Love Hates…

AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN

LOVE HATES

A CHRISEFFE BLISS

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The Author

EPISODE 13

 

Wachipa could not hide his fury against his friend whom he believed had behaved like a jerk around Effe all this while.

“Damn it, Chrissy! Would you grow up? The lady wronged you, hurt you bad, fine, who hasn’t been burned before?” Wachipa said crossly. “Why don’t you give her a break, sit down like adults and talk this shit out? She was different then, and she’s different now, dammit! She might have gone overboard, fair enough, and now thinks she knows something you should know! The bloody least you can do is give her a listening ear!”

 

“Doesn’t work that way, sport,” Chris said grimly. “Ever heard that adage of the leopard and its spots? But fuck that, anyway. This lady has a way of worming into your heart when you least expect it, and then boom, she rips out your innards and burns them like a bloody cannibal!”

“Chris!” Effe cried, agonized.

“You’re going overboard, Chrisboy, goddammit!” Crankson hissed fiercely.

Wailer shook his head disapprovingly at Chris Bawa.

“Maybe you better move to another table, C.B,” Wachipa said coldly. “You make me sick!”

Chris nodded and grabbed his plate of toasted bread and mug of coffee.

 

“You know, you’re right,” he said coldly. “Maybe I will.”

“You guys take a chill pill, dammit!” Crankson said sharply. “You’re bloody well embarrassing the young lady.”

“The only reason I’m here now is to clear this horrible coldness between us, Chris, please,” Effe said desperately.

“Doesn’t matter anymore, Effe,” Chris replied without looking at her. “You ceased to matter to me a long time ago, see. So, just drop it. It is okay.”

 

“No, it is not okay!” Effe said fiercely as she leaned across the table. “Obviously, I did something stupid in your estimation at a point in life I thought I was doing something good for a friend. At that time, I also thought you were a beastly oaf, and I still think that what I saw you doing was beastly!

I’m not asking you to love me, Chris, or to be civil to me! I just want you to know something important, a facet of the whole ugly mess that was kept from me, and which I know now.

Yes, I have a twin sister, and she just admitted to me that she was coerced by Baaba to testify against you, pretending to be me. That is what I wanted to tell you, and then be on my way. Whatever you think of me does not matter, but I want you to know the truth as I understand it now!”

 

“Not now, Effe,” Chris said softly as he turned his head to look out of the window again.

“Chris, stop this coldness!” Effe cried, exasperated. “I understand your anger, and even accept your hatred. Maybe I can never change that, but at least allow me to explain some things to you!”

“Exactly, my dear lady,” Wachipa said coldly. “Don’t fret yourself, though. He’s behaving like a prick, like a wounded little spoilt boy! If he wants to spend the rest of his life wallowing in his self-pity, maybe you should let him do so. It has served him well so far.”

 

Chris turned and fixed his eyes on Effe with cold intensity.

“You want to talk, hm? Fine, I will listen to you, Effe. I will let you have your say, hear everything you have to say. But not now, do you understand? Not bloody now!” he said, and there was an underlying warning in his voice that made the other men look at him sharply.

“What’s going on now, Chrissy?” Wailer asked suddenly. “You have that look in your eye, man. What have you gotten yourself into now?”

“More like what has he gotten us into, Wailer Dread,” Wachipa said bitterly. “I knew the moment he decided to stop over here that some bad food was cooking in his kitchen, and as usual it is going to involve all of us!”

 

“Belt it, Chipa!” Chris hissed at his friend with evident wrath. “I’ve had enough of your damn moaning already! Nobody is stopping you from getting outta here, damn it to hell!”

Chris turned his eyes toward the window again and watched as a sleek, powerful, white Hummer turned toward the parking lot and stopped in front of the eatery.

Effe saw Chris slowly pushing his mug back a little and flexing his fingers as he stared intently at the Hummer.

“Chrissy?” Crankson whispered tightly. “Is that Hazem?”

“It is,” Chris said softly without looking at them. “Listen, guys, you all stay put, you hear? Everything has been taken care of, so you remain deaf, blind and mute no matter what happens.”

“Shit!” Wailer said and dropped his hamburger. “Why do you always have to put yourself in danger, kiddo? I just don’t understand it! What’s with you and this damn death wish anyway?”

 

Effe sighed and looked at Chris Bawa with sudden trepidation.

He had changed so much!

The Chris she had known had never been this careless, this brash, this reckless, always in some sort of danger!

What had happened? Why was he living his life like this? And the most painful aspect of it all was that she was feeling scared for him, and desperate for the air to clear between them.

Now that was scary, wasn’t it?

 

She had felt there would never be anything but enmity between them when they parted eight years ago. Indeed, she had felt nothing but utter contempt for him, her only regret being that final look he had given her as he stood in the rain in his wedding suit.

But now, just after meeting him again in less than three days, she was beginning to wish there was a way they could put what happened behind them.

She was not asking for friendship because that could never happen now. But she did not want him to bear that bitterness and hatred in his heart. It had been alright to live with that part of her life when she had no idea where he was, or what he was doing.

Yes, it had been alright, really.

 

It had just been a blot in her memory, an occasional jolt that surfaced every now and then to haunt her when triggered by some external factors like speaking to Baaba.

Apart from that, she had been really fine.

But meeting him again and seeing the sheer hatred in his eyes and the venom in every word he uttered to her, she had become more and more aware of what she had done, and the kind of effect it had left on him.

Her reveries were broken into when she saw a woman approaching them from the side. She had emerged from an inner office, and she was coming rapidly toward their table with a scared look on her face.

She was not in a traditional attire like the others.

 

This woman was wearing a fetching white skirt with a beautiful red top. Her fingers were beautifully manicured and painted. Her feet were encased in black long-heeled shoes.

And her sleek jet-black hair was styled above her head in a beautiful bun, and Effe saw tendrils of grey in her hair. She was tall and big-boned but attractive with a shapely figure. She might be in her early forties, definitely older than Chris.

Effe had no doubt in her mind that this was the mysterious Shayma.

In her right hand was a sealed thick white envelope, and when she glanced at the black Hummer her complexion paled, and she licked her lips with mounting terror.

“Chrissy!” she murmured.

Chris looked at her, and his face was filled with a gentle smile.

 

That smile cut through Effe really badly.

It was the first time she had seen him smiling so freely, so completely, bringing back a flood of memories!

That amazing smile of his!

It had been one thing about him she had loved so much…that smile that made his eyes dance and dimpled his cheeks a bit, transforming that handsome face into something that made breaths cease.

He held out his hand to the woman.

“I’m scared,” Shayma murmured with faint tears in the depths of her eyes.

“Sit beside me,” Chris said gently as he stood up.

 

He made her sit down beside Wailer, and then he took the envelope from her and sat back down.

They all watched the Hummer, and then a moment later a sleek black Mercedes pulled up beside the Hummer.

The doors of the cars then opened, and men began to come out.

Five men emerged from the Mercedes Benz, and six men got down from the Hummer. They were all Tunisians and were all wearing black suits with white inner shirts and red ties.

Only one was dressed differently.

 

He emerged from the front passenger seat of the Hummer wearing white knee-length shorts and a white opened shirt with a white inner vest.

He was wearing white socks and white sneakers, and around his head was a white bandana and a white hat. There were heavy gold chains around his neck and wrists and a golden watch around his left wrist.

He was wearing gold-rimmed clear spectacles, and one of the men in suits opened the door of the eatery for him as he entered.

He was short and powerfully built, exuding an air of suppressed ruthlessness.

Effe’s heart missed a beat.

They looked so menacing as they trooped into the eatery, and Effe licked her lips because they had suddenly dried up. She saw that the Shayma woman was also trembling slightly as she sat stiffly between Chris and Wailer.

 

The men crossed toward the table.

Two of them remained outside with the cars whilst two stayed near the entrance. Everyone in the eatery was silent now with apprehensive looks as they watched the newcomers.

The man in the lead stopped next to their table, and his six remaining goons spread out around him with their hands ominously inside their coats.

He smiled at Chris, but it was not a good smile because his eyes were filled with cruelty as he looked at Chris. There were upper gold teeth in his mouth when he smiled.

“Ah, well, well, well!” he said in a surprisingly calm and well-modulated voice without much accent. “If it isn’t the hero, Mr. Chris Fucking Bawa, who else! What an honour to have you here. Hey, Abdul, look who’s here!”

 

He stepped back and gestured at Chris.

One of his men – a huge, broad-shouldered bull of a man – looked at Chris darkly and his jaw moved with deep fury.

“I told you not to come through here again, Chris, my boy!” the man in white said. “See, Abdul here is the brother of that man you beat and almost killed last year. He’s been coming here for the past year just wanting to get a piece of you! You don’t know what’s good for you, boy.

See, Abdul is going to beat the crap out of you when my business is done, and you’re to blame for it. I’m a good friend, and I gave you some friendly advice to stay out of here! Chrissy, I warned you never to step here again, never to show that ugly mug of yours here again!

But you didn’t listen! You never listen, Chrissy! I don’t get it! You want to die? That must be it, aha, finally I understand! You simply want to die! Don’t worry, I’m a kind man, Chris motherfucker! I’ll grant your wish alright. I’ll fucking kill you today, motherfucker cunt-boy!”

 

Chris said nothing.

“Hazem – ” Shayma began.

“Shut the fuck up, whore!” Hazem screamed at her, the smile disappearing from his face as he glared at her with sizzling fury. “I don’t remember speaking to you!”

Shayma flinched with fear and looked at Chris with trepidation.

Hazem leaned forward and picked up one of Chris’ toasted bread. He sat down on the edge of the table and picked up a table knife. He took a small container filled with soft butter, scooped some with the knife and then spread it generously over the bread.

Hazem bit into it, chewed appreciatively, and nodded with satisfaction.

“Hmm, the best toast bread is always found here, boys!” he said with a sinister snicker.

 

He pushed the rest of the bread into his mouth, picked up the cup of coffee and drank it down even though steam was still rising from it, signalling that it was still hot.

Hazem set the mug down so hard that the other plates bounced, startling the people around the table. His eyes once more centred on Chris with hatred.

“Chris, Chris, Chris!” he said softly and shook his head. “You cost me this land, you know. What the hell are you doing here? You realized I’m gonna have to rough you up a bit, huh? You just forced me to make you die on a foreign land.”

 

“Heard my friend died four months ago, Hazem,” Chris said calmly. “Heart attack they say, but Shayma told me how you came here four months ago with this Abdul who broke old Mehdi’s neck. Pure murder, Hazem, pure murder. And you, the coward that you will always be, forced them to report it as a heart attack.”

Effe went absolutely cold with fear.

Here they were, talking about death as if they were just passing news about the weather!

This was the kind of scenario she saw only in gangster movies!

 

She had never been close to anything so callous, so violent and so dangerous as these last hours she had spent in the company of Chris Bawa and his friends.

Her life had always been ordered and sane, removing her far from such violent and dangerous conditions! And here she was, smack in the middle of it since the chaos that began in Tripoli and the absolutely horrifying nightmare Tareq and his gang had subjected her to.

More and more she was regretting ever setting foot in Libya!

Hazem broke into laughter and got off the table. He carefully took off his gold-rimmed glasses and folded them, and then he dropped them into his shirt pocket.

 

“Yes, Chris, my boy, I did kill Mehdi, Shayma’s father!” he said with cold viciousness. “I let Abdul here kill him, and yes, we forced the local police doctor to certify it as a heart attack because I threatened to kill his fucking family too. There, the little nasty business is out of the way. Are you happy now, Chris? Now, you leave me no option than to ensure that you and your little company here disappears. But, first things first. Where’s my money, Shayma?”

 

Chris lifted the white envelope and smiled gently at Hazem.

“You’ve been taking seventy percent of profits from Shayma for almost a year now, Hazem,” he said softly. “Well, no more. I have your money right here, and you ain’t having it!”

“Chris!” Wachipa screamed harshly. “Are you mad?”

“Give him the damn money, Chrissy!” Wailer hissed, and there was perspiration of fear on his nose. “Damn it, Chris!”

Hazem was looking at Chris with deadly eyes as he folded his arms across his chest.

 

“Just one chance, Chris,” he said coldly. “You stand up and slip that envelope into my pocket, or in the next minute my men will gun you down right here.”

Chris hesitated.

Effe’s heart pounded with agony and terror.

But her fear was not for herself.

She had heard enough to know Hazem was a cold-blooded murderer, and she feared for Chris’ life more than anything now.

“Chris, please, give him the money!” she said desperately.

 

“Give him the goddamn dough, Chris!” Crankson shouted, and there was fear in his voice.

Chris still hesitated.

“Boys!” Hazem said, and immediately two of the men stepped forward with drawn guns and pointed them at Chris’ head.

“On the count of three, Chris!” Hazem hissed coldly, his murderous eyes digging into Chris Bawa with sheer hatred and cruelty. “You still have that envelope in your hand, they’ll shoot your bloody brains out, you hear? On the bloody count of three!”

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Premium Story: A ChrisEffe Bliss :: LOVE HATES :: EPISODE 12

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