Maduka's POV:
Friday night.
The night every person including school children look forward to, the night we all start preparing for even from Wednesday. The night we never want to end but rush through, only to have Monday pop up and begin the unending cycle all over again.
I have never seen a group of people who love Friday nights more than Lagosians.
Jide and I are speeding towards Banana Island.
Banana Island is a place of unrivalled opulence and grandeur. It's an entirely different world from other parts of the country. It's a gated community, and its inhabitants enjoy such luxuries as underground electrical systems and water supply networks, 24 hour-electricity supply (the only other place such privileged is the Nigerian President's residence), extremely tight security, good road layout, a central sewage system and treatment plant and the well-cherished company of fellow wealthy folks.
I wonder how Jide, who is currently singing Phyno's Ezege, gained an invitation to such a party. Jide is Yoruba, but he has crammed all the lyrics, to my amusement. He is a year older than me, a few inches shorter, and very dark skinned with a head shaved clean. Unlike me, Jide keeps a full beard which contrasts sharply with his shiny head.
We went to secondary school together and somehow ended up serving for the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) in Enugu State. He is my true ride or die partner, my buddy. We have been through funny and serious times together, from boarding school to NYSC.
"You sure say I go like this party?" I question. Are you sure I'll like this party?
After a busy day working at my small agricultural consulting firm, I have a pounding head ache.
"Guy, I dey tell you say na turn up na wetin go stop this your head ache," he answers, very confident. Partying will cure your head ache.
"So who's hosting the party?"
"Alhaji Kamarudeen Bello's son, Saheed. Don't you know him?"
"Son of the current Minister of Natural Resources?"
"Exactly. Dude has been in the US since after primary school. Just stepped into Naija and planned this party."
"And you know this guy personally?"
"Yeah. We were best friends from way back and we've been keeping in touch. He personally invited me, even gave copies of my picture and yours to the bouncers."
Jide laughs and I join him.
"Chill oo, this party reach picture level?" Has the party reached this level?
"Yes oo. The girls there will be so hot as hell."
"That's all you know. Woman, woman na wetin full your head." Your head is full of thoughts of women.
Jide is crazy about girls. It doesn't baffle me, really. I was once at that stage, but suddenly I realised it wasn't a necessity to bed women almost every night. Over the years, I have come to realise that there are deeper things than sleeping with women. Sex, to me, is just an activity without emotional connection. It's just like eating, doing the dishes, sweeping the floor.
I admire strong, intelligent women who know their worth. The last girl I had dated had been everything, except that the feeling wore off after a year and we mutually called the whole thing off. I was secretly grateful that I never took her home to see my parents, because my mom would have been counting grand babies from the first moment of meeting her.
"Guess what?" he asks when we are allowed through the gates of the Eko Unity Apartment Complex. This is one of the most expensive neighbourhoods in Lagos State, with its rent reaching sky-high levels. It has every facility in perfect form, from multiple pools to tennis courts, a gym area, little supermarket, golf course, playground, and many more.
I think I'd rather purchase a plot of land and build a home to my taste.
"What?" I question. I won't be surprised if Jide tells me that some A-list celebrities are showing up at the party as well.
"DJ Spinall is in around."
This pleases me, because DJ Spinall is very good at what he does and I can be rest assured that the party will go well.
Already, I can hear the music coming from the pool area. A wonderful mix of Ycee's Omo Alhaji and Phizbarz's Demo is playing. I'm beginning to get excited already.
The party is in full swing, and the pool is so beautiful. The music is loud and invigorating, urging me to just dance, dance and forget everything else. Stunning, bikini clad girls are in the pool, dancing, playing pool ball and swimming like mermaids. There are elegant canopies laced with white silk curtains which sway softly in the cool island breeze. These canopies are furnished with white, cushioned couches and tables topped with assortments of drinks and small chops.
"Oh my god," Jide exclaims when someone walks towards us. "Saheed!"
The person comes closer and I see its a huge man the same height as mine, with a clean shaven face and a big smile. He is dressed in a white caftan and the popular checkered Arab scarf.
"Jide my man!"
The two hug tightly, hitting each other's backs. When they withdraw, they stare at each other fondly.
"This is my guy Kaka. He replaced you after you left me," says Jide with a laugh. Saheed laughs, too, and enthusiastically hugs me as well.
"You're my VVIP tonight. Come, let me place you guys underneath my own canopy. Jide, jeez! We have a lot to catch up on."
"You telling me?" replies Jide.
We follow Saheed, weaving past people dancing around the pool and dodging splashes of water. On a makeshift platform underneath a small canopy at the other side, I see DJ Spinall doing his thing, wearing his well-known Ankara cap and dark glasses.
Saheed seats us underneath the biggest canopy, filled with about five beautiful girls; the type of girls you only see in trending music videos.
"Make yourselves comfortable. Let me know if you need anything. Anything."
"Yes, boss," replies Jide, who is already interested in the girls.
"Let me check up on some things, guys. I'll be right back."
And with that, Saheed disappears.
I pour myself a glass of wine and take a sip. Wines aren't my thing; I prefer spirits but today I want something different.
"Do you want to dance?" one of the girls asks me. This one has kept her eyes on me since I came close. She is very curvy with skin the colour of honey in the dim lights. Her face is perfectly made up, with eyebrows 'on fleek'.
"Sure thing," I reply.
We dance for twenty minutes, before I excuse myself for a drink of water. My head ache is actually worse, and it's becoming very annoying.
Jide was wrong.
Nwanyieze's POV:
Temi is disappointed that I don't want to strip down to my bikini and dive into the pool.
We are currently at the party being hosted by Saheed Bello, son of the current Minister of Natural Resources. It is a huge, glamorous party, full of the elite of Lagos: spoiled rich brats, socialites, movie stars, popular musicians and their numerous hangers-on.
Music pounds through the air, drowning other sounds. This is a typical trait of Nigerian parties; if the music isn't loud enough, the party isn't popping.
"Girl, take off your clothes," Temi yells at me with a frown. One has to yell to be heard over the music.
I shake my head. Suddenly, I am feeling so cold, and swimming will make my condition worse. Immediately after Temi's call in the morning, I had developed joint pain and a bitter taste in my mouth. Normally, these are the first symptoms of Malaria for me. Spurred by the prospects of earning one hundred thousand Naira tonight, I had ignored the feeling.
Now, I am bearing the consequences because the paracetamol I had swallowed before coming here didn't help in any way. I don't even have the energy to yell back at Temi that I'm not feeling too well. So, I touch the side of my neck with the back of my hand and tilt my head to one side.
She understands and nods apologetically, knowing that my plans for tonight have been ruined.
"Let me take you home now," she yells again.
I can't make Temi leave because it's very far from the island to my place, and it means that she will have to forfeit her money. I shake my head.
"Let me just rest. Go and have fun," I finally yell back, but not without serious repercussions.
Reluctantly, Temi gets up and leaves the canopy, mouthing, "Call me when you're ready."
The canopy is getting a bit crowded. I squeeze my way out, smoothing the surface of my short white baby doll dress. Not a bad idea to look around and maybe eat some small chops at least, as I'm going home empty-handed. Adanna would love some, too.
Suddenly, someone roughly bumps into me from behind and I stumble, landing on my knees. Pain flares up in my shoulder and knee joints. Before I can think, huge hands are pulling me back up to my feet, strongly wrapped around my arms.
"I'm so sorry!" the owner of the voice says, turning me around.
He is tall and built, dressed in a white caftan. On his head, he is wearing an Arab scarf. He looks very remorseful, smiling easily as he bends to dust my knees for me. I take two steps backwards, shaking my head.
He doesn't let me go far, however. He gently grabs my arm again.
"Rest room," I mouth, abandoning the small chops mission and desperate to leave and book a taxi home without telling Temi. If I yell one more time, I might lose consciousness. It's taking all my energy to even stand in my six-inch heels.
"I'll take you there."
Oh, Lord.
At the public rest room, he waits outside the building while I stand inside a stall for ten minutes, hoping he'll get tired and move away to find something more interesting to do. When I step out, he's still standing right where I left him.
"You look familiar," he says.
Here, the music isn't loud enough to make one temporarily deaf. I simply shrug.
"Do you know Temi?"
A nod.
"Wow, Queen. You're more beautiful in person."
"Thank you."
"I'm Saheed, baby. Nice to meet you."
Saheed, the host!
Temi must have sent him my picture, so he would choose a partner for the night.
Too bad, I am currently unavailable.
"Come, join me under my canopy. I like you already."
"I'm sorry, I have to go home."
He looks surprised. "My party bores you? Come on, even if you're to stay for thirty minutes I would like that. And why are you leaving when the party's just getting started?"
I reconsider. Maybe, I could still get the small chops for Adanna. Just the thought of her grateful smile brought one to my lips. I let Saheed take my hand and lead me back to the party area. Thirty minutes, and I would slip away.
His VVIP canopy is half-full, and he starts to dance, encouraging me to do the same. As Drake's Hotline Bling plays, I indulge him. It is, after all, his party and one dance won't hurt.
I become uncomfortable as Saheed grabs my hips and starts grinding against me from behind.
"I'm going home now," I signal.
Obviously, he's used to having his way, and the fact that he knows that I'm with Temi seems to make him bolder. Now, he kisses my neck and I shiver, not from lust but from revulsion.
I can't deal with this in my current state.
"Baby, who comes to a pool party and doesn't swim?" he whispers into my ear when the music fades a bit.
I shake my head and signal again that I have to leave.
But Saheed is adamant, clinging to me like I'm his lifeline. I find myself getting angrier by the second. I manage to get away and take two steps away, ready to slip into the crowd.
Suddenly, his arms wrap around my waist and I'm lifted off the floor.
Saheed throws me into the pool.
A/N: Ever since I left the city you....
I just hate it when guys are stubborn. Smdh. What do you think of Saheed?
P.S, the paragraph about Banana Island was taken from Forbes website.
And there's a video of 'Omo Alhaji' up there for you to see.