ROULETTE OF THE DAMNED 15: Dance Without You

As Jafar strode to the bed and grabbed the envelope, Abbey had a crazy urge to run for the door, but the glare her father shot her told her she wouldn’t get very far even if she tried.

“Let’s go down to the living room and read this together, shall we?” the man said.

“I think it’s better if you read it alone,” Abbey said. “The market closes soon and –”

“The market can wait,” Jafar said in a steely tone.

Abbey’s heart thumped wildly as she trudged down the stairs with her father close behind. Once she was seated in the living room, Jafar opened the envelope and scanned the words of the letter, his expression barely changing. He’d always been a master at concealing his emotions. Abbey sat rigid, wishing she had listened to Mofe when he had insisted she avoid her father. She could have been shopping right now on Mofe’s tab if she hadn’t been so stubborn.

Jafar blew out a heavy breath, crumpled the letter, and tossed it on the centre table. “Where is she?” His voice told Abbey that he meant business.

“I don’t know.” Abbey replied.

“Do not lie to me again, Abbey.” Jafar said, his emotions still unreadable. “You will not like the consequences.”

“I would never lie to you, dad. I don’t know where mum is.”

Smiling coldly at her, Jafar said, “See, that’s another lie. You lie to me all the time, Abbey. Everything you were up to, I learned from Edirin.” He stepped toward Abbey until he was directly in front of her, forcing her to arch her head backward in order to meet his gaze. “So before I ask you one more time, my darling daughter, I want you to remember that all liars go to hell. And in your case, before you go there, I will personally give you a little piece of hell on earth if you do not tell me the truth. Now, I will ask again. Where is your mother?”

Abbey forced herself to meet and hold her father’s stare. “Honestly, I swear to you, I don’t know where she is.”

Jafar kept looking at her until she looked away. Then he said, “I am a lawyer, Abbey. I’m in the business of liars. It’s funny how any sentence that starts with ‘honestly’ usually isn’t an honest statement. Just so you know, I will find your mother regardless of whether or not you tell me where she is hiding. And if you make this any harder than it needs to be, you and that mother of yours will regret your choices.”

Yesterday, Abbey had told Mofe that she wanted to tell her father how she truly felt about him, but she had decided against it before picking him up from the airport. Now, she was livid and didn’t care anymore. She was tired of her father’s threats. All she wanted now was for her father to squirm with the knowledge of how much she truly hated him.

Seeking to take away the disadvantage he held over her by their positions, she got to her feet, forcing her father to step back. Then she pinned him with a glower that revealed her slowly mounting anger. “It doesn’t matter where she is,” she said tightly, her voice managing to hold a confidence she didn’t feel. “The only thing I truly regret is being your daughter! How many women’s lives have you destroyed before marrying mum? More importantly, how many women’s futures have you ruined after you married my mother? I only know of Edirin right now, but I’m sure a sociopath like you must have a string of mistresses out there. How many more bastards have you fathered? How many more women have you forced to have an abortion and potentially destroyed by so doing?”

Feeling a lot more emboldened by each word she said, Abbey continued with her offensive. “So many women pray for children. The unmarried ones keep their fingers crossed that they’ll be fruitful when they get married. And you – you are here demanding that your lover abort your child simply because you consider the pregnancy an inconvenience! Shame on you, dad. Shame on you!”

For a moment, Jafar stared at her, clearly taken aback. Then his scowl returned, and he bit out, “You women never want to take the blame for your actions, always blaming a man when you make relationship mistakes. Don’t even try to pin anything on me concerning the mess your friend created. Any woman who is stupid enough to get pregnant outside marriage for a man who hasn’t made any promises to her deserves everything she gets.”

Abbey’s irritation shone in her eyes and her body visibly vibrated with pure hatred for her father. She desperately wanted to slap her father for what he had just said but she put her hands on her hips instead. “Oh, so it is now that you never made any promises to her, eh Jafar?” she spat, using her father’s name with a deliberateness that incensed the man, if his tightened expression was any indication. She didn’t care; the man no longer deserved to be called ‘dad’. “You are a miserable excuse for a man, you know that, right? You are a bastard, a rapist, and a monster, and that hell you say all liars go to, you deserve to get there first! And you will never see my mother again, you son-of-a-bitch!”

Without warning, Jafar turned around and swept his arm across the bar in the living room, sending bottles of spirits spiraling to the ground and smashing into smithereens, their contents spilling to the floor. Abbey quickly sank back into the sofa, feeling her confidence shrink in the face of his fury.

“You impudent little girl!” he raged, turning back to her. “Your lack of respect is infuriating, but not shocking. I have your mother to thank for that. She’ll get what’s coming to her soon enough. And for the record, if you ever address me by my name again, I will deal with you. I’m done playing with you, Abbey. Lie to me from now on and you won’t have a tomorrow to look forward to. Was your mother’s disappearance your idea?” His hands twitched at his sides, seeming like they were eager to educate Abbey on the consequence of lying.

Abbey didn’t answer. She knew that her father’s question wasn’t really a question. It was obvious to her that he believed she encouraged Tari to leave him and he was waiting for her to deny it so he would have a substantial reason to attack her. Instead of responding, Abbey focused on breathing. She wanted to scream. She told herself to get up and run towards the door and towards freedom. But she knew it would not be that easy.

“I take your silence as affirmation,” Jafar said, beginning to talk more to himself than to Abbey. “That bitch you call a mother will not disgrace me. Not in this lifetime!” Then he turned to her, his eyes snapping with rage and jabbed his forefinger at her. “You will call your mother right now and tell her to come home immediately or I swear to God, Abbey, you will not live to see tomorrow.”

Abbey stood on shaky legs. “I’m sure you are strong enough to kill me, but right now, you need me to get to mum. So, here’s the deal. Mum is at a friend’s place. Now the only way I will –”

Jafar’s nose flared and he cut Abbey short. “What friend? Your mother has no friends! Who is she staying with?”

“You are wrong. Mum has friends and she is staying at another man’s place at the moment.” She enjoyed how the storm intensified in Jafar’s eyes when he heard the gender of Tari’s friend. But she didn’t elaborate on who the man was; telling him that the man hosting Tari was Tunde, her mother’s lover, would surely tip Jafar over the edge. “This friend is currently taking care of mum and she is trying to heal from all the torture you have inflicted her with. I’ll talk to mum and tell her to come back home only after you have calmed down. Then, and only then, will she return home. I will however only agree to do that once I’m safely out of this house. You have my word.” Eager to get out of his presence, Abbey took two steps towards the door.

Jafar moved closer, intercepting her flight. “Sit down! You are not going anywhere.” He shoved her into the nearest couch. Then he leaned close to her, his face set in grim lines, and grasped her chin in his hand. “You seem to think this is a negotiation. Don’t take me for a fool, Abbey.”

Abbey tried to shake her head from his grasp, but Jafar’s hold was strong. “You are hurting me,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Am I? Good. Now, I know your mother has no friends, male or female. And so, whoever she’s staying with, this man friend, must be fucking her. Now, you will tell me where she is and the name of this bastard sheltering her, and I’ll let you go. Who knows, I may even forgive that slut you call mother for whoring around when she comes home.”

Abbey sat down, silent and still struggling to wrench her face free from her father’s grip, all the while shooting a fulminating look at him.

“You see, little girl,” Jafar continued when she wouldn’t speak, “I know that you do not understand the fundamentals of marriage. So I will do your future husband a favour by explaining it to you. Your mother took vows to love and cherish me forever, and by God, I will make sure she remains true to her promise or I will kill her. Now, I know you are simply a casualty of war in this situation, and as such I don’t want to hurt you. But I swear, I will break you like a twig if you don’t tell me where the hell your mother is right fucking now.”

Responding solely to her simmering hatred for the man before her, Abbey worked up a glob of saliva from her throat, opened her mouth as wide as Jafar’s grip on her chin would let, and spat on his face. Then she hissed, “I would rather die than let you hurt my mother anymore.”

Jafar used his left hand to clean the spit off his face. He looked ready to kill, but his voice sounded like smooth ice when he said, “As you wish.” And he released her, raised the hand and gave Abbey a backhand slap.

Rage filled Abbey’s lungs as her face and eyes stung from the slap. She shrieked as she lunged forward, stretching out her hands and shoving Jafar back. The man wheeled backward for a moment and regained his footing long enough to lift his hand to take aim for Abbey’s face again.

Just then, the front door juddered from a kick on the other end, a blow which sent it flying inward, its locks snapping out of place and into the air. Both father and daughter turned startled looks around to face Mofe as he slowly walked into the room. He advanced on them, his eyes flickering over the two, taking in everything and missing nothing. The tightening of his face revealed that he had come to a closely accurate conclusion of what he’d just interrupted.

“Who the hell do you think you are,” Jafar burst out angrily, “kicking my door open and storming into my house! Leave here at once or I’ll have you arrested.”

Mofe didn’t flinch. “I guess you didn’t hear me knocking.”

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” Jafar bellowed.

“I’m Mofe, Abbey’s boyfriend and future husband,” Mofe said with a controlled voice. “I believe you are the father of the bride-to-be. I have been waiting for her. She’s late for our appointment.”

“Get out of my house now, you idiot!”

Abbey tried then to stand, but Jafar shoved her back. She whimpered as she fell into the seat, and gasped when Jafar grabbed at her upper arm. “Let me go,” she fumed. “You are hurting me.”

Mofe gritted his teeth and the fire in his eyes burned deep as he snarled, “She said you are hurting her. Let her go. I swear if you so much as leave a bruise on her or raise your hand to hit her ever again, this planet won’t be big enough to hold you and me.”

Jafar narrowed his eyes on him. “I suggest you get lost, boy. This is not something you want to get yourself involved in.” Turning to Abbey, he hissed, “As for you, if you don’t want to tell me where your mother is, I’ll just have to force the answer out of you.” And he dug his fingers into her arm with such a vise-like intensity that Abbey let out a short scream.

That was all the sound Mofe needed to hear, before everything sane in him disappeared. He instantly saw red and went into attack mode. His right hand shot out in a blur of motion. The punch sent Jafar reeling backward, his nose gushing blood. As Jafar staggered, Mofe clutched his tie and yanked him forward, head-booting him as he did so. As Jafar’s head cracked backward, Mofe connected another powerful punch to his exposed throat. Jafar let out a strangled shriek as he stumbled to his knees, struggling to breathe.

But Mofe wasn’t even halfway done with Jafar yet. All he could hear in his brain was Abbey screaming out in pain…pain caused by Jafar!

He lifted his hand to deliver another blow, when Abbey sprang up from her seat and grabbed the hand. The muscles of his hand felt taut against her hold, and his rage was like a living thing pulsating through him.

Abbey said urgently, “Mofe…look at me. Look at me.” She came to stand before him, taking his face in both her hands and steering it from Jafar to her face. “He’s not worth it. Please let’s just go.”

At first Mofe looked as if he would ignore her. But then he met her eyes and something shifted. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered. He pulled Abbey’s trembling body into his, and turned to face Jafar. “Consider yourself lucky that she was here to stop me. If you ever hurt Abbey again, the next time I meet you, one of us will die.”

“We’ll see about that,” Jafar said from where he sat on the floor tending to his broken nose. His voice sounded hoarse as his words struggled to come through a bruised throat. “Just get out!”

“With pleasure,” Mofe said before turning with Abbey.

“My daughter stays,’ Jafar bit out.

They turned. Mofe was the one who spoke. “There is no way in hell I’m leaving Abbey here with you. Not even the devil can stop me from getting her out of here. If you doubt me, try and stop me.”

“This is a family matter,” Jafar growled. “Get out before I have you arrested.”

“Go right ahead,” Mofe said smoothly. “And then, you can explain the bruises you inflicted on my fiancée at the police station.” When Jafar said nothing in response, the two turned to leave once again.

“Abbey, for your sake, don’t do this,” Jafar said as he watched them move towards the door. “If you leave now, the outcome of all of this will be on your shoulders. I trust you understand me. I will destroy you. This is all your fault. You pushed your mother away from me. You destroyed your mother’s womb as you came into this world and now you are trying to destroy my marriage. Tari never would have left if you hadn’t encouraged her, I’m sure. What happens to your mother when I find her is solely on your head.”

Mofe stopped and faced Jafar again, irritation sparking in his eyes. “Nice. Very nice, Jafar. Just the words every daughter wants to hear from her father. I’ll thank you for raising such an amazing woman. Beyond that, you can go to hell.”

Jafar stared hatefully at him. “You think you are some sort of hotshot, eh young man? Just know that you will regret everything you’ve done today. I promise you.”

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Mofe shot back, before turning and steering Abbey firmly out of the living room.

***

They parked outside Jiro’s parents’ house just before the rain started. Andrew hefted their bags while Jiro took charge of the gifts they had gotten his parents for their anniversary.  As they got to the front door and pressed the door bell, Andrew’s nerves kicked in and his pulse quickened.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” he said. “I’m just not ready, Jiro. Your parents haven’t met me before. Yes, I have spoken to your mother on the phone many times but this is different. I’ll be meeting them in person for the first time. What if they don’t like me? What if I do or say something stupid? Jesus, what if I –”

“Shut up already, you big baby,” Jiro said with an affectionate smile directed at him. “You broke a wine bottle with your bare hands at Mofe’s birthday dinner and didn’t even flinch, you talk and charm your way through any negotiation or tight spot with the toughest of clients at the office, and you are one heck of a hunk. I promise you, you have absolutely nothing to be worried about with my parents. You’ll do great. They’ll love you just like I –”

Jiro never got to finish his sentence as the door opened just then.

“Mum!” Jiro said with a beaming smile. “It’s so great to see you. Happy anniversary weekend!” Walking into the diminutive woman’s embrace, Jiro held his mother in a warm hug and kissed her forehead.

“Jiro, you are right on time as always,” his mother enthused. “Come in, come in.”

As Jiro walked in, Stella stepped in front of Andrew and smiled. “And you must be Andrew. I finally get to put a face to the voice over the phone; and a handsome face it is too.” And then, she proceeded to draw him into a hug too.

“Mum, where’s dad?” Jiro asked as he moved toward the living room from the hallway.

“Right here, son,” his father called from in there.

The next few minutes were spent with everyone reacquainting themselves. There were more hugs and handshakes as Jiro’s family was introduced to Andrew. Andrew observed how very much Jiro looked like his father, Ejike, although some of those roughly hewn handsomeness was softened by his mother, Stella’s genes.

“You boys must be tired and hungry after work and having to drive all the way here,” Stella said, as she led the way from the living room. “Andrew, let me show you to the room where you’ll be staying. And you boys can freshen up before coming back downstairs for dinner.”

Hand in hand, Jiro and his mum went up the stairs together, making small talk and laughing together. Still holding their bags, Andrew followed closely behind.

***

Jafar glowered at the mess of glass and liquid that was on the floor of his living room, realizing that in his earlier show of temper, he had seen to it that he couldn’t have a badly-needed drink. He blamed Abbey for it, the insolent little brat! He still couldn’t believe the nerve of his daughter, defying him the way she did and condoning her boyfriend’s assault. And he couldn’t believe that Tari had had the temerity to leave his house and run off to hide in some lover’s arms.

Those bitches! he fumed silently. They will pay! Oh, he would see to that. No one leaves me. No one walks away. There is no way out of being married to me or being my daughter…not while I live and breathe!

He picked up his phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Saheed, it has been a while. Listen, I have a job for you…” He was interrupted by the response of the person on the other end of the line, and then said impatiently, “No, this one is of a personal nature. I need you to find my wife and my daughter.” He listened again and then snapped, “Well, if I knew where they are, I wouldn’t need your help getting them back, would I? Look, just get them back to me. If you can’t get them alive, then kill them. I want my girls back alive or dead.”

***

In the past twenty four hours since the Friday evening, they arrived Jiro’s parents’ house, Andrew and Jiro hadn’t had much time to themselves. The most they’d done was steal glances at each other and exchange texts on their phones.

During dinner on Saturday, Jiro’s mother orchestrated the small talk around the table. Andrew knew that eventually Stella would ask about his family. But at the moment, he was just glad to sit quietly and enjoy watching Jiro with his parents in the house he had grown up in. His family wasn’t exactly a topic Andrew enjoyed talking about – especially his parents. Not after everything that had happened between them.

The TV was on in the living room, and from where he sat, Andrew could tell it was on a Christian channel. He could see the preacher talking, and across the screen was his name, M. Williamson. Andrew caught snippets of the man’s words:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves: Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others…”

Andrew liked the sermon. He found himself wondering Jiro had grown up learning and loving God on his own, or if his parents had brought him up that way. He could tell that they were a religious family. The Christian channel had been on yesterday when they arrived, and was that way all through dinner. He wanted to watch some other station like CNN or Sky news, but felt it would be rude to ask for the channel to be changed.

The thought that Jiro’s parents were religious stirred up a pang of guilt in Andrew over his relationship with Jiro. As fast as the guilt stung him, Andrew put it out of his mind. Guilt was usually an upshot of shame, and he had nothing to be ashamed of, certainly not about what he and Jiro had. He was happy and he wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.

Just then, Jiro made a joke about something and laughed as his parents did. Andrew smiled at the infectious sound of Jiro’s laughter. He would have loved to bottle the sound up and save it for later, taking it out occasionally so he could listen to it whenever the mood struck. It warmed Andrew’s heart to see Jiro so happy, but it also made him feel a sense of true loss. Why couldn’t he have been fortunate to have this sort of relationship with my parents? Was he to blame? Most likely. Andrew let the thought go. The only thing thoughts like that would do to him would be to depress him. At the moment, being depressed served no purpose, so he held on to the smile on his face and let himself be drawn more actively into the chatter going on at the table.

***

Seeing how tired his parents were, Jiro offered to clean up when dinner was over. He waved off his mother’s offer to help, gently instructing the two elderly people to go on to bed.

The two men worked quickly in clearing up the dishes. Once they were done, Jiro took Andrew by the hand and led him outside through the backdoor of the kitchen. The residue from the rain that fell the evening before had dried up thanks to the sunny day. Finding a spot beneath the kitchen window, Jiro pulled Andrew close and kissed him long and hard.

When they came up for air, Jiro said, “Damn it, I have being wanting all day to do that to you.”

Andrew smiled as he slid his hands under Jiro’s shirt. “Oh yeah? What else have you being wanting to do with me all day?”

Jiro chuckled. “Funny you should ask that.” He reached his hand downward.

Andrew slapped it away. “Oh no, you don’t, mister. We are at your parents’ house. No funny business while we’re here.”

Jiro laughed. “Calm down, Drew. I wasn’t about to start up any funny business.” He put his hands down and into his pocket and brought it back out with a small nylon package. “I just thought we could smoke some weed. I noticed you’ve being a bit uncomfortable since we got here last night. So, because I’m such an amazing boyfriend, I brought along some weed to help you relax.” He waved the bag in Andrew’s face. “It’s just a very small amount, don’t worry.”

“You know I don’t smoke,” Andrew said. “The most I have done with weed is eat it when it’s mixed in my food, and I haven’t done that in a very long time.”

“I know, but I still brought it anyway.” When Andrew remained hesitant, Jiro said, “Let’s just try it. What’s the worst that could happen? You’d cough and we’ll throw the rest away.”

Andrew looked towards the door to the kitchen. “What if your parents perceive it?”

“The smell will be long gone by the time they come downstairs tomorrow morning,” Jiro said. “Trust me, there’s nothing to worry about. My parents sleep off like ten minutes after getting to their room. I’m sure they are already asleep at this very moment. Besides, a few hours ago, I have here some air freshener, just in case.”

Andrew wanted to argue again but he decided against it. This was Jiro’s call after all. Besides, there was a dangerous thrill to knowing they were about to be this bad while Jiro’s parents retired upstairs. The thrill of being bad and not getting caught, Andrew mused. The thought made him smile.

“Okay. Since you are sure about it, let’s do it.”

Smiling, Jiro began to roll out the weed with unmistakable deftness. He lit up the wrap and took a drag. Then he sighed, causing curls of smoke to swirl from his nostrils. He handed the wrap to Andrew, who tentatively proceeded to draw the substance into his mouth. He coughed a bit and his eyes watered. Jiro watched him as he handed the wrap back to him.

“Well?”

“It’s not so bad,” he choked out.

Jiro smiled. “I told you.”

For the next several minutes, they smoked and talked. Soon, they finished the wrap and Jiro got another one ready. Andrew mentioned the Christian TV channel to Jiro and Jiro laughed, saying that his mother enjoyed watching the channel and his father had learned to tolerate it over the years. When one round of weed finished, Jiro would roll up another and another. He continued this until they finished the entire bag an hour later. At this point, they were both starting to get heady from the alkaloid strength of the weed.

Trying not to fall over themselves as they laughed over nothing and everything, Jiro and Andrew cleaned up the mess they had made outside, remembering to try to get rid of the smell by spraying a generous amount of the air freshener all around.

“Is it just me or does it feel like we didn’t eat dinner?” Andrew asked, while trying to suppress a laugh.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Jiro slurred.

Fits of giggles broke out from them. Feeling the pangs of sudden hunger, they went back into the kitchen, to the fridge, from which they made sandwiches. Andrew was the first to finish, and took a final gulp of his orange juice.

Then he eyed Jiro, who was still eating. Suddenly feeling brave and carefree, he walked over to Jiro and pulled him up from his seat into an embrace. Tonight, he was breaking all his rules about not being intimate with another man if it wasn’t behind closed doors. It had been over an hour and a half since Jiro’s parents had gone to bed. The house was dead silent and they had the moment to themselves.

“My God, I’ve missed holding you,” he sighed against Jiro’s neck. “So much… I think I can officially say that I’m addicted to you.”

“I know the feeling,” Jiro said. He dropped his sandwich and pulled back from Andrew long enough to release a few buttons from his jeans, lifting his shirt ever so slightly to reveal his skin.

“Do you want to see how much I have missed you?” he said huskily.

Andrew swallowed hard with mounting desire. The lighting of the kitchen seemed to shed a warm romantic glow on the two men.

“Are you asking me if I want you naked here and now?” Andrew asked quietly, a spark of interest and adventure in his eyes.

Jiro smiled brightly. “Why yes, I believe I am.”

Groaning harshly, Andrew didn’t bother to respond verbally. He yanked the shirt up over Jiro’s head. Jiro’s hands fell on him as well, as he began to quickly undress Andrew as well. With no small amount of urgency, they stripped off the rest of their clothes till they were only in their boxers.

Andrew curved his hands around Jiro’s waist, taking pleasure in the bodily contact. His hands snaked down and grabbed Jiro’s bottom. Then he urged Jiro to lift his body and wrap his legs around him. Jiro inhaled sharply at the touch, licking his lips as he let Andrew lift him to the top of the kitchen counter. Andrew’s touch ran down to Jiro’s thighs as he kissed Jiro’s cheeks, his neck and jaw-line. Jiro rolled his head back and let out a shuddering sigh, feeling wanton in his lover’s arms.

Then itching to reciprocate, Jiro kissed Andrew. His mouth was sweet from the mayonnaise, his tongue gentle but skilled. He touched Andrew, held him, licked him. Andrew melted into his touch, Jiro’s smell and touch making him dizzy with need. Jiro latched himself firmly onto Andrew’s hips, and pulled himself closer until he could feel the throb of Andrew’s erection pressed against his stomach.

The two men grasped and grabbed at each other, sighing and moaning as their need for each other climbed and obliterated whatever awareness they had of their environment.

And so, they didn’t hear the person who entered the kitchen until a sharp gasp jerked them out of their fevered haze.

The gasp was followed by a shocked exclamation: “Blood of Jesus!”

Written by The Controvert