Metropole Magazine

 
 
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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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20 Dec

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

Monday

We arrived in Abuja in time to drop Zainab off at her office, and our lingering kiss in my Aston Martin told me she loved our weekend in Malaysia. Draft proposals, contract agreements, MOUs and bills were waiting for me on my desk, but as I tipped my drivers and security N10K each, recharged their phones and bought lunch for all my staff and gave my new PA a silk-lined wallet from Malaysia, they all knew why I was in a good mood. “Oga, you must marry Aunty Zainab o! She fit you well well,” said one of my drivers. I agreed.

Tuesday

I went to see Aliyu in his law firm to iron things out; his wedding was in two weeks and I was his best man. “Bro, I just want you to be careful. One night with the wrong woman and you could lose everything.” Since we were kids, Aliyu always acted like my big brother, even though I’m three months older than him. Although he doubted if I’d truly changed, we all had dinner tonight: Zainab and I, Aliyu and his fiancé Miriam, Stanley and his girlfriend Bunmi, and Stanley’s brother Anthony and his wife Diana, who accepted my apology over our fight a few weeks ago. I was pleased to be back into the fold.

Wednesday

My new therapist Cody Ferral was young, tall and finely-suited with a full head of dark-brown hair – he seemed too handsome to be taken seriously. He asked about Zainab instead of my childhood and I filled our first hour talking about her. “You love her, yes, but will she ever be enough?” he asked. I thought about it. “Zainab is the only woman I need; I have enough money to buy everything else I want.” His face remained blank.

Thursday

I had equipped all our ZeeCG’s head offices in 13 West African countries with first-rate video conferencing technology, and the weekly video conferences with the various MDs were always hilarious affairs with technological incompetence, cultural sensitivities and personality clashes all on the programme. I promised to visit each of the offices and integrate the communications and accounting amongst all the HQs. “I’m really proud of this new you,” said Stanley, as we hung out at my Maitama wine bar. I’d warned the bouncers not to let any young woman in, and as we left I spotted an angry Nnenna amongst the 5 or 6 ladies gathered outside.

Friday

My personal shopper located a vintage Saville Row suit last week when I sent him shopping to England. I wore it to a dinner party at an ambassador’s residence tonight, and Zainab was gorgeous in her cream D&G gown as we arrived in my Black Bentley. As Zainab spoke broken Spanish with some Argentines, I spotted the Italian divorcee I’d shared a passionate night with a few weeks ago. I choked on my Martini as she approached me, darting fearful looks at Zainab, who didn’t see us. We exchanged pleasantries then she walked away as if nothing had happened between us. I sighed with relief, walked over to Zainab and slipped my hand around her waist.

Saturday

After a quick meeting in Kaduna at the home of a bedridden investor, I returned to Abuja where I tried to placate Zainab’s parents. Her father was pleased with my penitence, but her mother was unyielding, until I gave her the deeds to three shops at a plaza that Zainab told me she had been trying to buy for two years. She then hugged me. Alhaji called Halima and chastised her in front of the whole family for interfering with her elder sister’s fiancé, and her angry tears were satisfying. At my monthly pool party, Zainab, Diana and their girlfriends and cousins were the only women in attendance.

Sunday

I decided to go to church today to thank God for bringing Zainab back to me. After service, I had a quick meeting with Pastor Phil in his office and some of the choir girls were waiting for me outside, but I ignored them all, jumped into my Bentley and drove to a lunch date with Zainab. Tiwa was waiting outside my mansion that evening, but I drove past her and my security held her back when she tried to run in through the closing gates. I felt bad, Tiwa’s a good girl, but I’m determined to remain focused. I sent Leman to take N800, 000 to her with a handwritten note saying “We can never be together again, sorry. You know what I can do if you continue to make a scene. Thanks for the good times, Jamal.” 

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