The pounding headache tries to pry my eyes open but while the little dim light in the room threatens to blind me if I as much as peer. The taste in my mouth? I try to prop myself on one elbow to get my bearings and its when I notice long ebony leg thrown over my shirtless chest. Hell! With her head buried under the pillows she remains a stranger. In the background is the slow buzz of a phone, crying for attention, but the more urgent matter of peeing need be attended to first.
Shoving the stranger’s leg aside, I survey the room. Nowhere I have been before, I conclude. There are two doors out of this room. The urgency of pee pushes this notion in my head to finish matters in a bottle. Silly. The half bottle of scotch lying on the table need not invite. As I reach for it, the unopened pack of cheap condoms lying on the table has me remember God; I utter his name while holding a curse under my breath. Heck!
The phone buzzes once more. I trace it under the bed. The screen, which somehow broke last night, displays one o’clock midday; seventeen messages and thirty something missed calls. Wa! Most of them are from my friend Ariel. I have to know what happened and I give him a call. Doomsday!
“Wewe! Where have you been? Where did you go with Butchers daughter?” He barks. “Hata simu hauchukui”. Small beads of perspiration form on my forehead as a cold creeps on the back of my neck. I see my careers spiralling down the gutter, possible harassment from the police and the guild banning me from ever practising. The Butcher is our ruthless Managing Editor. I piece one and two together. If that be his daughter in the bedroom its time to sprint……………..
(Catch up next week and for the continuation)