Under The Bridge by Uche Peter Umez

The man has just alighted from a taxi and is standing close to the pedestrian bridge. His suitcase glinting in the twilight catches my eye. Lanky creeps up on him, curling his fists, as the man pulls out a cell phone.
    I spring out of my corner.
    "I don't want to bash your face. So give me the phone!" Lanky threatens.
    The man doesn't seem really frightened since Lanky barely strikes one as menacing, with his scabby dog's looks. Anyway, Lanky snatches the phone, turns to leave.
    My hand clasps his shoulder.
    "Biggy, you want to spoil my business?" Lanky asks, trying to free himself.
    I tighten my grip. "Extorting is not allowed in my area," I say.
    "The...man ignores the bridge."
    "Not everybody likes climbing the stairs."
    "You're taking advantage," Lanky protests.
    "And you?"
    I release my grip, then thrust out my hand.
    Lanky hesitates, then shoves the phone into my palm.
    "Scram!" I bark.
    Lanky walks away, grumbling.
    I offer the phone back to the man. "Next time, use the bridge."
    "Thanks," he breathes, plunging the phone into his hip pocket.
    "Man, you lucky. Other touts?" I shake my head. "Bloody."
    "That's why – I cannot live – in Lagos," he suddenly stammers.
    I realize he's one of those people who dread Lagos, because they're told all kinds of gory tales.
    "Where you heading?" I ask.
    "Ajao Estate," he says.
    "You've been there before?"
    "Once; I went with a friend in his car."
    It is easy to spot the gate, leading to the Estate, if one alights at 7UP bus stop. This man stopped at Junction, which is also a stone's throw: though, he doesn't know.
    I look at his suitcase, then notice the wallet sticking out of his back pocket.
    "Where in Ajao?" I ask.
    He stares at me, suspiciously. "Kayode Street."
    "I'll escort you. You can trek from there, okay?"
    He broods, then nods.
    We walk along.
    Commuters linger around, some hurrying. A few Area Boys stroll past, seeking unsuspecting victims. Cars speed by, breaking the distant gloom with dazzling headlights.
    "I don't like Lagos," he murmurs.
    "People misunderstand Lagos."
    "Robbers, kidnappers…"
    "Every big city has its good, bad, and ugly people. Even in America. London," I explain.
    "You aren't one of the ugly people?" His lips twitch.
    "I'm...different."
    He shrugs.
    We climb a small concrete barrier over to the other side of the expressway.
    I tell him to watch the road because Lagos drivers are hit-and-run beasts.
    "Ready?" I ask, sneakily eyeing his wallet.
    "Yes," he answers.
    I slide my fingers halfway into his back pocket, slip the wallet out, stealthily, and stuff it into my pocket.
    "Let's run fast," I shout.
    We both race across the expressway.
    He begins to pant. "Thank you again."
    "My pleasure," I reply, pointing at the Estate's gate. "Hope you still have your phone?"
    His face darkens.
    I regret my statement.
    "I almost thought it had fallen off." He removes the phone and waves it. His teeth look just like icing sugar, with his grateful smile.
    He extends a hand to me.
    "You are really nice," he says. "You have proved that there are still humans in Lagos."
    We shake hands.
    I start walking away.
    "Wait!"
    I slowly face him.
    His hand frisks his pockets again.
    A bus has just appeared, emptying some passengers.
    I consider making a dash across the expressway.
     "Let me give you my business card," he says. "Anytime you..."
    His face swells with shock.
    The bus starts to roar away.
    I leap in.
    Through the rear view window, I control myself from laughing, as I search the wallet.

About the author:
UCHE PETER UMEZ, award winning Nigerian poet, and short story writer, is the author of Dark through the Delta (poems), Tears in her Eyes (stories), and Aridity of Feelings (chapbook published by tmpoetry.com). His stories have been broadcast on the radio, published in anthologies like Ogele, Crowns, Camouflage, and on websites like Author-me, Unlikely Stories, Fiction on the Web, Ragged Edge, Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) and Literate Nubian. He was recently included in Five Hundred Nigeria Poets and Camouflage.