Silhouette

XXXV

Justin Ikem wanted to be like his father a long time ago, but his mother died and everything changed.

His dad, Kennedy, was one of Nigeria’s biggest actors—his legacy sill stood in the industry seven years after his death. Kennedy had made more money than he knew about. He drank like a fish, partied like no one else and was apparently loved by whoever set eyes on him.

Kennedy was a lady’s man, with olive skin and a clean-shaven, schoolboy look. The height of his success began when he starred in an internationally acclaimed blockbuster movie which was a retelling of the Biafran war. He stole hearts with his performance and won an Academy award.

To Justin, his father was as distant as the moon. Justin grew up in a huge, rambling mansion that seemed to be more of a prison, all under the watchful eyes of his aunt. He was the most popular kid in every class he’d been in: he also shared his father’s looks.

Justin almost never saw his father in person, neither was there any word from him apart from Christmas cards. Justin still remembers what his aunt always said whenever they received the cards. She’d look at him with a pained expression on her face and say, “Your father is lost to the world, child.” Justin would cry himself to sleep that night.

So Justin had grown up with a hunger in the pit of his stomach: if he couldn’t see his father at least he could be like him. He began a phase of not caring about anything in the world, he adopted his father’s lazy drawl and abandoned his studies.

Everything came tumbling down after that. He mixed with the wrong crowd and eventually got expelled from two schools.

His father came home when he was fifteen, but for the completely unexpected reason.

Justin still remembers the incident at the summer camp. He keeps replaying that night over and over in his head. He’d forced the boys into the water and they never came up for air. One was resuscitated, eventually, but the other was as lifeless as a log.

The police had just gotten involved when his father showed up, with a glittering lady by his side: his new wife and an ex-Miss UK.

The case dissipated like smoke when Kennedy smiled his bright smile. Kennedy spent two days in the country before flying out with his new wife. Father and son didn’t exchange a word in those two days.

Justin was twenty-three when Kennedy had a heart attack on a cruise ship during a long weekend in Greece, his fist closed around a glass of wine.

Justin went to the funeral feeling very uncomfortable and out of place. He accepted handshakes, pats to the back and sad smiles all the while feeling the urgent need to shed his suit and run away.

He knew then that he’d never be like his father so he made it a mission to escape his father’s shadow. He’d invested in a range of business using his own share of the inheritance after university. Hotels, recording studios, night clubs. He preferred to stay underground, behind the curtains for even now his surname turned heads.

One of Justin’s nightclubs had been sealed by the police. Several people had consumed bad coke which had left them all in a senseless, convulsing heap. The dealer was still at large. Justin had oiled a few palms and had the club reopened a week later.

Certain people of the nightlife had certain appetites and drugs are one of them.Justin viewed it as a necessary evil; excluding the dealers from his clubs meant automatically excluding a percentage of his customers. That was bad for business.

And now the nightclub manager was stammering through an explanation in his own office.

“I thought we had our own people,” says Justin. He clearly enunciates each word, the way he does when angry.