Page 57

He stood before the faces, folding and refolding the papers in his hand, and slowly the noise died down.

For a moment, his brain drew a blank, then some faces began sharpening to view.

Ify and her right-hand man. Two of Rukky's staff, the only gossip blog in attendance but disguised as ordinary guests.

Mother Agnes, who gave him a small smile.

A group of men and women in white T-shirts, gazing at him solemnly.

Charles, giving a finger gun. And Alex, gaze intent on him.

As Timi stared back, he gave him an imperceptible nod.

And a smile tugged at Timi's mouth as he nodded back.

Because great men nodded. Minisculely.

He adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat. “Hi. In case you've never heard of me, my name is Timi Lawson.”

A splattering of laughter spread.

“I'm honoured to stand before you today as the face of this magnificent achievement. Agu really should drop the pretence and embrace his divinity.”

Another splattering of chuckles.

“Agu Studios is an idea that became a reality because a man dared to not just dream but work towards achieving it.

And I'm very grateful Agu deemed me worthy to be a part of this trendsetter. However, all this…” He gestured at his frame.

“...would never have come to be if a man, whom I frankly believe is a god amongst gods, hadn't taken the hand of a lost sixteen-year-old boy and given him the reason to live and dream again.

So, I fear, today isn't about me, but for my father, Dr Jude Lawson.

And he's been most gracious to grace this occasion.”

Commotion ensued as the lights dimmed, a projector whirred, and a video began to play on a high monitor. Strategically placed at a corner close to the dais so everyone could see.

Enya’s May It Be spilled through speakers, accompanied by the slow rolling of Motion pictures of him and Uncle Jude.

Each one captioned according to the occasion.

His adoption. His graduation. A couple of their award ceremonies.

Pictures of them having a good time. Unguarded videos of Uncle Jude doing mundane things.

Like watching the news. Playing snooker.

Taking a walk. Talking to Edet. Drinking water.

Then, the burial ceremony. The undertakers’ slow walk, the casket being lowered into the ground, the mammoth black-clad crowd who had come to pay their last respect.

The candle-lit dinner afterward, organised by his father’s colleagues.

And as he watched, a lump stabbed his throat so viciously, tears stumbled out of his eyes, hot and stinging.

After, videos began playing, accompanied by a female voice-over paying tribute to Dr Jude's professional footprints over the years.

Someone sneaked behind Timi and poked his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Johnson, Agu's lawyer, hissed. “This isn't the place nor time.”

Timi completely ignored him. No one would stop this. He had a solid backing, and Agu was confident in his control over the press. No live broadcast until Buck Media vetted what they wanted out. Phones were also not permitted. Just rolling cameras and working microphones.

Nothing to be worried about. Right?

His favourite part of the video soon came on.

This one had been the hardest to compile.

Boys and girls like him whose lives Uncle Jude had touched.

Whose defence of him had been buried under the weight of hate.

He'd only contacted a few of them from the file Dr Badmus sent.

But the few had contacted their own few.

Then, those few had reached out to their own few.

The testimonials kept pouring in, leaving Timi with the difficult task of selecting which one to air.

As the last video of a young woman who had benefited from the War against Breast cancer program Uncle Jude had executed in eight states played, the white-clad group began trooping out.

And by the time the lights came back on, they all had matching black tees with Uncle Jude's printed face.

Including Timi and Alex, who simply gazed at him with red-tinged eyes, dragging out an answering wetness from his.

Their spokesperson was the first person Timi had called, and as Timi listened to his heartfelt speech on the fragility and fickleness of humans, he was glad he'd picked him first and had the lengthiest conversation with .

He'd anticipated some push back, but surprisingly, after Johnson, no one bothered to stop what was unfolding. The cameras rolled and flashed, and the people listened, with a splattering of heart-warming sniffs.

After the presentation, he waited until everyone was seated, before he finally spoke.

“I'm sorry if this is unexpected, but we're in the business of selling stories and there are some that can't not be told.

I have an announcement to make, but before I do, I'll like y'all to listen to this.

And maybe, you'll understand the true reason you're here today.”

Unprompted, an audio came on, background noises neatly edited out. And Timi made a silent prayer for D'yoyo.

“I see the lizard who dared knock on the King's door has come crawling back.”

“My word is my bond, kid, and I promised to deliver you. You're my biggest achievement, it's only fair you opened my biggest investment, don't you think?”

“I'm sorry about Doc, son. He didn't deserve to get caught in our…squabbles.”

“I didn't peg you for a liar and cheap a blackmailer.”

There was a long pause, then...

“I've never been one to pass up a good opportunity.”

Timi smiled sadly at the gasps and the lights flashing brighter. “For those who still need clarity,” he said. “This was an actual conversation between Mr. Nwabufor, my...godfather and me, minutes before I agreed to shoot Red Tinsel.

Dr. Jude Lawson, my father, is an unfortunate victim of the rot in the entertainment world.

Where people are grouped into Kings and Lizards.

And God help you if you the lizard dared disobey the king's unfavourable orders.” He turned towards Agu, whose eyes had sunken into his head.

“It saddens me that a masterpiece such as Red Tinsel began production on such a quaky foundation.” Then, he faced the crowd again. “On this note—”

“I will advise you to choose your next words carefully, Lawson,” Johnson shouted from where he'd taken a seat behind Agu.

Timi didn't spare him a glance. “Oh, I have. Quite thoroughly at that. That being said, going by my godfather's love for veering from the norm, I hereby announce my intention to quit Red Tinsel. ”

Even as the events had clearly been leading to this outcome, an uproar erupted. Behind him, beside him, in front of him. Everyone was speaking all at once and not quietly. Timi allowed it for a moment, then raised his hand.

The room fell silent so quickly, Timi's chest swelled. He now truly owned the motherfucking show.

“Isn't this a breach of contract, Mr. Lawson? Are you willing to pay the damages?” A reporter asked.

Timi gave a bewildered frown. “That's news to me. You see, my godfather, in his kind generosity and spirit of showmanship, did not only pay the Red Tinsel crew upfront, but gave me leeway to choose how to end this story.”

“That's a lie!” Johnson screamed behind him.

What a noisome pestilence. The tiny man not only handled Agu's legal matters but also replicated his explosive temper. Which had been his undoing.

Timi held up a paper. “This is a page from the signed contract. I read; Absolution of Consequences: In the event Timi Lawson is unable to complete the Red Tinsel project, Clarence Nwabufor hereby absolves Timi Lawson of all consequences arising from such inability.

Acknowledgement: Timi Lawson acknowledges and agrees that this absolution of consequences is conditional upon his inability to complete the Red Tinsel project .”

“Forgery! Perjury.”

Timi held up another paper. “And it says right here; In consideration of the foregoing and notwithstanding any other provision herein contained, it is expressly understood and agreed that Mr. Timi Lawson, while not under any obligation to complete the twelve episodes of Red Tinsel, shall have his comfort and consent accorded utmost priority in all matters pertaining to the Project.”

“Objection!”

Timi sighed and faced Johnson. “Why don't you check your copy? After all, you wrote it.” He faced the reporters who right now had abandoned the pretence of obeying the rules.

Some were already dashing out talking animatedly on their phones.

His heart sank seeing Charles' retreating form.

“Anyone who needs a copy can contact me; I'll be happy to oblige. ”

The questions poured in.

“Mr. Lawson, why wait till now to reveal all this?”

“What would be the fate of Red Tinsel as millions have been pumped into it already?”

“Any comment, Mr. Nwabufor?”

Timi held up his hand again. “My father didn't deserve to be treated the way he was. And for that, my earnings from Red Tinsel will go to the Jude Lawson foundation. I urge everyone who believes he'd been treated unjustly and wants to see more stories of his deeds to check out the website and make donations. Your widow’s mite could save a mite.”

The questions tumbled out once more.

“One final thing,” Timi shouted above the noise. “There's one final thing.”

The lights dimmed and a picture appeared on the monitor. It contained a sentence. Is Agu really who he says he is?

A hush fell. And Timi stood there, staring at the screen, unable to move.

A figure got up from the crowd of people.

It was the Witch from the West. His immediate elder sister.

Lara. Who was here today because a certain man had taken up a responsibility he had no business taking.

A man who had quietly shielded him from his fears.

A man, who despite his flaws, had played a major role in who he was today.

If he was going to be destroyed, should it be by him?