Gloria sent me a bbm that they were leaving The Marquee for Aura. It read “Off to Aura. Enjoy en, and be ready to spill all the details. You’ve gotten the iPad, but I’ll still get dem shoes. #bbdevilsmiley#”. Ha! I was so keeping my shoes in some bank vault. But I knew it was an effort in futility, cos if Gloria wanted them, she would organize a bank heist to get them. So I was going to tow the line of making available to her anytime she needed them, so that I didn’t lose the shoes altogether.
Anyways, back to the present. I was enjoying all the shaking what my mama gave me and movement with Mr. X. Men, the guy could really move and he had a way of working me into the most desirable positions for body melding dancing.
The d-jay had done a good job of whipping the whole club into a frenzy and now we were getting doses of Terry G and all the Naija ginger movement boys. Visions of the expertise with which he could handle my body raced through my mind and I worked fervently hard to make sure I gave him enough reason to want to. Kalu and Koikoi could go and hug a transformer for all I cared. After what seemed like hours of rollercoaster dancing, he finally put his arms firmly around me and led me towards the hall, and then the exit. Hmmm, a man that was sure of himself and took what he wanted. I was liking Mr. X more and more. In the elevator ride down, I could feel his eyes racing all over my body with intensity and his hands went into his pocket. I could guess what he was trying to hide and I was glad I was having that effect on him.
You know the saying that goes “We guess some people are foolish when they keep quiet, but they remove all doubt the moment they open their mouths”? I’m sure he had heard the saying before and made that his watchword. When we got downstairs, he spoke “Aunty, before I go on and enter the car park with you, we need to discuss price.” That’s how I would have said it. This is actually how he said it “Haunty, before Hi go Hon Hand Henter the car park with you, we need to dilscuss price”. Oh my God! He sounded like he was acting out a scene from Jennifer. That must be the worst H factor I’ve ever heard. And to cap it all, he thought I was a call girl. Oyin omalicha, you have suffered in this your life. See en, I can live with most things, but a man with an H factor is just a no no, a total turn off. Calmly, I answered “I’m not up for sale. There’s no need to discuss a price for anything.” He smiled, and looking at his face now, I wondered what I was attracted to in the first place (bad belle on my part o, he is damn fine). “Madam, I was not talking about price for taking you home. I’m talking about the price you have to pay for me going home with you and servicing you for the night. I thought you knew the way things are now.”
I nearly died where I was standing. He was a gigolo. This nonsense man finished looking at me and I looked like someone who could not get a man without paying for one. A thousand concentrated Yoruba curses raced into my head, but I refused to say a word. I just turned and began walking away when he grabbed me by the arm. “You can’t just go like that now, I gave you a good part of my night when I could have been pursuing other clients. You have to settle me.” I couldn’t believe what was happening. I don’t know which shocked me more, what he was saying, or the fact that he dared to lay his hands on me (forget that I had been dreaming of having those hands on discreet parts of my anatomy for most of the night). Those curses I had done well to keep sealed away came rushing out and the Yoruba girl in me shot to the surface “Oloshi, oloriburuku, e.t.c.” He held me menacingly and I was sure he was going to hurt me. I was in serious trouble.
Be nice to people, okay, cos you never know when they will come in handy. The guys that parked our cars at the Marquee who knew me well (I am generous, wink wink) came to my rescue. When Mr. X saw that he was outnumbered, he stepped away, waving a finger at me as he backed away and then pruned himself and went back into the club.
“When I see you with am, I been dey wonder o”, one of them was saying to me. “She no sabi their type”, another one said. “Na true, she no be like the type wey dey use those dirty boys,” a third chipped in. They followed me to my car, saying they wanted to make sure I was safe. But I understood them well, so I parted with one thousand naira as I entered the car amid chants of “madam the madam”. I had had enough for the night. All I wanted to do was get home, scrub myself clean of all the events of the night and curl up in bed. I’m tired of this Lagos sef. I think I need a vacation, Miami, beaches and bikinis. I sent Toke a voice note with the gist of Mr. X and headed for home. I knew she would probably not see and listen to it till morning and that was fine by me. I was not in the mood to
Finding Hubby – Episode 4
I didn’t go anywhere on Saturday, the activities of the night before had worn me out. On depressing occasions like that, I get the inspiration to write poetry. Yes, Oyin is a poet. One of these days, if you guys ask me enough, I’ll read some of my poems to you. So the day dragged on until evening when my girls came over. Gloria and I reached a compromise. I did get a guy as hot as Kalu’s Koikoi, so I could claim the iPad. But the guy turned out to be a gigolo(ewww) so she could claim my shoes. So I wasn’t going to get the iPad, as long as she didn’t come within a one meter radius of my shoes (like that would happen in this lifetime and beyond). They basically did what they came for – Eat my food, drink my wine, scatter my house, talk about men, abuse men, long for men, and leave with my stuff. And oh yes, Gloria left with my shoes. See en, people that come to your house and do all the things I listed above are your true closest friends. I went to bed with my spirit considerably lifted when my friends had left. The alcohol of course helped a little. Okay, more than a little, wink wink.
I went to bed after watching some episodes of Spartacus Blood and Sand. I don’t know why, but I have a thing for that series. One of my favorite Naija songs right now even references it “Jide Kosoko, shay o le fi shay Spartacus, Jor ooo
o”, lmao.
I woke up on Sunday morning with a sense of expectation. I always feel really close to God on Sundays and I excitedly went about getting prepared for church. Light breakfast of toast and tea. Then it was time to get dressed for church. Now you might say I’m vain, but if you go to my church, you had better reeeeaaallly get dressed for church. The hottest, the latest, the sharpest, the cream de la cream of my cream axis attended my church. And you never know if you’ll meet the one so as a scout, I had to be prepared. Anyways, where better to meet him than church. So I put on a Tiffany Amber dress and a pair of Prada shoes and Prada bag to match and completed the look with a scarf and sunshades. I decided to do the cloudy eyed eyeshadow I saw on the style network during the week and did the Angelina Jolie lipstick thingy. I took a look at my creation in the mirror and I said like the Lord, it is good, alleluia.
Church service was going well and I was in the spirit, while surveying the pews for any particularly husbandable man (a good hunter is always alert). Then the senior pastor of our church (who I wouldn’t have minded marrying, he’s much too much) came up to welcome first timers. Time for the handshakes and plastic church smiles to come out. “I want to specially recognize a dear friend of my family,” Hot Pastor was saying. “He is a multiple award winning and bestselling author, and his last book, The Epic, is currently being adapted into a movie in Hollywood. Please join me in welcoming my brother from another mother, Femi Tosh.” I scrambled to look in the direction where Hot Pastor’s friend was standing up from. And then I saw him. Tosh was just the short form for Omotosho. Femi Omotosho. Oh my God. My heart did multiple flips upon seeing him, but I was not seated close enough to him to give him a handshake or smile.
Before you start thinking I’m some desperado who wants to donate smiles and handshake and flipping hearts to every man that is a visitor in my church, let me give you a short history on Femi Omotosho. Fresh from my Masters in my mid twenties, I met him. Femi was every lady’s dream, suave dresser, smooth talker and held down a bank job. But that was before you started dating him o. You discovered then that he was from a poor background, all his money went into supporting his family and pursuing his dreams. Nothing for you to even be a babe. It was a hard pill for me to swallow but I tried to stick with Femi. Back then, I didn’t have the high paying job I have now, so I depended on Femi, but as he was so focused on family and dreams, he couldn’t give me the trips around the world, and all the nice things a fine girl like me required. So I left him. Okay, let me be truthful, I threw tantrums, said all sorts of cruel things to him and about him and then left him. Barely a year after I left him, his first book won the NLNG award and he got two hundred thousand dollars. The rest is history, he left the country, won more awards, and became a part of my past I regretted and forgot. Now, having him in my church, looking so smashing, successful and every woman’s dream brought all the regrets I had been trying to bury to the surface. I did a quick scan of his left hand, no ring. So he wasn’t married. I had to find a way to meet him at the end of the service.
For the rest of the service, I heard nothing. My mind was in a far away place, imagining what could have been with him. I’d be travelling the world now, going for Hollywood events and probably nursing a little Femi now. The service seemed to last an eternity, it took so long to end. When it was announcement time and the deacon who liked the sound of his own voice over the sound system climbed the stage, I let out a few words I hoped no resident angels in our church heard. He droned for longer than he should until a not so hot pastor came to stand beside him. He got the cue and rounded off his droning. If eyes could kill en, the deacon would have fallen dead with the way I looked at him. All the while, my eyes never left where Femi was (yes, I can look at two places at the same time :D).
Service finally ended and I saw ushers leading Femi towards Hot Pastor’s office. By the time I got there, he had already gone into the office. I contemplated waiting for him to come out, but that would be too easy to see through. Femi has a way with words, and knowing him, he would make me look very silly right there (not like he didn’t have a right to sha). Thankfully, I was Hot Pastor’s personal convert so I had access to his office. I went through the mill of waiting faithful. The ushers who looked more like the bouncers I saw at Marquee on Friday night knew me and let me go in. I knocked on Hot Pastor’s door and his rich voice came from inside the room “Please come in”. I took a deep breath and muttered under my breath “here goes nothing” and then opened the big door.
He was seated facing the pastor, with his back towards the door so he didn’t see me come in. I was glad about that because I had the time to gather myself together. Hot Pastor got up and came round his desk to hug me “Miss Clegg,” he was saying “it’s been a while.” Femi’s eyes followed Hot Pastor around and then fell on me. He looked shocked “Oyin!” he exclaimed.
Hot Pastor looked from him to me and then back “you know each other?” “Very well,” Femi responded with meaning. You know what knowing a woman means in bible terms. My mind went back to when Femi knew me. I said with more calmness than I felt “Long time no see Femi, how have you been?” “Very well, thank you. And I don’t need to ask how you’ve been, my eyes tell me,” he responded. Hot Pastor clapped me on the back playfully, “small world”, he said “Femi is like a brother.” Either Hot Pastor was blind or he chose to ignore the tension that was in the room. He continued “I need to quickly address the deacons; I’ll leave you two to catch up on old times. I’m sure there’ll be loads to talk about while I’m gone”. He was leaving me alone with Femi. This was what I wanted, but a fear crept into my heart. What would Femi say to me when we were alone? I felt like running after Hot Pastor
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