Afloat E. 6

 

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”

― Plato

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Picking up his keys, he headed out of the rehearsal room. The moment I stepped out, he turned off the lights and locked the door. I followed his movement with my eyes and that was when I saw him in the eyes of all the drooling girls in the troupe for the first time.

Brad definitely deserved a rank in the league of handsome men. His physique and rippling muscles which could not be concealed by his shirt revealed that he either was more than a card carrying member of one of the gyms in town or a dedicated sportsman. He had a compelling personality and friendly eyes. From his carefully groomed face and spotless fair skin, which I had seen severally during rehearsals whenever he showed off in any of his numerous sleeveless T-shirts, it was obvious he put in extra care into his appearance. My conclusion; Brad was previously and still a playboy who knew how to play his cards well to get whatever he set his mind on. But why did he choose the Chairman’s wife? The man was either daring or in a haste to rest in peace with his ancestors because everyone knew that Tito; our Chairman, was a rattle snake and Mabel was his prized possession.

“Are you still coming?”

I dragged my bag along as I reluctantly walked over to where he was standing beside his car; a gray Toyota. Suddenly, a new thought crossed my over active mind; who could have told him about me? Nobody in that troupe knew about my entanglement with cloths and fashion. It was a family secret.

The car was still warm after being parked under the sun all afternoon so I kept my side of the door open and tried to think back. I was certain I had never mentioned my desire to own a clothing line to anyone on the troupe. He started whistling a tune while settling behind the wheels. After awhile, he closed his door, so I did same. So who knew me so well to have told Brad about me and cloths? Something was definitely off.

“Do you like Chinese?”

Chinese? I snapped out of my thoughts and tried to figure out what the man was talking about. What has my feelings for the Chinese got to do with anything?

He must have guessed my confusion because he laughed lightly and turned on the Ac of his car before driving off. The cool air calmed my rattled nerves but my stomach was beginning to hurt from the self imposed fast.

“You mentioned you were hungry so I was thinking we should get some Chinese food before going to pick up the costumes.”

I sighed and arranged my backpack at my feet before moving the chair back a little so I could have enough space for my long legs. The problem I always had with some people was that they usually concluded I was a naïve teenager or a dumb girl who had no sense and Mr. Brad had just fallen under that category. I used to blame my petite looks or blank face for that misconception but I was no longer petite as was confirmed by my full length mirror the last time I viewed my unclad figure.

“You don’t like Chinese? We could get Pizza or any of the stuff you girls love having like Ice cream?”

The man had turned into a lobbyist all of a sudden. His attempt at being smart and the tactless comments he was uttering were beginning to piss me off. I found them insulting and a subtle way of calling me stupid.

“I think we should just pick up the costumes so I can head home.” I said in a tone which I expected should drive home my state of mind.

“I am actually hungry so we will do Chinese.”

Now I was really pissed off. Why ask for my opinion when he had made up his mind. My heart rate increased with the sudden surge of anger which I forcefully restrained so as to avoid doing anything my mother would find appalling and call “unladylike.” I felt the car slowing down so I looked in his direction. He flashed a blinding bright smile at me, one I guessed he must have used to charm Mabel or any of the other girls. The car stopped and I noticed he had parked in front of a cute restaurant with inscriptions I concluded to be Chinese. He pushed open his door and silently got down. I refused to move a limb so he came over to my side and opened the door as if we were on a date in one of those Nollywood movies.

“I promise this won’t waste our time. Come on Dapper...Please?”

Swallowing the lump suddenly blocking my throat, I reluctantly alighted from the car and followed him as if I was being dragged to a football match. I am not a fan of that weird sport.

The restaurant was warm and dimly lit. The furnishing was nothing special. I had never been inside a Chinese restaurant so I didn’t know what to expect. Brad took a seat at the far end, away from the few people sitting around in pairs. I joined him and tried to calm myself so as not to create a scene. A waitress came over and he threw questions about the menu at me. I folded my arms across my chest and played deaf. Eventually, when I would not respond, he ordered for two.

“I am not hungry for Chinese food.” I said the moment the waitress left.

“Come on Dapper. Relax and try it out. Never-say-never and who knows; a taste might convince you.”

Of course, I know he meant a taste would seal my lips because I didn't need to be a nerd to know that was the aim of the Chinese drama. But I kept mute as we were served. The aroma of the strange cuisine made my stomach skip with ecstasy, so I fell for the temptation and a taste rid my mind of all doubts about Chinese dishes.

“Listen Dapper. About what you saw...” He paused.

That was fast, I thought. The man could not even wait for me to finish the delicious food.

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