Chapter Twenty-four

Henry was in love with Phoenix, so he got to be extremely possessive of the guy. He felt now, by a reason that totally defied rational explanation, that Phoenix was now a part of him. The passion he felt for the guy transcended anything he’d ever felt for any other person, and the guy’s exquisitely beautiful looks always got the better of him whenever he saw the guy. He felt that Phoenix was the most beautiful guy he’d ever seen－ maybe he was exaggerating, but the fact was that Phoenix was a true beauty, and that beauty always got to Henry.

It was as if Henry was bound to him in a way that defied logic. But he also felt that Phoenix was a little crazy, that some nuts had been unscrewed from his brain, and even though the guy was always filled with charm and true good humor, there was something frighteningly cold and closed off about him. It seemed as if the guy hid a lot of secrets behind those sparkling mud-brown eyes of his, that he was a permanently closed book. You could never get that close to him; he had a lot of shields up, and there was no way to penetrate it and get to the core of the person within.

And Henry loved him. He’d come to that shocking realization on that day after Phoenix had disclosed stuff to him about the kind of persons that sought the favor of his boys. He was hopelessly, totally, and madly in love with the guy, and because he had fallen in love, he started doing those little things that men in love were prone to do. He began to spy on Phoenix and regard every look and every smile his lover gave to another man with suspicion. Was Phoenix cheating on him? Did he have a stunning, sexy Lagos babe from either LASU or UNILAG doing him the honors of warming his bed at night? The guy was often pictured with very beautiful women; past and presents flames of the silver screens, fashion models, and even ex-beauty queens who often clung to his arm. But everything he thought was all based on irrational speculation because Phoenix was a guy who was never forthcoming with answers, a blank when it came to answering personal questions about his love life.

Henry was furious and almost crazy about the fact that there was nothing he could hold against Phoenix. He had his connections in the movie world which Phoenix was steeped in, so it was easy to get them to spy on Phoenix for him. They were the ones that told him whether the guy he loved was engaged in affairs with other actors, whether he was flirting with the female casts, etc. But the reports that he got about the guy were all a bit disappointing because, for a movie star who had a lot of women at his beck and call, Phoenix was a celibate who had no time to look at anybody twice, and he worked with a cold single-mindedness on the sets that was as endearing as it was infuriating. Phoenix was the complete workaholic who had no time whatsoever for partying, or drinking, or chasing after the fairer sex, an insufferable perfectionist who met anything short of perfection with iciness and a coldness that was freezing.

It was freaky to Henry that Phoenix was too . . . perfect, the rare celebrity whose name was untarnished by rumors and scandal. And quite inevitably, Henry began to compare his wife to his lover; why didn’t Fiona depict the high level of sensuality that Phoenix depicted so easily? Why would Fiona let her nails go unpolished? And so on.

Henry could feel the hold he had over his marriage slackening, and he felt that he was sliding from the high pedestal he’d placed himself. Everything that his wife did seemed to be inferior to what his lover could do; Phoenix was a better cook, a better lover than Fiona ever was. But he knew that the young woman was trying the very best she could do for him, and so, one, on one the lazy last days of November, he took Fiona and their two kids for a late evening ride around VI. It was an evening of pure fun, of them eating skewered meat from the Hausa vendors who sold the delicacy in front of the entrance to the 1004 Estates on Adetokunbo Ademola Street, and then they zoomed off to go to the Blue Bell restaurant at the Oniru Estate for their dinner.

They chose a choice table by the window where they could see the entire action with a little privacy, and then they ate and chatted amiably. Then suddenly, Fiona looked up, right past Henry, her eyes widening with surprise and recognition, her spoon of lasagna suspended in midair.

‘Is that not Phoenix?’ she asked in a hushed, awed tone.

Henry felt the blood in his veins turn to red ice, making breathing impossible. The entrance glass doors had been swung open by the security man manning it, and sure enough, there was Phoenix walking in. The guy was a vision of pure elegance and beauty, clothed entirely in black, dazzling jewels shimmering on his thin wrists; his black hair was gelled to perfection, and before him wafted forth the alluring smell of Chanel No. 5. In a roomful of stunning, beautiful women, Phoenix stood out, and he seemed to be naturally oblivious to the attention as he paused to greet an older distinguished couple. Everybody was really staring, as if he was a wild rose that had been thrust into a field of plain white daisies. And Henry stared with the rest of them, and he could feel the icy chills that were whispering up his spine at the sight of this guy who he loved.

Then, as if sensing the pair of eyes that were fixed on his back with unwavering intensity, Phoenix looked up, and his intense brown eyes were fixed on Henry like pinpoints of laser beams. And Henry felt his heart skip a beat, his eyes widen with love and happiness at the sight of this beautiful fellow who had stolen his heart away, and he couldn’t look away; he dared not look away from Phoenix. It was the bold look of the actor that did him in, and he knew without missing a beat that he would kill for the guy if the need ever arose for it to happen. And then the stunning actor turned towards their table, and the other diners were staring like morons, some with pure fascination, others with a mixture of annoyance and anger at this guy who had dared to steal their thunder. The world stood still.

‘Ah, but if it isn’t Henry Johnson,’ Phoenix said, one gloved hand shooting out towards Henry. But for some strange reason Henry did not take the proffered hand; he sat there frozen like meat in a fridge. And then, without missing a beat at the snobbery, the actor scooped up Henry Junior into his arms and the boy giggled. ‘You’re the mirror image of your father,’ he told the kid, smiling.

But Henry still sat there like a thunder-struck zombie, lost totally for words because the sight of Phoenix lifting up that boy with genuine tenderness had touched a spot in him and he felt like dissolving into tears. And then he felt the heeled foot of his wife stomping discreetly on his foot, yanking him back to the present. But Phoenix had already turned round and heading off straight for the stairs to go upstairs.

‘That was rude,’ Fiona snapped, disapproval etched into every cold line in her face.

Henry gave her a perplexed look. ‘What was rude?’

‘He came in here, ready to go upstairs for a drink, and then he saw you and stopped, his celebrity status notwithstanding, and then you cut him and let him stand there like some fool from the circus. Everybody was staring at you－ at him－ and yet you left him there hanging.’

‘It was nothing,’ Henry snapped irritably.

‘Nothing? From what your mother had told me, you had the guy in your pocket and the guy’s made a load of money for you. Basically, the guy is your money machine, yet you treated him like trash. I demand to know why.’

Henry turned a cold look to her, his eyes flashing with anger. Usually, it was Fiona that was the fighter in their marriage and she’d rave and rant, and then he’d cut her down with a few words that would devastate her. But tonight he was not in the mood for anything that came from her.

‘That’s enough!’ he snapped and she jumped in her chair, her hand knocking off the glass of water on her side. The liquid soaked into the tablecloth and then spilled down to the floor.

And that marked the end of their happy evening. They drove back home in stony silence, with Fiona at the wheel, Henry seated at the back of the SUV with the twins. There were tears in Henry’s eyes, clouding his vision. He felt sorry for what he’d done to his lover, and he also felt very sorry for Fiona. But never in a million years would he ever have anticipated the fact that he could ever run into Phoenix just like that. However, he believed deep in his heart that he’d spared Fiona the humiliation of sitting at the same table with the young man who held his heart and loins captive more than any other thing else had ever done. And if Fiona ever found out what was really going on between him and his ‘money machine’, then all hell would break loose.

He would lose all that he held dear to his heart. There was no doubt that he would lose her love even if he ended up not losing her. For divorce was a taboo in its own way in Nigeria, and there was a serious stigma attached to those that had gotten divorced from their spouses, especially if they were women. It was a world of unequal opportunities.

* * *

That night, the wind came up, surprisingly strong, a phenomenon that shouldn’t occur on the last day of November, the dry season. Thunder cracked in the black sky, and the blanket of the heavens trembled with lines of lightening that zigzagged across the black night like the crackle of electricity.

The electricity had gone out, but there was a full moon, the light strong enough to illuminate the room. Henry stood there in the middle of the room, water dripping from his clothes. Before he’d gotten to the apartment building from where he’d parked his car, he was already soaked to the skin from the fury of the water that sliced at him even though he had run as fast as his athletic legs could carry him to the place where he was now standing.

Phoenix stood facing the window, his back to the door, and was once again dressed all in black. He was watching the fury of the storm, and, without turning around, as if he’d sensed the presence of Henry there, he ordered him to take off his wet clothes.

Henry complied, and then he stood there nude, his body shivering with the cold that had seeped into his bones. Phoenix then turned round to face him, and he could see that the guy’s face was blank, the way it always was, making it possible for the movie directors to mold him into whatever they wanted him to be. Phoenix was a very difficult person to read, and so Henry wasn’t sure what the guy had going on in that closed-up mind of his. It was what made him good at what he did, because he was like plaster that could be molded into anything, to be anything in any given circumstance. But in real life, outside the flare and the glare of the cameras, it was something that was terrifying to behold, because you never really knew what the guy was thinking, how he would react in any given circumstance, because there was just no way to find out what he was thinking from the emotions on his face. The guy emitted no emotions whatsoever.

‘I am very sorry,’ Henry said through chattering teeth. ‘I never intended to give you the cold shoulder this evening, but then the shock of seeing you there was too great for me; I just froze up like meat.’

Phoenix reached out with one slender, albeit extremely strong hand and stroked Henry on the chin, and the latter could almost swear that he felt electricity sweep through him. Now, there was a shift in that blank face; it had taken on a cast of sadness easily, speedily. It was the incomparable T. O. Phoenix at his best.

‘You were ashamed of me, Henry. I saw you with your family there, and it was the very first time I was ever seeing them, so I had to come over to say hi. You just snubbed me right there in front of the entire people there. But then, I won’t hold it against you; I understand what you did and why you did it. You had to keep up the appearance of the heterosexual guy in public, but you and I know better.’

There was a new shift in that stunning face once again. He now looked almost happy. It was like looking into a mirror that was a reflector of different images from different perspectives, but it was still the same.

There was a smile on the actor’s face, one that melted away all the resistance that Henry may have felt, and then he could feel the blood rising up to fill the vessels in his dick. He groaned as if in physical pain, and then he drew Phoenix to his chest, his finger digging possessively into the small of Phoenix’s back. He felt a rush of fulfillment, one that came from being with the one you love, of being in the presence of the person you would have wanted to spend all time with had the circumstances been different. He could think of nothing else except for the guy that he held in his arms; of that beautiful face that invaded his dreams all the time he closed his eyes. It would be his undoing, this mindless, wanton passion he had for a guy that the society had placed beyond his reach.

He wanted Phoenix desperately, and he looked into the eyes of the guy he wanted more than anything else and then he kissed Phoenix. Lost as he was in the passion that had engulfed him, that had made him aflame with burgeoning desire, he wanted the moment to last. He wanted it to be forever. But then, there would never be a forever for the both of them, of that he was sure.

But Phoenix pulled away, the thunder and lightning flashing behind him, and when he stepped out of the cloth he wore, Henry could see that he was wearing nothing else. Henry could swear that the guy was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Henry laughed as Phoenix gently pushed him into a chair, turned his eyelids close with the tips of his fingers, and then he felt the feather touch of the kiss against his lips; there was the touch of the fingers on his cock. And then he moaned with shameless abandon, more than he had ever shown with his wife in their love-making sessions.

‘Let me see to your pleasure,’ Phoenix said in a whispery voice. He had shifted now into the person of the night, an angel that was the owner of the sex game. It was that easy for him.

With a nod, Henry truly relaxed back and freed himself to the guy’s sensual ministrations. And darn, was the guy truly good. Phoenix knew how to use his hands and his tongue, and even his breath to inflame the senses with his shockingly erotic touch, and Henry could only dream, through the haze of pleasure that had suffused him, that his wife could see his lover at work, that she could possibly come and learn a few tricks from the guy. That way, their sex life would become thoroughly spiced up. As it was, their sex routine was a boring run, not flames and throw-downs like he had with Phoenix.

He wanted to really grab Phoenix and kiss him, to look into those bottomless pools of brown passion as he stroked the younger guy, but that was to come later, not now, because Phoenix was working his magic, and he was reveling in it. Phoenix was licking at his hot stomach with his tongue, and then at his nipples, and then was moving farther up to claim the hot spot in his neck. Phoenix moved up, and now they were looking at each other, their eyes locked together, and Henry wished that just once, he could get a glimpse of what lay behind those brown eyes, after all, the eyes are the windows of the soul.

It was the one lesson he had learnt from his mother, Rosalie. She had taught him that in the most devastating way imaginable, and he owed her for that.

‘You are very beautiful,’ Phoenix said, and he sounded sad, like he always did whenever he was talking to Henry about the fact that he found Henry’s gayness to be surprising. ‘And it’s also a pity; all that manly beauty wasted because a woman would never have you . . . never really have you.’

And then he kissed Henry again, and the latter thought that the guy tasted really sweet, like honey without adulteration. And then Henry could get no more of that silent sensual treatment that was being doled out to him; he was raging and flaming with passion, his penis all tumescent and roaring to go. He pulled Phoenix to the bed almost roughly and then they went into the rhythm of the passion that was so forbidden in Nigeria, so truly hated and spat against; the one thing that people never spoke out aloud because it was one of the main taboos of the land, and absolutely nobody wanted to be mired in taboo. And yet, it was the subject of one of the most heated debates in the country.

Tears rushed to Henry’s eyes as he felt the rush of pleasure that his lover gave out, but he was a bit unhappy within him that the guy was good at giving but seemed almost never to want to take. And when he came, he felt the stars exploding in his vision as if there was some kind of explosion of white light, and then they lay there together, with the sheets wrapped around them. And yet, even though they were there together now, there was some huge gulf between them because what they had together was something clandestine, only stolen moments.

‘I love you,’ Henry said, because it was the truth. There was just something about the guy that spoke to the sentimentalist in him, which made want to come out with their relationship to the public if that was what it would take to be with Phoenix.

But Phoenix just yawned as if he was bored to death with the drama. ‘Can’t this wait until tomorrow? I want to sleep, and besides that, I have to do some exercises for the promotion of some health crap; it will be a long day. Do not make it longer.’

‘This is important to me,’ Henry admonished. ‘I never wanted to fall in love with you; I just did. You make me feel complete and happy with my life. I wish you were mine.’

By now he was crying silently, the tears flowing, though he did not cry out loud because such crap was out of his dictionary. ‘And then when I saw you at the Blue Hyena coming towards me, it was as if some part of my life had become complete. Phoenix, can you hear me?’

He gently touched Phoenix, but the guy’s breathing had already deepened, a clear indication that he was now asleep. So he kissed Phoenix on the lips and watched his profile as he slept. He watched his lover for what seemed to be countless hours, and then, still naked, he padded to the window and stood there crying. He was crying for the love that he had which was so close and yet so far away, all because of the fact that people, in all their hypocrisy, had said that he couldn’t have the guy. No way; he had to have only a woman and nothing more. In fact, he could have as many women as he wanted to have and the people would only clap him in the back and commend him for being a man.

And this guy, this stunning guy he loved who could not hurt nobody, who wanted only to live, had to be punished for being the way he was. And Phoenix was not even gay; Henry did not believe that the guy had a homo orientation. The guy had just done what he had to survive years ago.

When Henry lay back down to sleep, he found out that he was physically exhausted and feeling very sleepy. He woke up when the sun had risen above the horizon, the roseate glow of dawn permeating through the curtains. He ate a breakfast of devilled eggs which had been prepared for him by Phoenix, and before he left, they made the arrangement to meet the following weekend, but as it turned out, Phoenix had to go down to Abuja to shoot a toothpaste commercial and then would be unavailable for the rest of the month because he had to go and be with his family.