When Luck Runs Out - A Short Story by Bamidele Gbenga Olowosile
- By Bamidele Gbenga Olowosile
- Published June 17, 2009
- Fiction
-
Rating:
Bamidele Gbenga Olowosile
Bamidele Gbenga Olowosile is an Economics undergraduate of the
“Thanks,” he replied with a short smile that exposed his clean set of teeth and the dimples on his cheek. “So where are you going?” he enquired.
“Just going to hang out for the night actually?”
Her response was much calmer now and Olawale relished the feeling of victory again as he always did whenever he achieved his constant ‘woman-catching’ feat.
“Any specific place in mind?” he asked, winking at her.
She shrugged. “I don’t have a specific place in mind. Maybe you can show me,” she said, smiling.
“Why don’t we talk in my car?” he said confidently. “We could decide on something while we drive on.”
Two minutes later, they were settled in and chatting excitedly as he drove on. He decided to head for Ikoyi where he knew was the place to be on a Friday night, considering the fact that a good number of funspots and clubs were situated there. He smiled as he watched the girl sitting on his right from the corner of his eye. The music blaring from the sound system in the car and the air conditioner pumping out cool air were definitely registering in the young woman’s system, he noticed as he caught her nodding slowly and feeling very comfortable.
“You must be a very big boy,” she said after a while. “Imagine all this luxury.”
“It’s God, my dear. God and hardwork,” he said with a chuckle.
“So, what do you do?” she probed.
Olawale smiled again as he wondered to himself why all the women he met always asked this question. He had a programmed answer for this same question.
“I’m a businessman” he said casually. “Someday, I’ll invite you to come see me in my office on the Island. Would you love to come?”
“Sure, anytime,” she said quickly. “My name is Gina.”
He had been waiting for her to tell him her name. He made it a point never to introduce himself first. That was a typical big-boy attitude, he had since learnt.
“Wally,” he simply said, and drove on.
“Wally? Nice name.” Gina commended.
He smiled again. “Thanks. Yours sounds nice too.”
They had just climbed the Falomo Bridge through Akin Adesola Street and as they approached the Police checkpoint, he noticed Gina was suddenly jittery.
“What’s the matter?” he asked in concern. “It’s just the police.”
“Don’t stop. Just drive on!” she commanded.
He looked ahead and noticed the policemen were signaling from the distance for him to pull over. It wouldn’t be the first time he was been asked to stop by policemen. They were just doing their duty and he had no problems with that.
“What? Why?” he began, but was suddenly cut short when Gina pulled out a pistol from her handbag. He shook visibly as he beheld the gun in her hands.
“Pl . . . Please …” he began, as cold sweat broke out on his forehead, in spite of the working air conditioner in the car. He slowed down as they got within thirty metres of the checkpoint. The car in front of them had stopped as the policemen spoke with its driver.
“Shut up and drive on!” she yelled, pushing the gun against his ribs.
The feel of the metal against his body sent shivers down his spine and instantly, he lost control of the wheels and crashed forcefully into the car in front, sending shreds of broken headlights and windshield into the air. Within seconds, they had been surrounded by policemen who shouted angrily.
“Are you crazy? Wetin you dey drive?”
“Get out of that car now!”
“Na only you sabi drink?”
The angry voices of the policemen roared from all sides. Olawale had hardly recovered from the shock of the impact of the accident when he felt himself being dragged out of the car and kicked viciously. He attempted to talk but was silenced by more beating.
“Shut up! You still dey talk?”
He felt a mixture of pain and drunkenness at the same time and as he felt his strength seeping away from him, he heard one last audible statement.
“Ah, dem get gun sef! Can you imagine? Criminals! They have a gun!”
Olawale woke up hours later in a police cell where he could hardly move his limbs. He wondered if the policemen had not gotten some of his bones broken in the process of beating him up. He felt his swollen cheek and blood stained clothes. Slowly, he began to remember all that had happened and silently prayed that the policemen had not confused him for a criminal. The reality dawned on him when he was later led into the interrogation room at daybreak.
“Where did you people get the car?” the man in front of him asked.
“I don’t understand,” he said and he would have said more but was cut short by a deafening slap that hit him across the face.
“I say where una steal that car,” the interrogator repeated.
“I’m a driver.” Olawale said quickly, holding his burning face in his hands. “It’s my madam’s car. Abeg, officer. I no be thief!”
“You are a liar!” the man challenged. “That girl said you were together. You people were going to rob, abi?”
Amidst the beatings and unending slaps, Olawale managed to say all he knew about what had happened. He furnished the policemen with his boss’ contact details.
“If we find out that you are lying, you will die here. That’s a promise!” one of the men said, his eyes burning with anger. “We will call your so-called Madam Briggs and confirm if you are lying or not. Criminal!”
When he was led back into his cell, he felt worse than he had been before the interrogation. This time, it wasn’t just because of the physical pains. He knew his life was over. He would no doubt lose his job once his boss caught wind of what had happened. The damaged car was another issue entirely, but what was worse was the police case. Had it only been about the damaged car, he could have explained things away to her without getting into trouble, but how would he explain getting involved in police trouble. Mrs. Briggs would no doubt fire him. That was the least of his troubles in fact. He could cope with being fired but how could he cope with being labeled a criminal. He wondered what in the world he had gotten himself into. He had only been out to have some fun and he had unknowingly picked up a criminal. Now, the girl claimed they were together and of course the policemen believed her. Even if his boss attested to the fact that he was her driver, that wouldn’t be enough to get him off the hook. For the first time, his colleague, Theo’s words made sense to him. He wasn’t smart after all. He had simply been lucky all this while.
Mrs. Kathy Briggs showed up at the Ikoyi Police station shortly after noon and to add to Olawale’s troubles. She came with his wife, Sade. At the sight of his wife, Olawale almost wet his pants. He was done for!
“Wetin dem talk say you do, Baba Tomiwa?” she yelled, putting her hands on her head. “Oga Police, abeg o. My husband e no be thief o!”
His wife had to be taken out of the scene forcefully and the policemen briefed Mrs. Briggs on all that happened. She attested to the fact that Olawale Martins was indeed her personal driver for about three years and she could vouch for his honesty. She chided him for his promiscuity when she heard his part of the story and promised to deal with him if ever he came out.
“So what happens to him now?” Mrs. Briggs asked. “Can he go with us?”
“I’m sorry Madam,” the officer in charge of the case told her politely. “He can’t. We found a gun in his possession.”
“But he just told me it was the girl who had the gun and she even threatened to kill him!” she challenged. “I know this man, okay. He’s not a criminal.”
The policeman sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do about that, Madam. The girl told us they were together.”
“She’s lying. I swear she’s . . .” Olawale began, amidst sobs.
“Shut up!” the policeman yelled at him.
“So . . .” Mrs. Briggs began, but was cut short by another policeman who walked in.
“Sergeant, there is new information,” the newcomer said to his superior, the officer in charge.
The officer in charge excused himself and left with the policeman who had come in. Mrs. Briggs stared at Olawale who bowed his head in shame as he stared at the handcuffs on his wrist.
“I’m very sorry Madam,” he said as tears flooded his eyes.
The white woman simply shook her head and turned away without a word.
About fifteen minutes later, the officer in charge returned.
“I’m sorry for taking your time Madam,” he said to Mrs. Briggs. “It appears your driver is actually correct. My man just told me that on thorough interrogation, the girl has confessed that she indeed had the gun and your driver here had nothing to do with it.”
“Now you see,” Mrs. Briggs said.
“She thought he was a rich man and it appears she planned to actually rob him later on. She saw us at the checkpoint and she was scared and so had to push him.”
“What a heartless girl!” Mrs. Briggs remarked.
“She appears not to be a professional though. We’ll do some further interrogation.”
“So what happens to him?” she asked, pointing at Olawale.
“He’s free. You’ll just have to pay for his bail.”
“Bail! I thought bail was free.” Mrs. Briggs said.
The officer smiled. “Just a routine procedure, ma.”
“I see. It’s okay.” Mrs. Briggs said, unconvinced.
Thirty minutes later, Olawale sat in the front passenger seat of the car as Theo drove them home. He could not bear turning to look behind at his boss who sat right behind him or at his wife who sat on the far left. He knew it would only take a miracle to save his job. Well, miracles sure do happen, he thought. So far, his boss had been quite nice. After all, she had bailed him out. He could only hope and pray. As for his wife, they would sort issues out at home. He was prepared to face the music.
“Just going to hang out for the night actually?”
Her response was much calmer now and Olawale relished the feeling of victory again as he always did whenever he achieved his constant ‘woman-catching’ feat.
“Any specific place in mind?” he asked, winking at her.
She shrugged. “I don’t have a specific place in mind. Maybe you can show me,” she said, smiling.
“Why don’t we talk in my car?” he said confidently. “We could decide on something while we drive on.”
Two minutes later, they were settled in and chatting excitedly as he drove on. He decided to head for Ikoyi where he knew was the place to be on a Friday night, considering the fact that a good number of funspots and clubs were situated there. He smiled as he watched the girl sitting on his right from the corner of his eye. The music blaring from the sound system in the car and the air conditioner pumping out cool air were definitely registering in the young woman’s system, he noticed as he caught her nodding slowly and feeling very comfortable.
“You must be a very big boy,” she said after a while. “Imagine all this luxury.”
“It’s God, my dear. God and hardwork,” he said with a chuckle.
“So, what do you do?” she probed.
Olawale smiled again as he wondered to himself why all the women he met always asked this question. He had a programmed answer for this same question.
“I’m a businessman” he said casually. “Someday, I’ll invite you to come see me in my office on the Island. Would you love to come?”
“Sure, anytime,” she said quickly. “My name is Gina.”
He had been waiting for her to tell him her name. He made it a point never to introduce himself first. That was a typical big-boy attitude, he had since learnt.
“Wally,” he simply said, and drove on.
“Wally? Nice name.” Gina commended.
He smiled again. “Thanks. Yours sounds nice too.”
They had just climbed the Falomo Bridge through Akin Adesola Street and as they approached the Police checkpoint, he noticed Gina was suddenly jittery.
“What’s the matter?” he asked in concern. “It’s just the police.”
“Don’t stop. Just drive on!” she commanded.
He looked ahead and noticed the policemen were signaling from the distance for him to pull over. It wouldn’t be the first time he was been asked to stop by policemen. They were just doing their duty and he had no problems with that.
“What? Why?” he began, but was suddenly cut short when Gina pulled out a pistol from her handbag. He shook visibly as he beheld the gun in her hands.
“Pl . . . Please …” he began, as cold sweat broke out on his forehead, in spite of the working air conditioner in the car. He slowed down as they got within thirty metres of the checkpoint. The car in front of them had stopped as the policemen spoke with its driver.
“Shut up and drive on!” she yelled, pushing the gun against his ribs.
The feel of the metal against his body sent shivers down his spine and instantly, he lost control of the wheels and crashed forcefully into the car in front, sending shreds of broken headlights and windshield into the air. Within seconds, they had been surrounded by policemen who shouted angrily.
“Are you crazy? Wetin you dey drive?”
“Get out of that car now!”
“Na only you sabi drink?”
The angry voices of the policemen roared from all sides. Olawale had hardly recovered from the shock of the impact of the accident when he felt himself being dragged out of the car and kicked viciously. He attempted to talk but was silenced by more beating.
“Shut up! You still dey talk?”
He felt a mixture of pain and drunkenness at the same time and as he felt his strength seeping away from him, he heard one last audible statement.
“Ah, dem get gun sef! Can you imagine? Criminals! They have a gun!”
Olawale woke up hours later in a police cell where he could hardly move his limbs. He wondered if the policemen had not gotten some of his bones broken in the process of beating him up. He felt his swollen cheek and blood stained clothes. Slowly, he began to remember all that had happened and silently prayed that the policemen had not confused him for a criminal. The reality dawned on him when he was later led into the interrogation room at daybreak.
“Where did you people get the car?” the man in front of him asked.
“I don’t understand,” he said and he would have said more but was cut short by a deafening slap that hit him across the face.
“I say where una steal that car,” the interrogator repeated.
“I’m a driver.” Olawale said quickly, holding his burning face in his hands. “It’s my madam’s car. Abeg, officer. I no be thief!”
“You are a liar!” the man challenged. “That girl said you were together. You people were going to rob, abi?”
Amidst the beatings and unending slaps, Olawale managed to say all he knew about what had happened. He furnished the policemen with his boss’ contact details.
“If we find out that you are lying, you will die here. That’s a promise!” one of the men said, his eyes burning with anger. “We will call your so-called Madam Briggs and confirm if you are lying or not. Criminal!”
When he was led back into his cell, he felt worse than he had been before the interrogation. This time, it wasn’t just because of the physical pains. He knew his life was over. He would no doubt lose his job once his boss caught wind of what had happened. The damaged car was another issue entirely, but what was worse was the police case. Had it only been about the damaged car, he could have explained things away to her without getting into trouble, but how would he explain getting involved in police trouble. Mrs. Briggs would no doubt fire him. That was the least of his troubles in fact. He could cope with being fired but how could he cope with being labeled a criminal. He wondered what in the world he had gotten himself into. He had only been out to have some fun and he had unknowingly picked up a criminal. Now, the girl claimed they were together and of course the policemen believed her. Even if his boss attested to the fact that he was her driver, that wouldn’t be enough to get him off the hook. For the first time, his colleague, Theo’s words made sense to him. He wasn’t smart after all. He had simply been lucky all this while.
Mrs. Kathy Briggs showed up at the Ikoyi Police station shortly after noon and to add to Olawale’s troubles. She came with his wife, Sade. At the sight of his wife, Olawale almost wet his pants. He was done for!
“Wetin dem talk say you do, Baba Tomiwa?” she yelled, putting her hands on her head. “Oga Police, abeg o. My husband e no be thief o!”
His wife had to be taken out of the scene forcefully and the policemen briefed Mrs. Briggs on all that happened. She attested to the fact that Olawale Martins was indeed her personal driver for about three years and she could vouch for his honesty. She chided him for his promiscuity when she heard his part of the story and promised to deal with him if ever he came out.
“So what happens to him now?” Mrs. Briggs asked. “Can he go with us?”
“I’m sorry Madam,” the officer in charge of the case told her politely. “He can’t. We found a gun in his possession.”
“But he just told me it was the girl who had the gun and she even threatened to kill him!” she challenged. “I know this man, okay. He’s not a criminal.”
The policeman sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do about that, Madam. The girl told us they were together.”
“She’s lying. I swear she’s . . .” Olawale began, amidst sobs.
“Shut up!” the policeman yelled at him.
“So . . .” Mrs. Briggs began, but was cut short by another policeman who walked in.
“Sergeant, there is new information,” the newcomer said to his superior, the officer in charge.
The officer in charge excused himself and left with the policeman who had come in. Mrs. Briggs stared at Olawale who bowed his head in shame as he stared at the handcuffs on his wrist.
“I’m very sorry Madam,” he said as tears flooded his eyes.
The white woman simply shook her head and turned away without a word.
About fifteen minutes later, the officer in charge returned.
“I’m sorry for taking your time Madam,” he said to Mrs. Briggs. “It appears your driver is actually correct. My man just told me that on thorough interrogation, the girl has confessed that she indeed had the gun and your driver here had nothing to do with it.”
“Now you see,” Mrs. Briggs said.
“She thought he was a rich man and it appears she planned to actually rob him later on. She saw us at the checkpoint and she was scared and so had to push him.”
“What a heartless girl!” Mrs. Briggs remarked.
“She appears not to be a professional though. We’ll do some further interrogation.”
“So what happens to him?” she asked, pointing at Olawale.
“He’s free. You’ll just have to pay for his bail.”
“Bail! I thought bail was free.” Mrs. Briggs said.
The officer smiled. “Just a routine procedure, ma.”
“I see. It’s okay.” Mrs. Briggs said, unconvinced.
Thirty minutes later, Olawale sat in the front passenger seat of the car as Theo drove them home. He could not bear turning to look behind at his boss who sat right behind him or at his wife who sat on the far left. He knew it would only take a miracle to save his job. Well, miracles sure do happen, he thought. So far, his boss had been quite nice. After all, she had bailed him out. He could only hope and pray. As for his wife, they would sort issues out at home. He was prepared to face the music.