A Practical Guide to the Side Chick Codes

I come in peace.

All is fair in love and war, not so?

And they say that sometimes, your soulmate is married to someone else because they are unaware that they are your soulmate. They also say you should not allow your spouse stop you from meeting the love of your life. I mean, why should you allow a little marriage stand in the way of your happiness?

Here’s hoping that you do find love and that when you do, you shun society and grab it and not let it go.

And whatever happens, it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

Code 1: Eagle’s Law – Spot your prey and maintain focus until prey is caught.

When Nkolika first saw him, she knew he was the one. He had to be. He checked all her boxes.

Height – 6’2. Ohhh! She liked them tall. Six-two was perfect, not too tall, but tall tall … and he was tall enough.

Complexion – Caramel. As a child, she had loved Eclairs. And even now that she was an adult, she never passed up an opportunity to stock them whenever she sighted a pack at the supermarket. Maybe that – and other behind closed doors doings – was why she always licked her lips whenever she thought of him.

Face-card – Never-declines. Boy! He was a beautiful man. To describe him as “handsome” would be watering down or making light of God’s craftsmanship. She was sure that God closed all His phonelines and did not even attend to any other angel or human on the day He set out to create Mike Nwabuzor.

  Body – Yummy! He did not exactly have a six-pack, but he sure knew how to take care of himself. It was a plus that he did not have a potbelly.

That day, he had been talking to, more like yelling at Suleiman, about a delayed transaction just as she stepped out of her office to the branch manager’s office to discuss a memo she just received from Head Office.

“But this is taking so long,” he had been saying at the top of his voice. “Is this how you people want to run a cashless economy?”

Satan! Not again, today. She shook her head and turned to go back to her office.

It was not that she did not enjoy her job; it just got too much sometimes, so much that on some days, the only work she did was babysit customers instead of the job she was being paid for. Of course, this did come with its perks, from cash to other kind gifts, especially as she practically now had most of the branch’s biggest customers wrapped around her pinkie. Sometimes, Onyinye, her best friend, jokingly told her to resign, since she regularly received almost thrice her salary in cash gifts. But “customer-sitting”, as they – herself and Adesuwa – called it also came with downsides, many actually.

Only that morning, Mr Harry Chijioke, one their biggest customers, broke down in her office, as he narrated how he walked in on his driver ramming into his wife from behind, the night before. Of course, she knew that men cried. She had seen many men cry but not under the circumstance as she had to deal with that morning and certainly not in her office. She shrugged as she brushed off thoughts of the last time she made a man cry in the backseat of her car and tried to focus on consoling the crying man seated on the other side of her work desk.

“Kai! Nkoli, do you know the one that is paining me …” Sob. “Nkoli, if it is me …” He paused and let out a loud wail.

She passed him the tissue box.

“Nkooo, thank you. You are a good person. It’s because of you I haven’t moved my money from this branch o. Do you know that when I touch her, she will say ‘Headache’. Tomorrow, ‘Period’, not knowing it is that stupid boy that she has been dashing what I paid for … Chai! Aru eme Odogwu!”

“I’m really sorry, sir. Have you tried to talk to her?”

“Talk to who?” This time, he was angry. The sobs had vanished. “Talk to who? Maka Chukwu if I go back to that house and I see anybody, nya, I will show them I was a soldier boy in the Biafra war.”

SOS! She hurriedly texted Adesuwa.

It was something they did, Adesuwa and herself. Whenever they had had enough customer-sitting, one would text the other to come to their rescue. These rescue missions ranged from the simple, like a phone call asking the receiver to come attend to an emergency in the caller’s office, to the crazy and extreme, like a false fire alarm. One time, Adesuwa had suddenly, on receiving her SOS, run into her office to announce, “Emergency Closing. Everybody out!” to a customer who vowed to not leave Nkoli’s office until he received the credit alert on his phone. How she managed to get the cash and teller and other customer care staff to leave the banking hall to validate her claim that the hall was being evacuated because there was a rat infestation and the building would be closed for fumigation, Nkoli did not know. She never even bothered to ask. Adesuwa – the branch manager and her second, best friend because Onyinye was the first – was crazy like that.

“Sugar, I’m so sorry. I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m sorry, Suleiman. Can I come back before close of business, please. My wife … I…”

Hmmn! He has a sweet side.

“It’s okay, Oga Mike, even if you don’t come back sef… I will”

“It’s fine. I will be here before four. I really need this sorted today.”

Perhaps, it was the sudden switch from anger to tenderness or the fact that he could easily whip up his chivalric side and go save his damsel in distress, Nkolika could not explain. All she knew was that she turned at that instant and caught sight of the most beautiful man she ever laid eyes on, just as he was turned and headed out of the bank.

“Suleiman, what was that about?” She was not exactly sure how her legs carried her to Suleiman’s desk instead of Adesuwa’s office.

“Ma, you know that sometimes village people use to worry all these FX transactions—”

“Is that the answer to my question?”

“Sorry, ma. His transaction has been hanging, ma.”

“You these Gen Zs and your zero communication skills.” She rolled her eyes in frustration. “You know what? Send the details to my office and when that customer comes here again, send him to my office.”

“Ahh! Thank you, ma.”

“This is how you want to build a career in banking abi?” she threw at him as she walked to Adesuwa’s office.

Code 2: Python’s Law — Curl around and constrict prey. Kill him with love.

“But seriously, Babe, where have you been all my life? Do you want to kill me”

            “How many times are you going to ask me that?” Nkolika said to Mike as she got up from the Queen-sized bed to wear a robe. “Want me to fix you a smoothie?”

They had been dating steady for four months now and even though they were yet to have a conversation about how things would go, she was sure he was the one. She wanted him. She desired him. She needed him. And now that she had him, she would do anything to keep him, anything at all. No! She was not into rituals or kayanmata, but she did know how to get a man to drop his guard and let go of his inhibitions. And once she got him to open up about his fetish, she would go on to string the daisies. In addition to her job at Primus Bank, Nkolika Uchechukwu was excellent at many things, like making garlands. It was how she knew what to do the first time she and Mike had sex.

Mike never stopped talking about how she blew him over, that first time. She had done so good that she did not even need to bother about how he would explain the hickeys to his wife. Matter of fact, she had deliberately left those on his light brown skin. It was her way of marking her territory; her way of ensuring he did not undress in front of his wife; a visual reminder and tantaliser; her way of making sure he came back for more.

             Nkoli got out the fruits and greens from the fridge and tossed them into the blender. She had already cut them to prep for Mike’s visit. That was another box he ticked. Mike Nwabuzor was the only Igbo man she knew who preferred smoothies and grills to pounded yam and soup. It was really a shame that his traditional wife was yet to catch up. Instead of gratitude that she was being saved the stress of slaving away in the kitchen, grinding and pounding, the silly woman preferred to make the very foods that Mike was trying to avoid and then throw tantrums about his poor eating. Anyway, she was grateful to her for making it easy for her. She would make sure Mike never stopped providing for her and children when …

            As she caught herself and pressed on the blender, she let her mind travel – to the future. She imagined them, herself and Mike, in a home, a bungalow, with space enough for the children to run around and for them to park their three cars. She only wanted two children, a boy and a girl. Besides, Mike already had two children from his wife. She had to consider him too. Before that, she wanted a small wedding, a cute intimate event with few family members, something outdoor by the beach. She smiled as she imagined Onyinye saying, “I am not the bride…”

“Babe!” Mike’s voice jolted her to the present.

 She needed to do something, something that would keep him locked in, forever. Mike was a catch, one that she could not let go. A smile spread across her face as an idea formed.

Eureka!

By the time she went to serve him the smoothie, he was already on a call with his wife and family. She quietly dropped the tray on the bedside drawer and went to the living room to look up the link Adesuwa sent her.

            She was already at the door when she heard him say, “Sweetheart, switch to video call, now. Let me even see your face and see the children. In fact, call them. Let’s pray as a family.”

            Nkoli shook her head and held herself from laughing. Poor, naive Mrs Nwabuzor! She shook her head and edited the thought. Silly, stupid Vivian Nwabuzor.

About forty minutes later, she popped her head into the room. One thing she loved about being with Mike was how he understood code. She did not have to tell him to end the call.

“Okay! Let me try and catch some sleep. I have to go and see another factory, early in the morning tomorrow morning.” She heard him say, immediately he saw her.

“God bless you, Sweetheart. May this deal go well for you. I miss you so much,” his wife said.

“Ahhh! I miss you guys too. I can’t wait to come ba\\ck to Nigeria. Abeg, I am tired of eating all this their food without pepper.”

“Ehen! When is your flight sef?”

“My dear, I left the ticket open, jare. Tomorrow’s meeting will determine sha.”

“Don’t worry. God will raise a helper for you. I am praying for you. I even fasted today.”

“Kai! My darling wife. God bless you. Amen!”

Nkoli ran back into the living room to laugh.

“Babe, oya come back,” she heard him call out.

“You this man. Since when does anyone need a plane to go to Sangotedo from Surulere?”

“Leave me o. I dey abroad like this. Deyn’t I?”

“Oya na, come let me give you abroad treatment.”

 He started peel off her robe, but she stopped him.

 “Ehen! Baby, wait first. That thing you said about needing funds to inject into your business … don’t you think you need an investor?”

“In this Nigeria? Abeg abeg.”

“O ye of little faith.”

 He made to resume the undressing business, but she stopped him again.

“Wait first.”

Mike sat up.

“So, a customer, a Chinese man o, asked me to help him find a business to invest in. He has about three hundred million naira to pump into a—”

“Three gini?” Mike screamed. “Babe, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that … you know how these customers trust me. I’ll speak to him tomorrow. He’ll give you a call.”

Code 3: Cheetah’s Law – Calculate. Calculate again. In fact, buy a calculator and stock on spare batteries.

“Nkolika, take the day off and rest. You no dey hear word,” Adesuwa cautioned.

“Sis, abeg, na just malaria. I started taking Amatem Forte, yesterday, and I feel better already,” Nkoli responded.

            “Good for you. Sha don’t let me see you in this bank today and tomorrow. Try dey rest.”

            “Thanks, Boss. But if Suleiman needs—”

            “E be like say na pomo dey your ear. Abeg, bye bye, joor,” Adesuwa said and hung up, abruptly.           

            Nkoli smiled. Typical Adesuwa. Adesuwa was the living, breathing example of the saying that a Bini person could leave Benin, but Benin could never leave its indigenes.

            Her phone vibrated. It was Mike.

            “Babe, I’m almost home,” he said. “How now?”

            “Just there.”

“Please, don’t stress yourself. I’ll let myself in. I have my keys. I’m close to the estate gate. See you soon,” he said and hung up.

Nkolika smiled. They had been dating for about eight months now, and even though he was yet to pop the question, she was sure he would anytime now. A lot had happened and so fast. Mr Yu had been happy and so eager to jump on the opportunity to invest in a haulage company in Nigeria that he bypassed the bulky paperwork. All she had to do was recommend the company and tell him Mike was her cousin. Even before the contract was signed, Mr Yu authorised her to wire the first instalment of a hundred and fifty million naira, just two days after she pitched Mike’s business to him. The balance was sent to Mike, about a week after and now, her man was swimming in money.

Her man! She smiled.

The Igbo man in Mike had sort of raised its ugly head then, and he had asked questions, questions that had nearly driven a wedge between them. Thankfully, she already had Mike wrapped around her pinkie. Of course, they moved past it and grew stronger. When Nkoli thought about it, the quarrel was a good thing. It was after it that Mike rented a duplex in Oniru, just off Victoria Island, and they both moved in together. Most of his things were at their place, and he now spent the weekdays with her and visited Vivian and her children on Saturdays and returned on Sunday evenings. They jogged together in the mornings before she went to work, went to her church together for weekly activities, and did pretty much most activities as a couple. As far as her neighbours and everyone else who lived at Beach-view Estate were concerned, they were a couple.

But what is stopping him from asking the question? “Patience, Nkoli,” she chided herself.

She would give him two weeks. If he did not make any move in that direction, then she would have to think up an intervention.

Her alarmed rang. It was to remind her to go make a meal for Mike. She already blended and put it in the fridge earlier because she was bored from sitting at home all day, but she had just kept it in the blender in the fridge, hoping to transfer it to a jug later.

How does Vivian even cope with being a housewife? God forbid o!  She went downstairs to the kitchen, hoping to serve the plum and mango smoothie she made in a jug and set a tray for Mike. This was why she hated duplexes. It made no sense to her why she had to travel so far for food.  Why not just put another kitchen upstairs, a kitchenette, at least. Until women take over construction and architecture, we will never have functional houses. “Mstcheew!” The sound of her own hiss shocked her.

She opened the fridge, got out the jug and reached for the glass …

Nkoli heard the voices before the she opened her eyes. At first, it was all blur. Then, they slowly formed. She made out Mike’s form and another person in blue. A doctor?

“I thank God I got home when I did,” Mike said. “I was so scared. I just saw blood everywhere and shards of glass—”

“I’m really sorry we couldn’t save the baby. But you guys are young and well. Another one will come,” the doctor said.

“What baby?” It was Mike’s voice.

“What baby?” Nkoli asked weakly.

The two men turned to her.

“She’s awake,” the doctor said.

“Babe, thank God. Don’t scare me like this again o. How do you want me to live without you, now?”

“I heard ‘Baby’. What baby?” The tears were already forming.

“We’ll talk about it, later? You just get well first. Doctor, can she go home now?” As soon as the doctor stepped out of the private ward, Mike wrapped her in his arms. They remained like that for another hour, two lovers holding onto each other, weeping – one, in pain for what was lost, and the other, out of relief for what never became.

Code 4: Dove’s Law – Never assume there is no peace, unless he says so. Relative peace is also peace. Leave the intense talk for wives; men consider it a stressor. It’s why they prefer to spend evenings at pubs and go home late.

Nkoli wiped a tear as she popped an anti-depressant pill into her mouth. How could she not know? How could she have been so stupid? Had she not been pregnant before? How did she mistake the signs for malaria. She vowed to never self-medicate again.

“My baby …”

She was sure they would have another, but this one was unforgettable. It had been conceived with love. And she was not sure she would ever forgive herself. She tried to imagine what the baby would have looked like. She did not exactly care about gender, but she would have loved for the baby to look like Mike. Then, she remembered that Mike was an Igbo man, and Vivian had only daughters, so she decided to think of him as a boy.

 “My son …” she said and wept some more, this time louder.

Even though Mike hadn’t said anything, she knew he was hurting too. A woman who knew her man knew these things. These days, he spent less time with her. Scratch that! He now spent weekdays with Vivian and his children and only visited her on weekends. And when he did, he rarely touched her.

Have I pushed my man away with my recklessness?

She shook her head at the negative thought as if to wipe it off her brain. But why was Mike pushing her away? Oh! How she must have hurt him with her stupidity? Did he think she was proud of what she did? But she needed Mike, and she would not let this break them. On Saturday, she would broach the topic and apologise for losing their baby. Hopefully, another one would come soon. This time, she would be most careful.

No medicines, no matter the pain, not even Paracetamol. She promised herself.

Saturday finally came. And when it did, it dragged until evening. At noon, she called Mike, but it rang out, several times. She was sure she would lose her mind when she had not heard from him, two hours later. Just before three o’clock, she received a voice note.

“Babe, I’m in traffic, but I’m on my way.”

That calmed her down a bit and made the wait easier. By six o’clock in the evening, he had not still showed up.

But why is he declining my calls? I hope nothing bad has happened to him.

He finally let himself in, sometime before nine o’clock.

Thank God. This means he’ll sleep over.

 It worried her that he did not reciprocate when she hugged him to welcome him. She also could not help but notice his unwillingness to go upstairs. This was why they needed to have that conversation.

“Smoothie, Baby?”

“Naah! I’m good.”

“Baby, can we talk?”

“About?”

What is wrong with him? Why is he being so cold? “Okay. I’m sorry. I know that I was careless and reckless—”

“Oh! So, you know?”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to …” She broke down, this time.

“Come on, Nkoli. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. I was wondering why you kept on crying about the baby.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand? We have an understanding. I scratch your back. You scratch mine. A baby is not part of this contract. What will I tell my wife? My daughters? My church members? Have you forgotten they are supposed to ordain me as a deacon, next month? Did I promise you marriage? Wait! Do you expect me to marry two wives?”

“Wait, Mike. What are you saying?”

“Honestly ehn, Babe, I came here this evening to take the rest of my things, but I am glad you are beginning to come back to your senses. Abeg, don’t play this kind of rough play again o.”

As he spoke, Nkoli felt the lights go dim and felt herself sink into the darkness. She groped in that dark and found her way to the kitchen, to one of the drawers, to pick up a knife. Just then, there was a flash of light, and then blur. It was bright enough for her to find way back into the living room. She was not even sure she was conscious, until she heard herself scream at the top of her voice; “Mike Nwabuzor, if you do not want me to commit murder, get the fuck out of my house.”

Code 5: Chicken’s Law – Ovation or not, know when to take a bow.

“Onyinye, na God carry you come,” Adesuwa said, just as Onyinye entered the ward. “Na God save Nkoli say my charger dey motor. I for fess wipe you cord on top this bed wen you lie down so.”

“Sis, be nice, now. All of us don mumu for love, one time or the other, na,” Onyinye said.

“Na thunder go fire that love, fire the man join. Instead of me to love this kind love ehn, make Ogun first kill me,” Adesuwa ranted on. “Fine girl o. See skin. If I tall like you, fine like you, Agbani sef for don dash me her title since.”

“You sef. Title since how many years ago? Abeg, try dey calm down o. You dey forget say you be a whole branch manager?” Onyinye teased Adesuwa.

“E be like the thunder need to fire the bank and their customers join. Abeg, Onyi, body dey pepper me.

“Nkoo baby, how are you? Don’t mind Adesuwa joor. I brought you suya.”

“Onyi, e be like you don first craze. Person mess up. You dey buy am suya. I go change am for you o,” Adesuwa said. “Kai! E be like make I slap you.”

“Adesuwa biko, why you dey push the matter like say no be only love she love? E don do na, abi another thing happen?”

“Wait! Nkoli, I cannot believe this. You didn’t tell her? I swear, na bubble wrap full your brain. So, you mean—”

Nkoli blinked, to signal to her to not disclose that part of the story.

“Make tambolo bite that your eye there. Onyi, did she tell you she introduced the bastard to one of our Chinese customers and that the customer invested three hundred million into that idiot’s business?”

“I si gini?” Onyinye exclaimed, turning to Nkoli for confirmation.

“Okay now. Shebi I dey shout?” Adesuwa said.

“Nkoli, you did what?”

Nkoli turned away but not before Onyinye caught the mix of guilt and shame spread across her best friend’s face.

“En-kay, I came to you. I shared my business plans with you. I asked you for a loan. Nkoli, me?” As Onyinye spoke, a mix of tears and snoot flooded her face.

“But e get investor to give man,” Adesuwa chipped in. “Three hundred million! Ozuor!”

“Nkoli, you know how I have been struggling. You know.” This time, she was trembling. “You watched me write proposals upon proposals for loans to microfinance banks … You … We’ve been through shit together, Nkolika Uchechukwu. You are supposed to be my friend, remember? We’ve been friends … since secondary school, Nkoli. I even offered you a partnership, yet you… you gave that kind of opportunity to a man, a married man, Nkolika Uchechukwu …” She paused to take in deep breaths.

Even Adesuwa was soon drenched in her own tears.

“Wait! Nkolika Uchechukwu …” Onyinye burst into laughter. “Your name has Nkolika and Uche in it, names that mean wisdom, yet you… Nkoli, I swear you should be the traditional example for irony… What did Mike give you? What were you looking for, Nkoli? Are you not loved at home? Nkoli, how?” Onyinye sank to the floor and wept. When she stood up, she grabbed the suya wrap and made to throw it into the bin.

“You well? Na because of this mumu you wan waste suya? For this economy? Abeg, give me. When I reach house, I go microwave am, use am drink garri,” Adesuwa said and grabbed the wrap.

It took a few more minutes before Adesuwa led Onyinye out of the room. What they did not know was that they would never see Nkoli again.

Nkoli heaved a sigh of relief as she clipped on her seat belt. While she waited for the other passengers to board, she looked at her phone.

Baby, answer me, please. I miss you.

Nkoli rolled her eyes. How did she forget to block his business number? Already she had blocked him on all her social media platforms. When she arrived Australia, she would email Adesuwa and Onyinye. As for her family, she was not ready to face them or anyone else. She knew they would never forgive her, at least not Onyinye, but she still had her account details. She would do right by her friend, no matter what it took, and let time play its part. She did not bother contacting her brothers or parents. And she had blocked them too. When they suddenly started bombarding her with calls, she knew that Onyinye had reached them. She knew what they wanted to say. There was no need to be reminded that she embarrassed the family. After she contacted her travel agent and told him she wanted to apply for a two-year visa at least, he had given two options; Wales or Australia. Of course, she picked Australia. If Antarctica had been an option, then she would have chosen to go there, so long as it would take her as far away from Mike as possible. She needed to get away from Lagos, from Nigeria. She was grateful she had some funds tucked away. She would figure out the rest.

Sometimes, she stalked Vivian, not like she meant to, but the woman only blogged about her husband and family on Facebook, and everyone following her page, practically followed up on all her family’s activities, from cooking to school prep. She stopped checking and blocked the woman’s blog when she noticed that Mike was now a regular cast of her stupid videos.

The bastard! She swore as she remembered how she used to beg him for selfies.

The final boarding announcement before takeoff came on, just as an sms from a strange number came in.

Baby, I need to see you.

She shook her head and exerted much energy on her thumb to power off her phone. As she did, she imagined it were her feelings for Mike. After she tucked her phone into her purse, she closed her eyes.

Instead of praying for a safe flight, her heart prayed the only prayer she had said since that evening at the hospital: May I never fall in love again. Amen!