It'd be easy to assume that both men putting some distance between them was a clear solution to this whole thing. Every picture they took together, every interaction they had on each other's social media pages, fueled the rumours that they were secretly together. Even though, as two of the biggest stars in Nollywood, they both had huge followings, all of whom absolutely loved their friendship and ate up their humorous real life and movie interactions, they still couldn't live down the 'they're probably together' whispers. It was getting ridiculous. Some had called them reckless for continuing to be friends despite all the conjecture. Just stay apart for a while, their other friends had advised. They had even tried. But it was easier said than done, for theirs was a bond that died hard.
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Folarin and Chuka had met 12 years earlier, when they were 19 and 20 respectively. It was Chuka's first and Folarin's fourth attempt at landing an audition for a popular movie director and TV producer who was known to give novices, young and old alike, a chance without asking for cash or kind. He prided himself in his dual function as director and talent scout and was on a mission to discover - as he called it - 'Hollywood-quality talent' in Nigeria.
His favourite place to hang out was a Calabar woman's fish joint in Surulere. It was a poorly kept secret and as such, the place was always teeming with talents hoping for a chance. Talents who eventually got hungry and could then kill two birds with one stone. One wouldn't blame the man if he taxed her for all the extra business he inadvertently brought her way. He sometimes held mini auditions there whenever his mood allowed and when he liked what he saw, he gave you a number to call for a proper meeting. It was this knowledge that brought them in by the dozens, as they battled for his attention whilst keeping a respectful distance. Folarin had come there thrice in a row, and this was his fourth visit. The man hadn't called for any auditions, but it didn't matter. He had a plan this time.
Folarin had studied Law at school but had always had a passion for acting and was actually really good at it. After he joined it, the plays the University Drama Club put on had new life injected into them and got infinitely more interesting. Folarin tended to ad-lib and go completely off-script, much to the chagrin of the writer and the absolute delight of the initially sparse audiences. And so, the school theatre, which barely ever saw any attendance when the Drama Club was performing, became a packed venue with standing room only, after word of Folarin's performances got around. Shortly after, all the popular students - who never would've been caught dead anywhere in the vicinity of Drama club - joined in droves. Folarin had made acting cool by association. Even his Law professors had attended the shows and commended his acting. Everyone seemed to think that that was his true calling and that - quote - it would be a shame to trap all that talent under a wig and gown.
"And then there's this.", a girl he used to hook up with in the girls' hostel had said, cupping his face with both hands. "You have a face that should be seen by everyone with eyes." And it was a pretty nice face. He had warm caramel skin and slanted eyes with a strong nose and short tufts of hair on his chin. His lightly-dimpled smile weakened knees. His sexy smirk instantly wet panties. And he had certainly milked the hell out of all the attention, utilizing his assets to get into and out of several situations. But Folarin had kept his humility. It was part of his charm and what made him so easily likeable. All the popularity and attention had never made him feel like he was better than anyone else.
On this day, Charles Ikeji, the man of the hour, had arrived a little later than he usually did but was now demolishing some catfish peppersoup while his fans watched from a distance, some eating their own lunch too. Folarin had been there since 9am and had eaten breakfast there. He was now hungry again and waved one of the waitresses over, who took his order of white rice with stew, fried plantain and four pieces of beef - and went to fulfil it.
And then Chuka entered. Every eye in the room turned to look at the fine, tall demigod that had just walked in. Folarin had attracted the same attention when he'd first arrived and found it amusing to be one of the people staring now. The new guy had features that instantly told you what tribe he was from â Igbo. He was light skinned with a clean-cut fade, a circle beard and an overall very handsome face. His physique was 'tall and buff'. Not too beefy but slightly bigger than Folarin, who had a leaner, more athlete-type build. He was dressed in jeans, that had a chain on the side, an arsenal jersey whose sleeves barely covered an upper arm full of tattoos, and fresh white sneakers. The guy was nice to look at. After spotting the man he had obviously also come to see, he looked around for a place to sit. His eyes fell on a spot at a table full of women who were eyeing him as though he were an item on the menu, ready to be devoured. One of them waved him over with a thirsty grin that was practically a leer. He laughed nervously in her direction, his eyes searching frantically around the room for an alternative; any alternative. God abeg. He found one beside Folarin and hurriedly made his way over.
"How far?", he said, with a smile. "Abeg, person dey here?"
"Yeah." Folarin replied. "But e comot since. I'm not sure if he's coming back."
"Oh okay. Make I sit nau, if e come.", he trailed off, implying he would vacate the seat if its original owner returned.
Folarin waved a 'sure' at the chair, gesturing for him to go ahead.
"Na wa o. Is everybody here for the same thing?" Chuka said, looking around at the full room.
Folarin gave him a curious look. "Your first time?"
"Yeah." Chuka looked back at him, "You?"
"Fourth. And yes, 98% of the people here are waiting for that guy."
"Damn." Chuka said, looking a little intimidated. "I just heard about this place, and I said let me try. Has he done any auditions yet?"
"Nah. But I'm not leaving it up to him anymore."
Before Chuka could ask what he meant, the waitress appeared with Folarin's food.
Chuka eyed it hungrily. "Abeg, run me same thing.", he said.
"Ah. Sorry, sir. Rice is finished. Thi'is the last." the waitress replied.
"Kai. What about grilled fish and chips?"
"It's in the evening, sir." she said, indicating they only started grilling and frying as part of their night menu.
"So, what is available?"
"Beans, plantain, egg, meat and Egusi soup but only eba is available." she droned.
"Na swallow I chop last night abeg." Chuka said, dismissing Eba and Egusi as an option.
Folarin looked at Chuka. "You don't eat beans?"
"I do, but I like it better with rice." An exasperated Chuka replied. He turned to the waitress. "Okay, free the food. Just give me chilled beer."
Folarin picked his plate up and turned back to the waitress. "Take. Cut the rice. Give us two plates of rice and beans. But make my meat remain four. Put im own meat for am."
Chuka looked at Folarin, surprised. "No na, you don't have to do that."
"Nah. It's cool." Folarin insisted and handed the plate to the waitress, who took it and went back to create the new order.
Chuka smiled. "Hey, good looking out, gee."
"No wahala." Folarin replied, eyes on the notifications he was checking on his Blackberry Torch.
"Chuka", Chuka said, extending his hand.
Folarin looked up from his phone, first at Chuka's hand then at him. "Folarin." He took the outstretched hand in a firm shake.
The waitress returned with both plates and served them. Chuka looked at Folarin. "Thanks, bro."
They were eating in mildly-awkward silence when one of the girls who had also been waiting to see the director, got up from her seat around the front of the restaurant and headed for the door behind them. Folarin and Chuka paused mid-chew to ogle the big, beautiful girl in the super tight jeans that hugged every inch of her giant butt and ample hips. When she noticed them â the two hottest guys in the room - looking at her, she swayed her hips more exaggeratedly for their viewing pleasure. They â and all the other men and some women â watched her keenly until she reached the door, opened it slowly, then threw a wink in Folarin and Chuka's direction and walked out. Both guys looked from the door to each other at the same time and then laughed.
"Na your spec?" Chuka asked, a sly grin on his face.
"Not really. I like slim-thick girls, but she set die. Her walk, her confidence - sexy as fuck."
"Ah! Na wetin I dey chop be that o. I love them juicy." Chuka responded, tearing into a piece of meat.
"Ehn, she cut eye for you na. Go run am."
"She cut the same eye for you." Chuka laughed. "But nah. I get babe."
Folarin cocked an eyebrow.
Chuka laughed again. "Abeg, leave me. I like my babe. Besides we just settle one fight now now. I no get power."
Folarin shook his head and scoffed good-naturedly. "Relationship people."
Chuka grinned. "No babe?"
"No babe." Folarin shook his head. "Babes." He smirked. "All of the pussy. None of the drama."
Chuka chuckled. "Bad guy!"
Just then, the director, who had finished his meal and the conversation he'd been having with the owner, got up to leave.
Folarin noticed and started to eat faster as he got up as well.
Chuka noticed the movement. "Is the audition starting?", he asked, looking around confused, yet picking up his pace as well.
"No. He's leaving." Folarin replied, as he forked the last piece of meat into his mouth. He turned to Chuka. "Are you coming?"
Chuka looked around again at the room of disappointed hopefuls watching the man head for the door, some following but most still seated with their food. He looked back at Folarin as he shoved his last two pieces of meat in his mouth at the same time and got up to follow. "Where are we going?" he asked, mouth full.
Folarin remained silent as they went through the side door and headed straight for the parking lot. When he spotted the director's Prado SUV, he motioned for Chuka to follow. When they were two cars away from it, he stopped and turned to Chuka. "I planned something else but since there are two of us..." He paused. "Do you know any of his films?"
"Huh?"
"Charles Ikeji. Have you watched any of his films?"
"Of course. Almost every film worth watching in Nollywood right now was made by him. Why?"
Folarin paused for a second to think. "Have you watched 'A Time to Kill'?"
Chuka searched his memory. "Ramsey Iyke and Jim Nouah? The one where they were friends that turned enemies because of a setup?"
"Yes." Folarin looked towards the front of the restaurant where the director had finally extricated himself from a sea of admirers and was now heading to his car. "Do you remember the first confrontation scene? At Jim's house when Ramsey barged in, and they fought."
"Yeah?"
"Do you know the lines?"
"Know what lines?"
"For fuck's sake, do you know the lines from that scene?"
Chuka's eyes widened. "Off head? How nau?"
"You don't need to know it word for word, but do you remember the general gist of it?"
"Yeah, sure."
The director had just entered the back seat and the driver was about to turn the key in the ignition.
"Good. I'm Ramsey, you're Jim." Folarin said and pushed Chuka to the front of the car just before it moved and followed.
"You bastard. You bloody twat!" he screamed as he grabbed Chuka by the shirt collar. "Everybody called me a fool to trust a criminal. But I said no. Why, Jerry? How could you?"
"Get your damn hands off me." Chuka shouted, picking up quickly and following Folarin's cue. "Tell me what the hell you are talking about, Patrick."
In the car, an alarmed Charles Ikeji asked his driver "What is going on? Who are these ones?"
"I don't know, Sir." He replied, blaring the car's horn repeatedly.
Ignoring the obnoxious horning, both boys stayed in character.
"The files!" Folarin yelled. "The files from the Badmus investigation. Where are they?" Folarin shouted grabbing Chuka's shirt again, his face a perfectly portrayed mix of anger, derision, and a bit of disappointment.
"Why would I take your files?" Chuka's hands went up again to cover Folarin's as they gripped his shirt. He pulled them off him in one harsh motion, brilliantly acted anger and indignation, rolling off him in waves. "What would I do with your bloody files? Calm down and talk to me like a man."
Folarin let out a sarcastic laugh, as he turned back and walked forward three paces, shaking his head as his fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose. He whirled back around to face 'Jerry'. "So, it's just a bloody coincidence that after the party you threw for me at my house, files that incriminate your fellow criminal disappeared from my home office. Files only YOU knew I brought home?"
The director, who had now come down from his car to watch the exchange he now fully recognized as his work, held his hand up to stop his driver and approaching security guards who were about to break up the 'fight'.
"First of all," Chuka said menacingly, "you will stop throwing my past in my face or I am going to get very angry with you. Secondly, I am obviously not the only one who knows you take your work files home because I DID NOT TAKE THEM! I can't believe you think I would do something like that to you."
Another sarcastic laugh left Folarin's lips. "Coming from someone who killed his own father? Who am I to expect loyalty from such a person?"
Chuka perfectly depicted the shock and hurt the character 'Jerry' had felt that his friend would make such a remark, knowing the true circumstances that had led to his abusive father's accidental death at his own hands. Rage quickly took the place of hurt and Chuka lunged at Folarin, wrestling him to the ground as gently as he could without breaking character and threw acted-out punches at his face. Folarin wrestled his way out from under Chuka and got on top of him throwing his own 'punches'. "Can you see his face?" he whispered to Chuka, face still contorted in fake anger. "Is he watching?"
Chuka's eyes moved furtively towards the director, who was watching intently, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yes. He seems to like what he's seeing." He whispered back.
"Oya, the headbutt part." Folarin said. "Make it good. 3-2-1..."
"Bastard!" Chuka shouted and leaned up, making a violent head movement towards Folarin's face, almost making contact. Folarin jerked his head back in perfect time and grunted loudly, holding his nose and writhing in 'pain' as Chuka scrambled to his feet. He pulled a still-incapacitated Folarin up by the back of his shirt and dragged him toward the 'door'. "We are done!", he growled angrily into his ear. "I will find out what happened and then I never want to see your bloody face again." And he shoved his friend 'out' and made a door-slamming motion mid-air.
Folarin, still holding his nose and limping slightly, looked toward the closed door with a mix of lessened anger, confusion and regret and turned around to leave.
A clap broke the silence that ensued, and the crowd of onlookers that had gathered from inside the restaurant and outside the premises, followed suit. Most of them had seen that movie. The few begrudging claps from some of the people who had also been waiting for an audition, showed their annoyance at not having thought of this act themselves. Chuka and Folarin turned to look at Charles Ikeji who had broken into a full toothy grin and was nodding his head in approval.
"You boys are bold. By force audition." He laughed. "I like that."
"Thank you, Sir." Chuka grinned widely, throwing his arm around Folarin's neck. "It was his idea."
Folarin smiled. "We had to get your attention somehow, Sir. If Mohammed won't call the mountain..."
Ikeji laughed again. Then he reached in his pocket and brought out two business cards and handed one to each boy. "What are your names?"
"Mofolarin Ishola, Sir." An excited Folarin replied as he took the golden ticket disguised as a mere business card from him.
"Chukwuka Amadi. It's an honour to meet you, Sir.", Chuka grinned, just as delirious as he took his.
"Write them down." he instructed his driver. He turned back to the boys. "Call the office number on Thursday and book your audition for the new movie. It's holding this Saturday. I will leave your names with her; she will add them to the list and give you the address when you call. Bring your A+ game. I want to see something even better than this."
And with that, he got in his vehicle and was gone in a flash.
Both boys watched the car drive off then turned to each other and hugged happily, laughing hysterically.
"That was amazing!" Chuka exclaimed.
"You dey act o!" Folarin commended, shaking his hand, and pulling him again into a bro hug. "I took a risk 'cause you could have fucked it up for me, but I was just praying you wouldn't fall hand. And you didn't."
"Are you kidding me?" Chuka retorted. "I jus dey tap ginger from you. I no even know as I take run am. I just fed off your energy." He laughed. "We did damn good sha. I wish say we record am."
"I swear."
"Wait, first. Which scene were you planning to do alone?" Chuka asked.
Folarin smiled. "Different movie. I was planning 'All for Love'; the scene where Mike Ezurike tries to stop Oge Okorie from driving off."
"Aah! That one for maaad." Chuka clapped, nodding. He knew the scene. Everyone alive knew the scene. It was a classic.
"Excuse me", a soft, female voice said from behind them.
Both boys turned around to find the thick girl from before smiling at them. "That was cool." She cooed. "Emm...Please...can I copy the number?"
Before they could respond, they noticed a small group of the other thespians approaching, most likely for the same thing.
Chuka and Folarin looked at each other with amused looks on their faces â and ran off in the same direction.
The audition went great. Both Chuka and Folarin landed small supporting roles in the movie, and it was a rousing success right out the gate. Afterwards, doors opened, and the roles poured in. First, bigger parts and then full-on lead roles. Some movies they acted in together, others separately. Before long, Fola Ishola â which became his screen name â and Chuka Amadi were on their way to being household names.
When endorsements came, Folarin was first to get one. It was big. A telecommunications giant. But Folarin had insisted they cast them both in the commercial or he wasn't interested. They were a package deal. If they wanted him, they wanted Chuka too.
Folarin had known it was a gamble, but he also knew how powerful envy was and how it could quietly creep in and sow seeds that inadvertently destroyed friendships. He liked Chuka and didn't want anything getting in the way of his growing friendship with him. Even Folarin's mother liked him, and she wasn't particularly fond of Igbo people in general.
When the response came back positive, he told an ecstatic Chuka who had already heard from the company.
"Your friend is a real one" the woman from Glairtel had said. "Hold him tight because friends like that are rare." And Chuka's heart had fucking melted. No one had ever done something like that for him before. Growing up alone after losing his parents and brothers in a car accident on their way to visit him in boarding school when he was 12, Chuka had learned to fend for himself and not to ask for or expect anything from anyone. He had learned to rely only on Aunty Isioma, his mom's sister who took him in after the funeral and even that, he did cautiously.
So as soon as Chuka could repay the favour with a spot, modelling for a USA-based designer at Fashion Week, he did. And he and Folarin had graced newspapers and high-end magazines from all over the world.
Soon enough, both men grew careers that could stand on their own and no longer needed support from each other and accordingly, the fear of envy or resentment vanished. As their fame grew, so did their friendship, with the unspoken vow to never let anything separate them.