THE JULIUS SHINDIG [Part 2]

in writing •  7 years ago 

the julius shindig.jpgTHE JULIUS SHINDIG
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Part 2
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Oh well…”, I thought morosely as I braced myself to hear what deprecating tale Yewande had to tell about Madam Julius.
“I was talking to Julius and some of his friends when his wife came over, ‘forming busy’, as per iyawo celebrant and interrupting us severally…”
“She doesn’t have to ‘form busy’ when she’s got paid-caterers and a party planner” I said snidely, trying hard not to make sudden moves because I could feel my ears buzzing. Champagne was the worst! Yewande wasn’t pleased at my tone or the fact that I interrupted her gist. Nonetheless, she continued.
“Anyway sha, she was draped in diamonds and expensive Swiss lace and speaking fone through her nose like one…”
“…Is she fine?” I interrupted again. “Are you drunk?” came Yewande’s caustic response. My tipsy soul was hurt by her retort. I took that as a cue to shut up and listen. After a brief glare in my direction, she continued.
“She’s not all that fine sef; its just that she’s slim. I never figured Julius would end up with a slim woman. He’s always been drawn to buxom babes”.
Her sore point was noted. I knew instinctively that she was going to hit the gym in in no time. ‘Yewande was beyond pathetic’ I thought as I craned my neck to see if my flirt-action was still in position. Bummer! He was gone. Oh-well…
“Maybe she’s fat in her ‘Southern garden’ I said in drunken mirth, chortling at my own comedic ingenuity. Yewande wasn’t impressed.
The party dragged and Yewande’s disappearing act became staple. I had had enough. I was drunk, h---y and sleepy. Most of the politicians had gone, taking a few lucky ladies with them. The unlucky castaways remained, vying for attention amongst the few big boys and the young Unilag students left at the party. The vast majority of the Unilag boys had mounted sentry around the booze source and had turned the arena into a small fraternity gathering. The sudden buzz of argument coming from the high table area caught my attention but I shrugged nonchalantly, surmising that some miscreant had found his way in and was being challenged by security. It wasn’t until I saw one of the ladies from the table pointing at me and saying something inaudible against the drone of music that I suspected something was amiss. The lady approached me with ‘Flirt-action’ in tow.
“Your friend is making a fool of herself. Better go and get her before security throws her out” the lady said in barely concealed scorn. My confusion was evident as I stared back at her through my drunken haze, trying to comprehend her words. Flirt-Action leaned towards me and I smiled at him leeringly. Up close, he looked quite young and ruggedly handsome. He was saying something I could barely decipher. His lips looked kissable though.
“Your friend… the beautiful lady with the big a-s has gotten into a fight with the celebrant’s wife”, he said with a solemn look. Trust him to notice Yewande’s a-s; bloody freak! My flirty thoughts halted immediately as the import of his words sank in. Good grief!
My drunkenness evaporated as I sprung to my feet and made my way towards the area of the fracas. I got there in time to see Yewande, sans her gele, being told to leave by two burly men in black suits while several big girls were trying to calm down a lady who looked like a wasp in shiny lace. Julius, whom I suspected was the reason for this brouhaha, was smoking a cigarette by a corner and pretending to listen to his friends and three big bosomed ladies who were acting as ‘quarrel intermediaries’. Yewande spotted me and started to ‘rake’ loudly.
“Imagine o Vuoke? This useless woman called me husband snatcher. Isn’t she the husband snatcher?? Where was she when Julius was a struggling lawyer???”
Above and beyond Yewande’s raking, I stared hard at the wasp. Her eyes were red and the veins in her neck stood like rail tracks. Her tear-drop diamond earrings glowed in the night light, casting a rainbow of colors on her pinched face. Waspy noticed me pleading with the men in black and the insults, initially meant for Yewande, somehow managed to engulf me as well.
“Desperate prostitutes. See them? They couldn’t even hold themselves in check. Your attempt at getting my husband has failed. Get these things out of here! I want them… both of them, out!” Waspy pointed at me and Yewande.
We were escorted to our table to get our bags and Yewande’s gele, (which had mysteriously appeared at the table) and shown the way out. The men in black were not playing. As we left, I realized we were now the cynosure of all eyes. Some were glaring at us for daring to ruin the party; some were tattling disparagingly while others just gave us dirty looks; the kind one gives to two bit hookers. ‘Un’-Flirt-Action even had the nerve to cast me a look of pity. My shame knew no bounds. Meanwhile, Yewande was beside me, insisting that she had to speak to Julius before we leave. I was mortified. I grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and practically dragged her towards the exit when Julius’ loud boastful voice echoed down the hall…
“Imagine how that one came to disrupt my birthday. I only gave her invite because she has been disturbing me with phone calls and text…Some ladies don’t know when to give up.”
I was livid as I turned to Yewande. She had told me Julius was the one that insisted she came to his party. Now I hear the boastful midget singing a different tune.
“ I hope you’re happy now? Julius this, Julius that… See the humiliation you’ve brought upon us? See where your lack of self esteem has pushed you to? Sebi you want to speak with him? Oya go ahead. Exhibit your desperation to him, his friends and his wasp of a wife. Maybe it will help you find closure!”
Yewande’s face crumpled and her mouth shook with threatened sobs. I gave her a look that spoke volumes and stormed out of the Eagles Club, almost tripping over in my heels. I yanked off the damned shoes and stomped away, bare feet, leaving Yewande to make her painful choice… To speak with Julius or follow me home with what little dignity she had left.
…Her choice was predictable. Thank God I’m not Yewande!
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THE END.

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