Chapter 3 Cake

'Hi Ash," she said as she sat down.

"Hello," he replied.

His eyes went to the nylon bag.

"Sorry I'm late.....

"I know you had extra work to do, it's the job," she said as she finished his statement for him.

He reversed the car and drove out of the bank's premises. After driving for about five minutes, he spoke.

"Did you go shopping?" He asked.

"No." She answered emphatically.

She knew he was referring to the nylon bag with her.

"Sorry I asked. It's just that I didn't notice the nylon this morning."

"Yeah! I just got it. It's a gift.

"Hmm! A gift," he said in a low tone.

"Yeah! The manager gave it to me."

"Since when did managers

start handing out

gifts?" He queried.

"He gave it to me from a customer."

"Hmm! A customer. So your bank manager is now an errand boy for his major clients. Beware of Greek gifts. They always seem harmless initially," he said and continued to drive.

He didn't bother to ask the kind of gift it is. After a few silent moments, Imogen asked.

"What is a Greek gift?"

He smiled and responded.

"It is a gift given for a treacherous purpose."

"Come on Asher. He means well."

"Yeah, he does. But, don't say I didn't warn you."

As they drove on, Imogen raised her right hand and massaged the side of her right breast with the inner part of her palms. She made a small sound.

"Ouch!

Asher turned to look at her.

"What is it?"

"I sometimes get a mild pain on my chest," she said. and placed her hand at the spot.

"Your chest." He said and smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" She asked.

"Because you said chest and touched something else."

"What's the difference?"

"Anyway, have you seen a doctor?" He asked to parry her question.

"See a Doctor! For a mild pain that is hardly noticeable. With the kind of stressful job I do. I think I can guess the cause. Sitting all day facing the computer is enough to give one a heart attack."

"Why don't you see the doctor and get a professional opinion and diagnosis."

"I will rather spend my money on clothes I don't need than on hospitals."

"It's all right," Asher answered and sighed.

They drove on for a while in silence, listening to traffic updates from the car stereo. Asher broke the silence.

"Do you care for cakes?"

"Cakes!" Imogen exclaimed.

"Yes, cakes. I want to buy some. Ilove it."

"Okay," she answered indifferently.

After driving past many of the well-known eateries without branching, Imogen asked where he wanted to buy the cakes.

"I have a special eatery I normally buy from. Their chocolate cakes are, umm! Delicious. I can't wait to put my mouth on it," he said.

A few minutes later, he arrived at an eatery that also had a confectionery. Imogen did not bother to come down. Asher went in, bought what he wanted and came out. He entered the car, apologized for keeping her waiting in the vehicle and handed a paper bag to her. He opened his paper bag, brought out a small sized chocolate Queen cake and took a bite. He munched on it, shook his head and nodded with a smile. He took a second bite, placed the remaining of the cake on his left hand, started the car and reversed. Meanwhile, Imogen watched him.

She wondered what he saw in the cake, which is something she only ate at birthdays or weddings.

But, to go all out just to buy a cake. Not even a doughnut or mince pie. No, she thought.

Asher arrived at the spot she usually alighted. The first thing she grabbed was the nylon bag containing the new phone before her handbag and the paper bag containing the cake. She got out of the car and they exchanged pleasantries. He watched her clutch the nylon bag as he drove away. Women and gifts he thought.

The following morning, Asher arrived at the spot he usually picked Imogen but she was not there. She had not failed to miss the opportunity for a free ride to work before. Probably the pain she told him she felt was serious he thought. He picked his phone and dialed her number. He was surprised that she instantly picked his call.

"Hi Ash, I am sorry. I should have called to tell you that I woke up late and won't be able to make it to our rendezvous on time."

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing, really. I slept very late."

"Okay, I thought you fell ill or something."

"I am as fit as a horse. You can go so I don't make you late for work as well. We'll see at closing time," she said.

"All right," he said and disconnected.

Imogen smiled. She wondered how she could tell him that she stayed late until about one in the morning trying to understand the functions of her knew Apple iphone. For her to be at home by six-thirty that morning, she knew she could never make it on time to work, so she did not bother rushing herself.

She finally finished preparing and at about seven left for work. She arrived at work at about nine and explained to her immediate boss that she missed the person who usually brought her to work. Since she was not known for late coming, her boss took her late arrival to work lightly.

During working hours, she displayed her phone conspicuously for anyone that cared to see it but always took it around whenever she leaves her desk unlike when she used to leave her previous phone on her desk when she goes to run other tasks in the office.