Page 18 of Cursed Daughters
“And you ended it.”
“Yup.”
“But…Kalu hasn’t even asked you out yet.”
“Don’t worry about that. He will.”
IX
“This isyourhouse?”
Monife stepped out of the car and followed Golden Boy.
In the daylight, the home that they had recklessly partied in just a week ago was even more daunting. It was the grandest house on the street, fashioned in the style of Southern American plantation houses—big, white and showy.
“I thought you knew you were at mine,” he replied. “Does it change anything?”
It didn’t, much. She had guessed he was well off. He had the look—spotless white trainers and deceptively plain T-shirts. Plus, he and his driver had picked her up in a Mercedes.
“No.”
“Whose house did you think you were at?”
She shrugged. “Hey. We got an invite to a party and we turned up. I bet you didn’t know half the people there.”
“Less than half.”
“See.” They entered, and the interiors were as impressive as the outside had been—marble floors, large paintings on white walls, and oddly shaped sculptures. It was certainly extravagant, but it lacked the character of the Falodun home.
They ascended a broad staircase, and he casually mentioned he was taking her to his floor.
“You have afloorto yourself?”
“Well, not entirely. I share it with my sisters. Our rooms are on the same floor and we have a living room up here where we entertain our friends.”
“Am I going to have to meet your parents?”
“They’re not home.”
“Oh.” She raised an eyebrow, “So you’re planning to take advantage of me?”
He blushed. He was so cute when he blushed.
—
“Ebony and ivory,” she sang as she traced the contours of his sand-coloured arm. She was obsidian black beside his tan skin. He joined her, the song rumbling out of him. They were in his living room, sitting on his floor chatting and watching MTV on a giant widescreen. There was so much wealth and privilege that he had been exposed to, but he wasn’t arrogant or showy.
He kept singing, failing to notice that Mo had stopped two lines ago.
“Oh shit. Are those the lyrics?”
“So you don’t even know the song you’re singing.”
“Hey, in my defence, I don’t thinkanyoneknows more than that first line.”
“I do.”
“Yea. But you’re Golden Boy.”
