Facade (Romola 1)

17: Sequin Festival

You should have said that before you climbed the bike. We've gotten to our destination, you don't have money. All these Lagos girls. They behave as though they lack common sense. If you try to woo them, they'll begin to shout like a chicken submerged in hot water

"You dey craze," Romola pronounced. Had she known that she would be taking this impromptu trip, she would have ordered an uber or at least a Gokada. "Ordinary from Yaba to Aguda you dey call 2000. It be like say you don smoke."

You're crazy. Just from Yaba to Aguda, you're mentioning 2000. It's like you've smoked

The driver took a step towards her, then doubled over to pull up the legs of his pant to a bundle above each knee. "whether I smoke or I no smoke, he no concern you. Wetin I know be say, you go pay me my money. 2000 naira kpere."

Whether I smoked or not, it's not your business. All I know is that you will pay me my money. 2000 naira completely.

Romola puffed her chest and hardened her face as she glared at him. "Shey you think say I be mumu or Johnny just come. I don waka this Lagos tire. No try nonsense with me oh."

Do you think that I am an idiot or a new comer. I have walked around Lagos so much that I'm tired of it. Don't try nonsense with me

"Wetin be my own with Johnny? Abeg pay my money make I dey go. No be me ask you to come club." The driver shot her a condescending look. "See as you dress fine, you no kan get money. Chai..."

What business have I with Johnny? Please, pay me my money so I can be on my way. I wasn't the one who asked you to come to the club. As fine as you are, you don't have money

"It don do." Romola whispered looking around. The driver's raised voice could draw attention and the last thing she wanted was attention. She was supposed to be invisible. She glanced at the club before scowling at the cause of her anger. She couldn't risk missing Yetunde.

It's okay

"He never do oh."

It's not okay

"See, make I just help your life, asan ti ko wulo." She opened her purse, pulled out some crisp naira notes and handed him two thousand naira.

See, let me just be generous, useless frog

"Shut up jare. Abi na me dey help you." The driver snatched the money out of her hand and hissed as he walked to his bike, mumbling to himself. "Fine for nothing. See how she take her sense use am to grow big yansh."

Shut up. Rather, I'm the one helping you. Fine for nothing. See how she used her sense to grow big buttocks

"I don't blame you," Romola reverted to polished English as her eyes lit on a man walking towards where they stood. "Your greediness will be the cause of your demise."

"Go and sleep jhoor." The driver barked at her.

She eyed him and hissed before walking to the club. Her eyes blazed as she joined the queue in front of the club. She ran her fingers through her hair to reclaim her sense of poise and dignity that had been stripped during the argument with the okada man till her eyes lit on the girl in front of her. The slim girl was dressed in a backless red sequined gown that stopped just below her butt. Romola soon noticed a pattern to the dressing on the queue. Everyone was dressed in one sequin clothing or the other. Everyone but her. Even those that joined the queue behind her continued the sequin craze.

The line moved quickly and soon she was standing in front of a hefty man with muscles that rippled underneath a black body hug shirt. He held out his coarse palm to her. "Tickets please."

"Tickets?" Romola raised her dark brow. It was Yetunde who usually handled their tickets and the bouncers. Besides, they had a club card that gave them yearlong access to the club. Why would she need a ticket? Was it a party?

"Em... My club card."

She opened her purse and pretended to search for it. She produced two thousand naira, the last cash in her purse and presented it the bouncer with a gaze that was a mix between helplessness and irritation. He accepted the money then handed her a piece of paper where the word crayfish had been scrawled in thick crude lines. She gazed at her new ticket and shook her head as she was allowed into the club.

Her eyes remained glued to the paper as she tried to decipher why this particular name had been given to her. That was all until she raised her head and stared at the people in the club. Fog enveloped the air, perfuming the club with the scent of something burning. Most of the people there were dressed in sequins that seemed to emphasize the very body parts that ought to be hidden. It didn't look like a normal red glasses night.

The club goers seemed to be dancing to a beat that was slightly off sync to the DJ's music. They were talking and laughing, grinding against each other, making out or passed out at one corner. All of that was normal but the greyish brown powder on several plastic pedestals standing at strategic places in the club was not normal. Each pedestal glowed with a neon color that bouced off the sequins on their clothes. Its glow was the main source of light in the club as most of the lights were turned off. The people crowded each pedestal so she could barely see what was going on.

She stretched, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the pedestal closest to her as her mind raced with different thoughts that centered around the pedestal. The smoke that filled the air invaded her eyes with stinging puffs. It had a strange strong smell, like some chemical had ben added to burning wood, that forced her to cough. Someone pushed past her, hitting her shoulder and hurrying to the pedestal like it was a God and he was its loyal slave whose world revolved only around the content of the pedestal. The people around that pedestal gave way for the new comer to participate in their strange ritual.

She caught a quick glimpse of the new comer bending his head towards the pedestal and inhaling the powder. She shook her head, unable to believe what she was seeing. She had seen people taking drugs at this club but it was never like this. This looked like a drug festival. It was a drug commune and it wasn't the kind of place that Yetunde would ever visit but it was Yetunde that had led her here.

Yetunde wouldn't come here. Her best friend had always reiterated the importance of a healthy lifestyle. That was why she had been able to drop so many unhealthy characteristics that were part and parcel of her real life and background. There was no way taking drugs in this condition, beside hot sweaty bodies was hygienic.

She turned around to search for her best friend but someone gripped her wrist and pulled her towards a corner. She pulled her hand free and turned to the attacker, ready to pour out all her anger and irritation at the person but her fury seceded to shock as she stared at Yetunde's face.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Yetunde asked through clenched teeth, screaming over the electronic music that played in the club.

Romola's jaw dropped and her stomach followed a similar trajectory. "I was worried about you leaving the house so late. Alone."

"Really?" Yetunde gripped her arms and shook her so much that she feared her brain would be displaced. "Is that really the truth or did you come to report me to Olumide again?"

Romola's eyes widened. Did Yetunde know what Olumide had asked her to do? "It's not like that. I did not report you. He was waiting for you."

"And I'm supposed to believe that Olumide would leave his house on the island and wait for me to finish clubbing just so he could take me home?" A derisive smile played on Yetunde's lips.

"Yes! That's exactly what happened."

"You are a fool Romola. A big fool."

Yetunde pulled her to the door. She tried to free herself, aware of the looks that several people sent their way, but Yetunde's iron grip was clamped around her hand. She worried about Yetunde's incessant teeth gnashing than the fact that her friend seemed to have developed super human strength. Yetunde pulled her, out of the club, to the bouncer she had paid earlier.

"This girl is a nuisance. Keep her out." Yetunde yelled to the bouncer, pushing her out. The push sent her stumbling forward. She tripped on her own heel and fell in front of the people queuing at the entrance.