Disaster Brings Happiness

July 15th 2019

I drove throughout the night, only stopping twice to take a piss and to buy fuel. The goal was to get to Abuja before seven a.m in morning at whatever cost necessary. And as I pressed down on the gas of my Toyota Camry, I knew the car would soon begin cursing me or flat out breakdown. Just as I expected the car jolted and I grumbled in frustration and something akin to annoyance. Stressing the car or myself had not been the initial plan. But when I discovered my only options were between my car or a free ride from my dad's private jet, I had picked the car without a backward glance.

I zoomed past the welcome to Abuja sign boldly written by the side of the road, the beautiful sight of the city caught my attention as I did. I couldn't help but take a moment to admire the beauty and grace of the state. Abuja was way more peaceful than my hometown Lagos and deep down, I hoped it would bring better luck.

After another five minutes of reckless driving, I arrived at the hotel, parked my car beside a Prado jeep, picked up my briefcase and phone, and then stepped out of the car and into the cold morning air.

"Good morning sir," a man with round bright eyes greeted me from behind and I turned. My eyes landed on the badge resting on his left breast pocket before lifting it to his face. He was a porter. I tossed my car key to him and began making my way into the hotel.

"Should I park everything in the trunk, sir?" The Porter asked and I nodded, still taking long strides towards the hotel reception. But then I paused, impulsively turned and began making my way towards him. When I got to him, I slipped some Naria notes into his unsuspecting hands and made for the reception doors again. The guy's eyes widened in surprise.

"Thank you very much, sir-" he began but I was already halfway into the lobby of the hotel. The truth was, I didn't give a damn about his gratitude. I hadn't done it for him. I had done it for a way deeper reason.

I stepped into the lobby and made for the reception desk. Bolton White was one of the good hotels in Abuja. Although it wasn't rated five stars, It was rated three and that was comfortable enough for me. Also, I didn't want to be recognized by any of my father's partners while in Abuja.

Getting to the reception stand, I placed my phone on the counter. "Hello, what can I do for you?" A beautiful woman with light brown hair asked.

"I have a reservation for the week," I replied, taking in her appearance and physical features. She looked familiar.

"Okay. What's your name?"

"Charles. Charles Harrell," I replied and watched as she punched some keys on her laptop.

I sighed. I was running late. Lord knew I didn't have time to waste. Which was why I had booked ahead in the first place. Tapping my fingers on the polished counter I glanced around, making a quick sweep of my environment. When I was sure there was no one suspicious watching me, I glanced at my watch.

6:34 am.

Damn!

"Your room is ready for you sir," the pretty receptionist finally said and I sighed in relief.

"Thanks," I muttered and made to grab the card from her protruding hands only to freeze at the sight of a triangular tattoo etched into the corner of her wrist.

What the fuck was my... that insignia doing on this woman's wrist?

"Is there a problem, Mr Charles?" the receptionist asked and I zapped my eyes away from her wrist to focus on her face instead.

"Nah..." I whispered and grabbed the card, but then held on to her fingers. "I'd love to speak to you sometime in the evening, probably when you are off work. Would you be so kind to indulge me?"

She stared at me stoically for what seemed like years before finally replying, "We don't do that here sir."

"Do what?" I whispered, feigning ignorance.

"Flirt," she replied curtly.

"Could you repeat that love?" I whispered, not expecting her to play hard to get.

"We do not make personal contact," she gritted, more firmly this time and in a higher tone, continued, "or flirt with our guests, sir. It's against our ethics and it'll cost us our jobs." With that said, she zapped her fingers from my gasps and turned to her laptop, shutting me out.