THE ILLUSION OF PERFECTION 5

Tayo hit the ground floor of his high-rise building running while adjusting his expensive blazer. He burst through the open front doors just as a sleek black SUV screeched to a halt at the curb—a hired car, not his own, but perfectly positioned to look like a spontaneous arrival.

A photographer, a young man named Ken whom Tayo had paid an exorbitant hourly rate, was already leaning against a nearby pillar, his expensive camera held loosely. Deji, looking impeccable in a tailored suit alighted from the car radiating impatience.

“Finally! Man we need to move! We’re burning daylight and credit!” 

"What are you doing here? Guy are you not supposed to be at the restaurant?" Tayo queried as he strolled over.

"Well, I was telling you that I was on my way with the driver when you cut the call on me," Deji snapped, but his face instantly smoothened into a look of casual, effortless success as Ken raised the camera.

Tayo saw the signal from Ken and forced his expression into the required blend of busy, important, and slightly annoyed by the interruption. He didn't even have to try hard for the annoyance part.

“Okay, Ken, roll it. Tayo you walk to the car, take one deep breath, look at your watch, then give a sharp, confident nod like you’re finalizing a merger before getting into the car,” Deji instructed, directing the performance with the cold efficiency of a producer.

Tayo followed the cues. He walked, he inhaled, he glanced at the Patek Philippe replica strapped to his wrist, and gave the practiced, steely nod. He was perfect.

Click, click, click. 

Ken’s camera shutter was a greedy, demanding sound as he worked for his pay.

After a moments pause, they jumped into the car, and the façade immediately dropped as the driver accelerated.

“The lighting was crap! Ken! What is this?" Deji yelled unable to conceal his annoyance.

Ken shifted uncomfortably in the front seat as he apologized and reassured him it would be handled. 

Deji sighed before glancing briefly at Tayo; "Tayo...man you look sweaty. Driver on AC abeg. But that's extra cost for you...” he informed Tayo with a grin and resumed scrolling through the raw footage. 

“And that watch—guy you need to upgrade. That specific model is oversaturated this quarter.”

Tayo sank back against the leather seat, suddenly exhausted. “Just… tell me the plan for the restaurant. Is the table visible from the entrance? Are the right people going to be there?”

“Relax. It’s all set up. Prime corner booth, overlooking the entire floor, perfect for background ambience. We have two other content creators ‘randomly’ walking past your table to ‘recognize’ you. We’re filming the ‘power meeting’ arrival vibe, and the departure—a quick exit to show you’re too busy to linger.”

Tayo nodded, running a hand over his face. He felt drained. Every moment, every gesture, was a product for sale. He had paid $500 for the bottle of champagne he would only flaunt and not drink, $300 for the photographer— who claimed to be internationally recognized and vehemently refused to collect payment in Naira. Not to mention Deji’s crippling fees, the SUV they were riding in, and the countless hours he had spent rehearsing this illusion which would soon — hopefully— allow him to afford his dream apartment. He could not wait to move out of his old flat which he felt was beneath his current status. 

As the car pulled up to the exclusive entrance, Tayo inhaled sharply, forcing the 'Tayo Brand' smile back into place. He didn't just exit the car; he pushed the door open with swagger, launching himself into the blinding barrage of Ken's camera flashes. He was here. He was being seen. He was performing flawlessly. Soon, the social media metrics would soar, the digits would align, and this crushing, costly stress would be justified. That, and only that, would be the ultimate reward.

But as the noise and the lights surrounded him, a silent, persistent image flickered in the back of his mind: Nadia, in her paint-splattered shirt, genuinely absorbed, creating something real and lasting, utterly unaware of his spectacular, fragile existence. 

Tayo frowned slightly and slammed the mental door on that inconvenient reality, replacing the silence of creation with the roar of the moment. Straightening his spectacular form, moulded perfectly by the expensive blazer, he turned on his brilliant blinding smile aimed at the exotic ladies already craving his dazzling attention.

CONTINUE