Chapter One: Part Three | BOUND TO LIBERTY
Updated: Jan 23, 2020
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Chapter One: Part Three
Minutes later, the male server in an all-black outfit returned. The man carried a shiny tray and decanted the cocktails onto the low dark wooden table.
“Thank you.” James accepted the copper mug of Moscow mule.
One of the things he loved about this nightclub was that the bartenders had finesse and flair he hadn’t encountered in any other Lagos bars.
He took a sip of the crisp, refreshing drink, and sighed with pleasure as he relaxed again. Nowhere else served him the perfect blend of sweet and tangy, of vodka, ginger beer, and lime juice, except when he made the cocktail at home.
Close to the chest-high railing designed to blend with the rest of the venue, Gozie ground hip-to-hip between two girls in mini-skirts, halter tops, and stilettos. With so much bare skin on display, very little stayed in the imagination. They seemed to be providing their own sensual show to anyone interested in watching.
On spotting the new drinks arrive, Gozie detached himself and sauntered over to the table.
“You’re so shameless,” Kezie said in jest to his brother, a smirk curling his lips. “Are you actually going home with both of them?”
James suppressed laughter and swallowed another gulp of Moscow mule.
The Nwobodo twins were heartthrobs. Babe magnets. Party animals.
Unlike his brother, who still changed women like underwear, Kezie had calmed down somewhat.
Gozie chuckled as he leaned over the table to grab the drinks. “You know I’ll share them with you, Kez.”
This close together, the similarities between the brothers lay stark. They had exactly the same facial features, body build, and height, and styled their hair in similar locs. Today, people could differentiate them using their clothing. Gozie wore a grey shirt, while Kezie was in black.
However, James knew there were other distinguishing marks buried under the clothing, marks only a lover would notice. Like a scar on Kezie’s back, that he’d acquired after he injured himself slipping off a metal bunk bed in school.
“Nah,” Kezie replied with a shake of his head. “I’m not in the mood for that tonight.”
“I guess you’re off the market these days,” Gozie spoke, turning his head to wink. “You’re almost becoming a monk, like James.”
James, who had just taken a sip of his drink, spluttered onto his hand and clothes. He reached for one of the paper serviettes on the table and dabbed his shirt and trousers.
“What? I’m not a monk!” James protested. He wasn’t celibate, unless he counted the almost seven days since he’d last had sex.
“Really?” Gozie asked, one brow raised in challenge. “When was the last time you fucked a woman?”
James opened his mouth and closed it. He glanced at Kezie, who just stared at him with twinkling eyes which said, “He has you there.”
He was tempted to say, “I may not have fucked a woman, but I’m certainly going to fuck a man tonight.”
Instead, he shook his head and stood up. “My sex life is not up for discussion. I’m going to the bathroom to clean this mess.”
He waved his hand up and down to indicate the spillage on his clothes, barely visible in the dim lighting. Still, he needed a reason to escape.
Gozie had spoken as if he knew that James and Kezie were lovers.
As much as James was reluctant to out himself as a gay man, Kezie was worse. His friend’s aversion bordered on paranoia sometimes.
To James’s knowledge, Kezie hadn’t told his twin about the depth of his relationship with James. As far as anyone knew, they were the best of friends. Period.
Then again, considering their history, Gozie had to suspect, surely, even if he never openly questioned his brother.
In the gents, James did his business, zipped up, and walked to the sink to wash his hands. He stared at his reflection in the mirror.
He wore a short-sleeved pure cotton navy T-shirt with a crew neckline, black slim-fit chinos, and brown suede chukka boots with white soles. His hair was cut in a style which needed a little gel to give it a wavy effect.
Not conceited enough to claim to be the most handsome man around, James would admit to being blessed with the good looks that ran in his family—the high cheekbones, Nubian nose, and ebony skin.
If he considered himself to be a member of the Danladi clan.
His chest tightened, and his mouth soured.
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