by Kiru Taye
He wasn’t openly gay. There was no reason Damola should identify him as such.
The waiter’s gaydar proved to be on point. And the man was attractive, if James allowed himself to go there.
However, James’s relationship with Kezie mattered, and he’d never cheated. He wouldn’t start now. He couldn’t tell Damola that he was already seeing someone else, for fear of outing Kezie inadvertently.
Neither could he berate the man for expressing himself. Every person should be able to do so without fear.
Finally, James wasn’t going to deny his sexuality.
The only option was to retreat without revealing anything one way or the other.
“Ehm,” James muttered as he backed up to the door, twisted the handle and stepped into the corridor. “Thanks, again, for your help.”
Shoving the card into his pocket absently, he hurried out to his friends, a smile playing on his lips even as his unease remained.
That had been surreal.
Chapter Two
The nutty aroma of toasted popcorn filled the air as James sauntered into the expansive kitchen of the six-bedroom home he shared with his brother, Henry, and his sister-in-law, Gloria.
James loved this space with its ultra-modern clean lines of granite worktops, built-in appliances, and well-crafted storage units with stainless-steel finishes.
Instrumental in the interior design of the house when his brother had first bought the property three years ago, he’d ensured it retained the casual warmth for a family with a right-angular breakfast bar equipped with tall padded cream leather stools beneath fancy ceiling spotlights.
For more structured meals, they used the main dining room located next door.
“Sweetie, do you need my help?” James asked, glancing around.
Two white bowls filled with the snack sat on the central island unit.
Two years ago, his brother’s wife could barely boil water in a kettle. Since then, she’d perfected the art of making popcorn, amongst other things. She still wasn’t a domestic goddess, but he worshipped her for loving and making Henry happy.
“Grab the bowls,” Gloria said as she took out three bottles of Malta Guinness from the fridge and placed them on a silver tray along with tall clear glasses. Always stylish, today she wore a short-sleeved embroidered emerald tunic with a frothy lace hem matched with a pair of white denim shorts.
He picked up the bowls and shouldered the door, holding it open while she held the tray of drinks.
Her leather slippers slapped the hard marble as she sashayed past. When she reached the entrance, she slid her feet out of the sandals before entering the family room.
Barefooted, he followed. One of their house rules—no shoes in the family room.
Decorated in varying natural tones of brown and cream, the room was a haven of textures split into two parts.
In the left corner lay textured-woven cream sectional sofas. A glass-topped high-gloss black and white LED infinity coffee table stood on a square soft-pile woollen rug. On the wall, a gigantic flat screen television occupied most of the width, providing a cinematic experience for viewers.
The right side of the room had wingback brown leather armchairs, solid wood side tables and a rectangular hessian mat. The far wall, an accent of cinnamon, had an almost life-sized oil painting of Gloria and Henry outfitted in traditional Hausa attire on their wedding day. As the couple faced each other, the artist had captured their adoration for one another as well as the vibrant regal purple of their clothing in the brush strokes.
Being in this room was akin to indulging in a sensory feast, with the contrast of modern and ancient, light and dark, soft and rough, as well as the scents of leather and perfume in the air.
Glass sliding doors took up the back wall and opened up onto the paved patio with terracotta-potted plants leading to a green lawn.
They had a formal reception room across the hallway, and only used it when they entertained guests. However, they lived in this space daily as a family.
Henry sat on one of the wingbacks, reading a newspaper—in the antique section, as James had termed it—his bare feet placed on a short leather stool.
James deposited the bowls on the infinity table after Gloria decanted the drinks. She walked out of the room with the empty tray.
“I was talking to Musa earlier,” Henry said, making James glance in his direction.
“Oh. Is everything okay?” James asked.
Musa Danladi was their cousin—actually, Henry’s first cousin and James’s half-cousin—and the Emir of Katsina.
“Yes. He said Jibril has finally agreed to a family meeting to discuss you,” his brother replied.
James’s insides quivered, and his core temperature dropped.
He didn’t want to think about this news. The members of the Danladi clan had been judge and jury over his life and had declared him as persona non grata—a bastard.
“When is the meeting?” James asked, swallowing his rising anxiety. His illegitimate status had been a stigma he’d carried all his life.
Now, it seemed the issue of his paternity would be debated, and hopefully resolved.
Finally.
“In two weeks,” Henry said as he tilted his head. “How do you feel about it?”
James rolled his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid fidgeting.
“This thing has been hanging over my head for so long. I’m almost reluctant to hope that it will be resolved. I don’t want to open myself up to disappointment.”
His brother nodded in understanding. “I believe Musa is keen to settle this and get you the answer, one way or the other.”
James’s stomach churned, and dizziness swept over him.
What if the answer he got wasn’t the answer he wanted? What then?
“Thank you,” he said, and picked the remote control, keen to move away from the sensitive topic.
He deposited his bum in his favourite spot on the corner sofa that took up half of one wall and the side of another. This proved to be the best spot to get the perfect view of the massive flat screen TV mounted on brackets at the far wall.
He flicked over to the streaming service and waited for the others to join him.
Gloria returned to the living room and placed her hand on top of the paper in Henry’s hands. “It’s time to put that away.”
“Princess, don’t,” her husband admonished. “I’m reading the Business News.”
“Baba,” she replied in a sultry tone. “It’s the family movie night.”
Electricity arced between the couple as they stared at each other for seconds, as if no one else existed. Their chemistry heated up the air.
“Oh. Of course.” Henry lifted her right hand and brushed his lips against the inside of her wrist.
Watching the interplay between the two lovebirds made James grin, and he turned toward the TV. To think that at one point he’d thought those two wouldn’t make it after the drama and disaster of their courtship.
Rustling newspaper indicated Henry had put away the sections of the weekend broadsheets he’d been reading.
They’d devised movie night as a new tradition after Gloria had accepted Henry’s proposal. They’d been married for a year. Once a month they sat down together as a family for dinner and movies, usually on a Sunday night. Work commitments and other engagements kept them away on other days.
Henry settled on the same sofa as James, taking the far end while Gloria sat in the middle.
Lifting bare feet onto the cushion, she placed her head on her husband’s shoulder, who in turn wrapped his arm around her body and tugged her into his side.
Heat radiated across James’s chest. He was glad to see his brother happy after many stressful years, including the nine tumultuous ones it had taken to win his wife’s heart.
James pressed the button on the remote control to start the film.
His mind drifted to his almost fourteen-year relationship with Kezie.
&n
bsp; Would he ever be able to invite the man to join them one of these days for family movie night?
He wanted to sit on the sofa and curl up beside Kezie as his brother did with his wife.
He wanted to introduce Kezie to his family as his lover rather than ‘best friend’, which was the current description.
Neither had James revealed his sexuality publicly, nor had he shared it with the people closest to him in this house.
Henry and Gloria assumed he was heterosexual, going by their comments.
No one asked. He didn’t tell.
This was Nigeria, where any relationship combination outside of man and woman supposedly didn’t exist. Homosexuality was a ‘Western problem’, according to some ignorant and misguided opinions, like a communicable disease that could be passed on through the TV screens when someone watched American or European shows.
The same problem led people to classify sex as a taboo subject, as if not talking about it meant that no one was doing it. The exploding population of the nation proved otherwise.
Then again, he wasn’t inclined to ‘out’ himself, not in a country where being gay had become illegal and could earn one a prison sentence, not to mention the danger from hate crime.
Sighing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed a message to Kezie.
Hi, K. What’s up?
He held the phone in his hand, expecting a message back instantly. They interacted frequently using text messages.
A reply pinged. Just heading home.
Kezie had said he would spend the day at his parents’ house.
James sent another message. You’re driving and texting?
Of course not. At night, in Lagos? I wan die? No. I’m just getting into the car now.
Before James could send a reply, his phone rang.
“Excuse me,” he said, and pressed the green button to answer as he stood and walked to the door.
“Hi, Ke—”
He was interrupted by a screeching female voice, “James, you won’t believe what happened?”
His stomach curdled as he recognised the voice. “Ify, is that you?”
“Yes, of course, it’s me,” the excited female said.
He pulled his phone back and stared at the caller ID. ‘Kez N’ blinked at him from the screen. How come Ify was calling him from Kezie’s phone?
Ify was Ike Thomas’s sister. And Ike was Henry’s best friend. So she was like family.
“What are you doing with Kezie’s phone? Is he okay?” James’s heart raced as he thought the worst. Had there been an accident or something? Perhaps Kezie had lied about typing on his phone whilst driving.
“He is fine. If you calm down, I’ll explain,” she replied.
“Spill it already.” He paced the foyer, not liking the bricks weighing down his gut.
“Kezie took me to meet his parents this evening. He proposed to me. We’re getting married.”
James’s core temperature dropped along with his heart. His head swam, and he swayed with dizziness. He braced his hand on the wall as his breath locked tight.
He couldn’t have heard Ify correctly. She didn’t just say that Kezie had proposed to her.
James’s Kezie.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. Who proposed to you? Which Kezie?”
“Which other Kezie is there?” Ify’s laughter rang down the connection. “Kezie Nwobodo, of course. The one and only man for me. He proposed today.”
He tried to process her words and shook his head.
This had to be a prank. The Nwobodo twins used to be notorious for their jokes, although mainly spearheaded by Gozie.
He glanced at his watch to make sure it wasn’t April Fool’s Day. It wasn’t.
“Give Kezie the phone. I want to speak to him,” he snapped, voice taut.
“Hey, James. Aren’t you even going to congratulate me on getting engaged?” She sounded offended.
James bit his tongue instead of shouting at her.
She couldn’t be engaged to Kezie. Kezie was his man. His alone. He didn’t share.
Still, Ify was Ike’s sister, and therefore family to James. He couldn’t bring himself to be nasty to her.
He just needed to talk to Kezie to find out what was going on.
He swallowed his outrage and scrubbed a palm over his face. “I’m sorry, Ify. I was surprised by the news. Congratulations.”
Surprised didn’t even cut it. He would be unwrapping this news for a long time if it proved to be true.
“Thank you, James,” she replied, her tone upbeat. “I’ll see you soon, and we can celebrate properly.”
“Of course. Champagne will flow.”
There was some crackling, and then silence before Kezie spoke, “James, you’re on speaker phone. I’m driving.”
Ready to launch into a tirade, James tightened his jaw.
Good thing the man had warned him. Knowing that Ify was listening to the conversation, he sucked in a heavy breath and puffed it out.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he said in as calm a voice as he could muster. He still prayed that this was all a joke.
“Yes. I decided it was time to get married,” Kezie said.
James’s stomach sank. For seconds he stayed silent, trapped in the false politeness because of Ify’s presence, instead of cursing and raging.
“Well, this is a huge shock,” he said in the end, maintaining the charade. “Congratulations to both of you. I’ll talk to you later.”
He didn’t wait for Kezie to say anything before he ended the call.
“What the fuck?” He paced up and down in the corridor, anger coursing through his veins.
“James, are you okay?” Henry asked from the living room.
“I’m fine.” James suddenly didn’t want to stay in the house. Gloria and Henry would want to know what was wrong. He couldn’t bear to explain this to them.
What would he say?
That his gay lover had become engaged, to a woman considered their sister?
He swore again and grabbed his keys from the hall table.
“I’m going out,” he shouted, heading for the front door.
“What about the movie?” Gloria called out.
James didn’t reply as the door slammed behind him.
Chapter Three
James stared at the grey and white ten-storey building. Outdoor lighting illuminated the entrance and flower hedges surrounding the driveway.
As a frequent visitor here, the security men easily recognised his Selenite Grey Mercedes AMG SL 63 roadster, and had raised the barriers to let him in with the usual, “Oga James, welcome.”
Kezie’s apartment lay on the eighth floor. However, his car wasn’t in the designated spot.
James’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Sweat trickled down his back.
He sat in his vehicle, engine switched off and no air-con, waiting to hear from the horse’s mouth.
He’d driven out of his home in a blinding rage, the tyres spinning out dust as he’d accelerated out of the exit. He’d been aggressive, not allowing for the usual courtesy he gave other road users.
The pain in the back of his throat and the constant twisty, nauseous sensation in his gut meant he cared about only one thing—getting an explanation from his lover about the earlier phone call.
In the last forty-five minutes, he’d analysed his relationship with Kezie, trying to find clues that could lead to this point.
What had he missed?
His thoughts raced and scrambled. Still, the answers eluded him.
The phone in his pocket buzzed for the umpteenth time since he left home.
He yanked it out, glared at the screen—Gloria, again—and tossed it on the leather passenger seat.
Movement beyond the windscreen drew his attention.
Kezie’s black BMW pulled into his assigned spot.
James grabbed his phone, pushed the door open and stepped out of the car. Sweltering air surrounded him
as he stomped towards the new arrival.
Kezie exited his vehicle and glanced in his direction, eyes widened in alarm.
“James.” He glanced around, as if expecting James to come with an entourage or something. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re asking me? After our telephone conversation?” James replied, barely able to keep his tone calm.
“Oh, that.” Kezie shrugged and strode towards the entrance of the building.
James balled his hands. “Is that all you have to say? What the fuck is going on?”
“Hey! Keep your voice down,” Kezie gritted out in a low tone.
It wasn’t eight o’clock yet, and some of his neighbours sat out in the courtyard, smoking and chatting.
“Kezie. James. How now?” one of them enquired.
“I dey,” Kezie replied with a wave and stepped into the foyer.
“Hi, Benji,” James responded, and followed Kezie, bottling his rage until they got to the seclusion of the apartment.
As much as he wanted to get to the bottom of this nonsense, he didn’t want to antagonise Kezie in case it had been a misunderstanding.
Perhaps Ify was pregnant, and Kezie was trying to do the right thing by marrying her when his heart belonged to James.
Because surely Kezie’s heart belonged to him.
Just as his heart belonged to Kezie.
There had never been anyone else but Kezie.
His stomach clenched as they took the lift in silence.
Let this all be a mistake, James prayed.
The lift doors opened and they walked out.
Tension arced in the air, heightened by the silence between them. But it wasn’t the usual excitement that led up to their sessions of lovemaking.
Last night when they’d left the nightclub and returned here, bodies coiled in expectation, they’d stood apart in the lift but couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. As soon as they’d entered the apartment, they’d kissed and stripped each other’s clothes.
Now, Kezie opened the door and flicked on the light.
James stepped inside and shoved his hands in his pockets to stop from reaching for his lover, which was his normal behaviour when they were alone.