Written by Lanre Olagbaju
I marveled at how Deola successfully stuck a pin in my bubble…how she skillfully rid me of an excuse that took almost a week to hatch.
I took the phone and talked to my sister, who told me to behave myself where we were going and also to thank Deola’s uncle on behalf of the whole family. I also talked to my mum for a little bit…I could tell she was recovering well and fast.
“I guess it’s party time…” Deola screamed, making dance moves without music, as I hung up the phone
I shrugged my shoulder like I wasn’t really impressed.
“You have no idea how much fun this weekend has in stock for you girl…be prepared to get your mind blown” Deola responded as she pulled out a leather travel duffel bag from underneath the bed.
Then she gave me a yellow and blue floral dress to try on…Oh my God! It was as if I was born in and born for the dress. It fit like a glove and accentuated all my curves (that I never knew I had)…it was a little shorter than usual but it was so beautiful. She completed my look with a pair of blue high-heels and matching purse.
That was the dress she had promised me if I changed my mind about the party…and it was so beautiful I most likely would have changed my mind if I had insisted on not going.
Deola also picked a beautiful burgundy dress for herself. I wanted her to wear this other red dress because it was really pretty. She then said that night was about me and that’s why she would tone things down so that I could shine. I didn’t understand what she meant but thanked her anyways.
At about 9pm, the driver that Chief sent to get us arrived. He sent a text message to Deola; who stepped out to be sure it was dark enough and there were only a few people out there. She came back, said the coast was clear and we walked to the car.
“For parties like this, I usually get dressed at the venue but this one is at an Island club house and we may not have the time to change.
I do my best to avoid people getting all up in my business. I learned the hard way and after that experience, I decided to keep my stuff under wrap.
That’s why I try to be subtle with my whereabouts. No one needs to know where I’m going just by what I’m wearing
People will say whatever they want but I shouldn’t make it easy for busybodies to put things together” she added
The car was so beautiful…the driver wanted to get the door but Deola told her not to worry about it. I could tell they knew each other and they were cordial because of the way they talked on our way to the venue. She later told me that was the same driver that ran into her years back but he had also been an ally in her relationship with Chief Agbabiaka.
We went to say hi to Chief as soon as we got there…he told us to have fun and enjoy ourselves. He promised to come get us later as he had some issues to resolve before the main event of the night.
There were many elderly men and one could tell they were rich. There were other girls too but we stood out. Most of the men knew Deola (I guess as the unofficial ‘little wife’ of Chief Agbabiaka) and kept calling her to the side to talk to her. I had an idea what they were talking about because I could see the way these men were looking at me. I felt so cheap…it was as if they were “pricing meat” or ordering at a “point and kill” pepper-soup joint. Deola told me not to worry as she would not let me make the mistake of falling into the wrong hands.
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