by Femi Eromosele

”He was more than willing to let go of this part of his life, which she must never find out about ”

The heady smell of igbo was thick in the air. The five men, with eyes already glazed, puffed in turns on their wraps; intermittently using their hands to ward off smoke, as if to see clearly. Magic was trying hard not to puff more than five times. He always kept count.

On days like these, Magic liked to stay clear-headed. If he finished a whole joint, his head became too fuzzy and he would make silly mistakes, like slipping into his perfectly enunciated English. He didn’t like that. It gave him away and made people want to reason with him. That was bad for business. Very bad. He needed people to be too fearful to question or reason. Five puffs was just good. That kept him high enough, without losing him in the skies, high enough to get the job done.

The journey from Benin, the previous day, had been rather stressful. His back and buttocks still ached from the ceaseless bouncing, each time the driver hit a pothole. The road to Lagos has always been in disrepair. He couldn’t remember a time it wasn’t. Usually, he would go with ‘God is Good’ AC buses, but he didn’t have that kind of money this time. The nameless transporters by the school main gate charged a lot less. They didn’t have a big name he had to pay for. And from the testimony of his buttocks, they had no shock absorbers to pay for either.

“Don’t worry,” he consoled himself, “this should be the last time you would go on such a bus.”

Fourth puff. He was getting there. They had run through the routine one last time, and it was almost time to go. His mind drifted to his girl. He had been thinking of quitting. He could not continue with the risks any more. Once he was done with his final exams in a few weeks, he would go and start up his printing business. He had no intention of looking for any job. The proceeds from this last job would be enough to set that up and even get married the following year, like he planned. Maria would be in her finals then. She was a good girl, and he could tell she was from a good family. He was more than willing to let go of this part of his life, which she must never find out about.

“Guys, time don reach. Make we dey go,” Degbesco interrupted his musing, in a voice that sounded clogged with sharp sand.

Magic was relieved. He had just noted with worry that Degbesco was smoking more than usual. He tended to get a little reckless afterwards.

” Make una remember, na sharp sharp we go do am. We go take the document wey Chief say make we collect. If money dey the house, dat na our own.” Wahala explained unnecessarily. They all knew the money Chief had promised was more than enough to make anything they might find in the house seem like peanuts.

He thought of his girl again and how he longed to see her. He should be back in Benin before she returned from Abuja. She said she was going to see her uncle’s family. It was her custom to spend a weekend with them every month. She had no idea he had left Benin an hour after she did.

He took the fifth puff.

They parked the car in front of the street. The security guard came out with his flash light to see if it was the regular ‘night crawler’ who lived at number 4. The guns that suddenly flashed at him made him as meek as a cow before a Fulani herdsman. They tied him up and left Agbako to watch over him. The house was easy to locate. They knew their target would be at home. According to Chief, he used the place during weekends though his family lived on the Island.

The guard in the house came off even easier to deal with, than they envisaged. Kura and Bado climbed the gate in and caught him unawares as he slept. They banged on the door, their confidence buoyed by the steel in their hands. Out of impatience, Degbesco fired a shot on the lock. It didn’t open it, but it seemed to convince the house help that they weren’t vendors.

In the master bedroom, was a terrified Mr Chike, shaking on his knees and wearing only his boxers.

“Please take all you want. My money is inside the wardrobe,” He pleaded, with a voice obviously not used to begging.

“Sharap! Who tell you say na money we dey find? Wey your briefcase?” Magic pointed the gun at his head, as realisation of their true mission dawned on him.

Degbesco dragged a half nude figure from under the bed where she had been hiding, and Magic nearly lost his grip on the gun. Staring back at him was a pair of eyes Magic knew too well- Maria, she was equally shocked to see her boyfriend.

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Femi Eromosele is a teacher who resides in Lagos. He takes pleasure in reading and telling stories.

30 Days 30 Voices series is an opportunity for young Nigerians from across the world to share their stories and experiences – creating a meeting point where our common humanity is explored.

Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.