Chapter 119: Pacing

Ike's POV

"Hello," I say as I hear the dial tone end. "Hello?"

"Shit!" I exclaim when I heed the beeping noise that indicates the connection is futile.

"What the fuck?" I implore, gawking at the device in irritation.

"Ana, where are you?" I query, pacing the floored space of the hallway where I hold important business meetings that can't be carried out at the office for confidential purposes hence you never know who is serving as an informant to the man to who I bear his last name.

I've been aiming to speak to Ana but she doesn't seem to be picking which is a weird case because we spoke well in the morning and had no arguments so I don't see any reason why she should be ignoring me.

We are supposed to go out on a date this evening which is one of the justifications as to why I'm striving to connect with her to know if there are any changes of plans especially as there is a heavy downpour.

"Bro, what is the problem?" Cecilia inquiries as she materializes from the entrance, the flair red and blue wrap-round dress she's wearing dipping in a V-shaped style at the breast angle, thereby showcasing enough cleavage.

"Where are you coming from dressed like this?" I ask, the overprotective instinct kicking in as I see my sister dressed this way.

"I met up with a friend of mine," she explains, resisting my challenging stare.

"Is this friend a male or a female?" I interrogate, stilling my movements as I stand face to face with her, my arms crossed behind my back.

"Uh, his name is Kelly," she answers scratching her all-back black weaves that stop just below her full bum.

"So he's a man," I assert eying her.

"Yeah, he's a college friend," she responds, pouting.

"Does this friend of yours know how old you are?" I poll, lifting a brow.

"Ike, what does that have to do with where I'm coming from?" She interviews, blushing.

"It has everything to do with it," I declare, putting on a fierce expression. "I want to know if he's a pervert or worse a pedophile, or if you've begun having a sugar daddy?"

"Bro you know I'm not like that," she argues. "What will a sugar daddy give me that you haven't?"

"You never can tell," I shrug.

"You still haven't told me why you are restless," she recalls, walking past me in a six-inch black stiletto.

"The same way you still haven't explained to me what business you had with that friend you met up with," I counter, following her past the hallway into the living room.

"I told you, he's a graduate from the school," she clarifies, withdrawing her toes from the cages of the heeled shoe.

"Well, you didn't tell me that," I remind, folding my hands.

"Anyway, I've said my part, it's your turn now," she blurts, peering at me.

"My turn for what?" I ask, pretending not to hear.

"Don't act like I didn't walk in to see you pacing like you are waiting for someone to exit the washroom so you can take a shit," she chastises, eying me.

"That doesn't seem like your business," I retort, seeming in a bad mood.

"Well it is because if you faint or go unconscious I'll be the first sister to cry," she scoffs.

"Good to know," I retort, resuming my match.

"Son, what's the problem?" Mom quizzes, rolling into the room in her wheelchair, guess she doesn't have the strength to work her bones today. "I overheard your conversation."

"Never mind ma," I say, bending to kiss her forehead as she comes to me. "You know Cecilia and how she can be nosy."

"I'm the nosy one, not Cecilia," Mirian voices, descending the stairs in a pair of ripped jean shorts and a crochet blouse. Don't stare at me that way, I'm their senior brother so I grew up knowing all the names of female clothes and also keeping up to date with the latest fashion trend.

"You also forgot the loud one," I input as she offers mom's bare shoulder a squeeze due to the off-shoulder toe-length kaftan she's donning.

"Thank's for the compliment," she winks, not upset by my statement. "Why are you dressed that way?"

"When did wearing black slacks and a half-buttoned long-sleeved white shirt and a loosened tie become a reason to be gazed at in disgust?" I raise a question in regards to the look she's sending me.

"Did you hear yourself?" She interviews, gaping at me. "You look like something a dog picked from the trash."

"Thank you for making me feel pretty," I sneer.

"I'll always do that," she grins, knowing she's getting on my nerves.

"Ike my son, what is the problem?" Mom repeats, watching me. "I'm asking for the second time."

"It's Ana," I confess, having no other choice as the stares of three inquisitive women can make a man blurt out all his past sins.

"I knew it!" Cecilia exclaims in glee as if she just won the jackpot.

"Yep, why didn't I think of it earlier," Mirian muses, peeking upwards as if talking with supernatural beings.

"Me too," Cecilia concurs. "Because there's only one person who can get his panties in a twist."

"Children, let's allow the young man speak," Mom decrees, ending their blabbering, much to my joy. "What's wrong with Ana?"

"I don't know ma," I exhale. "She hasn't been responding to my calls."

"Did you two quarrel?" Mom asks, while my sisters perk up their ears to catch my response.

"No," I answer, and I almost chuckle at their disappointed expressions.

"Are you sure?" Mom investigates, bestowing that 'Mom gaze' that can do wonders.

"No mom, everything was fine in the morning, I'm back from work and calling to remind her to get prepared for our date which is to hold in an hour but no response," I elucidate, not understanding the reason why I am not able to speak with her.

"Then what are you still doing here?" She questions, making me confused.

"I don't understand," I inform.

"Daniel, Ikechukwu, Okwu, I did not raise you this way," she pronounces, using my full name for emphasis. "You should be on your way to her at the moment and not walking up and down here like a sheep who has lost his way."

"Do you mean--"