Page 39

“The song every Nigerian Christian knows. As the Deer.”

Alex played, Timi sang, and the harmonious melody breathed life into the surrounding beige walls. If Timi looked closely, he was sure to find Uncle Jude heading towards the patio, doing his little tap dance, head bopping and fingers snapping.

When they returned upstairs, Alex suggested watching a movie.

“Which would you prefer?” Timi asked.

“Do you have the classics?” Alex replied from where he perched on the sofa's headrest. “Our Sundays were usually reserved for those.”

A pang of envy hit Timi. The family tradition he could remember was from his toddler days.

His father, telling them stories whenever there was a full moon.

Or taking them to office functions during school holidays.

Which had all stopped after the chief witch suffered from an illness that left her gaunt, and damaged personality-wise.

“Classics?” he asked.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You know, My fair lady, Sound of Music, Seven brides for seven brothers, Oliver Twist…”

He shook his head. His background had only room for Ayamatanga or The End of the Wicked. Everything else he knew, he learned from books and friends at school. “Only the second and last are familiar. And I don't have any.”

Alex looked appalled. “It's now my life's ambition to get you to watch them.”

Timi rolled his eyes.

“How about some action movies?” Alex asked. “The grainier, the better.”

Timi, who had taken to scrolling through Netflix, paused. “You mean those old movies like Demolition man, Eraser, 007 and co?”

“More of Donnie Yen, Jackie Chan, the terrible three. All in their 80's glory.”

“Terrible three?”

“Uhum. Stallone, Schwarzenegger and Van Damme.”

“Weren't they hits in their prime?”

“Okay, terrific is more like it. Horrific CGIs and all.”

Timi resumed scrolling. “Weirdo. I don't think we can get any of them here. Even if there is, I'll shrivel from too much cringe. They were better, sha, compared to Seagal who could beat a thousand men with his legs and hands tied without breaking a sweat, or Lundgren with his terrible dialogues.”

“Circle back to Seagal. How would he have beaten them without his limbs?”

He threw him a glance. “With his big dick energy, of course.”

Alex stared, then burst into chuckles. “You sound jealous. Pick one for us, then. Wanna wash up. ”

When Alex returned, it was to meet the window blinds adjusted to night mode, ominous music rumbling through the dark room, with scenes of children levitating, paper walls cracking, adults screaming.

It took a moment for Timi to notice Alex seated at the extreme end of the sofa, gaze deliberately averted from the television. He paused the movie. “You're scared?”

“What if I am?” Alex said defensively.

And Timi nearly laughed. He didn't though. He couldn't treat Alex's fears with levity anymore, not after hearing about his family's tragedy.

“You can tell yourself they aren't real,” he said. “It's what I do.”

“Why should anyone put themselves through the torture? Especially you.”

Timi clicked on Home and heaved up to sit with his legs crossed under him. “I created another cheat code.”

Alex let go of the pillow he'd been gripping. “Your genius keeps heightening.”

Timi smiled. “Fight your fear by feeding it with something more fearsome. Just like how immunisations work. I see distorted faces against my will, I desensitise them by my will.”

“Did it work?”

“On good days, yes. I turned chants of 'it's not real' into a sonata. Besides, watching this is fun. I've seen enough to know the real scary demons look exactly like me.”

There was a moment of silence, then his toe got tugged. “I hope they won't blind you from seeing the angels too,” Alex said, sidling closer.

Timi shrugged. “I'm not blind. Other than this…face thingy, the supernatural doesn't scare me. In fact, I find it funny.”

“For real?”

“If the devil appears right now, all I'll ask him is if human heads validate his divinity with his obsession and—What is it?”

Alex, who had been watching him steadily, frowned now at something behind him. A chill, not from the air-conditioning, slithered down his spine. He turned to look, but Alex's hand shot out .

“Don't,” he said softly, eyes still fixed behind Timi. “Is there anyway Edet can climb to the second balcony?”

Timi licked his lips. “No?”

“Where's your phone? I left mine downstairs.”

“In the room, turned off. Why?”

Alex seemed genuinely rattled and Timi's doubts were fast evaporating.

It would be completely out of character for Alex to pull this sort of joke.

Unexplainable occurrences he'd witnessed flashed through his mind.

Weird sounds he sometimes heard at night.

The few times he could swear he'd shut his ajar bedroom door.

Objects moving, he'd thought his mind was playing tricks.

To be sure, he tried to look again, but Alex gripped his arm.

“Looks like a shape of a man. We need to call securi—” His eyes widened. “Oh god. Duck…duck...”

An inhuman shriek shattered the stillness, and Timi only realized it came from him when he crashed face first into Alex.

His heart, thundering in his chest. Had Agu found him out and sent someone to kill him?

Or was it something worse? Perhaps from his past. An evil spirit those nights he'd spent bathing in rivers and dancing around candles had invoked.

His body shook, face burrowed into Alex's chest like an ostrich poking into soil.

So consumed by fear, it took a while to notice he wasn't the only one shaking.

Except, while his was from fright, the body beneath him quivered violently from restrained mirth.

And Timi had never wanted to end a laughter so badly.

He shifted, acutely aware of their tightly plastered bodies, and dragged his nose up that infuriating neck. He nudged the soft skin, inhaling deeply the fresh lemon scent still heavy there, despite the overlying smell of his Patchouli body wash. Then, he sank his teeth into warm flesh.

A shudder tore through the body beneath him. So powerful, it wiped off the laughter and rattled Timi's bones. He scuttled backwards, watching Alex who stared back in shock.

Alex slowly raised a hand to the area his teeth sank into. “Did you…did you just bite me?”

Heart pounding, Timi raised his nose. “So?”

“How old are you?” Alex sputtered. “Three?”

“You stopped laughing, abi? How dare you prank me?”

Alex dropped his hand, eyes darkening. “So, this is how it is, uh? Nothing is off limit if you have your way?”

A dizzying swoop swept through his belly at the dark intensity radiating from those eyes. “It's a cruel world out there,” he said, attempting a casual shrug.

He failed miserably as Alex began inching closer. His heartbeats had become a herd of antelopes escaping the paws of a determined panther. Eyes locked on Alex, he shifted backwards, a painful strum against his ribs.

“What are you doing?” he tried whispering, but the words were barely coherent. Not when his throat had gone dryer than Al Faya desert.

Alex stopped when Timi's back hit the pile of throw-pillows. Then, he lowered himself onto him, his eyes never leaving his. Timi's eyes began closing on their volition, lips parting in readiness for a kiss he hadn't known how starved he was for it.

However, his eyes snatched open when, instead of his lips being plundered, fingers began running along his ribcage. The absurdity of the action froze him, then the tickling sensation sank in and all he wanted was to escape those relentless fingers.

He began to laugh. Helplessly. The only person who had ever tickled him was the boy he wasn't allowed to think about. How had Alex guessed?

He attacked Alex's ribs too, and soon their unrestrained laughter bounced off the walls and echoed beyond the windows. Alex laughed with his whole being, like he was being electrocuted. And Timi thought he would die from its cuteness.

They eventually surrendered, Alex lying half-way above him, their faces so close, they almost shared breath. Their gazes locked, laughter fading. When Alex's head began descending, Timi reared up to meet him halfway, and desperate lips clashed.

A groan of overwhelming relief snuck out of Timi's throat. How had he survived half a day without the taste of Alex's kisses?

Alex shifted, bringing their lower bodies into contact, and they both moaned at the brush of their hardening lengths.

Tongues tangled, lips got bitten gently and sucked, teeth clacked, and hands found t-shirts, dragging up the offensive cotton to expose hot skin.

Timi couldn't handle slow. He wanted it fast and wild to match the urgency burning up an inferno within him.

However, as they dragged his shirt over his head, a voice called from downstairs.

“Timi? Are you alright? I'm coming up, okay?”

It took less than a second to fling Alex off and jump over the sofa to land at the head of the stairs.

“I'm okay,” he nearly screamed. “Give me a minute.”

When she couldn't reach him, Nejeere must have used her one-shot barcode for emergencies at the gate. He barely looked at Alex as he adjusted his trousers against his fast-dwindling erection, heart thumping hard. What if she’d caught them?

Minutes later, he headed downstairs. Nejeere wasn't the only one waiting. There was Charles too, who had made himself comfortable with a bottle of white wine, fried mutton Esther always made in excess, and his latest Call of Duty.

Timi groaned inwardly. Today of all days?

“Why have you been unreachable since Friday?” Nejeere demanded as he plonked himself into the longest sofa. He kicked Charles off so he could stretch his legs.

“This isn't the time to play your hermit games. And Alex? Is he here with—”

Alex chose that moment to appear, sauntering down the stairs like everyone else was the unwanted visitors who had dared disturb his peace. Timi's gaze fell to Alex's crotch area and was about heaving a sigh of relief, when his eyes absorbed other more worrisome things.

Alex was coming from upstairs, where no one was allowed to.

Besides Uncle Jude, only Esther had the permission to climb those stairs, or Nejeere, for emergencies.

He was also clothed in Dellywear limited edition joggers that were no longer in the market, looking freshly showered and very much like he'd spent the night. Or many nights.

Fuck.

Charles and Nejeere stared, though with different expressions. Where Charles appeared bewildered, Nejeere's eyes held a cold calculation that sent a slither of apprehension through Timi .

“What's going on?” she asked Alex. “I've been calling your phone. Is this…were you here the whole time?”

Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. “Do you need anything?”

Charles dropped the joystick, swinging his gaze from Alex to Timi. “You guys haven't seen the latest?”

Timi sat up. “What latest?”

Nejeere handed her phone over. Alex came close to have a look. It was a shaky video of Alex and him at Platinum Beats store. He was at the guitar section, talking animatedly, while Alex followed closely behind, nodding at his words, his finger trailing the glass shelves.

The caption read, A Jude Lawson replacement so soon?

Since the short video captured Alex's side profile, half hidden by Timi's capped dreads, a hashtag had been created; #findlawson'sbetterhalf.

The comments didn't disappoint.

Guys, could be the new guard. Heard the old one’s like literally dumb.

But check his eyes. Who looks that soft when talking to their bodyguards?

Soooooo domestic. Me sef go love o.

Eketi see the thing you're dating.

Is that who he was chatting with on their date?

Can't see the mysterious guy's face, but something tells me he fine die.

Is Timi into music now? Don't follow the old Nollywood pattern joor. Stick to your mid movies.

Ewww! Two men down. More women for us sha.

Wait. So, his rapist lover died and he's already after another rapist's yansh? All these homos no get shame at all.

Nejeere took her phone back, her eyes straying to the piano at the corner of the room. “What does the video mean?”

Timi swallowed, a migraine creeping up. “I, uh, we–”

“I just got something solid, bro,” Charles said. “Red Tinsel blows, I blow. Buck becomes my domain. There's clearing Uncle's name too, and your staff working tirelessly to keep the story straight. For everyone's good, I don't think this is the time to make careless trips and feed the trolls. ”

Timi had hoped reality would give him some time, but when had hope ever not crumbled into ashes on his tongue?

“The place was empty,” he tried. “But maybe I should have—”

“It doesn't matter,” Nejeere said. “Reporters are still loitering! Couldn't you at least—”

“What is this?” Alex's harsh tone cut her off. “An ambush? A blaming spree?”

Nejeere's face grew colder. “Unlike you, I'm just doing my job.”

“Are you? Because there's absolutely nothing on that video that warrants those comments. How can you both, in good judgement, badge in here and add salt to his injury? If he's getting lip from these bullies, should he also get it from the people closest to him?”

“Hey…” Charles protested.

Nejeere's cold expression had given way to something Timi couldn't place as Alex defended him. “Have the people ever needed a reason to be nasty? Don't you get it? You're about to be exposed! After all you've done to stay low—”

“So, what would you have him do? Lock himself up? Allow those jobless fools dictate how he should live his life?”

Nejeere must have detected the bitter frustration in Alex's tone, because her eyes widened. “Lex…”

Timi got up. For once, since all this started, his fear was for someone asides Uncle Jude.

How long before they figured out who Alex was?

He'd read up on the fall of Chocosnit, and had silently commended Alex's father, Ikechukwu Ikechukwu, for keeping his family completely away from the media.

Not a single picture of Alex or Oyin could be seen.

But Alex had schooled in Nigeria, someone was bound to recognise him and make the connection.

Red Tinsel's crew and his own staff had signed NDAs, but could they be trusted? Ada had blabbed after all.

“I need to think,” he said abruptly. “No comment for now, Nej. His face didn't show.”

He strode off without looking in Alex's direction, whose gaze never left his face the entire time he spoke.