There he was in all his glory—Tosin Balewa, the third son of billionaire Harry Balewa. Tosin had quite the reputation: womanizer, party animal, not surprisingly the black sheep of his family and surprisingly a tech mogul in his own right. He wore a Celine white tee, Adidas sweats, and Levi sneakers.
He had money, lots of it, and often parted with it freely. This weekend, I'd come to get my share. I made the trip all the way from UNEC, Enugu, down here to Abuja. Because I was only a student hustling her way, I had taken the night bus.
I'd imagined several scenarios of how I would get him to notice me. In one of them, I was seated at the bar of the trendy club, pretending to be lost in an interesting conversation with the bartender, and Tosin would approach. He would insert himself firmly in the middle, striving to steal my attention for himself alone.
In another scenario, I would be dancing and feel a warm presence behind me. This towering figure wouldn't be trying to grope me but rather, he would fall in tune with the music and we would dance until we were out of breath. After, he would invite me out of there and the rest would be, well, history.
In the last scenario—this one at the recreational center where Tosin favored taking his niece—we would bump into each other and connect over a shared love for children.
None of those things happened. Instead, I watched Tosin order actual food and, once he started eating, he was completely oblivious to his surroundings. He was bent over his phone, a frown marring his smooth forehead, and for the first time, I found myself thinking, He's cute.
Tosin was handsome. This was a fact, but it didn't matter. Who pretty boy help? We are here for the bag. I'd seen pictures of him online, watched videos, studied his habits and preferences as much as I could. I was ready.
But then a woman sauntered over to his table—his type, tall, slim, and busty—and took the seat opposite him.
A curse threatened to spill from my lips. I should have made my move earlier. But when Tosin glanced up at her, he quietly returned to his phone as if she was invisible. The woman shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She leaned over and tried to speak with him, but after a few minutes of being ignored, she got up and stalked away, a vision of a woman scorned.
A sigh of relief escaped me, but with it came a nagging worry. I looked down at myself. I was dressed to the nines in a dark purple corset dress that flared at the waist, ending mid-thigh. I was tall but not tall enough to stand out; I mostly had long limbs. I wore lace-up heels to crown the outfit, and I'd taken care with my makeup. Of course, my bright red lipstick was the highlight. It was my signature look.
Inasmuch as I felt as good as I looked, was it enough to get Tosin's attention? I sat a few tables away from him, in a shadowed part of the hall, sipping on a pricey cocktail I'd gotten earlier. In my secret wishes, he'd glance once in my direction, but he never did.
Here was the moment of truth. I had to approach him; there was no other way around it or all of my investment would be a waste. The cocktail I'd just devoured was a personal favorite of his. I must admit he had good taste. Besides a bottle of water on his table, Tosin hadn't gotten any drink.
As unconventional as it was, I went to the bar and cringed when I paid for another cocktail. That one I took to his table and set before him. My heart was in my throat as I awaited his reaction.
Juliet is a Nigerian writer and storyteller drawn to the unseen narratives of everyday life. Her stories explore the profound moments hidden in ordinary relationships and ambitions.
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