📚 OIL MONEY ♨️

⭕ A NIGERIAN STORY ⭕

©️ SHINA SCRIPTS 🔥

💢 #EPISODE 3️⃣ 💢

📜 TOBI 📜

While I study this woman standing in front of me, a lot of thoughts run through my mind but one of them stood out. It is something that makes me perplexed anytime she does this her impulsive thing.

"You have guts." I voice out, astonished by the fact that she practically barged into the office. I watch her straighten her figure while keeping up the frown on her face. She is stubborn, I give her that.

"Mr. Bankole, there are some documents you need to sign as a matter of urgency." The way she calls my name; like she is the one paying my salary. What sort of woman is this? Always trying to prove a point.

"Miss. Lawal, calm down and sit." She is startled. I think she expected another reaction from me. Her facial expression almost gives off her surprise.

"Where are the credit notes?" I ask her. This question is deliberate to make her know that I did not forget.

"In my office." She responds.

"And you came here without it? What exactly was your point, barging in if you did not come with it."

"I just wanted to remind you." Must she respond to everything? God!

"I am well aware of it. Get them so I can sign."

"Okay." She responds and leaves.

"Who is she?" Joan asks the minute the door closes.

"Farida." For the first time I call her first name. She seems interesting. She speaks. "Just keep it in mind that she is headache personified."

"Ehen?" She smirks. "Anyway, hope you're still coming as my date for my cousin's wedding?" She asks.

"I'll think about it." Her family has been troubling her to get a man. Her hopes are that they seeing me would lessen the pressure they exert on her in regards to that.

"What is it with you and your recent shakara? Nigerian girls have been whining you, abi?"

"You're not serious. The Nigerian girls I have been seeing don't have what it takes." I am obviously joking. Met quite a number of nice-looking ones.

"I seriously pick offense."

"Eiyahh.."

"I swear, you are not nice."

The shrill ring of the office land line cuts into our conversation.

"She is here, Sir." Ugomma informs me.

"Let her in." I direct her. She could have just barged in like before. Note my sarcasm. Crazy woman.

"Hello. Here it is." She looks up to me and smiles a little. Without saying a word, I collect the documents and go through them before signing. Once I am done, I hand it over to her and watch as she walks out. I study her closely, and that is when I notice it. A shiny object at her ankles. An anklet and damn did it look beautiful on her feet. Through this week, she wore trousers so they were not obvious but this time, the skirt she wore easily gave them off.

"Let me not say anything. Just please come to the wedding this weekend." My eyes widen when I hear that.

"I thought it was next week." This Saturday was already fixed for surveying a sight on which we wanted to build another station.

"No. It's this week. Kai, Tobi you have forgotten." She slaps her hand across her head in frustration.

"Don't worry. I'll sort it out." Guess we're just going to have to shift this survey for the next week.

📜 FARIDA 📜

I had been trying to wrap my head around how to get permission to not be present this weekend when the mail came in. He has another official event to be at, that's what the mail said. God is really on my side and I am thankful.

Grateful that this happened, at least I necessary did not have to be absent from an official event. My train of thoughts is interrupted by Bukky.

"We are almost late for our makeup and gele appointment. I don't know the number of years you guys want to use in preparing." She ends it with a hiss.

"Abeg, free me. You don't know whether husband will come from that place now. I cannot come and be looking anyhow." Tamara says, even with a click of her tongue. Smh.

"Still, be fast, abeg. It's not as if there is any makeup you guys are doing." If you haven't figured it already, the three of us live together.

After dressing up, we pick our geles and meet up with the Uber driver who has been waiting for us, the reason behind Bukky's disturbance. None of us has strength to drive today.

"Sorry we kept you waiting." After the quick apology, the driver nods and starts the trip.

We soon arrive at the Salon and rush in to finish up the final stages of our preparation. The venue is not far from here and as such, getting there will be a little easy. The person getting married is my classmate from secondary school, back at Queens College (QC), Yaba, Lagos. Well, Bukky and Tamara did attend QC too. We have a separate Ankara for the wedding, class girls things.

So we finally arrive at the wedding looking all glammed up and sweet. We were shown the seats reserved for us which we occupied, alongside some other girls from my set. Our table also had Chinwedu. I don't really like her because she loves to flaunt her life in our faces.

"I don't know why they did not put my husband on the same table with me." Bukky kicks me under the table and I roll my eyes, scoffing a little. She has started again. How does she expect her husband to be placed on the same table with us when she knows that our table is more like a QC arrangement?

"Boya you should go and sit down with him." Someone replies her. See? I am not the only person that has a problem with her.

"What sort of talk is that?" Abeg, we are in public. These people should not come and start embarrassing someone.

"Exactly what you heard." The person who responded earlier shoots back. Knowing her kind of person, Chinwe obviously picked offense but the fact that most people on this table did not care is what is sweeting my body and soul.

"Chinwe, use common sense nau." I have been wondering why Tamara did not speak since. Lol, she finally did.

Angry, Chinwe stands up to leave the table, not before giving us a hot one.

"It is not my fault that you all are not married. Even the ones that have kids had them out of wedlock." She hisses and walks out.

Ye! This one pained me and really entered.

"She has mental problem." Tamara says after. Now that the pest is out of here, someone can finally have a breath of fresh air and even enjoy the wedding in peace. The event is going on well and at this stage, the bride is being walked down the aisle by her father. After the couple exchange vows, they are officially pronounced husband and wife.

I need to ease myself so I make my way to the restroom. After being done with my business, I am about to head back when a hand stops me halfway. I look up and I am met with an unfamiliar face. Smartly, I detach my hands from his, maintaining a reasonable distance between us.

"Hi, pretty lady." He says, showing me his 32. This man should please excuse me, I need to leave this place.

"Hello. Could you excuse me, please?" I say, not even willing to listen to him.

"Just a few minutes of your time." Is he trying to be charming? Uncle, your entire body language is irritating.

"As you can see, I am in a hurry. Just excuse me." First of all, he is in way. Secondly, I dont want to push him out because that's what leads to my third point; What if I touch him and he uses 'touch and follow' for me. Abeg, I cannot shout. Lastly, I don't want to create a sin.

"I said just give me some minutes of your time." His tone is aggressive for a short while but he attempts to mask it with a smile.

"But you are well aware that this is harassment, right?" With raised eyebrows, I ask.

"The lady said you should leave her. My eyes widen upon realizing who just spoke. Mr. Bankole. Talk about lesser evil.

"Stay out of this, guy."

"Not if she is my girlfriend." Hoin? Is this one high? God forbid sha. No be only girlfriend. I reject it with my full chest.

Mr. Bankole walks up to me, places his hand behind my waist and pulls me close to him. I want to cringe. In fact, I think I did. Not sure, though. Remember the thought on the 'lesser evil'? I guess it's why I am still a little bit static and not making his lie obvious because this guy in front of us is a creep. A serious perv. But who even told this uncle boss that I need to be saved? Men just like to think of themselves as saviors for women.

If the situation had gone out of control, it is to remove my heels and fight him. I kuku wore leggings under my skirt. I can actually defend myself. So, I need no man standing in for me. Nevertheless, I just keep up the act and walk pass the guy with Mr. Bankole. When we have lost him, I detach myself from his hold and glare at him. Forcing an unwarranted 'thank you', I walk out, not missing his response.

"You're welcome." He calls out, behind me.


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