MATERIAL BOYS

Gay men are often touted as people known to possess a measure of wit and humour – an impressionable style and appearance too. If this was a standard with gay men, then it was no wonder Ifeanyi felt less and less gay whenever he was in the company of his friends.

They were ensconced now in the Cocoon Bar, a private bistro at a secluded spot where they had a 360 degree view of the environment, a vantage point that suited their roving eyes and sharp tongues very well. And seated amongst them, Ifeanyi found himself, as he often was, lost in his admiration of their coordinated outfits, expensive gadgets and the ease with which they threw barbs at each other and laughed over it.

Afflige was Kosi’s moniker for him. It pleased Kosi to no end to taunt Ifeanyi. To him, Ifeanyi was the group’s duff, a very subpar human being.

“Guys, guess what,” Edgar cooed just then, “my Texas boyfriend is getting me the iPhone 7.” He said this with some aplomb, smirking as he finished his announcement with a dramatic air, as though expecting to have made an impression.

Edgar had a native name which he abolished from his life the higher he rose in his social status. When he introduced himself to new acquaintances, he said “Hi, I’m Edgar” with the sangfroid you’d expect from single-named stars when they said “Hi, I’m Madonna” or “Hello, I’m Rihanna.”

“Uhm,” Kosi interjected, “is he getting you the plus model? Because, hunnay, that is the ish.”

There was a split second of silence as all eyes reverted to Edgar. It was evident from the suddenly chagrinned expression on his face that he knew he had sprung a trap on himself.

“I wouldn’t know…” he stuttered an explanation. “I just asked him and he –”

“Let me stop you right there, darling,” Kosi said, gesturing him to silence with a quick queenly wave of his hand. Then he dropped the phone in his hand on the table, before reaching into the crocodile-skin shoulder bag slung over the back of his chair to retrieve another phone, which he dropped next to the first. An iPhone 6 Plus and a Samsung Galaxy S6 stared mockingly back at Edgar, their LED lights blinking intermittently.

“As you can see,” Kosi drawled, “I own the iPhone 6 Plus and the Samsung Galaxy S6. These phones were the ish until recently. The more reason I have ordered for my iPhone 7 Plus with a rose-gold design, so I can stay comfy at the top of the gadget chain. Ain’t nobody got time to stay stuck in last season’s gadgets. The iPhone 7 Plus is the bomb, what with its water-resistant coating and the newly added taptic engine to boost the gadget’s user interface. I mean, you own it and everyone else expecting iPhone 7 from Texas boyfriends becomes your bitch.”

Kosi was a rapid talker. He was also very entertaining when he held court. When he spoke, he loved to interject with mannerisms, such as the twirling of his fingers, which he kept very manicured at all times, or the poignant flip of his imaginary hair extensions, especially in punctuation of whatever shade he’d successfully decimated someone’s destiny with. His barbs were always so well-aimed that they often had his audience reeling with laughter, except of course the victim, who’d either glare helplessly or want silently for the ground to consume him whole.

And that was so now, with the rest of the group laughing and Edgar looking daggers at Kosi.

“Well, this is certainly a word to the wise,” Morris said as laughter gurgled from him. “Don’t just demand for an iPhone. All iPhones are not the same. Demand for the plus, which is the ish.”

“I mean, there is a reason why there’s a plus and a minus,” Seyi said with a smirk and a pointed, eyebrow-raised look at Edgar.

“Oh shut up, Seyi,” Edgar snapped. “After all, is it not a Blackberry you’re using?”

“A Blackberry Priv, darling,” Seyi rejoined. “Say it with respect please. It’s the most expensive kind. But yes, we all know the Blackberry brand is a sinking ship, so I’m getting my iPhone 7 Plus next week. I no fit sidan carry last.”

And the group started laughing again.

Ifeanyi was thoroughly amused and fascinated by these guys, even though all their highfalutin talk left him feeling very uneasy. He hadn’t always rolled with them. He’d met McQueen for a hookup a month ago, and after a few trysts, their chemistry expired and both of them had settled into a platonic friendship. Following this, McQueen had introduced him to his own friends, Edgar, Morris, Seyi and Kosi, who fancied himself the Queen Bee of the bunch.

In the short period of him knowing them, Ifeanyi had gotten to know that Kosi was the fiercely independent one amongst them. Disowned by his parents for being gay a few years ago, he’d struck out on his own, and by every indication, was doing very well for himself. It was no secret however that his bread and butter lay in how good a time he gave the affluent men he fooled around with.

Edgar liked to talk too much, and was the neediest of the bunch. Seyi and Morris were offspring of wealthy homes, with Morris the more sophisticated of the two, what with all the holidays he usually spent with his family abroad. His Facebook page was full of pictures and videos of his fabulous lifestyle. Ifeanyi often wondered why he didn’t school abroad instead of the private university he attended in Nigeria. He was way out of the league of the others.

Actually, they all were way out of his league – even McQueen who came from an upper middle class family and was really named Nmaduabughichi. The Tecno Camon C8 Ifeanyi had nearly starved himself to death to buy had a spider-web crack emblazoned on the screen. Not even the fact that McQueen’s phone was a Tecno Phantom 6 Plus could make him feel good about being in the company of this plastic gang. McQueen had told him his sugar daddy from Lekki had bought the phone for him. Ifeanyi hadn’t had any reason to doubt him, until he happened on some texts in McQueen’s phone, texts from the infuriated Sugar daddy threatening fire and brimstone on McQueen for disappearing with the phone he’d just purchased after their one night stand at a hotel. Discovering that McQueen had stolen the phone didn’t diminish Ifeanyi’s admiration for the guy. Oh no. Instead it heightened his respect for such a person who’d do anything to boost his station in life, however unscrupulous what he had to do was.

There was a lull at the table after their laughter died down, as Edgar recovered from Kosi’s putdown. Everyone seemed busy swiping at and chatting on their devices. Ifeanyi sat there, idly contemplating every one of them. He always tried to stay invisible when he was in their midst, so great was his sense of inferiority. He never had any rejoinders for their shades and always kept the volume of his laughs low; one time he’d laughed too loud at something nasty Kosi said to Seyi, a smarting Seyi had turned on him and eviscerated him much to the delight of the others. Ifeanyi learned his lesson quickly.

And so, when his phone rang out suddenly, intruding on the silence at the table, he felt a surge of mortification darken his face as the attention of the others instantly became riveted on him.

“What kind of phone is that?” Edgar pounced.

“Is that a phone or a small joke?” Kosi added.

That stung. Laughter phalanxed on the table as Ifeanyi hurriedly picked the phone out of his pocket and silenced the ring. Glancing at the screen, he could see that it was his mother calling. He had no intention of answering the call; he already knew what she wanted. She’d earlier sent him off to buy kerosene with some money, which he had repossessed and tucked away into his savings in preparation of his purchase of a fairly used iPhone or Samsung phone. He’d already decided he would tell her he lost the money on his way to the gas station. But he couldn’t have that conversation now, not when these cats were within earshot.

Just then, Kosi emptied his glass of Chapman, and announced that he was leaving.

“The evening is far spent, darlings,” he purred as he side-hugged them one after the other. “And besides, my ride is here.” He pointed outside, and through the French windows, they could see a white-coloured LR3 pulling up at the entrance to the bistro’s compound, its headlamps puncturing the rapidly-falling light of the evening.

They watched Kosi saunter out of the room, his bag slung across his torso, as he moved in the direction of the car. Nobody alighted from the car. Kosi got to the passenger side of the front, pulled the door open and vanished inside. A second later, the car was reversing out of the compound.

“Ashawo,” McQueen cussed affectionately after Kosi.

“Abeg leave am,” Seyi said. “He’s doing what God approves of.”

“How do you figure?” Morris said with a laugh.

“Well, don’t they say that Heaven helps those who help themselves? Since his ministry is blooming, he must be doing it right and Heaven must be helping him a lot.”

This time, even Ifeanyi had to laugh out loud.

Morris finished his drink then and got up to leave, picking up his devices and car keys from the table – or rather, his mother’s car keys. Ifeanyi happened to know that for all their poshness, none of them owned a car.

“Guys, I have to get going,” he announced. “Our estate is doing this curfew nonsense, and I need to be home before it starts.”

“I have to leave too.” Seyi was getting up. “I’d forgotten my sister is coming over tonight to discuss her bridesmaids’ dresses with me.” Seyi was a gifted designer, and had only just started flourishing with his ideas and threads and fabrics.

Ifeanyi’s phone was buzzing again but he had ignored it. “Can I join you?” he asked Seyi, ignoring the alarm in McQueen’s stare and Edgar’s look of disdain.

Seyi paused to look him up and down for a brief second. “Join me?” he said with arched brows.

“Yes. For the night.”

Edgar and Morris began chortling, while McQueen gave a quick sorrowful shake of his head.

Seyi’s lips had curved into a coy smile as he said, “Sure, why not?”

Ifeanyi hid a smile of his own. He’d always suspected that Seyi had the hots for him. He didn’t like the guy himself; he wasn’t his type, what with his querulous nature and dark-skinned, slight-statured body. But he had made a decision a minute ago, and he was determined to give it a go.

It was time for him to climb the social ladder.

The five of them strolled out of the bistro  to the parking lot, idly gisting as Morris and Seyi unlocked the cars they came with. Edgar, who was going Morris’s way, slid into the red CR-V, while Ifeanyi walked over to the passenger side of Seyi’s Honda. McQueen made no move toward either car.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Seyi asked him.

“No. I am waiting for my boyfriend,” he replied.

Seyi turned on the ignition and the car purred to life. The headlamps came on as he eased the Honda out of the parking spot after Morris. As he drove toward the gate, he occasionally glanced at his rearview mirror at McQueen, who was still standing where they’d left him.

“Boyfriend, my ass,” he hissed. “Such a liar.”

Ifeanyi faked a laugh in response. He really didn’t like Seyi; the guy was much too catty for him. And that was why he’d get so much pleasure and no guilt from what he was going to do to him. There was much on his mind, much he had to sift through to be able to focus on his plan. There was his mother’s wrath to face at home. And then the fact that his family would somehow have to manage something for dinner since there was no kerosene to cook with. But all that had to wait till he got home to deal with them.

For now, he had to focus. With that determined thought, he reclined on the seat beside Seyi and thought about McQueen and his stolen phone.

Written by Peaches