You are welcome to Escapades! Your Best Platform for Spell Binding True Life Short Stories. For Advert Placement, Product Promotions, Book Editing on this blog, please call: 08054701481 or send an email to: psaduwa007@gmail.com & journalistjoke@gmail.com!

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Finding Hubby (4)




I didn’t go anywhere on Saturday; the activities of the night before had worn me out. On depressing occasions like that, I get the inspiration to write poetry. 

Yes, Oyin is a poet. One of these days, if you guys ask me enough, I’ll read some of my poems to you. So the day dragged on until evening when my girls came over. 

Gloria and I reached a compromise. I did get a guy as hot as Kalu’s Koikoi, so I could claim the iPad. But the guy turned out to be a gigolo (ewww) so she could claim my shoes. 

So I wasn’t going to get the iPad, as long as she didn’t come within a one meter radius of my shoes (like that would happen in this lifetime and beyond). 

They basically did what they came for – Eat my food, drink my wine, scatter my house, talk about men, abuse men, long for men, and leave with my stuff.

And oh yes, Gloria left with my shoes. See en, people that come to your house and do all the things I listed above are your true closest friends. I went to bed with my spirit considerably lifted when my friends had left. The alcohol, of course, helped a little. Okay, more than a little, wink wink.

I went to bed after watching some episodes of Spartacus Blood and Sand. I don’t know why, but I have a thing for that series. One of my favorite Naija songs right now even references it “Jide Kosoko, shay o le fi shay Spartacus, Jor ooo
lmao.
                                                                  ***

I woke up on Sunday morning with a sense of expectation. I always feel really close to God on Sundays and I excitedly went about getting prepared for church. 

Light breakfast of toast and tea. Then it was time to get dressed for church. Now you might say I’m vain, but if you go to my church, you had better reeeeaaallly get dressed for church. 

The hottest, the latest, the sharpest, the cream de la cream of my cream axis attended my church. And you never know if you’ll meet the One so as a scout, I had to be prepared. 

Anyways, where better to meet him than church. So I put on a Tiffany Amber dress and a pair of Prada shoes and Prada bag to match and completed the look with a scarf and sunshades. 

I decided to do the cloudy eyed eyeshadow I saw on the style network during the week and did the Angelina Jolie lipstick thingy. I took a look at my creation in the mirror and I said like the Lord, it is good, alleluia!

Church service was going well and I was in the spirit, while surveying the pews for any particularly husbandable man (a good hunter is always alert). 

Then the senior pastor of our church (who I wouldn’t have minded marrying, he’s much too much) came up to welcome first timers.

 Time for the handshakes and plastic church smiles to come out. “I want to specially recognize a dear friend of my family,” hot Pastor was saying. 

“He is a multiple award winning and bestselling author, and his last book, The Epic, is currently being adapted into a movie in Hollywood. Please join me in welcoming my brother from another mother, Femi Tosh.” 

I scrambled to look in the direction where Hot Pastor’s friend was standing up from. And then I saw him. Tosh was just the short form for Omotosho. Femi Omotosho. Oh my God. My heart did multiple flips upon seeing him, but I was not seated close enough to him to give him a handshake or smile.

Before you start thinking I’m some desperado who wants to donate smiles and handshake and flipping hearts to every man that is a visitor in my church, let me give you a short history on Femi Omotosho. 

Fresh from my Masters in my mid-twenties, I met him. Femi was every lady’s dream, suave dresser, smooth talker and held down a bank job. But that was before you started dating him o. 

You discovered then that he was from a poor background, all his money went into supporting his family and pursuing his dreams. Nothing for you to even be a babe. It was a hard pill for me to swallow but I tried to stick with Femi. 

Back then, I didn’t have the high paying job I have now, so I depended on Femi, but as he was so focused on family and dreams, he couldn’t give me the trips around the world, and all the nice things a fine girl like me required. 

So I left him. Okay, let me be truthful, I threw tantrums, said all sorts of cruel things to him and about him and then left him. 

Barely a year after I left him, his first book won the NLNG award and he got two hundred thousand dollars. The rest is history, he left the country, won more awards, and became a part of my past I regretted and forgot. 

 *** Now, having him in my church, looking so smashing, successful and every woman’s dream brought all the regrets I had been trying to bury, to the surface. I did a quick scan of his left hand, no ring. So he was not married. I had to find a way to meet him at the end of the service.

For the rest of the service, I heard nothing. My mind was in a far away place, imagining what could have been with him. I’d be travelling the world now, going for Hollywood events and probably nursing a little Femi now.

 The service seemed to last an eternity, it took so long to end. When it was announcement time and the deacon who liked the sound of his own voice over the sound system climbed the stage, I let out a few words I hoped no resident angels in our church heard. 

He droned for longer than he should until a not so hot pastor came to stand beside him. He got the cue and rounded off his droning. If eyes could kill en, the deacon would have fallen dead with the way I looked at him. 

All the while, my eyes never left where Femi was (yes, I can look at two places at the same time).

Service finally ended and I saw ushers leading Femi towards Hot Pastor’s office. By the time I got there, he had already gone into the office.

 I contemplated waiting for him to come out, but that would be too easy to see through. Femi has a way with words, and knowing him, he would make me look very silly right there (not like he didn’t have a right to sha). 

Thankfully, I was Hot Pastor’s personal convert so I had access to his office. I went through the mill of waiting faithful. The ushers who looked more like the bouncers I saw at Marquee on Friday night knew me and let me go in. 

I knocked on Hot Pastor’s door and his rich voice came from inside the room. “Please come in”. I took a deep breath and muttered under my breath: “here goes nothing” and then opened the big door.

He was seated facing the pastor, with his back towards the door so he didn’t see me come in. I was glad about that because I had the time to gather myself together. 

Hot Pastor got up and came round his desk to hug me. “Miss Clegg,” he was saying. “It’s been a while.” Femi’s eyes followed Hot Pastor around and then fell on me. He looked shocked. “Oyin!” he exclaimed.

Hot Pastor looked from him to me and then back “You know each other?” 

“Very well,” Femi responded with meaning. You know what knowing a woman means in bible terms. My mind went back to when Femi knew me. I said with more calmness than I felt.

“Long time no see Femi. How have you been?”

 “Very well, thank you. And I don’t need to ask how you’ve been, my eyes tell me,” he responded. Hot Pastor clapped me on the back playfully. 

"Small world. Femi is like a brother.” Either Hot Pastor was blind or he chose to ignore the tension that was in the room. He continued: “I need to quickly address the deacons; I’ll leave you two to catch up on old times. I’m sure there’ll be loads to talk about while I’m gone."

 He was leaving me alone with Femi. This was what I wanted, but a fear crept into my heart. What would Femi say to me when we were alone? I felt like running after Hot Pastor, as he shut the door behind him...


 To be continued...

You can like our page on Facebook


And also follow us on Twitter

PLEASE Remember to leave a comment - Or Send comments/suggestions to 08054701481 (SMS only)
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...