The day was bright on Friday, with only a few clouds visible as she made her way to the junction. Thankfully, she had seen an aboki to repair her other pair of shoes, so she walked with her usual confident strides, looking like she could take on the world.

Her denim and ankara gown fitted her slender frame just right, giving her a look that made her stand above the crowd of people hurrying to their various destinations. And she really stood above the crowd - not the type that looked weird, but the kind that made her stand out as a woman above the average female height. She'd long since learned to embrace it; to shut out the stares she always got.

"Sippit restaurant," she said to the first taxi she'd managed to hop into - more like squeeze into.

The morning rush was full-on and people were not smiling at all. Men and women in cooperate wears pushed to get a taxi on time, every trace of coolness thrown out the window. Everybody was a thug when it came to the never-ending hustle. Nobody wanted to go late and get a query at work. She understood them very well. She had once been in their shoes, slaving to get to the school where she taught Economics everyday, and returning in the evening feeling empty and exhausted - a cycle she'd first embraced but later grew to hate.

"I hope you have change o," the driver said, pulling her out of her walk down memory lane, and back to the musty old taxi. She wrinkled her nose at the smell - a combination of wet rag and a month old dry fish. The smell of neglect hung in the air, with proof like the bashed up body of the car and the vibration every time the driver picked up speed.

"Yes." She looked out the window, watching the roadside plazas and shops pass before her eyes, opening for the day and hoping to find more; be more in the city of oil.

Cool breeze blasted her face as the driver increased the speed, causing another round of vibration that made her slightly nauseous. Sandra better give her the chicken she promised she'd give to her if she went for the meeting. But who was she kidding? She wanted to go. Nobody was forcing her.

Sippit restaurant was located at Artilary, and she lived at Okporo. It was not a long distance, but the traffic jam they met a while later made it look like it was. The woman next to her began to cough, drawing her attention. The woman was wearing a blue gown that didn't fit right. Her fashion designing instincts kicked in as she began to imagine a better style for the woman. This kept her busy till she reached her destination.

She made her way to the restaurant, greeting the groggy guard who mumbled a reply in between a yawn. It seemed she was one of the few early customers as the place was empty. Mr Tamunotokini, as the business coach had told her his name in his last message, had told her to sit and wait for him. He said he'd be wearing a navy blue senator.

It was cool inside the restaurant. She took a sit by a table at the corner, directly opposite the big TV that was currently on the Africa magic channel. The volume was low and she was thankful for that. Pulling out her phone after ten minutes had passed, she began to play her favourite game, Temple Run.

Do guys usually come late? she wondered.

It was exactly an hour after she'd arrived and the restaurant was beginning to hum with live. Men, women and couples where seated around her, eating, talking and laughing. The volume of the TV had been increased, but it was on MTV base, music blasting out from it, half-dressed girls dancing in the videos that she was not interested in.

She'd been forced to order something rather than risk looking like a fool. So she was sitting at the corner, waiting, and angrily sipping a banana smoothie while trying her best to ignore the woman at the counter, behind the glass cases that displayed meat pies, and all other snacks. The woman who was geared up in her apron, nylon cap, and a generous slathering of make up was giving her a pitiful look.

I'm not sad, just mind your business, she wanted to shout at the woman but she knew it would be stupid to do so.

In a fit of impatience and hurt, she threw one last look at the clock on the wall above the TV, got up and made her way to the door. She would not be stood up on. Why had she even bothered to wait for an hour?

The sun was fiery as she walked out, making her squint and wish she'd brought her sunglasses with her. Making sure to close the heavy door, she whirled around, adrenaline cursing through her like fanta. The hit was mild, but she stumbled a little. She did not bother to look at who had hit her; she was too angry to start a meaningless argument with a stranger. But she felt a little tingle, and caught a whiff of minty perfume. And, the person too did not bother to see who they had hit. It seemed they were both in a hurry.

She stomped to the junction, feeling like an eight year old who did not get some sweet as promised.

Damn Sandra for telling me about this. Damn the guy for standing me up!

It seemed her luck had thoroughly run out as there was no taxi or bus in sight as she stood there, by the side of the road.

"Hello, miss," A deep, soothing voice said beside her. She had been so consumed by the anger coursing through her that she did not notice the person come to stand beside her.

The first thing she saw when she turned to face the person was blue - navy blue senator.

"Are you Mr Tamunotokini?" The words - slightly unsure of the right way to pronounce his name - left her mouth before their eyes met. When it finally did, her breathe hitched a little. His eyes. His russet brown eyes that stood out on his dark skin was beautiful. And it infuriated her.

"I go by Otokini mostly. Are you Miss Chinonye?" He replied, mirth dancing in his eyes.

She held back the scream in her chest that was pushing for release. Why was he smiling? And why did he look familiar?

"Yes. Yes, I am. . .Mr Otokini," she finally answered.

He brought out his hand. "It's nice to meet you. I'm very sorry I kept you waiting for an hour, I had things to handle that were beyond my control"

She hissed quietly, and reluctantly accepted the warm handshake. "You didn't think to inform me?"

He smiled, unfazed. His carefully shaped side-beard seemed to move with his lips. "Like I said, beyond my control. I'm glad I caught up with you. Please can we go inside and get away from the sun? I don't want your fair skin to get a sunburn." He began to walk. Then he turned and looked at her. "Where are my manners? After you, ma'am."

She was sure she was pouting, but she did not care. If he thought she would forgive him because of a little chauvinistic act, he was dead wrong. Free coaching or not, her pride was still intact.

She walked briskly ahead of him - not failing to catch a whiff of his minty perfume - and made her way to where she was seated before. It was still vacant. The door man still looked stiff, like he was sleeping while standing. The woman at the counter stared at Otokini openly, making her to roll her eyes. The woman must be very good at staring at people or very jobless, she concluded.

He rubbed his hands together - his large hands - as he sat down, and said, "What would you like to eat?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," she replied tersely.

"Oh. Well. Let me get a drink." He made his way to the counter and to the woman who had been staring at him. By the time he came back, she was already tired.

"Please let's get on with this, I don't want to waste my day," she said, controlling her tone.

"Okay. Today is just an introductory meeting. But I want you to do something for me." She gave him a look that said, Bring it on!

"I want you to write down your goals for your business. Fine, from what you filled out in the form, you're a talented fashion designer. But, I want you to write it down in form of a diary entry. Just write down your goals. The things that make you want to try harder, be better."

She folded her arms and looked at the table thoughtfully. Her goals? Why did she have to write them down?

Brushing it off, she decided to ask him a question that had been bugging her. "Did you, perhaps... attend FGC Ohafia?"

His expression was a mixture of surprise and mirth. "Yes. You don't happen to be one of those my countless secret admirers I had back then, do you?"

This time she laughed genuinely. "Oh no. To me, you were just the over hyped head boy."

"Oh, really?" He said it like he was angry, but his face was still in its permanent smile.

She could manage him, she could.

As he followed her back to the junction, there was a kind of silence that came with meeting someone for the first time after a long while. It was different though, because he was her old head boy.

"So, what set were you?"

"2013."

"Hmmm three years below me." He smirked.

Just then, a blue and white streaked taxi slowed down.

"Okporo," she said as she entered with as much dignity as she could manage. Her height always seemed to make it hard for her to enter and fit well into small vehicles.

"Goodbye," he said. "Don't forget, we'll be meeting on Mondays and Fridays. Have a nice weekend." He waved.

She waved back.

As the wind whipped her box braids into her face, she thought, Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Maybe he could help her achieve her dreams. Then a part of her mind remembered vaguely the senior who had been too reserved for a head boy. He was definitely a nice person. But the treacherous, dominant part of her mind took the reigns and started planning her week ahead.

Oh men, it was only Friday! 

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