Writers 
For a few seconds, we just looked at each other. No words were said, just her and me and the music playing in the background.
“Why do you dance here?” I finally broke the awkward yet comfortable silence.
“I need the money,” she replied bluntly.
I nodded, unsure of what to ask next.
“What’s your job?, a shirt, nice trousers, and a fine haircut—very different from the pot-bellied men I danced for."
I laughed, and she smiled.
“I’m an intern in a bank. Nothing serious. I just started two months ago,” I said, hoping I wasn’t oversharing.
“You’re a money man.”
“No, not at all,” I replied, and we both laughed.
“I wish I could do something better with my life,” she said, and looked away. The cheer in her voice was absent.
“Are you educated?”
She looked at me but didn’t answer.
“Do you have a certificate?”
“You think that if I had the luxury of a proper education, I’d be performing for these hungry dogs?” she said, and I felt sad for her.
“Are you saving to go to school?” I asked.
“Let’s talk about something else, please,” she said, and I felt like I had offended her.
“I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life. I was just trying to have a conversation with you. I’m sorry.”
She giggled dryly.
“It’s fine. It’s obvious you haven’t spoken to a girl before. You have five minutes left. It’s better I continue what you paid for.”
I was about to stop her when she got up and resumed dancing.
I knew I had made a big mistake. I wanted to talk, but I couldn’t find the right words.
I tried to touch her hand, but she turned, and my hand accidentally landed where it shouldn’t have. She gave me a not-so-hard but very noticeable slap. I was shocked. She hissed and walked out.
I didn’t call after her. I just held my cheek and stared into nothingness.
“Oga, come out. Your time has expired,” Mama Chi said with a terrible side-eye.
I stood up and left shamefully.
I wasn’t happy that night. After all my stress and money, I had ended up being slapped and hissed at. Though I had enjoyed our little chit-chat, I didn’t want the night to end like that.
I had to fix things between us, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t have another ₦10,000 to spare.
That was what I thought about until I fell asleep.
At work the next day, it was obvious I wasn’t in a good mood.
“Guy, are you fine?” my work buddy, Tunde, asked when we were eating during our lunch break.
I sighed and shook my head.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I messed things up with the girl I think I like, and I don’t know how to make things right,” I said out of frustration.
“It’s girl matter that’s making you behave like this?” he asked, laughing.
I just looked at him angrily and hissed.
“Calm down, no vex. But girls are plenty in Lagos. Why are you sad because of one small Lagos girl? You’re a fine boy; any girl would want to be with you,” he said.
“You don’t understand. I don’t want any girl. I want her. She’s different. She’s special,” I said, bowing my head.
“I understand. Buy something for her, or write an apology message and take her out on a date,” he said with his mouth full.
“That’s another problem. I don’t have her number,” I told him. I didn’t even remember to ask for her number, but I was foolishly asking about her education level.
“I don’t have any more options for you, lover boy,” he said.
I appreciated him for being helpful, and we changed the conversation to football gist.
That night, my broke self returned to the club and went to Mama Chi. The moment she saw me, she hissed and ignored me, but I ignored that too and greeted her.
“I want a dance with African Waist,” I requested respectfully.
“She said you were touching her inappropriately after she warned you, and she didn’t like it. So she told me not to let you come near her again,” she said, and I nearly screamed.
“But, ma, please. I’ll pay. I won’t touch her again.”
“No disturb me, abeg. It’s either you drink beer and eat pepper soup now or go home. No African Waist for you. You no dey hear word!”
she screamed.
I walked away.
I went home feeling so sad. I knew it was my fault, but that wouldn’t stop me from going there tomorrow. I would keep trying my luck.
