Page 22

Timi's head was in a mess, unable to deny it anymore.

Something was wrong. He'd had so much sex; his body had gone on autopilot.

Reacting to the feel of any skin, irrespective of who wore it.

This violent reaction most certainly had nothing to do with Alex.

Who was Nejeere's boyfriend, his staff, and a man for fuck's sake.

“We don't have to play if you don't want to,” Alex said carefully, as though afraid to spook him.

“No,” Timi said, picking up the stick and positioning himself. He couldn't make it weird, not when things were almost back to normal. “No, it's okay. I'm just…let's play.”

He bent once again, focusing on the white ball and nothing else.

“Alright,” Alex said, from a reasonable distance. “We'll skip the lagging and go for the break. The aim is to use the white ball to drive the other balls to the rails here, with as many as you can entering these pockets. You'll keep shooting until all or none of the balls are pocketed.”

At his first try, Timi had three balls pocketed and four hitting the rails. He straightened, a grin splitting his face as he twirled around.

Wrong move. Alex was already looking with an expression so soft, Timi's chest immediately matched its wooliness .

“Good job,” Alex said, then smiled. A real one.

The line of thought he'd been struggling to hold on to, disappeared instantly. It dawned on him then; he was in trouble. Being aware of Alex's fingers or his enigmatic presence came with some coping strategies. He could look away or keep his distance.

How the hell was he supposed to ignore that face?

A stoic or hard-faced Alex was handsome, but a soft, smiling Alex?

With eyeballs twinkling in the lights? Outrageous dimples and prominent jaw?

Those white teeth, with molars slightly protruding?

And the smile? Unfurling like arctic poppies, with corner grooves hiding depths of untapped humour? Devastation.

How hadn't he noticed when this…anomaly sprouted, so he could squash, stump, burn and snuff it out?

He realised he was still staring when Alex's smile faded, and he raised an eyebrow. Timi looked away quickly, licking his paper-dry lips. “You should, uh, take a turn.”

But Alex didn't reach for the stick. Instead, he settled against the table's rubber-cushioned edges and began speaking softly.

“There was a time when I'd have done anything for money. And that's what I did. Anything.” Solemnity settled over him, spreading through the air, bringing calm to Timi’s riotous heart.

“Approaching an underground wrestling ring in London was for quick cash.

I got in alright but soon realised it was more.

Sometimes, it was punishment, or intimidation, or a highly staked sport for crime bosses.

I beat and got beaten. I got orders to finish off an opponent, and when I refused, my life nearly went for it.

But I stayed on, because if I didn't…” Alex let out a ragged sigh.

“So, I learned tricks. Betrayed some of the boys. Fought my way to become one of the toughest. Hurt people. It was the only way I could walk out when I needed to.”

Timi held his breath as he listened.

“Within those stained brick walls of the abandoned hospital, I didn't feel human. It was scary, having a blank mind. I felt nothing except the need to fight and win and get paid. Nothing could penetrate the blood haze I was in.” He shook his head as if to wade off this haze.

“Then, it wasn't within those walls anymore.

It was in daylight. At work. At home. With friends and colleagues.

With…family. I lost sight of the reason I'd taken that step in the first place. Darkness is intoxicating. It slowly sucks you in till everything outside of it becomes pointless.”

Timi heard his own breathing now. They came in shallow puffs like he was in the throes of a mild panic attack. He had no problem imagining Alex's darkness, as he'd also existed in it as something unhuman. Waiting for the world to notice and wring his neck like Iya Fati's chickens.

He couldn't remove his eyes from Alex's. Which were the most alive he'd ever seen them. The mysteries behind them made visible. Drawing him in until fiery brown surrounded him.

“I had to leave, and I had to forget. My deal with Agu is a comeuppance I must endure until I find my footing.

I can't say I wish I didn't have this skill, as it's come in handy a few times.

But I wish I didn't learn it the way I did. And I would rather not be put in a position to explain how I got them.”

Timi swallowed through the gravel in his throat.

Shame pulling him back to reality. Like a fool, he'd gone and done exactly that.

Once work commenced, he imagined the stares Alex would receive.

The bold questions. The requests. “ We heard you fight. Where did you train? Can we see your moves? Help us train the actors, will you?”

He imagined himself in the same position. Having to explain how he could hold his breath so long under water. Why he hated loud colours. Why physical touch nauseated him most of the time. Why he'd stopped writing. Why he'd truly been disappearing.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, his chest aching.

“You didn't know. I should have told you why I didn't want it out.”

“Don't. I fucked up, okay? I…I've been fucked up for a while.”

“Lee-Gratias?”

“Way before that.” Timi rested a hip against the table. “I became Timi Lawson as a means of survival. But there are times I can't escape…who I ran away from. Over the years, it became easier. But that night…that night…”

Alex reached out to cover Timi's hand with his once again.

This time, Timi was too remorseful to feel anything other than a warm tingle.

He stared down at the palm swallowing up his.

Darker skin shade against his light one.

Veins like tributaries criss-crossing it.

What would Alex do if he upturned his hand and laced their fingers?

Would he allow it, or pull away, face twisted in disgust for even thinking about it?

Timi looked away, but he didn't withdraw his hand.

If he had to talk, he didn't want to feel he was screaming into a void.

“I have this thing, where people's faces do not appear to me as their faces, even when I'm awake. They take forms that are quite…scary. Prosopometamorphopsia when it was constant. Facial hallucination syndrome when it became infrequent.”

“Proposmo...”

Timi smiled. “Don’t bother. Took me years to master.

They were just surface-level medical terms because no matter how hard my doctor tried; the problem stayed.

Until I began making conscious efforts to forget everything.

I took my father's name. Majored in what I never had interest in. Discovered I could wear a thousand faces in acting and never looked back.”

The hand resting on his, moved. Pinky slowly snaking around his own pinkie. Alex, telling him he was listening, and he was here. I'm sorry it took me so long. I'm here now, you're safe . Timi held his breath until their fingers were fully entangled.

His breath shuddered out of him. “I don't do well with bad memories involving people. People like that...man. My mind gives them monster faces. It may have happened to my father if I didn't make the decision to leave.” He hazarded a glance at Alex. “I'm sorry you confided in someone so unstable.”

Alex met his gaze. “I'm sorry I didn't confide in you sooner.”

The intimacy in looking into those eyes with their fingers tangled was too much for Timi. He dropped his gaze immediately. “You're too open for your own good.”

Alex snorted. “You'll be the first person to tell me that. So, your…past is a trigger?”

Timi swallowed. “Yeah. Sex too.”

Alex's pinkie squeezed his. “Seriously?”

Timi smiled. “I know. The acclaimed pundit in sexual proficiency being such a prude.” He exhaled forcefully. “I find having conversations about my bedroom activities outside of it…unpleasant.”

“Hm. How about from now on, for the things we can control, we knock out any worthless nit with the brass balls to bring up your past, sex and fighting?”

Timi burst out a chuckle. It came out a bit phlegmy. “Meechum's style?”

“I may have liked the book solely for the insults,” Alex said.

Timi glanced at him. “Cuglion.

“Slubberdegullion.”

“Grizzle-demundy.”

They smiled into each other's eyes.

“Not a fan of his lifestyle though,” Alex murmured.

Timi gave a little grimace. “Same.”

Alex straightened, dragging Timi up by their entwined pinkies. He released their fingers, and Timi tried not to dwell on the loss he felt.

“We should take a drive before the meeting,” Alex said.

“Where are we going?” Timi asked. He had an appointment with Agu later in the day to sign the contracts. It was still early afternoon and Operation Swap was commencing soon.

“We agreed to stay far away from today's operation,” said Alex. “But there's no harm in driving by, is there? Especially if we rent a cab.”

Timi's heart quickened. Taking a break to just drive? Totally sold! “I guess we can…pop in and pop out.”

Alex's lip curved. “Drive back and forth cause we aren't that good with directions.”

Timi shook his head. “Two grown men too stubborn to ask mere mortals.”

“What can we do? Men aren't gods.”

Timi chuckled loud and free.

Under the orange-tinted sky, cars and motorcycles revved and snarled. Protesting the gaping potholes, and exposed rebar and sinkholes Macaulay Street boasted of. The rains, when they fell, still poured in shy sprinkles and splatters, yet every hole was filled to the brim.

Their cab driver didn't have to drive slowly as they'd instructed him. The terrible road made sure of that.

“That's their car.” Alex pointed towards a grey 2009 Corolla parked at the opposite end. Beside it, a man wearing a face cap paced. His steps seemed aimless, but Timi knew enough to know he was scanning the environment.

“Is that Triple T?” he asked.

“Nah,” Alex said. “When you see him, you'll know.”

“Maybe we could come down for a minute? No one would recognise me.”

Alex's eyes deliberately travelled from his black ripped jeans, up to his black t-shirt, black-rimmed aviators and black beanie covering half of his eyes. “Indeed,” he snorted.

Timi bristled. “You can't make that noise, I'm your boss.”

“An increasingly regrettable fact.”

As they got close, Face-cap guy jumped into the passenger's side and the car began reversing.

Timi's heartbeat picked up. “Is it happening?” He turned back to see the Corolla roll up behind a Jeep Wrangler parked beside the road, the driver buying some fruits from a roadside vendor.

A man got down from the driver's side of the Corolla.

He turned towards their slowly retreating cab, and Timi caught a glimpse of bushy beards and a bushier afro.

He turned to Alex beside him. “That's him, right?”

Alex glanced back. “Yeah. ”

“Oh, damn.”

They made it to the traffic post before a loud crash split the busy street.

“Ouch,” Timi said, resisting the urge to look back. “Someone's gonna be pissssssed.”

Alex only smiled.

Their cab dropped them off at a filling station the Mercedes awaited. They paid the tyre vendor at whose shop entrance they'd parked and began the journey to Agu's house.

“Is he a friend?” Timi asked, pulling off his beanie and shaking his dreads free.

Alex didn't take his eyes off the road. “Who?”

“Triple T.”

“I would hope so. Not everyone you beat up is eager to become your friend.”

He paused packing his hair in a bun. “Huh?”

Alex gave a small smile, then went on to tell the most surreal story.

He'd found his mother, who had gone out to get some fruits down the street, amid sweaty, jagged-edged men.

They were hailing her and urging her to continue singing.

Alex had burst into their midst to rescue her, but they'd resisted.

One even went as far as yanking her hand out of his, causing her to cry out.

A rush of blood to the head later, fists and kicks flew around.

With Alex barely missing targeted temples, stomachs, groins and shins.

When the redness receded from his vision, boys were sprawled on the ground.

Some completely knocked out, some groaning weakly.

One of them was Triple T. Their leader, the one who had grabbed his mother's hand, and suffered the first punch to the temple.

They'd made up almost immediately, with Triple T apologising. He and his goons had attached themselves ever since.

“One of Agu's men witnessed the fight,” Alex concluded. “He sought me out a month later with an invitation from his boss.”

“Fucking hell,” Timi whispered. “That's some movie shit. I want to meet him.” And your mother. Your people .

“Triple T?” Alex asked.

“Who else? He's doing a lot. It's only fair I meet him. ”

Alex looked sceptical. “It's not really your scene.”

Timi stared at him. “And what's my scene?”

“This.” Alex swung his arm, encompassing Timi's body and the car's interior. “Where you live. Who you are.”

“I see. And yours is…?”

Alex slowed down in front of a traffic light. “A bit of what you just witnessed and a bit of what I told you about.”

Timi chuckled sourly. “You know nothing, Alex. People wear masks. They act. They hide. Actions and choices aren't enough pointers to judge who they really are. And going by what you've shown me about yours? I'll choose such purposeful, loving and genuine scene over my current, any day.”

When the light turned green, cars behind them began honking. Timi glanced at Alex to find him staring.

His heart missed a beat. “Something on my face?” he asked.

“You have no idea,” Alex said softly.

“Huh?”

Alex returned his gaze to the road and eased off the brakes. “Nothing.”

Timi adjusted his seat to a reclining position and closed his eyes. “I'm meeting Triple T. Fuck scenes.”

“Hm. That can be arranged. But first, Operation Expose.”