TWO MILLION!!!! I get to the elevator. I’m shaking like a leaf. I’ve done it! I have successfully hustled a Cabinet Secretary! Who does that??? It was too damn easy! Should this not have taken longer? Should he not have threatened me? Should he not have called his bodyguards or cops and had me arrested?
Instead the VIP sat there and calmly gave me 3 cheques amounting to 2 million. Cheques? A paper trail? Again, who does that? I have to wonder… Did he pay me because of the pregnancy or because I would tell the world his secret? But what the hell do I care? I’m 2 million bob richer!
I let out a small yelp! Should I do a jig? No. There may be CCTV all up in here. I keep a dignified posture all the way to the ground floor. TWO MILLION!!!! Although technically, half belongs to Mr. N, my partner in crime. These are his friends we are conning. He set them all up.
I get out my phone to call him but I hesitate. For some strange reason I’m not ready to tell him that our first scam has been successful. Instead, I send for an Uber. I’m meeting GG next and I don’t want to be late. GG, mmm. Will he be a pushover like the VIP was? Probably. I remember that Mr. N deliberately chose the targets based on their personalities and willingness to pay anything to get out of a sticky situation. I’m much more confident to face GG now that the VIP has been dispensed with. The driver is 5 minutes away and I wait patiently. I have a stupid grin on my face. TWO MILLION!!!!!
The traffic has eased up considerably and the ride to Westlands is without incident. I look at Kempinski as we drive by. I’m going to go there and treat myself to a massage and whatever else I want! Or maybe I should go to Zanzibar for the weekend. There are so many exotic places I can visit there. Yes, that’s a plan. I’ve worked hard! TWO MILLION!!!! Planning and executing all this blackmail nonsense has not been easy. These ill-gotten funds are just as hard as working your butt off 9-5, every day, for months. Yes, I deserve a treat. I’ll do it after the abortion. I touch my tummy. The baby is still in there but not for long. If all goes well with GG I can get rid of it tomorrow.
The familiar guilt pangs return. An abortion. Murder. Crap. I remember hearing once that abortion is one of the most googled words in Kenya. I do so now on my phone. Most of the sites that come up are foreign. I click on ‘Thinking about abortion. Information to help you decide.’
Sigh. It’s so strange how fleeting happiness is. One second you’re over the moon (TWO MILLION!!!!) and the next you’re all choked up over someone you’ve never met. It’s just a bunch of cells! It’s not a fully formed human – It means nothing! Oh dear. I’m not doing a great job convincing myself.
These are the question the site suggests you ask yourself: Am I ready to be a parent? No. Can I afford to have a child? Yes. (TWO MILLION!!!!). Can I afford to have an abortion? Yes. What would it mean for my future if I had a child now? Bye bye, Eric. Would I consider putting the child up for adoption? It would break my heart. Do I have strong religious beliefs about abortion? Yes. How do I feel about women who have had abortions? Shrug. Do you, girl. Can I handle the experience? I honestly don’t know. Is anyone pressuring me to have an abortion? Yes.
All the men who I have obtained money fraudulently from will definitely have a BIG problem if I kept this child.