Two days later Yasmin was convinced that agreeing to come to Damola's studio was a good idea and was confident that by the end of her visit, her decision about the place would be a positive one.
Before he dropped her off that Saturday, he had beeped her line so that she could save his number. Even when she mentioned that she didn’t remember giving him her digit, he just smiled and said I have my ways. She scoffed. Ways indeed. She suspected Lisa gave him but the naughty girl had not said anything about it to her and when she brought it up the next day, about not giving strangers one another's number. Her friend only rolled her eyes at her and said Damola was not a stranger.
That Monday he had called her in the morning to confirm if their arrangement was still intact and she had answered in the affirmative. Later in the after, a few minutes to two he arrived and was parked outside the house. When her phone began she was certain it was him. Thankfully she was all dressed and was ready to leave as she disliked to keep people waiting and the other way round too. She just informed him she would be out in a minute.
It was a short drive to his office and it was during the short trip that he informed her he lived in the same neighbourhood as her. She was surprised by that and wondered why she never came across him even once.
“A lovely studio you have here.”
She commended as she admired the only utilised part of his building. His studio was a part of a larger building. The part he rented which he called his station had five rooms: two big rooms, two small ones and a very large room. There were two toilets and a dine-area/kitchen and a large corridor between these rooms. Some could convert some part of this big space to offices. She had toured the building and it was only one of the big rooms that were in use. It was partitioned by a glass.
There was different equipment on the part close to the door and the other part just had microphones. Two were attached to a stand each. There were four attached to a big table that he called a discussion table. The section with the equipment had a computer, mixer, audio console and other devices she couldn't keep up with their names since it was the first time she would hear about them.
“Wow, this is a lot Damola.”
He noticed she struggled to pronounce his either because she didn’t know if she should call him that or simply because she found it hard to pronounce it. It sounded strange and funny when it came out of her mouth.
“You can call me Mubarak.”
“My Islamic name. Only a few people call me that.” He explained when she gave him a confused look.
“Oh,” She smiled sheepishly and then said.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’re Muslim.”
“It’s okay, I get that a lot.” He smiled and said dismissively. “I guess my father was right after all. I should use my Muslim name more often.”
“So, what do you think?” He asked after a brief pause. “Is this a place, you can work in? Help build it from the scratch.”
It was indeed a lovely place. There was a lot of work to be done here no doubt but this would be fun work for her. The entertainment studio as he called it was a general-purpose studio; with music, drama and entertainment news at its core. He had also informed her, that he had mentees/students that came around for proper grooming. Making it an entertainment and learning place.
He had earlier feared that she would turn down his offer but as he took her around and explained his passion to her, from the excited look on her face he was confident that he had won her over but he didn’t want to assume, he wanted to hear it from her.
“Certainly, I love it here already. It’s a yes.”
“Lovely, then let's make greatness together. I will message you my email on WhatsApp so that you can send your CV to it. Then we can discuss roles and pay.”
“Perfect.”
She smiled not believing her luck. Though it was a start-up and the pay might not be great but she needed the experience. And this one was going to be a lot of fun. She could feel it with every fibre of her being.
...to be continued.
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