“My guy, I beg, make you no biz me about that man. If I hear ein name sef, then I bore. Mtcheww. Nonsense coach!”

“Oh, but Didayy, Graham Potter be good coach oo. Like, he dey show promise. Or you no dey see am so?”

Deladem looked up into the eyes of his fellow sports journalist, Kudzo Hormenu, and sneered at the mischief-laden grin on his face. “Massa, make you no do make I take my phone slap you.”

Kudzo laughed out loud.

It was Friday evening, and in the studios of Velvet FM, where Deladem worked, he and Kudzo were waiting outside the studio as the six o’clock news report was being read. At seven o’clock, the regular sports show would commence. Kudzo, along with Fraser Wallace-Bruce, Nii Teiko and Benny Thompson, would dish out two hours of sports analysis and banter on the listening population who tuned in all the time. Deladem joined them every fortnight, and it was always laughs and fun whenever he was on set.

As Deladem shook his head grinning sheepishly while Kudzo continued to laugh, his phone buzzed. He lifted it and checked.

A WhatsApp message from Delasi.

The excitement in his system was immediately blown away upon seeing her name. A dry look took over as he opened the message.

Hey, just finding out if we’re still on for Sunday. Bishop asked me to confirm from you.

He sighed.

Bishop Gordon, who was a regular at Cues Corner and had come to know the squad through numerous meetings there, as well as forming a Manchester United bond with Bruce and Clarence, had invited them to his church for Sunday service. They had asked for time to consider, as they had their own churches to attend. As of the last time they spoken, all but Becky were in favour of paying Shalom Temple a visit. Their beauty with braces had not been in church for quite a while, and wasn’t interested in honouring this invitation.

He quickly typed out the response: Sure. We’ll be coming, and sent it, shaking his head as he pocketed his phone.

Ever since the day she brought that problematic zealot into their house to rip him apart for no good reason, he just… wasn’t in the mood for engaging her that much. Sure, he had forgiven her, it wasn’t like he had a choice or anything. But that day just changed his perception of her, and he just did not feel like giving her that space anymore.

Obviously she’s my sister, so I can’t cut her off, and it would be rather ridiculous to cut her off over this, he reasoned to himself. But chale, as much as possible, make she dey her lane make I dey mine.

***

Girl, you’re so one in a million/You are/Baby, you’re the best I ever had/Best I ever had/And I’m certain that/There ain’t nothing better/No, there ain’t nothing better than this,” Bruce happily sang, bopping his head to Ne-Yo’s classic tune while maneuvering through the evening traffic.

He glanced briefly at his wife in the passenger seat, who had a giddy smirk on her face. It was one of their favourite songs, and she loved nothing more than when he played it loud and blaring in the car.

The working week was over, and the Aforo couple were treating themselves to a night out at, as a little celebration for the completion of another week of struggle. The fact that Bruce’s chief tormentor had been out of town the entire week was another cause for celebration, meaning that he had pretty much gone through a stressful but peaceful week.

Bruce sighed deeply, the relief in his sigh clear as day. “Thank God it’s Friday!” he declared out loud as the song ended.

Nana Asor nodded and placed a hand on his knee. “Indeed, Brucie. Thank God for the end of another week. It would just be nice if we could get an extra day to add to the weekend.”

“Hmmm, this matter! Chale, e do aa, the two days no dey reach kraaa. You go blink like three times, then Monday catch.”

“Chale! Issa nonsense distin. But babe, to be honest, eh, even the three days run by too quickly. See how fast the time goes when we get a Friday or Monday holiday. Two minutes pɛ, then the day end.”

“Hmmm, serious ooo. See the Independence Day holiday. Just some small relaxing and smooching we dey do, suddenly e catch 8 p.m…”

The Aforo couple continued their lively conversation about the different things in life as they continued to make their way to Tittara Restaurant, the romantic little spot Nana Asor had suggested they head to.

About fifteen minutes in, and they were parked at the front of the restaurant located in Labone.

As the engine was switched off, Bruce smiled at his wife as he unbuckled his seat belt. She returned the favour, giving him that dazzling gap-toothed grin that always made his heart skip a few beats.

“Small and intimate. I like it,” he remarked, looking at the restaurant and nodding. “Definitely a good choice, babe.”

“Thanks, Brucie,” Nana Asor acknowledged, rubbing his hand. “And I bet we’re gonna enjo… ei, Bruce! It’s seven oooo! Abi Didayy is on for tonight?”

“Ahhhh, yeahhhhh! It’s true!” Bruce remembered, immediately switching the radio from his phone’s Bluetooth to the FM station their friend worked at. “Make we hear the nonsense that boy dey come unleash tonight before we go in.”

The sports group was on, doing their usual introduction. As it was time to introduce their fortnightly guest, the host, Kudzo, started slowly. “And as usual, joining us on the third Friday of the month… it’s our bossu himself… the man with the straight hair, in fact, the standing hair… Velvet’s resident Togbe… the one and only… DIDAYY-DIDAYY!!”

“DIDAYY-DIDAYY!!” the rest of the guys on air chanted.

Bruce and Nana Asor laughed. Nobody could remember the origin of that name; Deladem himself could barely recount what event it was that led to him being christened with the name. all he knew was that it came about from his days in Adisadel College, and he never looked back.

“And he is going to kick things off with a special musical number. In fact, he has told me that this performance, eh… it will knock your socks off!”

As the guys oohed and aahed in mock anticipation, Bruce put a hand on his face. “Yieee, this boy dey come detty ein body give we.”

“Ashock,” Nana Asor agreed, shaking her head. “He’s coming to show us premium fooling, for sure.”

The next thing they heard was Deladem clearing his throat, rubbing his hands, and whispering a loud ‘3…2…1…’

… before letting rip with the silliest falsetto, which threw the studio, and probably many listeners, into peals of laughter. If he was trying to imitate the likes of Mariah Carey, he was doing a fantastic job.

A fantastic job at failing spectacularly.

Continuing his comic high-pitched attempt, he broke into a rendition of ‘Un Poco Loco’.

What color is the sky? Ay, mi amor, ay, mi amor

You tell me that it’s red, ay, mi amor, ay, mi amor

By this time, while the panelists were egging him on with silly chants, Bruce and Nana Asor were in absolute stitches in their car, their eyes filled with tears from laughing so hard.

“Herh! I know sey Didayy be foolish boy, but this be different level! Eiii!” Bruce gasped, holding his side and still laughing.

“The boy tear chain waaa!” Nana Asor agreed, wiping her tears. “Herh, let’s give it to him on the group chat. He’s a big kwasia for this!”

“Very big kwasia! Ajeeeeiiiii!”

***

“Herhh!! Didayy be foolish boy paaa! Eii!” Becky howled out loud, tears in her eyes as she threw her head on the desk.

The radio on her phone was on, keeping her company as she stayed late in the office to finish up on some work, and she heard Deladem clown out in classic style with his absolutely hilarious attempt at singing.

The phone started pinging with message tones. She lifted her head and grinned. “I’m sure Asor thems are insulting him by now,” she snickered as she went on to check her messages.

Indeed, their group chat was buzzing with laughing emojis and riotous jabs at Deladem’s tomfoolery.

Bruce: Herh, Didayy, you be very foolish boy, you hear 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Nana Asor: In fact, I no dey respect you again sef 😂😂

Clarence: Na you Asor, na you still get respect for this kwasia? 😂😂😂😂

Becky laughed out loud. As expected. The squad were tearing him apart. And once he got to his phone, he’d fire back at all of them.

“Hwɛ, make I add my own! This boy diɛɛ, herh!” Becky decided, a big grin on her face as she took up her phone, ready to type a reply.

Then her phone began to vibrate.

Her smile instantly disappeared as she saw who it was.

Kweku Amankwaah. Her older brother.

Ugh, I know what he’s calling for, she said to herself, shaking her head as she chose to type out the message before responding to the call. That grin slightly appeared as she typed, Didayy, you really f**k up ooo, herh 😆😆😆

By that time, the call had ended.

Just as she readied herself to call him back, he called again.

She answered. “Hello, Amankwaah.”

“Becky, how are you doing?”

“I’m good, I’m good, and you too?”

“Mmm, we’re managing ooo. Just doing the best that we can.”

“Mmmm, I see,” she commented dryly.

“Yeah, yeah. Becky, wei diɛ, I know things aren’t easy, but please, the drugs I have to get the old man, it’s seriously eating into my budget. I beg you, I need your help. Please.”

Becky let out a loud sigh of exasperation. Of course this is why you called me? Of course!

“Beckyyyy, I know, I know, but, chale, we still need to help out.”

Becky shut her eyes and fought back the urge to scream back some acidic words at him. We absolutely do NOT have to help out! She inhaled and exhaled, then slowly asked. “How much do you need?”

“About 1,000 cedis, but I know things aren’t easy anywhere, so you, you can give me half of that. Please.”

Becky continued to breathe in and out slowly, doing her best to regain her composure. Goodness, anything related to that man made her system go into indignation overdrive! She did not give an iota of a crap whatever happened with him, and she totally despised having to be dragged into doing this.

But… Amankwaah was her older brother, and it was sometimes hard to say no to him.

“Sure, sure, I’ll send it to you,” she stated quickly.

A sigh of relief followed. “Thank you, Becky. Seriously, thanks so much. You’ve really saved me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she replied dryly. “You know I’m only doing this because it’s you, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. I know. But thanks, sis. I’ll be on standby.”

“Sure.”

As the call ended, she tossed the phone onto the table, her mood soured in the twinkle of an eye.

She really hated finding herself in this kind of mood. It brought out the nasty side of her and triggered versions of her that she did not enjoy bringing to the fore.

But anything to do with that man, even a phone call about giving him money, sent her into that state of indignation overdrive.

And she couldn’t be blamed. After all he had done to them… 

Yeah, Didayy’s not fully over his hurt, is he? And what’s up with Becky’s family? An explanation would definitely be needed…