Five mil­lion richer

The Star (Kenya) - - Sasa - BY SA­MAN­THA

A text mes­sage comes in. It’s GG. Well, then. It’s the mo­ment of truth. I dry my now clean hands that are fi­nally free from all the gravy, and place the nap­kin on the plate in front of me. I’m so full I can hardly move.

“That was de­li­cious,” Eric says, grab­bing a tooth­pick from the ta­ble.

I nod dis­tract­edly as I pick up my phone. I don’t even no­tice that I’m hold­ing my breath. I click on the text mes­sage and it opens up.

GG: Ok, let’s end this. I’ll give you what you want.

I read it twice. And then again. Yup, it says that he’s giv­ing in. I let out the very long breath of air I’ve been hold­ing in, only notic­ing at that point that I hadn’t been breath­ing. The re­lief is pal­pa­ble. I’ve done it again. I can’t be­lieve how easy this is.

“Good news?” Eric asks as I break into a grin.

“You could say that. Yes, very, very good news! Lunch is on me,” I say.

“Great,” Eric re­sponds. “You’ve hit a jack­pot?” he asks.

“In a man­ner of speak­ing,” I re­spond. “I in­vested in some­thing that is pay­ing off.” “Shares? Real es­tate?” he asks. “Com­modi­ties,” I re­spond. That’s some­what true. My body was the com­mod­ity and the in­vest­ment was my preg­nancy. To get rid of it, I have three men who have agreed to pay me. They each think the baby be­longs to them. As a re­sult they each want me to ter­mi­nate the preg­nancy.

Mr N gave me Sh1 mil­lion. The VIP parted with Sh2 mil­lion, and now GG has also agreed to pay me Sh2 mil­lion. Not too shabby, I must say.

I will have to split the fi­nal Sh2 mil­lion with Mr N. I stiffed him out of his cut with the VIP be­cause I doubt the lat­ter will ever bring it up with any­one. So why ad­mit to Mr N that I got paid?

But it’s dif­fer­ent with GG. Mr N (through his con­nec­tions) or­gan­ised for a piece to run on­line on a pop­u­lar blog. It was straight to the point and the threat was clear.

I go over those words again in my head — the straw that broke the camel’s back, as it were:

A prom­i­nent Nairobi busi­ness­man with close ties to the First Fam­ily and mar­ried to a lady from one of the most pow­er­ful fam­i­lies in the coun­try has knocked up a lo­cal girl. Our sources say she is keep­ing the baby and a pro­tracted le­gal bat­tle will fol­low once the child is born, to force him to as­sume parental re­spon­si­bil­ity. It is un­clear at this time if his wife is aware of the un­fold­ing sit­u­a­tion. The girl has promised to re­lease his name soon. Watch this space. If I don’t tell Mr N that GG paid up, then I may have him mak­ing good on the threat to ac­tu­ally pub­lish GG’s name. And we can’t have that. I re­spond to GG. When can I col­lect? “Since we are cel­e­brat­ing, can we have some­thing stronger than wa­ter?” asks Eric, as I hit the send but­ton.

Uh-oh. I’ve al­ways been un­com­fort­able with how much Eric drinks, and it’s in the mid­dle of the day! “Isn’t it a lit­tle early?” I ask gently. “It’s never too early when you’re cel­e­brat­ing,” he says, ges­tur­ing to a waiter.

“Can we have a bot­tle of cham­pagne?” he asks the young lad.

“Wait! Cham­pagne? Is this still on me?” I ask.

“No, this will be my treat, my love,” he re­sponds.

My love? Well, well. Cham­pagne and en­dear­ments plus two mil­lion bob. What else can go this well to­day?

I have my an­swer 10 min­utes later as

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