Page 14

S porax media kept their promise. A day after Timi went live and made that disastrous disclaimer, evidence began dropping.

Court affidavits and newspaper clippings regarding his change of name. His old name had been blurred out, which had nothing to do with protecting him and everything to do with someone reminding him they still had him by the balls.

There was a picture too. He and Uncle Jude outside a court premises after the ruling of his adoption. His black suit to his father's sky blue. Underneath, a caption glared.

Adoption? Or Timi picking up his new husband’s name after the secret wedding in Tennessee?

Which made no lick of sense. An open acknowledgement of a taboo wedding in a country you could spend fourteen years in jail for. But that was the mob, connecting disjointed stories to make one ridiculous lie .

Other news outlets had also grown bolder.

Timi Lawson and 'Father' mired in gay controversy.

The ugliness of Nollywood and its stars.

Some shamelessly scored points with clickbaits.

10 things you didn't know about Timi Lawson; no 9 will shock you.

What kind of gay are you depending on your favourite Timi Lawson character?

Lines from Timi Lawson's movies proving his true sexuality.

Colleagues and others who showed solidarity had their voices buried under the vicious attack from the people. Some of them even had to deactivate after being labelled as the cheap whores Timi used to hide his crime.

My guy dey fuck una yansh, you no suspect say na gay because of his shut-up money. Taah!

His politician acquaintances chose to call, to avoid being dragged down to filth.

For content creators and e-celebrities, they'd taken the more fun path of memes and video edits.

By day three, Timi contemplated gorging out his eyes rather than viewing one more photoshopped image of Uncle Jude holding an apple to him in a garden, with the caption: Adam Why are you gay–who says I'm gay interview.

Or the cropped part of the live video where he called Uncle Jude different, in a loop, accompanied by Amanpiano beats with random people dancing.

Companies his endorsement contracts hadn’t expired were pulling down his images on billboards. And people made videos, thanking Nigerians for standing with traditional values for the first time in a long while.

To make matters worse, in response to Timi refusing to take any call from Immaculate's, Peter, Daniel and Dorcas made a video warning people to keep Doctor Daddy and Timi's name out of their mouths.

And the orphanage immediately became another tool to push the narratives.

Because what gay man could resist the allure of impressionable children ?

After a long virtual meeting with Timson staff, assuring them he was fine and all would be well, Timi returned to his nest of faux fur and cashmere like a Lekki wife's pampered groundhog, slurping on unsweetened yogurt. “Isn't there at least one good news?” he mumbled.

“About five thousand more foreign followers,” Hulk said, leaning against the sofa Timi lay on, eyes on an iPad. “Hashtag #istimdickajoketoyou has also climbed to number nine.”

Jaja had created the hashtag, attaching it to pictures and videos of Timi with women.

From movies, parties, occasions, he kept them coming.

Hugs, kisses, intimate touches, anything to get the message across.

And it gained momentum, with people picking it up and analysing his body language, comparing it to famous gays.

His immorality now evidence of his morality.

But they'd celebrated too early.

“Are you shitting me?” he sputtered. “It was on four yesterday.”

“Influencers did a volte-face. They're demanding more mobilisation.”

He dumped his yogurt on a stool. Those greedy bastards. He waved his hand in defeat. “Pay them. Just pay them.”

Nejeere came out of the kitchen where she'd been on the phone.

“That isn't sustainable, and you know it. Also, the fight between Timians and the LGBTQ+ community is taking so much ground those hungry influencers won’t be able to cover.

Gosh, who begged the alphabet folks to intervene?

You denied being part of them for heaven's sake.”

“So, what else can I do?” It came out almost a cry, hanging heavy in the air. They knew what else could be done, but he'd run off like a coward.

“You can first not accept what Mr. Slimy is offering,” Nejeere said quietly. “I'm totally against it. Uncle too would be. And I can't put it past that slime to have a hand in this mess.”

He and Hulk exchanged a look.

He'd eventually shared his plan with him, and they'd spent the days tightening it. They'd agreed Hulk would accept the spy job, Timi, the Red Tinsel project, and keep everyone else in the dark. It was the only way he could clear Uncle Jude's name, punish Agu, and bear the consequences alone .

He'd asked Hulk how he intended convincing Agu he was a hundred percent down and Hulk's face had hardened. “Just like you, he knows he got me with the offer he proposed.”

Curiosity opened Timi's mouth, but tactfulness shut it. They weren't in the business of knowing the whys. Hulk had a personal vendetta against Agu? Even better. Made Timi's appreciation less consuming.

For Sporax Media, Hulk had told him to leave Operation Fish Out to him. When Timi asked how he intended going about it, Hulk promised to reveal all in due time. And Timi had nodded mutely, unable to understand the feeling possessing him. It was warm and a little bubbly.

Gratitude. It had to be.

He'd wondered how he would juggle immersing himself in Red Tinsel and embarking on a full-scale investigation, but the man had chosen to stand by him, knowledgeable about things an average person couldn't know.

Asides Uncle Jude, he'd never felt he had anyone in his corner.

This arrangement with Hulk was temporary, but for once, he could share the burden of strategizing with someone on the same wavelength.

It was…satisfying. And it kept him away from his thoughts.

He, however, had to stick to certain places in the house if he wanted relief from sharp images of Uncle Jude watering the flowers, or sitting by the pool, or reading a book on his exercycle, or standing so close to the TV during News Hour, exclaiming how the rapture may happen in his lifetime.

So far, the downstairs sitting room and his bedroom had proven safe.

He pulled down his blankets. “Nej….hasn't pushing a new project been our go-to tactic?”

Nejeere frowned. “Remember the first sign of an artiste's death? This right here. This complete disregard of everything you stand for. Slimy knows nudity on screen has never been on the table. You do this, and no one would respect your boundaries anymore.”

He shrugged. “I was already dying, remember? Might as well sign out in a blaze of glory. Nothing more prolific than shutting everything down with I and Eketi's naked asses on screen. ”

The air went still. It was the first time since the airport the topic of his disappearance would spring up.

“We don't have to go down that route,” Nejeere said stiffly.

“The others have been sifting through old scripts back at the office.

We would find something. Shouldn't we at least accept one or two interview invites from foreign press?

Or better still, can't the Vice president help with government projects? Maybe shoot a small film for a parastatal. Something with government ba—”

“Stop. Just…do as I say, Nej. Please.”

She picked up her bag, a coldness hardening her face. “Fine. Your funeral. At least I'll earn a bit more before you…kill yourself and I find out about it in a lousy letter.” She grabbed Hulk's hand, her voice softening. “Walk me out?”

Timi watched them go, swallowing the urge to call Hulk back. He'd deliberately offended her, the least he could do was allow her boyfriend pacify her.

He grabbed his yoghurt, slurping faster to chase off the sudden bitterness on his tongue.

A week after the news broke out, the double doors to a VIP room in Breathers, Agu's uptown club in Ikoyi, burst open. Timi and Hulk strode in, three MIB clowns stumbling after them.

One of them shouted above the loud Afrobeat drifting from the ground floor. “Agu, we tried to stop—”

Agu waved them off from within a thick mist of cigar smoke shadowing the gold and blue lights spilling from translucent whorl ceilings and 3D wallpapers. The clowns retreated, closing the doors and enclosing the room in quietness .

Agu splurged across a pewter L-shaped lounge sofa and opposite him on a stool was a man in a black senator.

Nonso Idibie, a fellow actor and another of Agu's protégés.

Handsome by industry standards, a total douchebag by Timi's.

Between them was a square-top table laden with everything he hated about Agu's indulgences.

An open metal box filled with packets of white substances, small tubes and syringes, and some Hennessy—product of over a 100 Eaux-de-vie.

Judging from the table's contents, and the music gaining momentum, more degenerates were on their way.

“Your time’s up,” Agu said, blowing a ring of smoke towards where they stood.

“I was busy,” Timi said.

“Well, as you can see, I'm in the middle of the next appointment.”

Timi glanced at Nonso. “Tell him to leave.”

Nonso dropped his glass with a thud. “Excuse m—”

Timi crossed over his legs to settle into the same sofa as Agu and Hulk sat beside him.

Nonso's eyes flashed with fury and malice he no longer had to hide.

Timi had ended his contract. He'd lost favour in the eyes of his god.

He and his other stooges had probably thrown a party and drawn straws to see who the next Timi Lawson would be. He must have been the chosen one.

Well, there could only be one Timi Lawson, and everyone had to be made aware, including Agu who watched with a glint in his eyes.