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Ay’s comedy show just concluded and people are milling out of the auditorium. Amara and Derek exit the hall through a side door meant for VIP guests. A few celebrities recognized them from the news and they congratulate them and take pictures with them on the red carpet.

“That was awesome! Ay is the best, he even gave us a shout out,” Amara said leaning on Derek’s shoulder as they walk to the parking lot.

“This is the best comedy show I’ve ever been to. What a way to unwind after all the madness,” Derek said breathing in the fresh night breeze.

The chat notification tone of Amara’s phone beeped and she checks the message.

’Oh my God!”

“What’s that?”

“My mom just scaled through the operation!”

“Wow. That’s nice. It calls for celebration.”

A girl of about 10 years old approaches them running with an iPhone; her mother follows her closely calling her to bring her phone.

“Sandy, get back here!”

“Mom, they are the national heroes we saw on TV with the President last night. Please sir & ma’am can I get a picture with you so I can post on Instagram for my classmates to see?

They both looked at each other and shrug.

“Of course,” they take a few snapshots.

“Can you sign on my purse, please?” Sandy implored.

They search their body for a pen and she opens her purse and offers them one. Derek and Amara signs on her little pink purse.

“Thank you Derek, thank you Amara,”

“Thanks a lot; she’s been disturbing me to let her meet you guys since she saw you at the show!” Sandy’s mom said beaming and shaking their hands.

“You are welcome. You have such a sweet and smart daughter,” Amara said smiling.

“I know it’s not my business. But mind if I ask are you two married?”

“Uhm, Not yet,” Derek said.

’What are you waiting for? Y’all are perfect for each other,” they laugh, “I’ll be on my way then, thanks for making my daughter happy,”

“The pleasure is ours,”

She exits with Sandy who kept looking back and waving at them, they both wave back smiling.

“It finally came to this, Amy. I mean that kid knows both our names. Last thing I wanted was publicity,” Derek said.

“I guess we’ve got to learn to live with it, after all you granted our first interview. Lest I forget, the Vatican called this morning. We have a papal private audience appointment next weekend.”

Derek pulls out his phone.

“That’s a crash,” he said.

“What? How?”

“The Finance Minister invited us over for dinner, same day and I accepted, sorry,” he shrugged.

“It’s fine. We’ll figure something out,”

As they approach the parking lot, they become surprised as a group of reporters, armed with mic, notepads and mp3 recorders are coming towards them. Just then a young man dressed in a black tuxedo suit sidelines them.

“Good evening sir and madam. I’m the President’s official chauffeur,” he shows them his I.D., “I have an official order from the President to bring you to the Presidential villa,” he said.

Amara looks at Derek. Most of the reporters are half running. She looked at herself. She is putting on a red Tom Fords designer evening dress and a matching red Christian Loubouton leather platform heels.

“Can we at least go home first, you know, have a change of clothes? This is clearly not the best attire for an official meeting with the President,” Amara protested.

“No, you don’t have to worry about that, ma’am.”

The reporters were already throwing questions at them and paparazzi were already taking pictures.

‘You’ve been on the media spotlight rece...’

‘Can you please give us a quick…’

“No comment!” Derek kept saying repeatedly.

“The convoy is this way, sir,”

He guards them as they circle the reporters to a waiting convoy comprising of a Toyota Hilux with police officers inside, a Mercedes G-Wagon and Rolls Royce Phantom. A security official clad in black suit opens the back door of the Rolls Royce.

“Take it easy baby, lest you fall off those shoes!” Derek said, he helps her climb into Rolls. He finally got in and the security man closes the door. The convoy speeds off amidst wails of siren.

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