Chapter Twenty-three

Phoenix was seated at a table in his plush restaurant with Lawrence, and they were eating heaped plates of pasta which had been flavored with hot spices. The air was heavy with the simmering heat of the afternoon which baked the streets as if on a mission of vengeance and retribution, and Lawrence was perspiring heavily, and from his mouth burst forth a lot of profanities against NEPA. They had the annoying habit of giving electricity only when it pleased them, and today, they had deemed it fit to keep the lights off, and the people of Lagos had to make do with their generators or else roast in the heat.

Phoenix kept himself totally engrossed in a spell-binding Anne Rice vampire novel, happily oblivious to the heat. He was used to Lawrence’s incessant babbling and unceasing flow of complaints; after all, he’d been living with the man for years, so he ignored him.

‘What is Ali Hassan doing here?’ Lawrence asked as he licked at a forkful of pasta with his right hand while his left travelled to his face with a handkerchief to dab at the perspiration on his brow. ‘And, from the look of the man, he looks furious. Did something happen between you and him?’

Phoenix looked up towards the swinging glass doors of the restaurant and saw Ali Hassan walking in with the assured grace of a dancer. His lean frame was outlined with muscles, and he seemed very alert, as though ready to strike. The man had come from a place where he’d struggled hard to survive, and even though he had managed to put polish on his manners, there was a coldness in his eyes which was frightening to behold. There was this look of sadness and anger in his features, and Phoenix thought that this was the kind of man that would weep even as he killed you.

Ali stopped before the table, his tall frame towering over them. ‘Hello, Lawrence,’ he said with a smile, but it was one that failed to touch the corners of his eyes. He then turned to Phoenix. ‘I’d like to talk to you, Phoenix.’

Slowly, as if he was royalty deigning to allow his stunning self to be bothered by mundane matters, Phoenix slowly looked up from his book, his eyes swiveling round in the direction of this man who had been his lover once upon a time and had exploited his body. He smiled. ‘Sit down, Ali, since you want to talk to me, and then we must eat as we talk.’

‘You know what I want to talk to you about, and you know it’s not something to be talked about right here now. We need some privacy together, so why don’t we go to that small hole you call your private office so we can talk about this.’

With a sigh, Phoenix stood up and followed the guy to his office where he closed the door behind him and sat down in the swivel chair there, crossed his legs, and then he looked up at the man to talk. He knew what this talk would be about without having to be told about it; he had sent a message to the man’s voicemail box some hours ago, and he’d been expecting something like this to happen.

‘I have been good to you, Phoenix,’ Ali Hassan said, his voice pitched low and dangerous. ‘I had always shown you the goodness of my heart and I wish to believe that you and I had the perfect romance. Now, because of your fame, you’re casting me away.’

‘I am not casting you out because of the fact that I have achieved fame and fortune and I think you know it. Right from the very beginning, our relationship had been one of mutual need: you wanted my body and I wanted your help. You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted; it was the perfect setup, one that worked wonderfully well between us.’

A look of sheer, unadulterated, albeit carefully controlled anger, swept over the features of the older man; he looked filled with rage. ‘You can’t toss me out of your life. I know that with you it was pure fun, but you were the only one I had then; the only one I have now. It meant a lot to me then; you gave me life; you gave me something to think about when I went to bed at night. And when I go on my travels, there are always pictures of you with me, and then there are the movies you had acted with such skill and grace－ it was as if you were often right there with me and that we were never miles apart.’

Phoenix gasped as the man leaned forward suddenly and grasped his wrists in a crushing grip. ‘I know that you must have thought a world of good of me when we were together,’ he snapped, now getting angry with the Hausa man. ‘I am cutting this relationship off because there is nothing in there for me to hold on to now. You and I are now separated by a very big chasm that can never be crossed. You’re a man, as am I, and this is taboo!’

‘We can still be together!’ Ali said, and his voice was a hoarse whisper. ‘Never mind what people say about us; never mind what the bastards in this country think of our union. We can still be together.’

Ordinarily, Phoenix would have been impressed by the impassioned speech, but his years of suffering at the hands of those who were stronger and bigger than he was had hardened him, rendered him cold and cruel when the mood was upon him. It was true that Ali had been kind to him, but it was also true that the man had been able to hook him because of the fact that then he was a Nobody, and he was desperate. Now, there was nothing to bind them together; didn’t the man just get it? He was a Face now, and there was nothing to be between him and this man again.

‘We will never be together . . . again,’ he said in the coldest and hardest voice he could dredge up, his demeanor steely, all these lending a very harsh truth and emphasis to the words. He then yanked his hands away from Ali’s, because, in spite of the fact that he often appeared deceptively weak, he was very strong. Hours of yoga and strength training had rendered him strong. ‘You should go, and please do not come back here again. It is over.’

Ali Hassan drew himself to his full impressive height and it seemed to Phoenix that the blood had drained from the man’s face. ‘I’ve known you for years so I know that you always mean the words you say, so, I will go. But I want you to mark my words; you’ll come back to me of your volition or else I will destroy you. I promise you that.’

Phoenix closed his eyes as the older man walked away, and then his eyes flew open at the sound of wood banging shut against wood. He was not in the least perturbed by the words of the man because he knew that if push came to shove that he would be able to hold his ground against the man. And yet he felt that there was going to be some sort of showdown one day, one that would be cruel and would require blood.

When the door opened again, he was not surprised to see Lawrence come into the room, his brows creased with worry. And when the older man asked him what had transpired between him and the other man, Phoenix said matter-of-factly, ‘I asked him to go away and never come back. That’s the end of the story.’

Lawrence seemed to pale a notch as the words hit him, and he stood there with arms akimbo, sweat trickling down into his shirt from his sweating face. ‘I am sorry to hear that, but the both of you had always been so good together. Why did you have to be so cruel to the man?’

Phoenix looked at his friend fiercely, his eyes blazing with emotion, but he kept it all in check with the ruthless cold-bloodedness he was known for. He was never one to snap and be angry, saying things he may regret later on.

‘Do not be sorry, but at the same time, do not try to judge me because you have no idea what it’s like being me! I was just a pretty face he had in his zoo of pets, one to be used when he wished, but now, I am somebody, and he just has to go.’

‘Not all men are like the people that have been using you and tying to run your life all these past years.’

Phoenix let out a small laugh. ‘They’re all the same; Anthony St. Claire wouldn’t give me a role until I had his unwashed genitals in my mouth. Derek Ossai－ your lover－ gave me an introduction that would help me get to see the big St. Claire, and he had his own catch. Right from the very moment I got that part in the movie St. Claire had cast me in, the man has been silently after my little ass so he can stick his thing in there, but he dares not tell me that to my face because I am no longer the little thing I used to be back when he helped me. I want him to die in his silence.’

‘You are a little bastard, do you know that?’ Lawrence hissed in a shaky voice, his fingers balling into fists at his sides.

‘I am a bastard,’ Phoenix said coldly, his expression deadpan. ‘But at least you have to admit that I tell you what is as it is in black and white without trying to sugar-coat anything for you, so that makes me a good bastard. Well, come on, admit it!’ Phoenix threw his hands up in the air. ‘You know I am very beautiful; it’s plain for everybody to see. You know that Derek had always liked me but he’d never made his move because of you.’

And then Phoenix got his act of laughter up and told Lawrence that there was nothing for them to be fighting about and the other man agreed that it was true. There was no way in the world for them to be fighting because of the fact that they had come a long way together through the times they had been living together. The issue of Ali Hassan was not something that could try to come in the way of the friendship they had developed for each other.

But in spite of the fact that they both tried to down-play what had happened, the day was ruined for the both of them. There was a lot going on now, and there was a wedge being driven between them.