Diary,
Being single makes a man reckless; that’s a fact. Before an attached man acts impulsively, he tends to think about his wife, his kids, his kin. Like, what would my wife say if I walked into a police station and announced myself as the husband of a woman I hardly knew, charged with crimes I’m unaware of?
For that’s exactly what I do. Gina is my female equal. She has a body count longer than the Nile and isn’t ashamed to flaunt it. So, when she calls me saying she’s in a police cell for dating the husband of a Superintendent of Police, I get into my shiny white armour, jump on my white steed and ride to a rescue I probably have no chance of accomplishing.
“Sleeping with a married man is no crime,” I say, “so what do they have you in for?”
“Weed,” she says.
“Get serious.”
“Ten bags of very potent weed hidden under the bed in my guest bedroom.”
“Damn! They went all out, didn’t they? And how do you expect me to bail you out of this one?”
She toys with my tie. Even in a cell, Gina still purrs. “You must know people in high places.”
I shake my head. “Not anyone who wants to tangle with the police for nothing.”
“Nothing?” She plays hurt. “I’m nothing?”
“What are you to me, Gina? Only a curiosity, is all. You cheated on me before we even went on our first date and then disappeared.”
“You do this for me, and I’ll owe you.”
“You have nothing I can collect, Gina, and I won’t lie for you.”
She shies away. “Why are you here, then?”
“I’m here to die.”
“Pardon?”
“Like the curious cat. I also wanted to see if for once you might be telling the truth.”
“Well, here I am.”
Superintendent of Police Martha Mbone walks in just then. She’s much bigger and more intimidating than I had imagined.
“So,” she says, “you’re the husband of this philanderer?”
“Ma’am,” I say as humbly as I can, “if it was up to me, I’d let her rot in jail. But there’s the matter of our eight children.”
“Eight children?”
“I can’t even boil water, you see, let alone feed that whole brood. But then again, you’re the law here. You must do as is necessary.”
“I intend to do just that.”
“Oh, by the way, I don’t mean to pry, but I realise you have a mole right there below your left ear.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“As a doctor, it’s my duty to inform you of its potential cancerous nature. If you come in to my office, say, this afternoon, we could do a biopsy and rule anything out. Free of charge, of course.”
And that’s how Gina ends up owing me.