Inside out, p.6
Inside Out, page 6
Taking a deep breath, her eyes find the carton of juice previously served at her arrival. She reaches for it and lifts the entirely too light carton. It is empty.
After snubbing the made-in-Nigeria juice, an hour later, she became too thirsty and hungry to care and apparently finished the entire one-litre carton.
Dropping the empty carton disappointedly, she grabs her phone to check the time and gasps. It is a few minutes to nine pm. How long had she slept? There is no way someone hadn’t seen her disgraceful sleep posture, Nkoyo silently wails. And for crying aloud, where are the king and queen?
She chokes on her frustration when she realises that her phone still doesn’t have a network, so she still can’t reach her dad. Looking up and around, she wonders how one gets the attention of the workers in this palace. At her home, all she has to do is press a bell or turn her neck. There is always someone waiting to serve her every whim.
As if subconsciously summoned, the maid appears with a slight smile that looks too knowing for Nkoyo’s comfort.
“Ah, you are awake. I came in earlier to serve your dinner, but you were asleep. You must have been exhausted from your journey, so I let you sleep,” the maid says pleasantly.
Nkoyo’s eyes show mortification, and she lowers them abashedly. But we know her already. She isn’t one to remain down for too long. Of course, she shakes off her embarrassment and fixes the maid with an authoritative glare.
“The king and queen?” she croaks out. Her throat is so dry, and she realises she hasn’t had water for close to eleven hours.
“I tried to explain earlier. They will be returning quite late since they travelled to the next kingdom for some royal meeting. I can—”
“I need the driver to take me home then. I had thought to wait and see the king out of courtesy. It appears that’s not going to happen,” Nkoyo says, standing and finding out that she is fatigued. A whole night of sleep will not be enough for her recovery.
“Err, princess, that’s impossible,” the maid replies with a preposterous expression.
“And why would that be?” Nkoyo asks in a snotty tone and her signature arrogantly elevated head.
She expects the maid to cower before her and become speechless like her maids at home who dared not defy her wishes no matter how preposterous. But the dear princess has yet to understand that this is Atam kingdom, and things are done differently here.
“First of all,” the maid begins without any sign that she was intimidated by Nkoyo. “Julius has returned the car and gone home. The garage keepers have locked it up for the night and have gone to their homes too. The only people available are the security team, and they don’t have the clearance or the keys to the cars in the garage, so getting you home this night is impossible.”
Nkoyo snaps shut her mouth. She tries to rally her shocked countenance into a semblance of control. She tries to look as though fear isn’t clogging up her airways while wondering what she will do in the hopeless situation.
“Then my luggage must have been transferred to suitable quarters, I assume?” she manages to ask with some modicum of authority.
“Since you commanded it to be returned into the trunk of the car, it’s done—”
“What the hell?!” she exclaims, not knowing if she should be angry or shocked.
“I’m sorry, princess, we only did what you commanded,” the maid says, lowering her eyes as though in regret.
Nkoyo has a sneaky feeling she is hiding a smile.
Growling in apparent frustration, Nkoyo paces the length of the room, her mind whirling in so many directions for a solution to her present problem. She isn’t leaving this godforsaken place today. At least, she expects a refreshing bath with her own toiletries, the comforting feel of her silk nightgown and, hopefully, a comfortable bed. Two essential things are already off her list of three. Panic quickly suffuses her mind. She wasn’t seeing any way out of this.
“At least, let me show you to a room and bring in your dinner—"”
“I don’t want your miserable dinner!” she explodes in her frustration, seeming meaner by the minute.
The maid startles and steps back at her fury.
“Sorry, princess…” the maid pauses at this point, as though she is unsure what to say and afraid of triggering a violent reaction if she says anything. Finally, she makes up her mind, even though the princess is terribly difficult and mean. The queen had put her in charge of welcoming her and making her comfortable until her return.
“Your room…”
Nkoyo silences her with an angry glare, but it only pauses the maid for a second.
“Your room is the third on the right when you take the stairs,” she directs hurriedly and scampers out of the sitting room before Nkoyo could decipher what she said.
Nkoyo puffs and huffs while pacing angrily with no one in sight to gripe her frustrations or transfer her aggression. By the time her anger reduces to a simmer, and there is no ignoring her tired muscles, she realises she still has no idea how to call the maids at the palace. She is left to recall what the maid had said before running off and following the direction.
Nkoyo refuses to admire the continuous curved staircase design. It gets her to a landing and onto a tiled entryway with doors on one side. She gets to the third one and shoves the door open.
Nkoyo falls in love with the bed instantly. With all she’s gone through so far in this kingdom, she isn’t expecting the mighty, fluffy-looking bed covered with pink linen. The cool breeze circulating the room from the air conditioner makes her sigh in relief. Dropping her handbag on the floor, she walks like a zombie, intending to fall face down on the bed.
However, self-preservation stops her. Nkoyo never retires at night without a bath. It will be impossible for her to sleep while covered in dust from a long journey. With a growl of exasperation at herself, she peels off her chiffon kaftan, dropping pieces of clothing everywhere on the floor while moving towards the bathroom.
Our snotty princess is glad the shower has the luxury of a hot water button. She feels marginally better after her shower, even though it feels unsatisfactory due to not using her toiletries. This stokes her righteous anger towards this backward kingdom. Heart heating up, Nkoyo even considers not using the clean, fluffy towel on principle. It would serve as something to bitch about in the morning. Sniffing, she ignores that she purposely seeks ways of incensing herself and walks out of the bathroom.
Now she is left with the problem of what to wear. The towel barely covers her bountiful bosom, the length grazing her thighs just below the curve of her luscious buttocks. Nkoyo stares at her discarded travelling clothes, grimacing in disgust. No way is she wearing that to bed. She’ll have nightmares if she tries it.
Huffing again as she recalls that her luggage is at some unknown location, she swivels and finds the wardrobe. Nkoyo marches to it and flings it open with a demeaning sniff, not expecting much. But the content of the closet points to this room belonging to someone.
She notes that the someone is female and of a slimmer build. The clothes on the hangers are of no use to her. Her gaze falls on a neatly arranged travelling bag with casual looking clothes. Nkoyo attacks the bag with the hope of finding something to wear. After scattering the bag for a minute, she sighs in satisfaction when she discovers a giant, sleeveless cotton gown that could fit. She tries it on, and it reaches to above her knees and hugs her curves becomingly.
Weaving her hair in one braid and leaving the scattered clothes as they were, all over the floor, she finally falls face down and is instantly asleep.
***
Nkoyo smiles as her usual wake-up music plays. Her eyes are still closed, but she knows she is back home. She even recalls the nightmare of being stranded without her luggage at some obscure kingdom where the king and queen were absent, and the workers were impervious to authority.
Soon enough, a frown mars her peaceful mien. The melodious wake-up music distorts like radio static, and she couldn’t imagine who would have the impetus to distort her song. Half asleep, Nkoyo swears she will sack the servant if the music doesn’t return to its typical melody.
It gets worse. Her eyes flutter in her sleep. The music isn’t music. The sound is so coarse it sounds like heavy machinery used for drilling. It disturbs her eardrums like nails on a board, and she huffs, deciding it is time to wake up and punish whoever was responsible for this travesty.
Nkoyo snaps her eyes open, and reality comes crashing down. She isn’t in her room at home. There are no workers lined up on both sides of her bed waiting to carry out her whims, and there is no music. She must have dreamt it. She isn’t even elegantly placed under the covers like she sleeps at home but hanging at the edge of the bed. The cotton gown had ridden up and bunched around her waist, leaving her buttocks bare. She’d been too tired to get under the covers the previous night.
Sight blurry, she is still trying to get her bearings when the sudden heavy machinery sound comes again. How badly did she sleep that she woke, almost falling off the bed? It has everything to do with this accursed place.
Startled by the sudden, loud sound, her heart lurches in her chest, and shockingly, Nkoyo can’t maintain her spot on the edge of the bed. Now, her considerable weight pulls her backwards. Heart thudding, panic rising, our stuffy princess grasps about, grappling the bedsheet to stay on the bed.
It is hilarious how she hangs on, eyes wide, whimpers leaving her mouth. At the same time, her heavy buttocks pull her down slowly and steadily. Finally, she falls gracelessly with a heavy thump. A groan escapes her mouth, and pain travels down her back. She lies there, legs on the bed, the rest of her body on the floor. Her nose goes hot, and tears prickle her eyes.
Nkoyo wishes she could just close her eyes and be transported back home with no hassle.
Haha! Fat chance.
***
Last night Onen returned from the mill quite late and could not wait up for his dinner. He went straight to bed, knowing he had to wake early for another full day at work.
Rising early, he decides to balance the financial sheet of the mill before preparing for work. This is entirely Wofai’s responsibility, but since she’s travelled, Onen can’t trust anyone else to do it, hence, the added workload. Besides, the only other administrative staff is on maternal leave.
The work takes a while. By the time he is through and ready to leave for work, his wristwatch puts the time at a quarter past nine. Quickly, he buckles his belt over his stiff, brown chinos, his lemon shirt tucked in. He folds the sleeves to his elbow and grabs his phone before leaving his room.
While passing Wofai’s room, he checks his email when he hears the unmistakable thump, like someone taking a hard fall.
This is Gossip. Let me jump in to explain.
You see, Onen’s methods of ranking his sister are almost scientific. There is a routine of sorts where he opens his sister’s door without knocking whenever he is on his way to work. And Wofai always has her tennis balls ready to throw at him when he enters her room.
So, this morning, when he hears the thump, he assumes it’s Wofai’s tennis ball.
Onen assumes his sister must have returned yesterday. Perhaps she couldn’t bear to be away, or maybe she caused a scene with her screaming and was sent home instantly. He cannot wait to tease her about it, so with a wide grin on his face, he opens the door and isn’t even bothered he might be hit by her flying tennis balls.
Prepare for shock…
“Banshee!” Onen uses his nickname for Wofai as he opens the door and takes only one step in. The smile evaporates from his face as he is faced with a far more becoming sight.
He swallows with difficulty.
Onen is staring at a lusciously-moulded woman’s bare lower half. Her legs are on the bed while her blessedly, lovely behind graces the thick carpet of his sister’s room. Her skin is light in complexion. His gaze travels from her lower half to the upper half, and the sight is still becoming.
He recognizes his sister’s gown, but it looks extremely and beautifully different on this strange woman’s form. He can see her breast spill out from the side of the sleeveless dress. His eyes meet hers…beautiful.
And stunned.
“What the hell?!” Nkoyo screeches after she recovers from her shock at suddenly staring at the most handsome man she’s ever seen. She is mortified the man has seen her while she lies gracelessly on the floor with barely a stitch on. She struggles to get up, but her legs tangle in the heavy covers, and she ends up exposing more of herself with her legs in the air.
Her screech brings Onen to his senses.
With a startled expression, he withdraws from the room, closing the door and pausing to place a hand on his rapidly thumping chest. The vision of her legs in the air and the exposed privates will forever be engraved on his mind. He is a hot-blooded man evidenced by the bulge blossoming in his pants. However, the urgent question remains–who is the woman in Wofai’s room?
Instead of heading to the dining room for breakfast, he hurries to his father’s study and confronts him.
“I didn’t know we had a guest,” is Onen’s opening line. His chest still rising and falling heavily, the prince appears to have just completed a race.
King Liman stares quizzically at his son.
“And a good morning to you too,” he says dryly while removing his spectacles and observing his son’s countenance. He has never seen Onen flustered before, and right now, he looks highly flustered.
“Sorry, father, good morning, who is she?” he greets and asks the question utmost on his mind in one sentence.
Right, Liman thinks wryly, the time has come to explain the ridiculous situation to his son.
He clears his throat a tad uncomfortably. “You recall our royal friends to whom we sent Wofai?”
Onen frowns at the peculiar question, holding his tongue at the last minute from giving a scathing reply to his father.
“Yes, the Efik kingdom friends,” he replies, trying hard to slow down his racing heart and frowning deeper since he didn’t know why his heart still pounded so hard.
“Well, you already know why Wofai was sent there. We didn’t tell you that the Efik friends also had an issue with their daughter, entirely different from Wofai’s issue, but still, a problem that had them concerned. So,” Liman sighs at this point.
Onen already has an inkling of what his dad is about to say. His throat goes dry, and he looks threatened. “So, they sent her over to be changed?”
His father, the king of Atam Kingdom, shrugs.
“We have to try,” he mutters with a wry grin.
“What were you guys drinking at the royal meet? I’m beginning to think it must have been powerful stuff, considering the ridiculous decisions all of you arrived at.” His hands go to his hips as a sign of his confusion.
“She’s just a girl—”
“That we are supposed to help,” Onen points out seriously.
“Is she ugly?” Liman asks with a frown, wondering why his son seems out of sorts.
Onen takes a second before replying. A picture of the said girl who isn’t really a girl but a woman complete with curves—a man’s wet dream—flashes before his eyes.
“She isn’t ugly,” he answers in a croak. His mouth is parched at the memory of her bare bottom, thick legs, considerable bosom.
He can agree that something is wrong with the beautiful woman, recalling her curiously awkward position a few minutes ago. Onen can’t come up with an explanation as to why she was in that position. And while he’s totally entranced with the captivating picture of the sprawled lady, he did not fail to notice the disarray of his sister’s room with articles of clothing all over the floor.
Then another odd thought strikes him.
“You don’t know what she looks like? You mean you haven’t seen her since her arrival?” he asks with a disbelieving expression on his face.
“To be fair, they are facing the same predicament with Wofai,” Liman points out and it makes his son groan frustratingly.
“I can’t handle this right now. I’m off to work,” he says distractedly.
“No breakfast?”
Onen shakes his head and seems deep in thought when he leaves his father’s study.
***
Nkoyo didn’t miss a thing about the gorgeous guy who appeared at her door earlier. She was curious as to who he might be. Was he a worker or a relative? He had been surprised at her near nakedness. The memory makes Nkoyo flinch abashedly. However, her breath hitches every time she recalls his handsomeness.
She recalls his impressive height, broad shoulders, and the unmistakable bulge of his muscles through his clothes. His dark, very African complexion, his lips…
Nkoyo snaps out of her daydream. She will never acknowledge daydreaming about a man, even to herself, even if confronted with the facts. She turns off the shower and huffs angrily at herself. He is just a man, and Nkoyo has never really regarded men as anything but mules, a means to an end, only worthy of mention if it will give her brownie points.
With that reminder, she enters the room and comes to the reality of her situation again. She has no clothes to wear. At this point, she is grateful to feel and welcome her fury at the poor service in the palace.
She expected her luggage to be waiting this morning. Also, someone should have arrived with a summons from the king.
Her considerable bosom heaves with the increase of her fury. By the time the door opens a few minutes later, Nkoyo is ready to chew someone’s head off, and she does just that.
I have to tell you, she goes ballistic!
“It’s about time someone had some good sense to check on a royal guest to find out what she might need! This sort of appalling service is an embarrassment even for a kingdom as downtrodden as this one. I haven’t had the luxury of bathing with my own toiletries because my luggage might be missing. Even a drink of water is a big deal here, not to talk of food!
“The king and queen have gone AWOL, and I’m sure nobody has bothered to tell them that they are harbouring the wrong princess. I should not be here, but I am. I expected the king and queen would have scrounged up some sort of courtesy to at least welcome me to this torpid place.”
