CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Igwe House was a lavish affair that was situated at the Victoria Garden City, a stunning piece of architecture that was the pride of the exclusive street where it was situated in the estate. It was filled to the brim with the crème of Lagos society who had chosen to converge on the house for the Charity Dinner and also to use that opportunity to flaunt their wealth and their sexy, toned wives, their flashy cars and their jewels. The men were all dressed in the usual black tuxedoes and the perfectly tailored pants that were so perfectly molded to their bodies there was no space left for them to put their car keys and their phones.
Obinna had come around thirty minutes before the scheduled time and now, he sat on the spacious terrace, a glass of beer in his hand, his eyes roving appreciatively over the crowd that were coming out through the parking lot to the grand double doors, each presenting their invitation cards and then flashing a smile for the waiting paparazzi who ecstatically clicked away on their cameras. Obinna watched them with amused indifference, these women who were worth nothing at all except for their bodies and the delights they had to offer to their men in bed.
Suddenly, there was a flash of metallic black paint that glittered under the flood lights of the Igwe House as a car drew up speedily to the entrance with a scream of tires on the tarmac. It was a BMW coupe, and already, the security men were forming a solid ring around the car as the door slid open.
First, there was the flash of a long, bare leg, with the foot encased in high heels that would break the waist of any sane woman, straight from the showrooms of Manolo Blahnik, and then the other foot swung down from the car. The cameras were flashing, and the moment seemed to drag on almost indefinitely, and then the driver of the sports car alighted from it.
Adamma was dressed in a shimmering black gown that clung to her luscious figure perfectly, with the lights bouncing off the silk material of the gown that she seemed almost to be crackling with reflected light. The dress was studded with rhinestones which glittered under the hard lights. Her natural black hair hung down to her naked shoulders in a simple, almost careless design, but it was obvious that every strand of the black hair had been meticulously patted into place just as she wanted it to be. Long earrings hung down from her lobes almost to her shoulders, and her face was very well made up, no doubt by she herself since she was a makeup artist; her dark brows arched up as she flashed a smile for the adoring men to guzzle; her lips had been drawn with a clear, long-lasting lip gloss that accentuated them.
She was the epitome of beauty and femininity, something that they all desired but which was unattainable to them. And she was smiling at the gathered paparazzi with warmth, her face appearing magically beautiful and stunning. She looked so light, so stunning, so magical, so dazzling that she appeared ethereal to the men as they all stared at her and flashed the cameras at her face. And she did the poses for them, smiling and waving at them with real warmth in her eyes.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ a voice said behind Obinna, breaking his concentration from the scene below him to look at the voice that intruded on his thoughts.
It was Daniel, and he was as elegantly attired as he had been from the very first time that Obinna had encountered him when he was still battling with his wife for the truth about their relationship pertaining to their twin kids. The record magnate was dressed all in white, an almost ethereal contrast to the dark clothes that everyone else had on for the night. His moustache had been elegantly trimmed and waxed to perfection, and his gold Rolex watch sparkled like a beacon in the night.
‘Your wife surely knows how to work crowds to her favor whenever she appears to do anything for the country,’ Daniel continued. ‘Or should I call her your ex-wife? But then, I heard that she’s your wife in name only and then nothing else. Makes for very nice night-time gossip, don’t you think? So, how have you been?’
Obinna said nothing, because he knew that whatever he said to the man would only serve as an item of ridicule to him. He looked down again, but the woman who had been there only moments before had vanished into the house. He stood up and then offered a wan smile to the record magnate who was watching him warily, as if waiting for an opportunity to strike out at him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, the scent of jasmine and lavender wafted into his nostrils, and he paused. He knew of only one woman who would douse herself in that scent and then be the very epitome of feminine allure. He turned, and there was Adamma walking towards them in a slow measured stride, as if she had all time in the world. Her high heels clicked on the tiled floors as she moved, and then the lights illuminated her fair face. And she was smiling, her eyes flashing out brilliantly and intelligently out from her face, and to her husband she looked as if she was taunting him with her beauty and the small power that she had to make him dance to her tunes
‘Hello, boys,’ she said, but her eyes were fixed on the stricken face of her husband as if there was a message for him in the depths of her luminous eyes. Obinna felt that even war cannons packed more warmth than she did at that moment. ‘Dan, darling, you’re looking so cute.’
The cold, frozen eyes that were filled with ice swung towards Obinna. ‘Obi, how nice of you to come.’ Her left hand, with the long, French-manicured nails that had raked over his skin many a time in the bedroom, trailed down the front of her cleavage as she pretended to adjust a non-existent button, showing off the huge fullness of her most prized assets as she smiled at Obinna viciously.
Dan flushed and excused himself to run inside the house and away from the bag of sexual temptation. Obinna hardly noticed the inconsequential man go in. He was breathing really hard, and it was as much from a growing sense of arousal and anger at this woman for what she was doing to him without even so much as lifting a finger to do it. He sneaked out one long hand and drew her to him before she could move, and then he held her firmly in place as he looked right into those eyes that had trapped him . . . forever.
‘I could really kill you, whore, do you know that?’ he demanded harshly as he fumed his hot breath into her lovely face. But instead of feeling threatened by his invasion of her space, the woman just plain laughed into his face as if she had no care in the whole world. That infuriated him the more and he shook her fiercely. ‘Why do you choose to do this to me? Who the hell do you think you are?’
Adamma had stopped her laughter just as abruptly as she had started, and her luminous eyes blazed out at him with a heat of sheer fury that made him release her as if she was on fire. She staggered back, but then she held herself almost immediately; her years of living hard and rough on the streets plus the hours of work on her form so she could dance well had paid off, leaving her a very strong woman.
‘I hate you!’ she hissed at him venomously. ‘Who do you think you are?’ And then she seemed to remember something and her anger fled so fast, there was no expression waiting to cover the ensuing blankness in her features. ‘Come now, my friend, no need for us to fight with each other. After all, I will be getting rid of you soon anyway, so no need to get overly bothered.’
For a fleeting moment, a troubled look came into her eyes which were like a mirror that showcased her every thought. It seemed that for once, the sure, hard woman who had been taunting and deriding him was gone, and in its place was an old woman who had a lot of problems weighing her down and driving her to the point of madness. It seemed that there were tears in her great eyes as she stared at him, and at that moment Obinna felt a wave of protectiveness towards her.
She looked really . . . sad.
‘Adamma, tell me what’s wrong with you,’ he pleaded, his fingers reaching out for her. But she jumped away from him as if he’d threatened her with a burning brand, ready to scald her perfect skin. ‘Adamma . . .’
‘No! It’s too late for that now!’ She looked greatly stricken, as if with grief and a toga of guilt that weighed her down. Then she spun round abruptly and walked away from him.
He was very puzzled by her uncharacteristic behavior, but he said nothing because there was quite nothing for him to say. He went into the grand room where the crème assemblage was waiting for the attractions of the night to begin. He saw Della there among a throng of other women, some of them women from the stage who were known for their work in the theatre. There was a pantomime scheduled for the night, and Obinna could see the lead lady, talking with Della in a low voice, as if the words were a great conspiracy that was meant only for her ears.
Adamma was firmly ensconced in-between the Minister for Education and a burly businessman who was well-known for his string of liaisons with women of the TV. She looked as if she was having the time of her life, and gone was the insecure woman who had looked ready to swoon only moments ago, and it was obvious that whatever that had been troubling her had fled from her.
There was an announcement about the beginning of the pantomime which would serve as the opening piece of the night before they got down to their dinner proper. The lights were dimmed, and on the stage, came on a tall, statuesque young woman who was very heavily made up and scantily dressed in a red gown that hugged her so tightly it appeared almost painted on her. Her hair was dark, and swept against her naked shoulders, and there were many actors on the stage with her, watching her.
‘There’s something vaguely familiar about that stage and the woman, but I can’t quite place it yet,’ Dan said from beside Obinna, and the latter could see that the record magnate was frowning in concentration, obviously wracking his brain for the answer to the puzzle.
Obinna could feel his fingers clenching at his sides as recollection flooded through him. He turned his head to where his headstrong wife was seated, and there she was, her profile dim to his view because of the dimmed lights, but he could have sworn that she was looking right at him and flashing a triumphant smile to him.
‘I know why you can’t yet place the scene that’s playing out right before you,’ Obinna said tightly. ‘You would never for once think that you’d met her there, would you? That’s her club scene that you’re looking at.’
And it was. The arrangement of the tables and the stools on the stage, the men who were all staring at the temptress who had come there to lure them all to sin and the red dress . . . oh God in heaven, the red dress. His wife really wanted him to suffer. The play that was playing out right in front of his eyes was the scene of the day when he’d first encountered her and fallen prey to her beguiling smiles, and she’d trapped him . . . forever.
The woman on the stage was perfectly miming the part where Adamma had been looking around, as though she’d been lost, and then the young actress stopped on her feet with amazing energy. Her eyes flashed from her fair face like that of some feral animal that was hunting for its prey. The audience held its breath; they’d all been caught up in the whirl of the crazy sex dance that they were being forced to watch. The actress must have been tutored very well, for she looked around right into the audience, her eyes searching for something, while the men on the stage with her who were all watching her with exaggerated lewdness, were all wordlessly clamoring for her to look at them all.
She didn’t. Her dark eyes searched through the dim faces of her enchanted audience, and then her eyes stopped right in front of Obinna. His heartbeat skipped four beats, because he could have sworn that she was looking right at him with her piercing eyes that seemed to shred through the veil of time, past the darkness of several years, and stop right at the moment when Obinna had first encountered Adamma.
She pointed, and her fingers were pointed right at his chest even through the bodies that separated them. It was as if she had chosen him. He looked at the direction where he knew his estranged wife was seated, but she was no longer there. He stood up, and that was because he felt a strange tightening in his chest and he needed to get some fresh air before he suffocated where he was in the dim theatre. He threaded his way down the long length of rug and emerged in the corridor that led to the men’s toilets.
That was when his blood ran cold, for he could hear the sound of a woman’s voice in distress, and it was a voice he’d know anywhere in the world. With a savage oath, he charged his way into the nearest toilet and saw what made his blood freeze in his veins. A cold fury seized him, washing over him in a torrent as murderous rage swept over him like a tidal wave that overrode all sense of reason.
There was Adamma, standing shoved against the wall of the tiny compartment, the thin strap of the gown she was now wearing which was different from the one she’d arrived in torn away, her hair slightly askew as if she’d been in a struggle. A man that Obinna recognized as the useless, womanizing son of a political heavyweight, was leaning into her, his fetid breath that stank of stale beer puffing into her face, one powerful hand clamped over her throat in a vicious chokehold that had cold sweat breaking out all over Obinna as he beheld the sight.
‘You bastard!’ he roared as he came at the buffoon with his fists, yanking his wife from the bastard’s hand before the loser even knew what was happening to him. Adamma staggered and almost fell but caught herself, and Obinna nearly shoved her aside as he came at the creature with a right hook that sent him sprawling to the toilet seat like a deflated balloon. He hit the guy again with all the strength he could muster, and then he could not stop himself.
‘How dare you bloody, stupid, idiotic mongrel dare to touch my wife?’ Obinna was screaming at the guy, punctuating each word with a heavy blow that would have flattened a rock. And then he shoved the guy away and the creature crumpled into a ball on the floor, blood flowing from a thin cut on the side of his mouth.
Obinna turned to his wife, and there she was, her face a mask of utter serenity and calm, her eyes like cold disks staring into his face, piercing into him like daggers. Then she smiled.
‘What do you think you’ve just done?’ she asked coolly. ‘Do you know what you’ve just done? You have beaten down an innocent man.’
Obinna had no idea when his mouth dropped open. ‘An innocent man,’ he echoed incredulously. He was rendered speechless when he looked into her face and saw that there was a cold smile of triumph on her lovely face. ‘But he was hurting you!’
‘No, he was not hurting me,’ she replied coldly. ‘We were rehearsing together, and what better way to do so than to pretend that we were really playing the part. You have beaten down an innocent man with your show of stupidity. Is that the way you show your chivalry?’
The hapless fellow on the floor moaned, and Obinna turned his attention to the young man who was really hurting his wife. Before he could say or do anything, his wife’s cold voice stopped him in his tracks.
‘Just go, Obinna,’ she told him, and there was this nothingness in her voice, this lack of emotion that frightened him half to death. She was the very epitome of cold and aloof indifference, a woman who was sure of the power she had and what could be done with it.
The way she had flicked her wrist showed him exactly what she thought of him. It was obvious that the sight of him sickened her with anger.
Obinna had no choice but to go as she had instructed him to do, and there was nothing but the thoughts of her and the way she’d dismissed him in his mind. He was a man used to being wanted, and it always made him feel good, and there had never been any woman who had ever turned him down. Ever. He even took pride in the fact that even some kind of men found him attractive.
But his own wife, the one person he wanted more than anything else in this world, treated him like the loathsome carrier of some communicable disease.
When she came down again to the room to take to the dance floor with two actresses and a high fashion model, he found himself mesmerized with her just like he had been years ago when they had first met in that seedy club where she had hooked her long claws into him. She was all smiles, what with her stunning satin, rhinestone-studded dress which was magnificent on her and the way she was tossing her hair back and laughing with the abandon and gaiety of schoolgirl on her first date.
Like magnets, all were drawn to her even though she had taken to the floor and stood off to one corner. Like a siren she drew all that were there to her effortlessly, this bewitching woman with the natural dark hair, blazing eyes and that cold, icy confidence and frozen beauty that could halt the heart of any man under the age of ninety. There was something different about her there as she danced, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her mind turned off to the things and person around her as if she was the only one in the place.
He stared and stared until she turned to him and their eyes locked together. Those eyes, he thought; how they haunted him and made him lose his mind with longing. She smiled at him and blew him a kiss, and when he looked away, he was shocked at himself at the tears that clouded his vision.