Metropole Magazine

 
 
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03 Jan

Jamal is an Abuja-based billionaire bachelor and businessman who works hard and parties hard. Welcome to his world

Week 12

Monday

I stayed another day in Mali to visit our mining sites and meet with some eager politicians, then flew to Senegal and straight into a conference I was chairing, due to my 45% stake in the country’s fishing industry. At my hotel that evening, my Senegalese assistant brought me five voluptuous women to choose from; I shouted at him to get the women out of my sight. Even a hotel concierge told me in broken English about the “sexy girls” he could get for me. I contented myself with cyber-love with Zainab, who rejoiced over the new Audi S8 I arranged to be delivered to her house yesterday as a thank you for standing by me.

Tuesday

Apart from calls and emails from those hearing of the scandal late, and a belated attempt by Cynthia’s friends to press charges against me for kidnap and grievous bodily harm (which my aides quickly quashed), the worst of the scandal was over. ZeeGC’s stock rose again and my silence about the whole issue helped to kill the story. I concluded talks with Senegalese developers, directed the installation of the technological systems at ZeeGC’s head quarters and attended a party in my honour in Dakar before a night flight to Sierra Leone.

Wednesday

I finally got the courage to call Zainab’s father. “You’re young, you make mistakes. This was just the final nail in the coffin of your promiscuity I hope?” I assured him it was. I’d put my therapy session on hold but Dr Ferral encouraged me to continue to keep a diary and remain accountable to Aliyu and Zainab. A few Sierra Leonean bloggers and a radio talk show carried my story, but that was all. “It all happened for a reason Jamal, to make us stronger” Zainab said.

Thursday

Zainab’s father told me yesterday of some of his business troubles and wanted me to come on board to redirect some of his affairs. Looks like I don’t have marry Zainab to get my hands on his businesses after all! In Guinea, I caught myself admiring a petite secretary in ZeeGC’s head office, mostly because she wasn’t trying to catch my eye, but I quickly pictured her as Cynthia and turned my head away in disgust. My last meeting of the day ended at 3am with my head throbbing; it was difficult adjusting my French dialect to each Francophone country.

Friday

I had missed calls and angry texts from Zainab because I didn’t called her last night. I had to show her the whole of my bed, my bathroom, toilet and dustbins of my hotel room via my webcam, and she even examined my back for scratches and bites and interviewed my travel staff and security before she was convinced I wasn’t with a woman last night. She told me Cynthia had relocated to Ghana. Good. I refused to go with the younger executives to a club and slept on the specially-fitted bed on my jet throughout the flight back to Abuja for Aliyu’s wedding.

Saturday

Our Oswald Boateng groomsmen suits arrived just in time for me, Stanley, Anthony, Aliyu’s brothers, cousins and law firm partners; with Chris Aire watches and cufflinks, white roses on our lapels and lavender silk pocket squares. Zainab was on Miriam’s bridal train and looked classy in a lavender House of Farrah gown, and as we walked down the aisle arm in arm before the bride, I imagined it was our wedding. At the reception I danced exclusively with her and almost punched a House of Rep member who asked me if I still had Cynthia’s number. Zainab later told Aliyu’s aunties had warned her about ‘men like me.’ We spent the night at Transcorp Hilton.

Sunday

I left for Liberia at 6am to complete my tour of West Africa. Aliyu called me from his honeymoon suite in the Bahamas; his father’s wedding gift of a house in London made him consider opening a law firm in England and starting his family there. I envied his new lease on life and thought seriously of setting a date for Zainab and me. She suggested a week before her birthday – which was two months away – so that she’ll celebrate it on our honeymoon. I decided to finally tell my mother my plans, but she won’t be happy.

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28 Dec

Jamal is an Abuja-based billionaire bachelor and businessman who works hard and parties hard. Welcome to his world.

Week 11

Monday

A video of me naked on top of a woman, her right hand raised as she recorded the 23-second clip on her phone, was published on a popular blog this morning. The woman’s face was hidden but I recognised her. I called Aliyu, the IG of Police and the DG of the SSS, and by 11am the video was taken down, but the damage had already been done. In the evening, I went to the army barracks were Cynthia was tied up. I held her by her throat and told her she’ll pay for what she’s done.” Zainab had seen the video: “Stop humiliating me!” she screamed down the phone.

Tuesday

All my staff averted their eyes when I walked into the office. I got hundreds of emails and texts from both gloating and sympathetic associates; the story was in the papers in Nigeria and across West Africa and the video was all over social media with the caption “ZeeGC’s CEO in Sex Tape Shocker with Prostitute.” Dr Bolagun, Mr Nwafor, the Chens and I held an emergency meeting in my office where they chastised me and tried to appease our worldwide partners. ZeeGC’s stocks went down and my other businesses were negatively affected. I ordered Cynthia’s house, cars and salon to be burnt down, her sister’s shop was demolished and her parents were thrown out of their house before it was also demolished.

Wednesday

“I warned you about associating with loose women,” Aliyu said. My head was on my desk in despair. Thankfully, Zainab, who sat next to Aliyu, was also sympathetic. She sobbed quietly as we sat in silence. “It’s OK Jamal.” She said finally, her almond eyes moist with tears. “That video represents the old you. I know you’ll never put yourself in such a position again.” I made sure Cynthia was whipped and left naked in her cell and eight of her friends who had the video on their phones were arrested. I must punish Cynthia thoroughly so that other would-be betrayers would take note.

Thursday

Cynthia was released after Zainab’s intervention. Her face was slashed, her hair shaved off and I made sure her sordid life became the talk of blogs: “Sex Tape Prostitute Had Five Miscarriages after Affairs with three Governors.” Since Monday, furtive glances and whispers followed me everywhere I went, and I was glad to fly to Burkina Faso to begin my two-week tour of West Africa. Zainab’s love remained strong, but gossip from those around her was painful for her. I asked her to come with me but she refused. I arrived at my villa in Ouagadougou’s Laico Ouga hotel subdued and remorseful.  

Friday

I was worried that her friends might turn Zainab against me in my absence, so I kept in constant touch with calls, messages and video-calls. I was glad she didn’t chastise me, which added to my determination to never let another woman come between us, especially one as debauched as Cynthia. Before each meeting today, I addressed the issue of the video, told everyone I regretted my past ways and was a reformed man. It was my first time in Burkina Faso and thankfully the media had not carried the story, so I was free to enjoy a quiet dinner with associates. The thought of even talking to one of the many ladies eyeing me tonight filled me with disgust.

Saturday

A senior policeman called me on my way to a meeting: one of Cynthia’s uncles, a retired military officer, was threatening to sue me if I didn’t compensate the family and apologise publically. That evening as I made my way to Bamako, a phone call confirming the uncle’s imprisonment calmed me down. Her father’s business was destroyed by touts unconnected to me, so I sent a developer to rebuild it. I wanted control over all the misery I was inflicting over them. “Be careful Jamal,” said Zainab, over Skype that night. “I hear the people in her village are all united in their hatred of you.”

Sunday

I visited two of ZeeGC’s sites around Mali, wearing my favourite Ralph Lauren Leather Barracuda jacket. I was feeling better today, especially since only one of my previous conquests, now living in London, was brave enough to speak publically against me to add to the scandal. I’ll deal with her when I return. Zainab said her parents were embarrassed but were defending me to everyone, and my press officer Kunle assured me that tomorrow’s news about a prominent Minister impregnating his wife’s sister will take the limelight off me. But I knew it wasn’t over.

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