Love Hates…

AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN

LOVE HATES

A CHRISEFFE BLISS

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The Author

EPISODE 4

 

Effe was trembling badly, and her throat was filled with a lump so painful that for a moment her voice could not be heard, but she forced herself to speak plaintively.

“Chris, obviously you’re speaking about something I have no idea about!” she said lamely. “Believe me, the last time I saw you, or had anything to do with you, was that stormy day in the church. Later, about a week afterwards, I think, I tried to reach you on the phone, but it was switched off.

Indeed, I tried several times that whole day at various times, but your phone was always off. That was the very last time! So, if you will take your time and explain things to me, I promise you I’ll tell you everything I know, and we could get to the bottom of this whole mix-up.”

 

Chris stared at her as if she were the worst venomous predator he had ever seen.

“You lying little devil!” he whispered hissed at her and turned away from her with disgust. “You never cease to amaze me. Seems to me that there’s something wrong with you…you’re such a damn liar and a devil that you choose to forget what you want to forget. That is sickness, lady, the worst form!”

Tears were running down Effe’s eyes now as she reached over to touch his arm desperately, but he flinched from her with a savage grunt.

“Keep your damn hands away from me!” he whispered fiercely. “When we hit Tunisia, I’ll take you personally to a flight agent of mine, and he would get you to Ghana in a jiffy. Until then, just keep the fuck away from me!”

 

“Chris!” she screamed with raw pain now, shaking her head passionately as the dejection and misery assailed her.

“Not one more word, Effe,” he said without looking at her. “Not one more bloody word from you. I hear one more word and I swear I’ll push you out of the truck. Don’t you dare me, you damn liar!”

Effe did not doubt that he would do exactly what he had threatened in his present wrathful condition, and so she kept quiet even though she wanted to blurt out to him that she had absolutely no idea what she was accusing her of.

She sank back limply into her seat, put her head back and felt the pain in her heart increasing. She had wished, above all else, that they could talk about the past, and put the hurt behind them.

 

For a fact she had always been worried about the part she played in Chris’ life, and now that she was going to get married, she wished above all things that the bitterness between her and Chris would end.

Oh, how she wished she could be able to make him approach this whole bitter encounter with a different mindset and allow her to explain why she had done what she did.

But she was appalled at the depths of latent and sizzling hatred, a hatred she was sure had boiled with roiling savagery and was not simmering like a volcano about to erupt again.

Oh, how she wanted so much to diffuse it, to end this intense feeling of hate in his heart, to make him see everything from a different perspective, and understand how a young twenty-year-old version of herself had reacted the way she had.

 

But it did not seem as if that was possible now.

It seemed Chris Bawa wanted to hold on to the grudges, and blame her, and hate her. Meanwhile, despite her betrayal and the humiliation she had exposed him to, he had been at fault too.

And she had been convinced of his guilt then.

What really tore at her savagely was this strange court case and subsequent imprisonment he was talking about. That was really tearing up her heart. Chris in prison? For what? And how had that been kept from her all this while? Could Baaba be responsible?

Effe had no idea about Chris being arrested, or there being any subsequent court case. And what did he mean by her testimony against him!

What was he talking about?

 

She could not accept that, no. She simply could not allow him to believe she had a hand in any case that later landed him in prison. It was just too horrible to accept and live with that.

Maybe, she should just accept the fact that the enmity between her and Chris Bawa would never be resolved, but he needed to know, and believe, that he was absolutely wrong about her testifying against him.

Heaven knew she could never do that, not to him!

Even Baaba could not have been able to convince her to do anything like that! He had intimated that was the reason for him driving trucks over long distances now!

How horrible!

 

So, he had been living all these years blaming her for the misfortunes in his life! How could this happen? Maybe his hatred was too intense, and there was nothing she could really do about it except try to accept it as something that could never be changed.

And that thought filled her with more pain than she had ever expected!

***

They turned toward Baladia Street and drove for about an hour, and then Effe sighed when Chris made a right turn at a junction, indicating they were now going toward Shari Zawiyah.

Eventually, with darkness stealing across the sky, they came to a rest stop that consisted of several block buildings. The name of the place was in Arabic, and Effe saw that a lot of trucks were parked at the huge parking lot.

Chris expertly manoeuvred the truck into a space beside Wachipa’s, and then he turned and looked at her calmly.

“We’ll rest here and continue at dawn,” he said curtly. “Take only what you’ll need for the night. We’ll get you a room at the Guest House.”

 

He did not wait for her to answer but promptly jumped from the truck and closed the door.

Effe sighed gravely, holding on to her sudden resentment at the cruel way he was treating her, and then she went to the cabin of the truck and picked up a small bag which contained the essentials she would need. She also picked up her laptop backpack which also contained important documents, and got out of the truck.

Mike Crankson was waiting for her with a smile on his face.

“Come with me, lady,” he said as he used Chris’ remote to lock down the truck. “I’ll take you to the guest house. Hungry?”

She smiled at him wanly.

 

“I could eat an elephant,” Effe said, and he laughed.

“Don’t worry. Some of the best meals are served at the restaurant. Let’s check in, and then you can join us for dinner.”

She smiled gratefully at him.

“Thank you very much, Mike,” she said. “I appreciate your kindness.”

The guest house was simple but comfortable, and Effe was grateful especially for the clean bathroom and shower. She took a long cold bath, and then changed into a simple black dress that stopped short of her knees.

She piled her hair on top of her head in a bun, and then she went out again to find Mike, Wachipa and Wailer waiting for her in the foyer.

 

There was no sign of Chris, though, and she had to stop herself from asking them where he was. They were staring at her with frank admiration as she walked toward them, making her feel a bit shy with their looks.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Effe,” Wailer said frankly, and she smiled and murmured her thanks, grateful for their kindness and admiration that soothed some of the raw pain Chris had filled her heart with.

The restaurant was across the lot, and it was filled with truckers and the townspeople. They got a table near the far end and sat down. Effe noticed the frank stares from the men and the envious ones from the women inside the eatery, and she began to feel a little bit uncomfortable.

“What would you like, Effe?” Wachipa asked as he handed her one of the slim menu booklets. She glanced at the Arabic writing and shook her head with a chuckle.

 

“Unfortunately, I can’t read Arabic,” she said.

They laughed with her.

Wailer sat down with a glass of beer in his hand and slugged thirstily. He set it down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

There was a band playing, and a beautiful woman wearing a short skirt, ankle-length black boots and a halter was singing a beautiful song, her voice silky and filled with fine allure.

“Do you like lamb and mutton?” Mike asked as he sat down beside her, and she nodded.

 

“Tried it a few times,” Effe replied.

“Then let me order for you,” Mike said excitedly. “They have a lamb sauce with potatoes and green leaves here. Healthy and very dishy, I swear.”

“Oh, sounds delicious already,” Effe said.

Wachipa beckoned to a waitress as the singer brought her act to a close to loud applause from the audience and shouts of ‘Fatima, Fatima, Fatima.’

The waitress wrote rapidly in a small notebook as Mike ordered in fluent Arabic, causing Effe to look at him with surprise, and when the waitress bowed and moved away Mike Crankson smiled at her.

 

“I spent some years learning modern standard Arabic in school,” he said. “Had an Arabic scholarship and attended an Arabic secondary school. I was forced to learn the language.”

Effe laughed and nodded, and engaged in small talks with them.

A moment later the beautiful singer approached their table.

Effe saw that she was older than she had thought when she saw her from afar. She was in her late thirties, and she was very curvy and attractive indeed.

Her eyes fell on Effe, and they were not very kind as she appraised Effe.

Effe raised her eyebrows, surprised by this woman’s apparent enmity toward her.

 

“Hello, Fatima,” Wachipa said with a smile. “That was a beautiful performance.”

She was silent for a moment as she still continued to look at Effe, and then she shifted her eyes to the men and smiled briefly.

“Thank you,” she said in heavily accented English. “Where’s Chrissy, please?”

“He’ll be here soon,” Wachipa replied quickly. “He was speaking to his wife when we left the guest house.”

Effe could not hide it!

She gasped audibly and turned stunned eyes to Wachipa, and the question popped out before she could stop herself.

 

“Chris is married?” she asked sharply, and again the lovely Fatima looked at her with a slight scowl.

“Almost two years now,” Wailer spoke gently. “To a great girl called Elaine.”

“Married, as in a wedding?” Effe continued, still stunned, and they nodded.

“Yep, the whole show,” Crankson popped in.

“But…he’s not wearing a ring,” Effe persisted, alarmed at how shocked the news of Chris’ marriage was affecting her.

“He prefers not to,” Wailer said with a chuckle. “Thinks it is fancy and crap.”

“So he’s at the guest house?” Fatima said quickly before Effe could ask more questions. “Room number, please.”

 

“I think you might want to consider that, Fatima, dear,” Crankson said in an uneasy tone as he looked at the girl. “I see your…boyfriend coming up behind you.”

Effe noticed how the girl’s face paled perceptively, and the sudden rush of fear in her eyes before she turned quickly and looked over her shoulder.

Effe followed her gaze, and saw a handsome young Arab, nicely dressed in traditional clothes, approaching them with two muscled men behind him.

The two muscular men looked mean and cold as they meandered their way through the tables.

Fatima sighed and took a step toward Crankson, but the young Arabic man reached out and grabbed her arm, and spun her round to face him. His face was filled with fury as he spoke rapid Arabic to her.

Fatima, looking flustered and scared, tried to tug her arm free as she spoke desperately, but the man’s fingers dug quite painfully into her arm as he held her tightly.

 

His anger seemed to be peaking as he spoke harshly to her, so wrathful that little specks of spittle flew out of his mouth as he spoke.

Effe noticed how red the girl’s arm was turning, and she began to get to her feet, chagrined by the man’s cruelty, but Wailer took her hand sharply and shook his head at her, stopping her from interfering.

Most of the people in the restaurant were covertly looking at what was going on, obviously uneasy.

Fatima suddenly pushed the young man in the chest with her free hand because of the obvious pain he was giving her. This angered the man so much that he slapped her across the face, flinging on to the table.

Effe reached out and took hold of Fatima, stopping her from being toppled on the floor.

 

Effe then looked at the man furiously and spoke angrily.

“She is your girlfriend and you beat her up in public, you bully?”

The man snarled, his face maddened, and bunched up his right fist and brandished it in front of Effe menacingly.

“You show some respect, whore!” he snarled in flawless English. “Or I’ll tear up your face for you!”

“You’ve always been a fucking idiot, Tareq,” came the deep, lazy voice of Chris Bawa behind them.

The man froze instantly, and immediately a vicious expression of fury came into his face. He spun round to face Chris, and Effe looked up at him too.

 

Chris was wearing dark jeans now with combat boots, and only a white singlet and a wide-brimmed cowboy’s hat.

He stood lazily, almost nonchalantly, but his face bore the stamp of deep fury as his eyes tore into the man who had hit Fatima, the man he had addressed as Tareq.

With a little cry Fatima pushed herself off the table and tried to run past Tareq to go to Chris. The furious man caught her hand and drew her back forcibly, and then he spoke rapidly to the two muscular men who were standing on each side of Chris.

One of them screamed and balled up his fists, and then he stepped forward with a fist drawn back. He swung his blow ferociously at Chris, who bounced back lithely on his feet, swerving the blow, and then he stepped into the guard of the huge man who was slightly unbalanced with the momentum of his swing.

 

Chris Bawa smashed a fist into the man’s jaw, and the attacker flopped forward and struck the floor heavily.

He remained absolutely still, knocked out completely.

The other muscled man glanced down at his friend, shocked at the ferocity with which Chris had taken him out, and when he looked up with sudden apprehension, the element of surprise was long gone.

Chris slid forward like a well-greased human engine and his foot came off the floor, crashing into the groin of the second attacker. The man caterwauled with agony and Chris hammered a blow into his face, and the man joined his friend on the floor.

 

Tareq licked his lips desperately as Chris approached him.

The eatery was now a hubbub of excited chatter. Tareq’s teeth were clenched tightly and Effe could hear a distinct grating sound as he rocked his teeth together, his hateful little eyes fixed on Chris Bawa.

“Now listen, you bastard!” Tareq began, and Chris instantly backhanded him across the face, causing him to squeal with pain. Chris took Fatima’s hand and pulled her gently toward him.

Tareq swirled round suddenly, and the crowd gasped with fear.

 

Chris’ blow had cut Tareq’s lip, and he was bleeding down the right side of his mouth, but he had now pulled out a long, wicked knife and he was crouched low as he glared at Chris Bawa with hatred.

Chris looked at the man and spoke calmly and disdainfully.

“You better know how to use that knife, you idiot, otherwise I’ll take it from you and slash your damn throat with it if you attack me. Your choice, motherfucker, and your move.”

Tareq’s hand shook with repressed fury; it was evident he wanted so much to attack Chris, but his hatred conflicted with his fear.

 

Effe watched fearfully, and then she sighed with relief when Tareq’s fear obviously got the better of him. He spoke quietly to Fatima, and then he shoved the knife into his pocket and hurried toward the entrance.

There was scattered applause as Tareq went through the door.

Some of the waiters helped the two thugs off the floor and helped them out. Chris made to sit down, but Fatima put her hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes with a pained expression on her face.

“Are you hungry, qalbi?” she whispered tenderly. “If you are, I can find you something to eat, but not here.”

 

Chris smiled down at her as he slipped an arm around her supple waist.

“I’m really hungry, habibati,” he said gently. “But not for food of the stomach. My hunger is of the soul.”

“Then take me away from here, please,” she whispered. “Because I might not see you again for a while.”

She switched to Arabic and spoke softly.

Chris nodded at her, and then he looked over at his friends around the table and smiled.

“Seems I gotta call it an early night, guys,” he said. “See you at dawn.”

He turned to leave.

“Chris?” Wailer called softly, and the big man turned around.

“Yeah?”

 

“That guy Tareq, he’s a bad one,” Wailer said, and his voice was very concerned as he looked unblinkingly at Chris. “You wanna be with Fatima, let us stay close.”

Chris chuckled.

“Don’t worry, old man, I’ll be fine.”

Effe watched as he put an arm across Fatima’s shoulders and they walked toward the entrance.

She breathed hard, not quite sure why she was suddenly so agitated at what was going on. She gasped when Chris slid his hand down the back of Fatima and grabbed her rounded, undulating buttocks, and then squeezed them gently.

 

Effe saw the delicious look that cross Fatima’s face as she slid a hand down Chris’ back and pushed it into the waistline of his jeans and caressed his flesh.

This blatant exhibition of lust filled Effe with a sudden slap of pain that was both unexpected and absolutely alien! A moment later she saw them going out of the restaurant.

The waitress had brought their food and was serving it. Another lady was singing softly on the dais, and suddenly Effe got to her feet and began to move fast toward the entrance.

She heard Mike Crankson calling her name but she paid no heed as she hurried her steps and went outside.

Chris and Fatima were not in sight, and she hurried to the car park, suddenly agitated highly.

She saw them immediately.

 

They were standing near a small white car and were locked in a fierce, passionate kiss. Chris’ back was to the car, and the singer had put her arms around his neck, raised herself on tiptoe and was kissing him with lustful abandon.

Chris suddenly lifted Fatima up, swung around and put her on the bonnet of the car, kissing her fiercely, hungrily as his hand roved along her sleek, dark naked thigh to her hip, his other hand creeping into the open ‘V’ of her halter top and fastening around her right breast and gently exciting her nipple.

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LOVE HATES :: A CHRISEFFE BLISS :: EPISODE 3

LOVE HATES :: A CHRISEFFE BLISS :: EPISODE 2

 

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