In an ordinary living room, I observed five attractive women diligently applying modern makeup (Makeover) to enhance their looks. Across from them sat a stunning young woman of about 25 years, elegantly dressed in a sleek black English gown with a front slit, revealing a glimpse of her ankles. Adorning her legs was a pure gold leg chain, adding to her allure. Her nails were neatly trimmed, her nose petite, her eyes captivating, and her eyebrows meticulously groomed.
She swayed her legs, casually crossing one over the other, while chewing gum in a rather ostentatious manner. My discomfort grew as she nonchalantly blew bubbles, her face partially concealed beneath layers of foundation, surrounded by an assortment of brushes and makeup kits.
“Anty Tahreem, I’ve ordered those items from Dubai and earned some points. Could you consider buying them?” Nazeefa, one of the women, inquired, her attention still on her iPhone X screen.
The room fell into an eerie silence, as though no one dared to exhale. Tahreem continued to blow gum bubbles, nonchalantly chewing and then depositing it into a nearby basin beside the shisha pot.
“You know I have refined tastes, and I always prefer classic items that complement my style. If they align with my preferences, you can say she procured them,” Tahreem responded casually.
“True, I understand my aunt’s preferences, but she mentioned that these dresses cost 90k each. Should I go ahead and order them?” Nazeefa hesitated.
Tahreem appraised her with a scrutinizing gaze before sighing, “What’s the point of having a personal assistant, my dear, if you’re going to burden my mind with such decisions?” Her irritation was palpable.
In a state of panic, the others sprang into action, and Aziza swiftly presented her with a glass of water. Tahreem accepted it as if it were a luxury item but then splashed some of the water onto her own face.
“Your incompetence is infuriating! Are you out of your mind?” she berated them.
They all stammered, “We’re sorry.”
“Save your apologies because I have no use for them here. Mtsewww!” Tahreem dismissed them dismissively.
Nazeefa hastily rose and reapplied her blush. She handed a mirror to Tahreem, allowing her to inspect her makeup, and then tied a black apron around her neck to protect her attire from any further makeup spillage.
Cikeda meticulously adjusted the arch of her eyebrow and asked, “Madam T., is this satisfactory?” A furrowed brow accentuated her words as she sucked on her lower lip, clearly determined to meet Tahreem’s exacting standards.
Unbeknownst to Tahreem, Cikeda was silently contemplating, “What will happen to Anty Tahreem? She’s the makeup artist hired from the city, even the First Lady, the President’s wife, depends on her for special occasions. She’s unappreciated for her work…” Her thoughts trailed off as she was interrupted by Tahreem’s voice emanating cheerfully through the Bluetooth earpiece in her left ear.
“My dear, when will I make you understand the importance of our village connections in this business? We can turn even a village girl into a valuable resource. I mean, in terms of financial resources… No matter where they’re located, we don’t always have to venture out; we can earn money discreetly or maintain a high profile just because I’m a celebrity. She seems to think it’s a good idea… You know, we can provide decent accommodations to keep them content, so don’t worry, darling. When the elections draw near, we won’t need to stay in hotels in Abuja to secure funds.”
Amalar remained silent as she listened to the phone conversation, occasionally breaking into laughter. “Lolz, bring them on. Don’t fret about their village origins. We’re prepared to invest 5 million, and you know it’s a lucrative venture. If we find wealthy individuals, your return could easily reach 20 million,” she chuckled. “It’s all good, babes, but my body…”
After completing her makeup, Tahreem slipped into a pair of towering high heels, adjusted the gown’s train, and gracefully strode forward, her maroon accessory with ivory stripes cascading down her back.
