Sunday, 16 December 2012

The Wrath Of jezebel by Amos Bwire...contd

At that hour of a working day, the Bakers Basket Coffee-shop was nearly empty.

At the entrance, Abella anxiously scanned the warmly lit room for a familiar face. Her eyes drew focus on a Persian lady of mid-forties, whose eyes were staring intently at her. She was seating solo at the far right side, holding a cup of coffee in her left hand, right fingers flipping pages of Curve magazine.

Her body shivered momentarily before she walked towards the woman.

"A cup of coffee...?" The cross-legged woman opened the conversation.

"Ah no, thank you!" Abella responded as was adjusting herself on the seat. Apart from the woman, there were only six other customers in the place, all white and in couples.

"You might love their pastries then," said the woman, pointing at her plate. "try and tell." She sounded like a strong, self-assured type. 

"Oh, okay." Abella conceded, somehow bluntly as she picked up a piece of pasty.

"Good." The woman said, offering a handshake. "I'm Sanaz, but you may call me Shenaz." Her thick black hair waved loosely about her bare shoulders as her head tilted, swiftly. Her stronger version of Christiane Amanpour-like voice made Abella's brows rise.

"Ohkay." Abella shook the glossy hand. She was amazed at the strength it exerted on hers. "You know me already, I guess..."  

Shenaz smiled. "Surely, I do," her beautiful face exuded an air of odd confidence that was somewhat mystical. "Abella, is it?"

"Uh-huh." Abella moved her hand away. And as she did so, Shenaz gave her an odd look before saying, "First born to the family of Honorable Bomani, a Home-Affairs Minister. A very quick thinker and was an 'A' student throughout her education. Actually, her Black-Triangle file says she has an IQ level of 150!" 

"Once, while undertaking one of her two Masters' degree courses in Manchester, she got overly drunk and ended up on bed with her Turkish Professor whom she never figured out before to be an ass guy, until it was too late for her to--"

"Who told you about that?" Embarrassed, Abella had an immediate loss of breath. Oh gosh! I never told that to anyone!

"We are picky," responded Shenaz, her bright eyes never deviating from Abella's. "we pick our people at a very young age. There are different approach though, and times, for official enrollment to BT. We take--"


"Black Triangle."

"What is that?" Abella was perplexed.

"Never heard of that before?"

"No. Never. What is--?"

"Good." Shenaz said, shifting her attention towards a waitress that approached their corner. Shenaz ordered another cup of coffee. "I drink a lot of coffee, trying to quit smoking."

Abella wasn't in a mood to talk. She gazed slightly, at fairly-expensive chunky black triangular-gemstones stringed together around her hostess' neck. Have I seen something like this somewhere before! She recalled.

"You should order something." A matter of fact.

Abella ordered a bottle of Kilimanjaro water. "Tell me about that Black Angle."
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

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