispered, stealing glances at Anthony like he was a celebrity and giving bad eyes to Nike for always being the one… for literally everything. Even Adesua, who had been sitting with Darey, looked intrigued.

When Nike leaned closer to whisper something to Anthony, Jimi's grip on his book tightened.

She threw in one of her signature winks, and that was it! Jimi closed his book with a sharp thud and stood up, his usual composed demeanor now slightly ruffled.

He stopped as he passed by them near Nike, leaning closer he whispered.

"Your choices of books are… terrible," he said softly with a somewhat annoyed tone.

"I guess I'll have to be more careful to choose a book that's lowered to the level of your intelligence next time," she whispered back with a more annoyed tone than his.

"Wow, seems like small Nike of yesterday has grown up!" he smirked and walked away.

"Mtchew!" she hissed with a deep frown.

Though, Anthony noticed the way his jaw clenched and the slight stiffness in his stride.

"Interesting guy," Anthony commented, watching Jimi walk away.

Nike smirked, her face softening slowly. "Abeg!"

****

The sun was beginning to dip, casting a beach setting illumination glow over the entertainment hub. Nike and Adesua lounged under the shade of a large umbrella near the snack bar, their drinks sweating in the humid Lagos air. Nothing serious happened today, only that a set of kids like twelve in number were brought to the hub. They were all medically impaired in one of their sense organ or the other__either deaf, dumb or blind, and were usually regarded as special kids.

 Nike stirred her pineapple mock tail with the straw, with her bored looking expression as she kept stirring the drink. She loved this spot—just enough wahala to keep it interesting, but with people like Jimi, their own type of wahala can keep someone in the psychiatric hospital. She was just thinking about his stupid statement, 'small Nike of yesterday has grown,'

'Freak!' she muttered, hissing again as she sipped her drink with some kind of force.

Adesua, on the other hand, seemed far more distracted to even notice Nike's evening mood. Her lemonade sat untouched as she scrolled through her phone, her thumb swiping back and forth with almost obsessive energy.

"What are you looking at so intensely?" Nike asked her interest now aroused as she decided to stop thinking, raising a curious eyebrow.

Adesua jumped slightly, clutching her phone like a lifeline. "Nothing! Just scrolling. Pinterest" she added casually.

Nike narrowed her eyes with suspicion and leaned over. "Hand it over, baby"

"No!" Adesua said, clutching the phone tighter. But Nike was quicker. Before Adesua could react, Nike snatched the phone out of her hand, grinning triumphantly. "He-he!"

"Let's see what we have here," she teased, unlocking the phone with ease—she already knew Adesua's password.

Adesua groaned, sipping the lemonade with more force than Nike earlier. "Nike, give it back!"

Nike ignored her and started scrolling. Her eyes widened when she saw a familiar face dominating the gallery. Darey.

"Darey? Oh Darey!" she said as she kept strolling acting innocent. "Wait! Darey again? Darey! Darey!! Darey!! Darey again!!" she finally looked up at her. "Do you have non-Darey pictures at all!!??" she asked with a brief playful terrified look then her expression changed to that of an amused penguin.

Picture after picture of him striking poses in various outfits, his model-perfect smile shining brighter than the Lagos sun. Some were professional shots, all sharp angles and high fashion, while others were candid photos that Adesua must have sneakily taken during their hangouts at the hub.

"Ah ah!" Nike exclaimed, holding the phone up like it was a trophy. "Adesua! This one that your gallery is a shrine to Darey, should I be expecting a wedding invitation soon?" she said narrowing her eyes side to side with a teasing look.

Adesua's cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she tried to grab her phone back, but Nike dodged effortlessly. "Stop it, Nike!" she whined. "It's not what you think!"

"Oh really?" Nike's tone dripped with sarcasm as she clicked on a photo of Darey in a sharp black suit, his smoldering gaze practically jumping off the screen. "Then what is it? You're just practicing photography, abi?"

Adesua let out a defeated sigh, slumping back in her chair. "Eh… you know naaa, he's a real man!" she exclaimed dreamingly.

Nike burst out laughing, almost spilling her drink. "Perfect? My dear, he's a former model and a current troublemaker. Be careful before you marry wahala."

"Shut up!" Adesua said, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "It's just a harmless crush, okay?"

"Harmless?" Nike wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. "You're one step away from framing these pictures and hanging them in your room."

Adesua grabbed her phone back, huffing. "Wait! That's actually a very lovely plan" she said grinning mischievously.

Nike, who leaned back in her chair, sipping her mock tail almost chocked on hearing the last statement. "Omo! Obsession wan wound this one ooo!!" she laughed. "But seriously… Abeg ooo! Which one is that's a lovely plan?" she asked mimicking her voice asking a rhetorical question.

Adesua's eyes widened. "Ah! I'm just joking ni," she wailed playfully.

Nike shrugged casually. "But sha, I have a professional photographer who can handle the job,"

"You are just pure evil! You want me to die?"

"Sha, you're smart, beautiful, and apparently a professional stalker. Darey would be lucky to have you." Nike said with a cool teasing smile.

Adesua groaned, but this time, she couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face. Maybe Nike wasn't entirely wrong.

"Jimi is still finer than Darey!" Nike said purposely not looking up at Adesua to see the sharp look than she just pierced her with.

"Talk am again!" she replied with a face ready to raise fight. Nike just laughed and Adesua joined the laughter.

****

Nike was about to leave the hub later that evening, the dimming sky painted with streaks of orange and purple, when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and saw a notification: her application for the cleaning job had been accepted.

She stared at the message, her face blank.

"A job I mistakenly applied for. God abeg," she muttered, shaking her head.

She considered ignoring it altogether, but a second thought crossed her mind. There's no harm in trying, she reasoned. Her guardian angel, as always, would protect her. With that, she pocketed her phone and headed to the address provided.

The estate was more luxurious than she'd expected. The gated community boasted sprawling mansions and pristine lawns, with security guards stationed at every corner. When she arrived at the house, the guard at the gate greeted her politely before leading her to the main entrance.

The building was an impressive duplex, its modern design standing out even among the surrounding opulence. Despite its high-class appeal, there was something off—it was visibly messy, with shoes scattered near the doorway and an overturned pot of plants by the side of the balcony.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice as she climbed the stairs.

"She's a girl?"

Nike halted mid-step and turned to see the source of the question. A guy, probably around twenty-five, leaned casually against the doorframe. He wore a plain white polo and shorts, but his simplicity only made his sharp features stand out. He was effortlessly gorgeous, and his presence seemed to command attention.

"Uh, what?" she asked, arching a brow.

"I mean… your profile said you were a boy," he clarified, his brows furrowing as if trying to make sense of her.

"Oh, I see," she said, letting out a chuckle that sounded more amused than genuine. "So, what now? You wouldn't have accepted me if you knew I was a girl?" Her face turned serious, her smile disappearing as she stared at him.

"Well, yeah," he replied with a shrug, his tone casual. "It's a big job—cleaning the whole house, which is a duplex, mind you—in about two weeks. And… you're a girl, meaning…"

"So?" she cut in, her forehead creasing. "I can do that naa."

"Alone?" he shot back, one brow raised. "Plus, we have to be careful about who we hire here. We don't want someone planting a bomb or something." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, don't worry," she retorted with a smirk. "I'll plant several bombs here. You'll love them."

The guy blinked, caught off guard by her wit. Then he laughed, a genuine, deep laugh. "Great! You're officially hired," he declared abruptly, glancing at his phone. "Resume tomorrow. 6:30 AM sharp." Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked inside.

Nike stood there, her expression shifting from disbelief to excitement. "What? I mean… wow!" she said, unable to hide her glee.

As she turned to leave, something caught her eye—a sleek black car parked in the driveway. Her heart skipped a beat. That car looks really familiar… she thought, staring at it a moment longer.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought. Nah, it can't be. She pushed the unease aside and headed out, already preparing herself for the challenge ahead.

****

Nike was up and ready. She was asked to resume at 6:30 but at 6:15, she was already around the streets of the house, checking buildings and snapping pictures of fine houses and their exterior decors.

Once it was 6:30AM on the dot, she was already at the gate of the house, knocking. The guy of yesterday opened the door. "Wow, you are early!" he exclaimed.

"It's quite necessary to keep to time don't you think?" she chuckled calmly. "Good morning,"

He chuckled back "Good morning dear, come this way," he directed her to a small house like a store where lots of implements were kept for farming, cleaning, house maintenance and etc. he directed her on what to do and left.

She sighed heavily. "Okay!" she changed into the shrugs there for cleaning, gloves and crocs shoes ready to work. She packed her hair in a bun and proceeded hanging her headphones over her head.

****

Entering into the main house, the site was even more shocking. Everywhere was in an epic mess, wet sofa, muddy floor….. But the beauty and riches of the house were not making attempt to hide at all. The furniture looked top notch and the scattered decors still looked mesmerizing.

Nike was still studying the environment, calculating where she will start from and wondering how things got this way.

"Bro! Damian! Stop I don't like this naa. You stole my perfume, I did not talk now you cannot repay my kindness for chocolate I've been begging you since! Haba naa!!" Jimi pouted with a playful frown.

"Shut it last born!" Damian retorted. It was the same guy earlier. "Your mates are getting married and giving birth to plenty kids, you! You are here, begging for chocolate," he said laughing with a squeezed face. "Shame on you!!" he concluded running downstairs out of the house.

"Haba, why are you guys wicked to me like this? Just because I'm the last born…" he wailed more walking lazily downstairs without his shirt on which was revealing what one can easily label as the most perfect body structure and toned abs perfectly aligning with his muscles.

"We last born are literally meant to be the most pampered and… WHAT THE FREAKING HELL?" he suddenly exclaimed in horror as his eyes met with that of Nike's who was silently staring at him with mouth slightly opened like someone who had just seen goat in a tuxedo.

****

Hey you guys, please creation is kinda hard and I need your motivations!!!! Likes and comments!!! Nigerian love is not a small thing okay!

love, Mireva!