Say Yes To The Best Man Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Late Best Man Kemi Bankole did not believe in love, but she believed in deposits. The one in her bank app that morning was the biggest of her life. Four million naira. It had arrived at 8:02 a.m. from a woman who said she would feel better once the money was gone. Kemi read the alert three times in the back of a Bolt while the driver argued with a danfo man on Admiralty Way. Six hundred guests. Fifteen weeks. A bride who cried happy tears on the phone, and a groom who laughed at everything. She had planned two hundred and eleven weddings. Her own parents had once had a wedding people still talked about. They had stopped talking to each other much sooner. "Rule one," she whispered to herself. "Never cry at a wedding." The restaurant in Lekki served small chops on very large plates. Funmi Adeoye was already waiting at a corner table, glowing in a yellow dress, and she jumped up to hug Kemi as if they were old friends. "You came! I told my mother you would come early. Mummy, this is Kemi." Mrs. Adeoye did not hug. She looked at Kemi's shoes first, then her handbag, then her face. "Is your company registered?" "Yes, ma. I brought the papers." Kemi smiled her best working smile and slid a folder across the table. Mrs. Adeoye opened it slowly, read every line, and closed it with a small nod. It was the nod of a woman who had decided to allow something. Then Tobi Martins arrived, handsome in a fitted shirt, and kissed Funmi on the cheek. He shook Kemi's hand and laughed at something nobody had said. "I'm so happy you're doing this," he said. "Whatever Funmi wants. Whatever she wants, I want." He said it quickly, like a man signing a form without reading it. Kemi noticed. She noticed everything. It was the one habit her job had given her for free. "And where is the best man?" Mrs. Adeoye asked. "On his way," Tobi said. "He's coming from a site." He was not on his way. At least, he was not on his way fast. Forty minutes went by. Kemi used them well. She drew the hall layout on a paper napkin, explained the three-day plan, and won over Mrs. Adeoye with a clever idea for the aso ebi distribution. By the time the best man finally walked in, she had already decided not to like him. He was tall, and his boots had cement dust on them. A yellow hard hat hung from one hand. His shirt was creased, and his tie looked like he had put it on in the car. He did not run or panic. He walked over like a man who had made peace with being late. "Sorry, sorry. Third Mainland Bridge." "Third Mainland is not a surprise, Mr. Obi," Kemi said. "It is a lifestyle. You plan around it." His eyebrows went up. "I did plan around it. It still won." Funmi laughed. Tobi laughed louder. Kemi did not laugh, mostly because the corner of her mouth was trying to and she would not let it. "This is Emeka," Funmi said. "He's our best man. He's been like a brother to Tobi since secondary school." "A best man who is late," Kemi said. "What a good sign for the groom." Tobi laughed again, too loudly. Emeka looked at him for half a second longer than he should have. It was a quick look, tired and careful. Then it was gone, and he pulled out a chair. "Please, continue. I will be quiet." He was not quiet. Kemi had barely reached the part about the venue, a grand hall in Victoria Island with crystal lights and a big green lawn, when he raised a finger. "How many cars can the car park take?" "Enough." "How many is enough?" "Mr. Obi." "It's Emeka. And I'm only asking because there is one road in and one road out. Six hundred guests will not arrive in six hundred cars, I understand that. But maybe two hundred cars, some of them in a hurry, all of them in aso ebi, and all of them arriving at the same time." He shrugged. "I'm an engineer. I see traffic jams where other people see weddings." Kemi opened her mouth to answer, and found that she had no answer. It was a good question. That made it worse. "I will handle the parking," she said at last. "I'm sure you will. I'm not saying you can't. I'm saying somebody should ask." "Somebody did ask. Thank you." "You're welcome." Across the table, Funmi pressed her lips together to hide a smile. Mrs. Adeoye looked at the two of them as if she were watching a football match she had put money on. They went through the rest of the plan. The traditional engagement would come first, then the church service, then the reception. There was a long argument about whether the DJ or the live band should play first, which Mrs. Adeoye ended by saying, "Both. Nobody will be disrespected in my daughter's wedding." Then she turned to Tobi. "Who will be the contact on your side? You work too much, and I don't want any excuses." "Emeka," Tobi said at once. "He'll handle everything. He's good at everything." "I'm good at saying yes," Emeka said dryly. "It is not the same thing." "Then we will get along," Kemi said sweetly. "I'm good at asking." Mrs. Adeoye nodded as if a contract had been signed. When the meeting ended, the sun was low over the lagoon and the street outside was thick with horns. Funmi caught Kemi's hand at the door and held it with both of hers. "I don't need the biggest wedding in Lagos," she said softly. "I just want to marry my best friend. That's all. Is that silly?" Kemi felt something small and unwelcome press against her ribs. She had heard that sentence many times. She had learned how to answer it. "It's not silly. We will make sure it is perfect." It was what she always said. She had never once believed that perfect lasted. Funmi squeezed her hands and ran back to Tobi, who was laughing at something on his phone. Kemi watched them go. Then she checked her watch, straightened her bag, and turned around. Emeka was standing by the door with his hard hat under his arm. "Fifteen weeks, Miss Bankole," he said. "Try not to hate me before then." "I'll try." She lifted her chin. "I make no promises." He grinned. It was a lopsided, tired, honest grin, and for one stupid second, Kemi nearly grinned back. She blamed it on traffic and low blood sugar. It was the first of many lies she would tell herself.