I listened in horror as Max gave out my number on air.
‘So ladies,’ she said, ‘if you’re ready for a roller coaster ride, give Mr. Bond a call.’
What did you just do? I asked her.
Relax. Came her reply. It’s just something to take your mind off your situation.
‘Perhaps not a lot of people listen to the program.’ I told myself. ‘Definitely not a lot of people take these things too seriou…’
My thoughts were broken by notification sounds as messages came flooding onto my phone. The text messages were coming in faster than I could read them. And there were a few phone calls and some flashes too.
‘Who flashes with a strange number? Am I supposed to call back? Na wa o.’
The nervousness I felt with the first few messages soon gave way to some excitement, but that soon changed to apprehension when I read some of the messages.
Hi Mr. Bond. My name is Ada n am 28yrs. I wnt go on ur rolacosta. Pick me.
Mr. Bond, am a real vampire. Come let me tak u 2 our leaders so u can bcom 1 of us.
Hi Mr. Bond, I listened to your profile by Maxine and I think I’m the girl for you. Can I call you?
I like blood and danger and adventure. Can you assure me of these things?
‘sup. I tink am the woman for u. Where can we mt up?
Different variations of those messages came pouring in. At some point I set my message notifications to silent, but the red light kept flashing, calling me back from the brink of sleep to the phone.
Hey Max, see set up! I didn’t think people took these things seriously. My phone battery is almost flat and the phone is hot, and still the messages are coming in.
Honi, enjoy it. Too many single and lonely people out there.
Too many crazy people you mean. Some people have promised to take me to the bottom of the Atlantic to meet their queen. Even guys have called and sms’d me. Too many crazy people, I tell you Max.
I woke up the next day to find thirty-four text messages and more missed calls. A groan passed my lips.
I was going through the messages when I noticed a WhatsApp message.
‘Sup. Are you there? Or on your way to work?
I didn’t recognise the number, but there was a familiar quality to the message so I replied.
Hey. I’m still home. Should leave in a bit. You?
I’m okay. Are you in Lagos?
I didn’t think anything of this because I had recently come back from a trip out-of-town.
Yes, I am. How’re you and work?
Work? I do business. Work has plenty wahala. Where do you leave?
That question woke me up, not just because of the misuse of leave. I tried to view her avi but I had to save her number first. Damned WhatsApp. I didn’t recognise the lady in the picture.
I’m sorry, but how do I know you? I asked.
U don’t know me. Maybe I should send u photo?
I was still contemplating the question when I received two pictures. One was of a girl walking down some steps holding the balustrade, the other was of the same girl lying in bed face down. The picture was taken to accentuate her curves and there was something feline about her lying like that.
I didn’t recognise her from the photos and I told her so.
Are u save with me now? So, where do u leave?
Are you familiar with Lagos? I asked.
And I told her.
So do u want me 2 come?
Come? You don’t even know if I’m a serial killer 😮 I joked.
I can come holy if u can Driver to down to my place o. Not mainland. Lekki.
I kill pple too, so stay where u are.
I closed the chat. At least I could not say she did not warn me.
‘Too many crazy people in this town.’
I opened the next message, saw who it was from and my breath caught in my throat.