There was absolute silence again. After some time, we were all done eating—except Abam, who was still slowly munching his bread into tiny bits, like he wanted it to last forever. Kids!
"Mom, I'd like to discuss something with you," I said, drying my hands on my pajamas. Mental note: don't wear these pajamas again until I wash them. They were starting to look (and probably smell) tragic.
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Maya said, turning her full attention on me.
Eva was staring too. Abam as well. How I hated their stares—like nosy little eavesdroppers. Nonsense!
"Err… well, actually, I'd like to get a job. I hate how idle I am right now," I explained.
"Stay for some time, boy. You're just new to the city. You've been here for only a month. You should get acquainted with the city first," Mrs. Maya pleaded.
"No, it's not good for a grown-up like me to stay home. My Ma didn't raise me that way," I said, chewing my nails nervously.
"As you wish, boy. But Eva will help you out, so you won't get lost. Won't you, Eva?" Mrs. Maya asked, glancing at us both.
"Yeah, of course," Eva said, running her hands through her ginger curls.
"Abam, go open the shop and get it cleaned. I'll join you later, okay?" Mrs. Maya instructed, gathering the plates.
For context, Mrs. Maya was a chemist—her shop wasn't just a small pharmacy but more like a mini-supermarket. She sold everything: medical drugs, cosmetics, local and foreign skincare. Basically, they were well-off.
Me? I wasn't thrilled about Eva tagging along. She'd tease me and make fun of me the whole way. But I had no choice.
"You wouldn't wanna keep me waiting, would you?" she asked, giving me her bossy look.
This was exactly why I didn't want her around.
I went upstairs, bathed, and got dressed. Together, we walked around town looking for a job. By some miracle, I landed one in a big beverage company—with a salary I actually liked.
"So, how will you repay me for the trouble I went through today?" Eva asked, breaking the long silence.
"Thank you!" I said sincerely.
"Not just a thank you, nigga! You'll have to do whatever I say," she shot back, stern voice and all.
"Like?" I asked, walking beside her, secretly admiring her face.
"For now, nothing. But when the time comes…" She let the words hang in the air.
"Okay," I muttered, unsure what kind of future favors I'd signed up for.
Eva was complicated. One second happy, the next, mad. She rarely laughed, and when she did, it was usually fake. She had witty comebacks ready at all times. She was a school dropout—not because of money, but because she wanted it that way. Me? I still dreamed of going back to school, but I didn't want to burden anyone. I wanted to earn my own money and get myself there.
The next morning, I woke up early, excited for work. My schedule was Monday to Friday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.—and honestly, I loved it. At least I wasn't idle anymore.
I looked sharp: blue checked shirt, white-and-black striped cargo pants, white kepi hat, midnight-blue Jika tabi shoes, and a black messenger bag.
At the company, a young fair lady in her late twenties approached me.
"Are you Francis?"
"Yeah, ma'am. I applied for the post of operations and production manager… I was here yesterday," I stammered, trying to sound formal.
"Okay, wait here while I inform the manager." She knocked, then slipped into his office. Moments later, she grinned. "Francis, you're needed inside."
"Thank you," I said nervously, bowing my head—whether out of respect or shame, I couldn't tell.
"Morning, Francis," the manager greeted, fiddling with his pen.
"Err—sorry, forgive me! Good morning, sir," I quickly corrected myself.
"I dug into your information… both in Nigeria and here in Ghana. And honestly? I'm impressed. So congratulations. You've got the job." He stood and shook my hand.
"Thank you, sir!" I almost shouted in relief.
We discussed my role as production and operations manager, the rules of the company, and the do's and don'ts. Then he called the lady back.
"Yes, sir," she said, stepping in.
"Show him around the industry and take him to his office," he instructed.
The lady—Stella—gave me the grand tour before leading me to my office. And wow. The moment I stepped in, I caught the scent of chocolates mixed with air freshener. The place had everything: open space, modern windows, comfy furniture, neat stacks of files, and even a laptop.
"A laptop?" I whispered to myself in disbelief.
Bookshelves lined the walls, a flower hung by the window, a TV on the wall, and even a full-sized mirror.
"Man, I love this!" I shouted, spinning around in the recliner like a kid.
"Mr. Francis, do you need anything?" Stella asked politely.
"No, I'm good," I said, still dizzy from excitement.
She later came back and showed me how to handle paperwork and submissions.
---
💡 Regular updater, ain't I?
He got a job—don't ask me how, because honestly I don't know either. But hey, a win is a win! Hurray! 🎉
So… boring or nah? 👀
Stay tuned for Chapter 12, fam… drumrolls please 🥁🎷
Yo favorite teen authoress 💝💝,
Oziomajasmine 😍