If I get enough requests by way of comments, I will tell the story of his mother…
He is my wee little man.
The boy is a wonder. Not just because he is my son, but because he has the capacity to creep the hell out of me.
Do not get me wrong, I love him. Most people do too. He is only three years old, but he carries on like one much older.
I had been out of the country for a week, and so he had to stay with his mum. It is not as if I have custody or anything, but he prefers to stay with me.
From the moment he was born, he took to me. He loves his mum, but he has decided to terrify me incessantly.
He loves almost every thing I like. The smell of coffee, aftershave and incense.
He loves fast machinery… My Mercedes-Benz AMG® GT, a Harley Davidson I have had for years and watching formula one.
He even likes Spartacus (the series) and boxing highlights that end in knockouts.
Oh, and he also knows how to bypass parental control settings on my decoder.
Did I mention that he is three years old?
I picked him up from his mum’s place and was headed for the Silverbird Galleria when he spoke for the first time that day.
“Dan, we have to be careful today…”
Yes, my three year old son calls me by my first name and is a bit of a psalter.
I have an office in the penthouse of Silverbird Galleria. I planned on a brief meeting because with a kid in tow there was little I could achieve.
“Da – an…”
“Yes my Chairman?” (that is his nickname)
“Don’t worry, I will be alright yeah?”
“Oookay… Just hold on to my hand…”
He hates unnecessary physical contact. Predictably, he declined.
Silverbird Galleria is simply a well – maintained shopping mall. It houses a cinema, gymnasium, designer brand outlets, bank branches, lounges, fast food brands amongst other flashy franchises.
Security is strict. Due diligence is consistently observed.
The affluent and wannabe’s alike throng the mall in self – induced self respect. It is a safe place to be.
Chairman and I had just gone through the metal detectors of the VIP entrance. We were then headed towards the private lifts to the west of the mall when a ruckus at the main entrance distracted us.
I remember smiling down at Chairman and telling him that a celebrity was visiting the mall.
Ms. Ini is an amazing actress, recently divorced. Not too tall, and a bombshell. ‘She would be a perfect date for Valentine’s day,’ I told him.
To which Chairman favored me with a sly smile. He is a good looking kid… But creepy as hell! Lol…
I looked across one more time and caught a glimpse of my crush being escorted by her private security up an escalator.
I looked back down and my son was gone.
In less than five seconds… My kid was just gone.
I felt my heart constrict painfully.
I started to hyperventilate.
I looked around wildly, nada!
In the center of a sparsely populated mall… Bloody hell!
I shouted for the mall security and they came running.
I am a known patron within the mall. I guaranteed the jobs of at least ten of the malls’ security officers and have another five staff of the mall that owe me favors. They literally shut down the mall for me that day.
A couple of minutes later, his cryptic admonitions started replaying in my head. I felt tears cloud my eyes.
I was hurriedly ushered upstairs towards the security room. All cctv footage were processed there. It was located on the third floor.
Announcements were already being made describing my son over the mall’s public address system.
I was knee – deep in shit!
The heat and malicious rumors his disappearance would generate would ruin my empire! His mum would die of heartbreak. She would sleep tonight and then die in her sleep before morning.
I called the commissioner of police and he benevolently put out a BOL & an ATL. He is a close ally and a great man. The city of Abuja was sealed almost instantly. Check points were activated at strategic locations in concentric circles from around the mall into the city.
“Oga, no be your pikin that woman hold so?” An excited mall official yelped pointing excitedly at the monitor.
“Which floor is that?!” I yelled already dashing out of the door.
“Fourth floor sir, make we follow the stairs. The ‘lift’ fit waste time.”
I was grateful for the dedication of the posse that were panting behind me.
Bless those men… All of you!
I came up out of the spiraling staircase with murderous intent. Whoever she was, I planned on inflicting pain in a few seconds.
I knew that the mall security would hold me back and so I deliberately increased my pace…
And almost ran into Ms. Ini.
The actress / celebrity / crush – thingy I was talking about earlier…
She was even lovelier up close. A lot smaller than the big screen portrayed… But as certain as sunrise tomorrow, she is stacked!
Just the way I like my women.
She and her entourage seemed to be headed towards the stairs I just lunged out of. My mien, speed and bulk had terrified the group into an impasse.
She had my son in her arms.
“Daddy!” He screamed out in glee…
Why was he calling me ‘daddy’?
Forget that he was in the arms of one of the country’s sexiest filmstars…
And how he got to her at all…
He did not like to be carried…at all!
“Chairman! I was worried! I am so upset with you! I am not happy at all…”
“Dah-ddy… Meet my friend Ms. Ini. She does not have a date for Valentine’s day either.”
She and I burst out laughing nervously at first. and as soon as I took her tiny hand in mine the laughter got quieter. Warmer. Tingly-er…
Everybody loves my Chairman… his cryptic admonitions started replaying (again) in my head. I felt tears cloud my eyes…
“Awww… It’s okay… I found him wandering. He’s such a smart kid. I love him! I would have never allowed him get hurt. We were coming to look for you… He insisted that we take the stairs…come here…”
And she dropped him and gave me one of the best hugs of my life. ‘The first of many’, I mentally promised myself.
Long story short, we exchanged contacts and shared a few cocktails that same night.
Everything ended well. Ms. Ini agreed to dinner come the fourteenth of February by seven pm. She magnanimously agreed to meet up in Abuja.
I planned to call @benmurraybruce, I was going to shut down Silverbird Galleria come February 14 for that night. Just Ms. Ini and I, and maybe some violinists … No matter the cost.
As I sat looking down at my sleeping son at about midnight (that same night), his eyes flew open.
“Dan, she is not your wife. Just have fun.”
He turned away to face the wall, leaving me with my mouth and eyes wide open.
If I get enough requests by way of comments, I will tell the story of his mother…
This Post Has 20 Comments
Oh dear Dan! You always have me in stitches! Anatha one please (in DJ Khaled’s voice) 😂😂😂
Definitely Carol! Thank you as always
Dan is an incredible story teller! Kudos dear. I enjoyed the read
Thank you Doc… Truly appreciate your kind words
This is the kind of kid I would love to birth.. Hehehehehe
See ya life?! 😀 Amen to that prayer!
You got my request man and by the way, have your fun…. She is not your wife!!!
P-Lube! P-to-tha-lube?! Are you back in town? The story of his mum just ‘loaded’ 30%… Just because of you.
You story telling is top notch. I wish I could write like you.
Damilola, thank you for your kind words. Yes you can. Just write. And then write. Read a lot of books. And then write some more. Looking forward to reading your work…
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This is the sort of kid we all desire. Well, it’s just a desire…
As always, your stories are impeccably written. I have lots of stories in my head but can’t just weave them together the way you do. It’s not much about the words that the way you use them to devastating effect
Thank you for your kind words. I find it helpful to ‘just write’. Then proceed to edit over the next few days. Whatever you do… Please write. You can only get better.
Simply amazing Dan… You should also write about that that. Oh and definitely the mum, can’t wait.
Simply amazing Dan… You should also write about that date. Oh and definitely the mum, can’t wait.
Thank you Ad…
Can’t wait for the mommas story! Thumbs up
Thank you Angela. Hmmm…
Quintessential Dan. 3 years and counting, we wait the story of his mum…
It’s out already EtiBee. It’s called ‘Yo Mama’