Monsieur Woke: Late
“She’s talking about us- about you again,” Joseph mentioned.
“Huh?”
“That girl… what’s her name again?” Joseph continued.
“Yo, leave me alone, man!”
“Yes, yes, her! That girl, what’s her name? Um, um… you had sex with her a while back, like three years ago. Damn, Monsieur Woke with the spiritual D. My brother!”
I ignored him, keeping my eyes focused on rewatching Archer.
“Come, bro. Don’t ignore me. It hurts.”
“You aren’t dead, are you?”
“But you want me to be, that hurts more,” He cried.
I did want him dead, permanently gone from my life. Once a coping mechanism, he became a pest in my life.
“You cannot get rid of me that easily,” He boasted. “Anyways, what is the time?”
“Why?” I asked and then burst out laughing. “Damn, Archer is so funny.”
“Your date?”
“My date?
“Yes?”
“With?
“With? Really?”
“Dude?”
“Oh? Is that what it is? My boy is back! Death to the new you!”
“Chill, do you mean Lade?” I curiously asked. “Didn’t she cancel?”
Joseph did his annoying laugh again.
“This is why you can’t get laid and keep running through your cousin’s lotion. Monsieur Wank has a better ring to it.”
“She cancelled,” I shouted, defensively, picking up my phone. “Didn’t she?”
Joseph giggled and took my position on the bed watching Archer.
“Your loss, mate!” He howled, laughing at me.
“Shit, I am screwed!” I cried. “I have to be there in five minutes and…”
“Breathe buddy boy,” He interrupted. “Just give me the phone and go shower.”
“Shower? There’s barely anytime!”
“There, five seconds gone. You could have washed your ass crack. Now, get in there and shut up. You have a minute to shower and three to brush your teeth. Hurry up!”
Five minutes after, I was out with my towel hanging around my waist. I saw a message from Lade saying “Alright.” I stared Joseph in the eye.
“What did you…” I paused, unlocked my phone and read his message to her. “… not bad. Not bad at all. Genius.”
“Still got it,” He coughed, feeling proud.
My arrival was postponed by Lagos traffic which Joseph took advantage of.
“You are going to fuck right?”
“Dude, why?”
“What do you mean why?” He looked at me awfully, taking sips out of his black bullet can.
“Please, Jo, not tonight,” I begged.
He sighed and then grumbled.
“It hurts seeing you chronically masturbate like that when pussy is everywhere.”
“Alright. Why should I be knacking?”
“Who is paying tonight?”
“Me?”
“Cha-ching! Exactly!”
“I give up with you. Your logic is flawed. If she pays and demands sex, what happens?”
His face beamed with excitement.
“That’s a double win for you, my friend.”
He curled up into a corner of his seat laughing. I heard him whisper, “What happens? You get your dick wet my nigga, that’s what the fuck happens!”
“I like her, Jo,” I shy fully admitted. “I hope it’s different this time.”
“Okay, Faggot.”
“That’s straight out offensive,” I warned.
“You didn’t think so when you called Thompson from down the road a raging faggot. You didn’t huh?”
I was quiet, he continued.
“You obviously don’t think his suicide was … a ‘coincidence’, do you?”
Joseph laughed one more time, aggressively taking more sips from his can till it was empty. The remainder of the trip to the restaurant was spent in silence.
Being 15 minutes late, I arrived at the restaurant and saw Lade sitting alone at the far end of the room. Her caramel skin illuminated by the rays of light shining from the chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. I gulped a ball of saliva out of being nervous.
“She wanna fuck you too bro,” Joseph broke his silence, ruining the moment. “Do you see that cleavage my nigga?”
I ignored the bumbling buffoon and apologized to my date for the wait which she accepted. She was beautiful.
“Yes, yes, I agree. She is beautiful and that is why you have to sma-
“SHUT THE ENTIRE FUCK UP, JOSEPH,” I screamed, losing my temper. “Get the fuck away.”
Everyone in the restaurant looked in awe, all fixated on me, scared, worried and seemly terrified. So was Lade.
“Who are you talking to?” She asked, slowly distancing herself.
I took in a deep breath and whispered.
“Fuck.”