Chapter 3

My phone ringing non-stop from the bedroom made me stop my mission of bomb-making.

Who knew making pancakes would be so hard? Those chefs on the food network channel make it look so easy. 

I walked to my room wondering who was calling me. I wasn't expecting any call from the office since it was my day off and so, when I got to the bedroom and found out that it was my assistant at the office — who also happened to be my best friend — calling me, I knew something was up. 

It's either she wants to torment me with talks about how her mum keeps bugging her to get married at the age of twenty-five or there's something wrong at the office.

"Hey, Cassie," I said as I answered the call “What's—"

“Ama, there's a problem,'' she announced before I could complete my question. 

“What's wrong?“ I asked, sensing the agitation in her voice. 

"I know today is your day off but you have to come to see this for yourself."

“Can't you tell me what's wrong over the phone? I planned on using today to learn some special recipes, you know?"

“Please spare me. I'm actually saving you the effort of wasting your foodstuffs."

"You did not just say that," I said, feigning being hurt by her words. 

"No, I just said that I feel pity for those foodstuffs you use every day in carrying out your evil scientific experiment of food poisoning,“ she said sardonically.

"In my defence, I had no idea I was supposed to put just a pinch of salt and not two tablespoons."

“Obviously,” she replied, and I envisioned her rolling her eyeballs like she usually does. 

“How fast can you get here?“ 

“Seriously, I really don't feel like leaving the house today. Can't the problem be shifted to tomorrow?“ I whined.

‘No, it can't. You would actually be shocked when you get here." 

“You know I have a date with my kitchen today. She is going to be angry that I'm ditching her after our arrangement,” I complained, trying to buy my way out of going to the office. 

"Please... she would be the happiest person on this planet to get dumped on a date.“ 

"You're so dead when I see you."  

“Save the death threat for Gerald and not me."

“Gerald? What has that pussy done this time?“ 

"Do I need to give you the rundown or just a scale between one and ten?"

“A scale would be better." 

"I would say a nine," she squeaked.

“Give me five minutes," I replied before ending the call. 

I hurriedly made preparations to leave the house for the office, not bothering to go for a professional look since it was my day off.

I ran into the bathroom to take a quick shower and, deciding not to waste further time in getting my hair dried, I packed it into a messy bun. I pulled out my dark jean from the wardrobe and put it on, pairing it with a yellow shirt. 

Actually, that was just the first shirt I came across in the wardrobe and I just decided to go with it. As you must have known, I'm not an organized person when it comes to household stuff. I'm only organized when it comes to my career. 

I stepped out of the room hurriedly towards the door but then I remembered my pancake batter and decided to check on it. 

The bowl was still sitting on the counter just as I left it before going to the bedroom to answer my call. To say I was disappointed with the outcome of the mixture would be an understatement. 

What was I expecting? A miracle? That's going to take centuries. 

Seeing my attempted failure at the pancake batter, I decided to just leave it on the counter and rush down to the office. I will find a solution to it when I get back. 

That would be sending it down the drain for a reunion with its other failed members. 

I hurriedly put on my shoes that were by the door already and went out. I made my way outside into the cold autumn air and the busy streets of New York. As I stood outside of my apartment building trying to hail a cab, I noticed I was getting stares from passersby. 

I wonder what they were staring at. I know I'm not a tall person and the fact that I wasn't wearing any heels today made it horrible. 

Maybe you just look pretty today. My inner conscience whispered to me, but I knew that was a lie. 

Wait a minute! What if there were residues of batter lying lazily on my hair because I have murdered many of its comrades?

Nah, I took a shower before I left the house. 

Deciding to ignore the stares, I tried hailing a cab. After three failed attempts at hailing one due to how the streets of New York are always so busy, I finally got one on my fourth attempt.

I immediately jumped into it as if it was my ticket to watch Bad Boys III. Mind you, I love that movie. The combo of Martin Lawrence and Will Smith are just something I can't get over. They nailed that movie. 

After a few minutes, the driver stopped at the front of my office building. I jumped down quickly and grabbed a few dollar bills from my purse to pay him.

I walked briskly into the building and headed straight to the elevator, not. forgetting to greet Agatha by the receptionist's desk. I didn't bother to sign in, given the fact that today was meant to be my day off, but the surprised look Agatha gave me as I walked towards the elevator didn't go unnoticed by me. 

What is it with the stares today? 

I hit the third button on the elevator and waited as it went up, making its boring sound until it finally stopped at my destination. 

I stepped out of the elevator and began making my way to my office but a sharp voice piercing the air stopped me in my tracks. 

“Ama, what the hell are you putting on?"