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AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN

DARK LIGHT

A ChrisEffe Bliss

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EPISODE 31

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Eyram controlled herself enough to flag down a passing taxi.

It was almost close to midnight, and the driver evidently did not want to stop, but she kept flagging until the car came to a halt.

She also looked inside carefully to ascertain there were no passengers in it, and then she tried to open the back door.

“No, no, madam,” the driver said earnestly and shook his head. “You can’t sit in the back, please.”

“And why not?” Eyram asked softly.

“Because I can’t see you in the back,” the young man said candidly. “You can hurt me without me knowing it. You can sit in the front where I can see you.”

Eyram smiled sadly.

“I also don’t want to sit beside you in case you decide to inject or chloroform me,” she said.

“Then, please, let me go,” the young man said. “I don’t want trouble, please. Maybe another car would come around.”

Eyram opened the front passenger door and sat down.

He moved the car.

“It is late, Madam,” he said. “Where to?”

“Beach Road, please,” she said softly.

“Oh, okay, that is fine,” he said with a happy smile. “I also reside in Beach Road. I’ve closed and I’m going home, so it will be an advantage for me.”

Eyram nodded absent-mindedly as she searched her bag for her phone.

Oh, Rupert!

How he must be hurting!

Her hands were trembling as her heart hammered with trepidation. How could she have been so careless, so dumb? True, Allan’s appearance had been sudden and unexpected and had invoked feelings she could not control.

Perhaps, for three years, she had been waiting for Allan to want and need her, to let that aura of not being wanted rest. That admission from him had been a healing balm that had healed the raw ends of her ego and made her whole and at peace.

And, after that calm, everything had fallen in place…and she had been elucidated. Unfortunately, it had been the same night Rupert had chosen to propose to her. Seeing his ring, she knew she could no longer keep to her checklist.

It didn’t matter if he lived in a hole on the outer edges of the globe; she would be with him. She did not set any conditions now. All that mattered was that they would be together.

But had she left it too late?

Had she lost him forever, perhaps?

Had she hurt him so badly that he could not trust her again?

These were questions that were tearing her heart apart. She would only know the answers if she could hear his voice, and so she searched for her phone.

But, it was not in her bag!

“Oh, no!” she whispered frantically as she began to remove items from her bag.

The taxi driver looked at her, smiled, and shook his head.

“Madam, don’t try to pull a fast one on me and say you’ve left your purse,” he said with a chuckle. “I told you I’m also going to Beach Road. I won’t charge you, so stop what you’re doing.”

“It is not money!” Eyram said fiercely. “My phone. It is not here!”

She was frantic now!

Had she left her phone at Allan’s place?

Had it fallen out somehow, maybe when…

No, of course not!

The battery had been low and so she had plugged it in Rupert’s car to charge it, and had not taken it when they got to Harbour View!

Her phone was still in Rupert’s car!

Worst of all, she could not remember Rupert’s number!

She was a disciple of always keeping important numbers at the top of her memory. She had all the numbers of people close to her life memorized!

And yet, one of the most important numbers of her life, Rupert’s number, was something she had taken for granted and not memorized!

“Oh, God!” she whispered tremulously. “Oh, Lord!”

Her shoulders sagged, and an expression of extreme sadness crossed her face.

The taxi driver saw it and spoke gently.

“It is alright, madam. You will get a new one soon.”

Eyram barely heard him.

How could she get into contact with him? Would he seek her out and bring her phone, giving her the chance to apologize and beg for another chance? But she knew she could not wait for him to make that move.
She wished she could speed up time; she wanted the morning to roll around so that she would go to the office and see Jonathan. Yes, that was what she was going to do. Jonathan would be able to send her to where Rupert was.

However, it was going to be a long, painful, lonely night for her!

“Rupert!” she said under her breath. “I’m so sorry.”

***

George the Bear knew Wailer Vroom would come after him.

He was not afraid, though.

Death had dogged his steps from infancy, but he had beat it every time. Somehow, the jaws of death had never been able to clamp down on his neck, and that made him feel lucky.

The brush-up with Bawa had been different though. For a moment as he looked into the cold man’s eyes, he had seen death. It reminded him strongly of that night when Chris Bawa had burst into the house and literally ripped through it. Drunk, hurting, weeping and in obvious emotional pain, he had raged through, using nothing but his hands and legs, and had sent ten of Wailer’s strongest men straight to the hospital.

George had never seen anything like it, ever!

He remembered some of the men drawing guns and shooting in their fear, but the bullets had killed three men inside that living-room, and not one had grazed the Bawa man. One of the bullets had zinged past George’s temple, missing his head by less than an inch, and that was when he had known death would take a long time to catch up with him.

That night, as the men fled from the rage of Bawa, as many of them lay on the ground broken and beaten to a pulp, George had saved Wailer’s life.

Chris Bawa had caught up with Wailer in the upper bedroom, and by the time George got there, Bawa had beaten the hell out of Wailer and was about to crush his head with a heavy metallic bell.

George had drawn his gun but had not pointed it at Chris. He had just spoken to Chris, telling him what he was about to do would send him to prison, and that Baaba would not be happy with that.

It had stopped Chris Bawa from murdering Wailer.

George remembered how the big man had dropped the bell, tottered backward, and dropped to his knees. Chris Bawa had broken into tears then. And, as he wept bitterly, Wailer had crawled to a drawer, pulled it open, and taken out a gun. As he tried to bring it around to shoot Chris, George had raised his gun and pointed it at Wailer.

It had shocked Wailer right to the core, but that was how George was. He was a fair man, and he knew he could not let Wailer kill Bawa, not after what they had done to him, and not after he had convinced Chris to save Wailer’s life.

And George had pointed a gun at his own boss and ordered him to drop the pistol. Wailer had looked at him like death, and finally, he had seen George meant what he was saying, and so he dropped his gun.

George had helped Chris up, and led him out of the house to his own car, and driven the huge man through the rain to his house. He had felt good saving Wailer’s life, and Chris Bawa’s life, on the same night.

And, most important of all, he had beaten death that same day when a bullet zinged past his head.

He was not afraid of death.

He also knew Wailer would not dare attack him with his men because he knew how good George was. They knew he would not die alone, no. He would take as many as he could with him. Wailer had money and could afford a hit team from the nefarious underground assassin squad, and that was exactly what he would do.

So, George was on the lookout every step of the way as he journeyed to Accra. His plan was to go to his only brother, Raphael, who was a successful doctor in Nigeria. They had been orphans and had struggled in life. George was older by two years and had felt it was his responsibility to take care of Ralph. He had taken the life of crime at an early age, and most of the money he had made had gone into taking care of Ralph right through the best of education.

He had not wanted his brother to remain in Ghana and be affected by his life of crime, and so he had been influential in Ralph going to Nigeria.

To be on the safe side, George had transferred a chunk of his money to his offshore accounts with the instructions that it should be given to Ralph if George did not make any further contact within a month.

So, his plan was simple: he would join his brother for a couple of weeks in Nigeria. Ralph was so overjoyed because he had been forcing George year after year to come and visit him and his family.

George would then leave Nigeria and disappear to Europe or America for a while as he tried to seek other means of living. His life of crime was over now. He had no urge and no motivation. Seeing Chris Bawa again, and being spared death, had finally made George see that he could not escape the permanent jaws of the dark-cloaked entity and his scythe forever.

When he got down from the Uber at the Kotoka International Airport in Accra, he checked his time. He had about an hour to kill before check-in formalities. He was making his way to one of the lounges when a little girl of about ten years came skipping towards him. She was wearing a cute pink dress, and her hair was braided into a ponytail. She was holding a tall cone of iced cream and giggling as she skipped.

And then, less than a meter from George, she tripped and fell.

Her iced cream left her hand, and she began to cry pitifully.

Always the gentleman, and always kind to children, George bent quickly to help her up.

“Oh, sorry, sorry, little girl,” he said with real concern. “Here, stand up. Where are your parents? Don’t worry, okay? I’ll buy you new ice cream for you!”

The pretty little girl, still weeping, nodded and allowed George to help her up. George the Bear held her under the armpits and lifted her, and the girl put a hand at the back of his neck and pressed down gently.

There was a plastic ring on the middle finger of her right hand, and a little pin was sticking out of it, and as she pressed on George’s neck, the pin broke George’s skin, and the deadly poison on its tip entered his bloodstream instantly.

George barely felt the pin on the little pain pricking him.

“There you go, little angel,” he said as he set the girl down.

She was not crying now, and although she smiled, the smile did not touch her hard eyes.

Her eyes were dark and cold as she spun from George and fled quickly back the way she had come. George looked after her, and when she saw her running towards a man and a woman at the far end, he knew immediately that the assassins had got him.

Already his breath was becoming laboured.

“You bastards!” he screamed and dropped his bag.

His face was frantic as he looked at the people. They were both wearing gloves and were dressed in jeans and black T-shirts. The little girl stopped in front of them and smiled sweetly with triumph as she watched George grabbing his throat.

George’s face was filled with sweat as he took tottering steps forward, and then he started foaming in the mouth, his heart now tearing up as the deadly poison shattered him from within.

He crashed to his knees as blood spurted from his mouth.

Painfully, he raised both hands and stuck the middle fingers at the assassins.

“Fucking bastards!” he murmured as his vision began to go dark.

He knew that finally, death had caught up with him, and he was going to pay dearly for his life of crime.

George the Bear crashed down on his face and remained still. Permanently.

The three assassins turned and moved away as a lot of people rushed towards George.

***

The call came through.

Wailer picked it.

“Hello?” he said gently.

“Delivered,” came the cryptic reply from the Operator, and the line was cut.

Wailer sighed deeply and smiled broadly.

George the Bear was dead.

Another loose end tied. Now he would not have to worry about any possible blackmails or attacks from that angle.

Life was good.

He leaned back and grabbed the buxom beauty by his side and kissed her deeply. The girl moaned and squirmed in his arms, her hand dropping to his groin. Wailer grabbed her ample buttocks and squeezed.

He could not wait to get her upstairs.

But first, the business of the night must be done.

They were in one of his exclusive bars. The lights were bright and the music was gentle. The bar was filled, as usual, with people dancing wildly on the floor. Topless girls in skimpy panties were gyrating in glass booths.

At a table not far away from him, a handsome middle-aged man was sitting and drinking a glass of expensive wine. His clothes were impeccable, speaking of great wealth.

His name was Frank Williams.

Wailer had checked him out after monitoring him for a few days. He was a wealthy man who had spent most of his time making money in Central America. He had now returned to his native Ghana to invest further.

The man was worth millions!

The next target acquired!

Today was the day Wailer had chosen to make his move.

He looked across the tables at Elaine Boateng.

She was dressed in an incredible white dress, and she looked as pretty as heaven, beautiful and alluring.

She was back in her mask.

Elaine was sitting with Steve Hollison who appeared to be drinking heavily.

Wailer had been watching Frank Williams and saw how the rich man kept glancing at Elaine.

Wailer smiled at Elaine and nodded.

Showtime!

Elaine leaned forward and began to speak earnestly to Steve.

Steve pushed her aside roughly.

They exchanged words, their voices rising. Wailer fondled the breasts of the woman beside him and put another hand on her thighs as he watched Mr. Frank Williams.

The wealthy man was watching Elaine and Steve carefully.

Steve stood up from the table with a drink in his hand. He drank and set the glass down with a bang. He tottered drunkenly and made a lecherous gesture towards a waitress passing by.

Belching drunkenly, he grabbed the waitress around the waist and kissed her deeply. Elaine gasped and tried to pull Steve back, and Steve slapped her across the face. Many people gasped, and Wailer noticed Mr. Frank Williams bolting forward angrily.

“Perfect, my people, just perfect!” Wailer murmured with appreciation.

Elaine turned and began to flee from the scene. She tripped and began to fall. She reached out to steady herself on the table in front of Mr. Frank Williams and went down in a crash with the table.

Again, people gasped.

Elaine’s white dress was ruined by the red wine spilling all over her.

Mr. Frank Williams was up in a flash to help her. Elaine’s beautiful face was filled with tears as she wept, begging Mr. Williams. He reassured her and helped her to her feet. He bent and picked up her bag and handed it to her.

Elaine leaned briefly against him, weeping, giving him a chance to hold her, and feel the incredible curves and her sheer allure.

Elaine stepped back with an apology.

The wealthy man took out his handkerchief and gave it to Elaine. He offered her a seat, but she shook her head, thanked him, and began to walk away. Mr. Frank Williams hesitated.

“Go with her, you idiot!” Wailer hissed under his breath. “Take the bait! Swallow it, bastard! Hit some pussy!”

Mr. Frank Williams seemed to make his decision at last. He quickly took out his wallet, signalled a waiter, and paid for his drink.

He caught up with Elaine near the entrance.

They spoke for about three minutes…and then they left the bar together!

“Bingo!” Wailer whispered and grinned happily. “What a happy ending. C’mon, darling, let’s go upstairs and have some fun!”

Steve waited until Wailer and his whore mounted the steps to the room upstairs, and then he quickly left the bar.

It was time to finalize his plans.

Already, he had been to Effe’s main branch and spent some good money. He had been noticed by her second assistant, Miranda.

It was now time to put the next phase in action so that if Effe survived, as was being rumoured, Steve would be ready for her when she returned.

***

Effe’s hands moved gently across Chris Bawa’s face.

She traced his skull, the sides, his forehead, eyebrows, ears, cheeks, nose, chin and, finally, his lips. Her hands moved gently down to his strong neck and then moved tenderly across his shoulders.

“Don’t you want to make love to me again?” she asked softly.

“No, Effe,” he whispered with a deep sigh.

Her hands moved down his body across his ripped stomach and gently pressed his erection as it lay hidden in his jeans.

“You’re such a wonderful liar, Eden,” she whispered huskily against his lips.

“Effe!” he cried, swallowing hard as his passion ripped through him. “We spoke about this. No more, until you open your eyes! Oh, Effe, don’t do this to me!”

She giggled against his lips.

“Oh, poor you!” she whispered gently. “Oh, Effe, don’t do this to me! Aww, Eden! You can barely breathe! You desire me so badly, don’t you?”

He did not speak.

He could not speak.

She kissed him then, slowly and tenderly, her hands fluttering around his face.

He was breathing hard when she stopped and lifted her face slowly. She was wearing her white bathrobe, and they were lying on the bed. The darkness enveloped them as the rain drizzled gently.

Looking at her, so pure and angelic, so indescribably exotic, so painfully beautiful, all he wanted was to crush her to his body and love her, possess her, own her, make her what his heart was craving.

“I want your face to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes, Eden,” Effe whispered tenderly. “You did promise to be there.”

“I’ll be there, Effe,” he murmured weakly.

“You should, Eden,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I can’t imagine gaining my sight and you not being there, Eden. It will kill me. You’ve promised to be there, and yet, you still refuse to tell me anything about yourself.”

“When you open your eyes, and see me, and still want to be with me, I’ll let you know everything about me, Effe.”

“Are you scared of love, Eden?” she whispered as she lay down on her back. The robe barely covered her beautiful breasts, and when she crooked one leg, he saw the amazing expanse of her fair thigh and wonderful leg. She had the most beautiful legs he had ever seen, and then again, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

He sighed deeply as he put one of his pillows across his erection.

“I’m not scared of love, Effe,” he said painfully. “I’m scared of my love destroying you.”

“You cared for me so wonderfully when I was just your patient,” she said. “How would you care for me if you love me, Eden? You’re not capable of hurting me with your love. Somethings cannot be explained, and what I feel for you is one of those things.”

She turned on her side and suddenly her hand shot out and fell on his stomach. She moved it lower, touched the pillow, held it, and threw it away. And then she felt his erection, traced it, and removed her hand.

“You use a pillow to cover your shame,” she said and giggled. “You’re so pathetic, Eden whoever-you-are! You want it, don’t you? And yet you surround yourself with silly rules. Uncle Popo.”

“Oh, don’t start that silly thing again,” he said with a giggle, and both laughed heartily.

She came up again and held his face as he laughed.

“Oh, how I wish I can see you laughing, Eden,” she whispered tenderly. “At least, I’m glad you stopped smoking that awful Indian hemp. Or you still do?”

He shook his head.

“Not when I saw the disgust on your face,” he whispered. “I once…someone made me stop smoking too. I began after…”

She was aware of his pain instantly, and she put a finger across his lips.

“It is alright, Eden,” she whispered tenderly. “I want you to tell me when my eyes are open, and I can see your face, and listen to you, and comfort you tenderly.”

She kissed him again, and then slid a delicious thigh across his erection.

“That thing will tear a hole in your jeans soon, Eden,” she said against his lips and giggled.

“Oh, Lord, stop torturing me, Effe Kedem, you damn witch!” he groaned fiercely against her lips. “You’re a nymphomaniac, do you know that?”

And Effe burst into laughter suddenly and fell back kicking her beautiful legs.

“Me, a nymphomaniac?” she said through her laughter. “Me, who was so frigid that I could not stand my own nakedness! Now a nymphomaniac! Ah, that’s the best compliment anyone had ever paid me!”

He looked at her and smiled tenderly.

“You’re crazy, Effe,” he said.

“You drive me crazy, Eden,” she whispered softly. “I hope I drive you crazy too.”

“No, not crazy,” he whispered tenderly. “You drive me mad. I’ve never felt so out of control, so deeply into anyone. You’ve shattered all the walls I built, Effe. With your laugh, with your anger, with your bravery, with your breath and scent…you’ve shown me just how wonderful life is. Broken and on the verge of death, you fought, you survived when I completely wrote you off. You’re wonderful, Effe, my Angelface. And, till the end of time, I will always adore you. Yes, you drive me crazy…and yes, I love you.”

Effe lay still for a long time, and then she suddenly burst into tears.

“You bastard!” she cried. “You damn cheat! I would have loved to see your face the very first time you said you love me!”

He leaned across her, and did to her what she had done to him: his hand traced her face slowly, tenderly, lovingly, and then he bent his head and kissed her. She wound her arms around his neck, and it was so sweet that very moment, and they went on kissing, and both of them didn’t know why their kiss tasted salty like tears because, for a fact, both of their faces were wet with the powerful sweetness of the moment.

And none of them knew who was crying.

But it didn’t matter, no, not to them.

It didn’t matter because there was no pain behind those tears.

There was love, only love, in its truest, purest form.

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Premium Story: A ChrisEffe Bliss :: DARK LIGHT :: EPISODE 30

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