Gawd Cash ’Am 

Akin sat at his desk with one earbud in. He was dressed entirely in white: a white fila with white embroidery, a white kaftan and even white slippers. It was Friday, and the staff had dressed down for the weekend. Akin, however, was dressed for another event later that day. The theme was ‘All White’. A friend’s wife had arranged a surprise 40th-birthday party. 

Akin’s legs were shaking beneath his desk, and his gaze was fixed out of the window. Sitting opposite him was one of his staff members, Tope. She had done everything possible to secure this private meeting with him. 

Akin ran an engineering outfit specialising in energy installations, including alternative energy solutions. His company had started small, initially working with estate developers, but the business had since grown. Most of its contracts were now B2B, putting it in a more comfortable financial position. 

As CEO and owner, he had secured an office on the fourth floor of a commercial building in Victoria Island. It offered a view of the road leading towards the infamous Lekki toll gate. It was a lovely sight at sunrise, sunset and at night. 

It was around 4 p.m., and work was typically winding down at the company. It had rained earlier, but the sun was now fully out. 

Akin had done everything he could to avoid this particular staff member, but today, her determination was more relentless than that of the woman with the issue of blood. 

A few minutes earlier, he had been browsing his phone and watching skits when the office door suddenly opened, startling him. Tope had walked straight into his office, bypassing his last line of defence, Rosemary. 

“Sorry, sir. I really needed to speak to you. Your secretary has been denying me access for about two weeks now, sir.” 

Akin glanced at Rosemary, who had appeared behind Tope with one heel on and the other foot bare. She was trying to catch her breath. 

“What is wrong with you? How can you behave this way in an office?” she reprimanded the defiant Tope. 

Tope paid her no attention. Her eyes remained fixed on her boss, her arms crossed. Akin nodded to Rosemary. She shot Tope one last icy glance before quietly closing the door. 

Tope went on and on about her commitment to the company’s growth, how she had been there from the beginning and how loyal she had remained. She complained that her loyalty had not been rewarded with salary increases or perks. She also spoke about the current economic realities and how her family had been struggling. 

Akin shifted in his seat, yawned, glanced out of the window and, a few seconds later, looked back at Tope. She wouldn’t stop talking. His mind was elsewhere. He was waiting for the right opportunity to cut her off without sounding rude. 

The woman in question was a member of the housekeeping team who had got the job courtesy of Akin’s mother. Tope had retired from the civil service, where she had worked at a parastatal associated with Akin’s mother. His mother had simply persuaded her son to take her on. 

Akin leaned forward. Something outside had caught his attention. Tope followed his gaze. A fracas had broken out, but neither of them could make out exactly what was happening from where they sat. 

“Madam Tope,” he said, dipping his hand into his pocket and handing her five ₦1,000 notes. 

Tope froze, staring at her boss in bewilderment. 

“Sir, this is not going to do anything for me,” she protested. “My rent has been due since last week. Even if I could get my salary upfront, it would help.” 

“Madam Tope, just use this one hold body for the weekend. We’ll sort out the rest by Monday. Besides, this is all the cash I have left with me.” 

He raised his hands to reassure her. 

“We’ll sort it out, okay?” 

Akin was already standing, signalling that the conversation was over for now. 

“Sir, please promise me. And that Rosemary won’t play games. My landlady has been threatening my family.” 

Akin nodded, assuring her that it would be sorted. 

Akin took the lift down, crossed the car park and headed towards the access road. 

While Tope was narrating her ordeal, he had noticed a fierce-looking woman in an altercation with VIO officials. From where he sat, she looked gorgeous. She was wearing a white visor, a purple cropped tank top and matching fitted leggings and white trainers. She had the physique of J.Lo. 

Akin slipped on his sunglasses as he approached the scene. 

The woman was becoming increasingly animated, shouting at the officials. A crowd had started gathering to watch. By then, Akin was much closer, and she looked every bit as striking as he had imagined. He licked his lips. 

The woman did not even acknowledge him. She simply continued with her rant. 

Akin walked up to the officials. 

“Gentlemen, what’s the issue? I can see this has been going on for several minutes. What exactly is happening?” 

The officials sized Akin up and recognised him as a man of means. They accorded him the kind of respect they reserved for such people. 

“Sir, it’s not supposed to be this serious. We stopped her because she almost ran one of our staff members down. We had to use our vehicle to intercept her. We told her that her tyres had expired and that she would need to replace them and pay the applicable fine…” 

“I’m not paying NADA!” the woman interjected. “And there’s nothing you can do about it. Idiots.” 

She retreated into her Acura Legend and reached for her phone, trying to make calls. 

Akin looked at both parties. He knew the men were his best option if he was to mediate. 

“Gentlemen, I need us to—” 

“Just imagine! I should buy tyres that are perfectly fine in this economy? Do you know how much a single tyre costs? What do you mean by saying tyres expire? What rubbish? Una think say una fit chance woman wey una think say na small girl abi? Instead make una dey disturb the corrupt politicians stealing your welfare dry, na us citizens trying to make ends meet una dey disturb. Idiots!” 

The men became animated again, arguing back and forth with her, trading insults. 

“Hello, what’s your name, madam?” 

“Lamide,” she blurted, without looking him in the face. 

Akin intervened again, pleading with both parties. Eventually, he managed to convince her to remain in her car. They had clamped it, so she couldn’t move. 

This gave him an opportunity to speak further with the officials, who were still adamant that she would not go scot-free and would have to pay the fine or have her car towed to their office. 

Unbeknownst to Akin, in the glass-fronted reception overlooking the access road, Tope and a few other staff members were watching the drama unfold. 

He handed the men some cash for their troubles, and everything changed from there. 

As soon as they released the clamp, Lamide reversed and sped off. Her car hit a pothole near Akin and the officials, splashing water in their direction. 

She was gone. 

The looks on the onlookers’ faces said it all. It wasn’t good. 

Akin’s white outfit was probably stained beyond what he could salvage for the occasion. He removed his sunglasses and took a proper look. It was a mess. 

The VIO officials quickly retreated to their cars, apologising to Akin. The onlookers, too, began walking away, one by one. 

Back at the engineering company’s reception, Tope watched the scene. She nodded and snapped her fingers in approval, pleased that her ‘gawd’ had dealt justly with her boss, who would rather care for total strangers than his own people.