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The Professor stormed into the brothel’s reception hall in the evening and kicked away our singing radio It flew through the air, slammed against the wall, and shattered to pieces on the cracked floor It ended the music, ‘One Love’, to which Roseline and I danced, holding hands as we cavorted around the floor, our hips and backsides jiggling He’d been away since morning, giving us a bit of liberty to play around As he scanned the cash register, checking customer ledgers, I shrank like a burnt plastic bag, horrified But Roseline looked unscathed, wearing an I-don’t-care expression as her mouth worked on her chewing gum She crossed her arms on her chest, sitting on the torn couch and staring at The Professor   ‘Abigail and Roseline, you are both fools,’ he roared, pointing two middle fingers at us ‘You haven’t made any money since morning, and you’re making so much noise What a total waste of employees!’   ‘Sir, we’ve b-been waiting for customers to come,’ I said ‘But we haven’t seen any men Sorry, sir’   ‘Shut your mouth, Abigail Why does this brothel make money only when I’m around to service our female customers? How many men have you satisfied today? Answer me now, fools!’   ‘Stop calling us fools,’ Roseline yelled, frowning, her red lips sparkling under the white bulb ‘We made plenty of money for you yesterday, and now you’ve broken my precious radio’   I cringed at Roseline’s audacity She’d done this job for eight years, and I hoped she wouldn’t lose it There was no job elsewhere in this shabby city of Lagos   The Professor tramped across the floor towards her, huffing ‘Look here, Roseline, if you dare talk to me like that again, the devil in me will roast you dead’   ‘I don’t fear your powerless devil,’ she said, springing to her feet and pointing at his face ‘Oh, you thought I would melt in the corner because of you? Think Again’   I was the one melting in a corner instead I hoped The Professor wouldn’t slap her face as usual or push her into the street so that she became homeless   I scuttled towards