The ambience of Alhaji's house was rife with exuberance, the way the stairs curved to meet the threshold of the lobby, the way the dinning was arranged, and the way the chandelier lit the room with so much radiance. Edegbe did not like to think the chandelier was actually golden. Of course, no rich man would use a bronze electroplated with gold, especially one that entertained visitors, but that the man had spent millions on a golden chandelier just to embellish the decor of his home was—.
"This is madness," he whispered to Efe and Victor who was by his side.
Before them was a few number of men and women dressed, according to Victor, in expensive clothes and glittering jewels, all holding a glass of what smelled like champagne.
One of the men, a fat man, walked to them. "I am Ahmed, and you must be—" his eyes darted from Victor who wore an obsequious smile, to Efe who wasn't even looking at him, and finally to Edegbe. He got his pick and completed, "the new neighbour."
"Yes," Edegbe gave him a small nod.
"Welcome." They shook hands. "For a while I thought you would not honour the invitation."
"I would have sent back a letter if I wasn't going to, that's common sense."
The man laughed, and Edegbe's eyes locked on the folds of skin around his neck. "I'm afraid not many people has it." He gestured to one of the servants and a glass of champagne was brought for Edegbe. "Cheers to your arrival."
"Cheers to your arrival," the others chorused in unison, raised their glasses and drank. They laughed and introduced themselves, stepping forward for a hand shake. There was Alhaji, and Edegbe would admit to being shocked by his appearance. He had thought the name was synonymous with greying hair and brown teeth, but the man still had plenty of his youth.
Ahmed, the man who had sent the invitation was fat, an innuendo that he lived to eat. Later when the man tore down his meat and slurped nosily on his soup, Edegbe would think of a child. Not a child who did not care about the etiquette of the world, but a child who did not know.
Then there was Ms. Samira, and she hugged him, a hug that despite her body pressing, Edegbe kept abridged. The men praised her and said it was not easy to see a successful woman, especially one who did not garner her success by opening her legs for rich men. Edegbe thought how ironic, a palpable irony, the statement was, because as they talked their eyes fixated on her bottom and the way it swayed when she walked, the way she swayed it. It reminded him of the passenger who had asked him for a condom, reminding him of the man leading the lady into the bush, and in his imagination the lady turned back to look at them, and she was Samira.
Mrs. Yasmin did not hug him, she did not smile either, only looked beside him, her brow raised in either boredom or question and asked him, "Did you think we'd kidnap you, bringing your bouncer to a party made for people with class?"
"It seems like you still don't know how the world works," one of the men who had introduced himself as Haruna, said, "This is the problem with new money, they think rules can be broken. But not all rules, the pauper stays at the door."
The stopping of Edegbe's hand midway to his mouth showed he was annoyed, the frown between his brows showed he was not going to hold his tongue. Efe quickly cleared his throat and whispered, "We'll be outside."
"What—" Edegbe started to say at their retreating figure.
"At least he knows his place," Mrs. Yasmin said.
"This is madness," Edegbe started, "I've been welcomed with more than one form of madness ever since my arrival. It seems like most of the mad people now live in the comfort of luxury than on the street."
"Excuse me?" Mrs. Yasmin said.
"What's the essence of this rendezvous, to insult me?"
"Gentlemen, ladies, let's not fight." Alhaji stepped forward wearing a pleasant smile. "We've prepared dinner, just a little get together to know you better."
"To know me better, or to know whether I have money enough to be in your league?"
"Let's not fight Mr.?"
"Edegbe," he completed.
"Mr. Edegbe. Let's not fight. Come, have a seat, we prepared this for you."
"Excuse me." An obvious dislike filled his voice, "I have to get my friend."
When the turned to leave Mrs. Yasmin tsked.
"He doesn't have money," Ahmed said, "when I heard he paid for the house cash I thought he would be loaded."
"That conclusion is hurried." Alhaji was smiling. "Let's just enjoy the evening. Yasmin, leave the bouncer alone."
Outside the house Efe and Victor leaned against the car, the latter chattering his frustration. "This is how rich people like to behave, as if every other person that is not rich is shit from a bad diarrhoea."
"Instead of complaining why didn't you get rich?"
"It's not easy to make money o. You're just lucky you're the bouncer of a rich man."
Efe chuckled.
"I was looking forward to spending time in the company of rich people, kai, that woman and her big mouth. Since forever women has always been the problem. Can I ask you a question?"
Efe nodded.
"What's your relationship with Sah? At first I thought you were his bouncer, but you're too close for that, and you stay in the same house, and eat the same food in the same table. So I thought you're his friend. But you work for him, right? You call him Sir and he pays you. So now, I'm confused, are you his bouncer, friend or employee? Because I don't know how to address you, if you're his bouncer, I'll call you Bouncer. If you're his friend, I'll call you Sah too, because it means you're as rich as he is. If you're his employee, like me, then I'll call you by your name."
"You talk too much." Efe turned to his direction to the house, and saw Edegbe walking towards them with fumes of anger coming out from him. He fought a smile.
"What is the meaning of what you did back there?" He asked angrily, when he came upon them.
"I just thought it would be better if you familiarized yourself with them. Truthfully, we don't know this place, they do, and they just don't have money, they have connections. So, it'll be nice if you get along with them, sir."
"Sir?" Edegbe scoffed. "I don't pay you to call me sir, I pay you to tell you when I want you to go or not. I don't pay you to make decisions without my consent, I pay you to stand and talk back until I say it's enough."
"You get angry over unnecessary things" Efe was smiling.
"Stop smiling like an idiot."
"But that's who I am," he looked at the entrance of the house. "Tell me, did they kick you out?"
"You pray. Let's go inside, anybody who doesn't like your presence should go and die."
So, were they friends? Victor asked himself. "Sah, what about me?"
Edegbe looked at him, loss for words. "Why not go back to Sabon Tasha?"
He smiled sheepishly. "It's now in ruins."
When they went back inside, the guests were already sitting and dishing out their foods, and Ahmed was already tearing his meat and slurping nosily. They sat and joined them. Victor who was very much eager to eat took the plate before him and reached out for the bowl in the middle when he noticed Efe was still, his plate empty. With his hands stretched, he paused. Was he free to eat or not? If Efe didn't want to eat shouldn't he have remained outside instead of coming to make him seem like the senseless one? What was even wrong with him? Defeated, he dropped his plate gently, silently wishing the ground would open and swallow Efe so he could eat.
"Why?" Mrs. Yasmin asked as her eyes went from one to another, "Do you think the food is poisoned?"
Victor smiled awkwardly wondering whether or not he was suppose to answer the woman.
"Yasmin, you know how to make a bad joke," Haruna said, laughing.
"It isn't a joke. They don't want to eat, so maybe they think the food is poisoned."
"Why do you keep insisting it's poisoned?" Efe asked. "Did you put the poison?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're very much excused."
"So, what do you do, Mr. Edegbe?" Bashir, the calmest of them asked, clearing his throat and dissipating the tension.
"A couple of things. Basically, I'm an investor in small start ups that has a high return on investment in the next coming years."
"It takes a very smart businessman to be able to invest in small start ups, the risk is unpredictable," Alhaji dabbed the corner of his mouth.
"Unpredictable risks, unpredictable outcomes."
"You must have lost enough money during the course of your investment," another man, Dikko, said. "How is business."
Edegbe knew the question was more about how much he earned than literal. And he wondered what there was to be subtle about. So he said, "Unpredictable."
"How much do you make in reoccurring annual income?" The man asked, this time, bluntly.
He shrugged. "Enough to get by."
Not satisfied, Dikko pressed, "Is there a particular reason you don't want to say the exact amount?"
"Is there a particular reason you want to know?" Edegbe retorted. "See, I'm not interesting in joining the league of rich men in the street, I'm a business man, and I'm very busy."
Dikko glared at him and murmured something incoherent before returning to his food.
"But how do you place hope in start ups?" Ms. Samira asked.
"I don't place hope, I do my assignment. And when you have an assistant like mine you're very much at ease." He raised his glass and Efe cheered.
"So he's your assistant and not bouncer," Mrs. Yasmin muttered.
"What then did you come here—" Alhaji coughed. "Where are you from?"
"South. Benin."
"So what did you come here for, to look for start ups?"
Edegbe shook his head. "To look for agriculture. I'm going into agriculture."
Alhaji stood up and clapped, pleased. "This is it, the future. I've been trying to tell them that agriculture gives people food and you, money if you know how to play the game, it's better than oil or real estate or corporation."
"Those are more guaranteed," Dikko argued. "One pest infestation can wipe away hectares of land, all the food spoilt."
"It's not really about the money for me, it's about the fulfillment." Edegbe paused to say. "People are suffering, food is scarce, demand is high, the dignity of man is replaced by hunger, according to my driver." From where he sat he could see Victor beaming with joy. "If this is the little I can do to make life easier, then yes."
There was silence in the room, even the clinking if spoon against plates, and Ahmed's nonchalant slurping had stopped.
"That's so touching," Ms. Samira finally said. Later, Victor would tell him no body knew her exact source of income, but that she travelled out of the country on a regular basis. Maybe she was an international call girl, the explanation was plausible because no body made millions sitting idle, if that were the case, he would have been a billionaire.
"And what if you don't make profits?" Dikko asked, not very convinced.
"I have a really good assistant, I'll definitely make profits with his help, but if I don't," he shrugged, "I have the money to spend."
"You've bought lands?" Mrs. Yasmin asked. Later, Victor would tell him also that she was a widow. But unlike most widows, she didn't live off her husband's wealth, the contrary was quite the case, when her husband was alive, he had lived off her money, and rumours had it that she had killed him so he wouldn't lavish everything she had. But he knew how rumours were, exaggerated. She was a realtor, a very high priced one.
"Not yet, I'm going to start with one plot."
"One plot?" A sardonic smile crept on her lips. "You don't have the money to spend, after all."
"It'll be sensible to start small, don't you think? It was my assistant's idea."
"You give a lot of credit to your assistant," Efe said, twirling the drink in his glass.
"He's my assistant for a reason. Mine." They stared at each other for a while, then they laughed.
When the evening came to an end, they bid each other goodnight, a lot of we'll gather again, although Edegbe knew they wouldn't have him in a gathering of theirs again.
"Your house is just a few steps from here, why bring a car? You wanted to show off a camry of years before model?" Mrs. Yasmin said when they all stepped out if the house, ready to move.
"It was my driver's idea."
Victor did not know if he should bask in the joy of his name been said more than once that night, or he should cower behind Efe in embarrassment.
"You tend to listen to your employees a lot."
"Do you have a problem with that?"
She eyed him, brought out a business card, shoved it into his hands and walked away.
Inside the car Victor was saying, "That woman has a problem with everything. She's the second richest in the group."
"How did you know?" Edegbe was curious.
"From the way they reverence her. If you take a close look, you'll notice they talk to each other based off of the hierarchy. The richest is Alhaji, that's why they're having the dinner at his place. The second is Yasmin, it's in the way she carried herself. The third is Ahmed, that's why he was chosen to invite you."
"If Yasmin is the second, why wasn't she chosen to send the invitation?" He was staring at the business card, wondering if he'll call her or Mr. Abdullah.
"Does she look like somebody who would bother herself with that?"
"Wow, you're very observant. It's refreshing to know that you don't only have words in your mouth but sense in your head."
Victor wondered if he was supposed to be offended or happy.
Edegbe turned to his friend. "That woman, Samira, reminder me of that man who asked for condom." Then he laughed.
But Efe was not thinking about the man who had asked for condom, he was thinking about a particular girl who had not flatter in letting him know she was looking at him. "Soliat," Efe murmured under his breath.
"What? Is that the name of the woman he led into the bush?"
He shook his head. "The girl that gave me her number."
"You now regret it? Why would you even throw it out of the window, what if she had seen it?"
"She didn't, and I don't regret it."
Edegbe chuckled. "Then why are you suddenly muttering her name with a bedroom voice?"
He shrugged. "I don't know." Then he turned to face him. "You know what? I feel like it doesn't end there, I feel like I will see her again."
"You want to see her again?"
They stared at each other for a while, before Efe averted his gaze. "I know what is wrong with me, it's hunger. When I eat I'll be fine. By the way Victor, why didn't you eat?"
Victor turned off the ignition just in time the question came in, and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.