There was something about payback, if you did not have the balls or the bank account, don’t try it.
I laid sprawled on my bed, I was half naked, my only piece of clothing the red thong on my ass.
Three days later and Cherokee was still mad at me. And I was mad at him too, the nerve he had to fuck around my back and then, get angry for catching me doing the same thing.
Men just believed they ruled the world.
Lynxx look alike had been fired by Cherokee immediately but I would eternally be grateful to that hottie and the great sex we had right there in my empty Gym on a day when nothing had been planned.
I rolled off the bed and strolled into the Kitchen, I had an event to attend in a couple of hours but I was not sure I wanted to be there.
I was mega pissed, I was about to be broke and I had nowhere to go to.
Since I graduated from school three years before, I had not used my certificate and I had never attended a job interview.
You wonder how I spend my time then? Ugh you haven’t seen my Instagram? I spend it travelling around the world and getting dolled up and Ladies, y’all know getting dolled up in itself is mega hard so why do I need an extra job?
I grabbed a bottle of coke and reached for my favorite brand of Vodka inside my cabinet.
As I mixed the drinks and threw Ice cubes in there for a cold effect, my mind ran through a million and one ways I could salvage my situation.
Being broke was the worst thing that could happen to any woman.
As I strolled back to the sitting room, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that stood on the wall between my kitchen and my sitting room; I was pretty as fuck. I know that sounds a bit conceited and all that but you know when you are pretty, you don’t need validation for the obvious state of your face.
My chocolate skin was well taken care of and it shone brighter than any yellow skin in a room, I might posses a tiny waist too and my ass quite small but I was also slim which compensated for everything else.
And that was my CV.
And I needed to use that CV to find another Sugar Daddy. And when I found this one, I would be smart enough to start a clothing business or makeup line or one of those other things Sugar babies like me liked to invest money in and call business.
There are three things I have come to love about Lagos in my adult life – The Night Life, The Exclusive Parties and The Availability of Sugar Daddies.
Now I know a couple of people would disagree on the latter and insist Abuja has more Sugar Daddies than Lagos.
Well, you might be right. But God forbid me to relocate to that boring hole just because I needed a Sugar Daddy there.
I can go there to find one sha, then he can fly me in whenever he needs the P.
But that I will now go and be living in that dead place? Mba.
As I linked VI through the Lekki Toll, I hoped for the thousandth time that evening that I would be lucky.
I had never done this, my former and only Sugar Daddy so far found me in the shower, fucked me crazy and before I knew it I was Sugar baby.
I never looked or searched for, he found me.
Now how was I going to find another?
And as stupid as I was, I was being faithful to the goat.
The event I was going for was an overindulged wealthy man’s daughter’s album launch and I knew a couple of her father’s friends would be there.
So maybe I could find a money bag for myself and if I couldn’t, I’d have to hit on the girl’s father.
Oh whatever, don’t judge me. We all have our talents and this is mine.
I parked my Range as I got to the Venue, grabbed my Balenciaga bag and got down from the car.
As I locked the car, I reminded myself I looked good in my Givenchy heels and Dior dress.
This would be good, this would be really good, Kelechi.
I was telling you what I Loved about Lagos the other time, yeah?
Well, here is one of the things I hate the most; the eye service.
The hostess of the day found me, dragged me to the red carpet with her and posed severally with me.
I knew how to do it for the camera and so I let out all my red carpet poses effortlessly.
I had greeted a few more Celebrities I did not like and who I knew did not care about me but only said hi because of what I could do for them before I found my seat in the VIP section.
Some upcoming artiste was performing a Rihanna song and she was killing it, literally.
And I was angry.
See, I love Rihanna and her songs and she’s my ringtone, backdrop on my sms and Im apps and even wallpaper on my phone these days that nobody cares about Wallpaper anymore.
I liked her that much and that was why I was angry at this motherfucker who needs to get another job asides singing.
My phone beeped, momentarily saving me from the singer and her decision to ruin Rihanna’s “What Now” for me.
It was Natasha texting me.
I did not understand what she meant by that but when I sighted her walking into the Hall, heading towards me, a cold dark look in her eyes, I knew something was awfully wrong.
She dragged me up, pulled at my dress and tore it and then shoved me back into my seat but not until she’d slapped me twice.
Then she looked around and said, “Ladies and gentlemen the fucking prostitute who sleeps with her friend’s father for money.”
I cannot say for sure for how many minutes I was shocked or the number of camera flashes and clicks in my face.
I just know I eventually stood, wobbled through the crowded room towards the door.
See y’all On Friday.
– Tomilola Coco Adeyemo