CHAPTER 2 - THE CHAOS THEY PRAYED AGAINST IS ME
I’ve been insulted by better people wearing less makeup and more sense.
“I’ve been insulted by better people wearing less makeup and more sense.”
Two looking bloated, underpaid hotel security guards with too much starch in their uniforms grabbed me like I was some rat caught in a big pot of soup. But I didn’t come here to be slapped and escorted out like I stole something.
“Leave me!” I snapped. “I’m not going anywhere until someone explains why that overpriced mop of lace laid hands on me”.
The bride’s mother, God bless her lungs,began spitting curses that sounded like they’d been marinated in generational trauma. She held her wrapper with frustration, screaming to the heavens, “Olorun ooo! She has come to scatter my daughter’s life! Ashiere oshi! Husband snatcher!”
I gave her the type of smile you reserve before unleashing for mechanics who swear your engine is the problem just to collect more money from you.
The fathers of the groom and bride were pacing and on their phones, muttering Yoruba words with frustration, dialing spiritual advisers, or maybe trying to call God directly. Meanwhile, the guests had gone feral.
Not the family ones. The random plus-ones and Instagram committee of wedding affairs. A group of women were fighting over cooler bags of souvenir bowls. One guy was stuffing jollof rice and grilled chicken into a paper bag like a hungry thief. The big aunties were attempting to restore order, shouting, “E fi nkan na sile!” and slapping hands away from their trays of puff-puff.
Someone was scooping rice into a cooler like their ancestors had fasted for this day. Big aunties were shouting “ole! ole!” and dragging nylon bags from people’s hands. The hall became like Balogun Market on December 23rd.
And through it all, the groom hadn’t taken his eyes off me.
The bride, still crying like the soundtrack to a failed marriage screamed at me. “You ruined my wedding! You ruined everything!”
I blinked slowly. “Girl, who the actual fuck are you?I don't even know…” before I could even think of completing my statement, the crowd dragged me again, one woman yanking off my wig like she was collecting a debt. See eh, I pulled her own wig too alongside her gele in return.
“Touch me again and I’ll slap the makeup off your ancestors,” I hissed, trying to pull away. “abeg, you people should get your crusty hands off me!” I yelled.
Then he walked in.
The groom. Calm. Cool. Smirking like a man who had planned the whole mess from the shadows. “Is this the angel God sent me?” he said, voice low and so smooth, you'd think he never sinned before.
The entire hall went silent.
I looked at him. This man, this fine, insane man was either in love with the devil, me or was the devil himself. Either way, I was really intrigued.
I smirked. “Oh? Am I?” My lips curled. I almost laughed. The bride screamed like her heart had just burst out through a window. “Tobi, are you mad?!”
Her mother pointed at him like he had committed sacrilege. “Tobi, o ti ya were! You’re disgracing us! Adding petrol to fire!” The groom’s mother fainted against her sister’s chest. The bride’s cousin tried to lunge at me but tripped over her own gele. Beautiful.
I was enjoying this. I didn’t mean to. But I was. Because this wasn’t just drama, it was divine chaos. And I was the high priestess.
“I’ll deal with you,” the bride seethed, her voice cracked and ugly. “Oh, yes you will,” I said, calm. “I’ll even help you out.” She slapped me again.
My vision blurred. My spirit disconnected briefly. I was about to retaliate with full ancestral fury when..
“Nini!” Victor’s voice cut through the madness. My big brother. Tall, bearded, and wearing the expression of someone who just walked into a Nollywood scene. He rushed over and grabbed me. “What the hell is going on?”
“If you ask me, who will I ask, oh!” I barked. “What the hell are you even doing here?!” I snapped. He began apologizing.
“I’m so sorry, everyone. I’ll cover damages, I promise..” I cut in. “Don’t you dare,” I hissed. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” He ignored me. “Let’s go, Nini.”
“I’m not going anywhere!”
“Stop it.”
“I SAID I’M NOT FUCKING GOING ANYWHERE!” So, of course, he carried me like a sack of wahala on his shoulder, carried me past the broken aunties and scattered gele, and out into the hotel parking lot.
“PUT ME DOWN, VICTOR!” He dropped me beside his car.
I straightened my dress, panting like a cat that just escaped baptism. “Why would you offer to pay for damages?! I did nothing wrong! And why are you even here?!”
“I was coming to visit you. I saw a crowd and I got curious. I walked in and saw that!. Lo and behold, my sister, being a menace.” He leaned against the car, trying not to laugh.
I shook my head, still vibrating from adrenaline. My wig was gone. My pride? Untouched. He suggested we go to his place. I checked out of the hotel and got in the car. On the way to his house, my mind refused to rest.
That groom. That damn smirk. What was his deal? Was it an attraction? Or was he just a full-blown lunatic? Also… who the hell was that bride? Why did she look at me like she had been plotting revenge since 2015?
I stared out the window, lost in thought.
If you asked me whether I’d do it again, stand up in the middle of a wedding and slap a bride I don’t know? Oh, I’d do it a million times for free even!
And if they’re not careful? I might actually steal her husband, for real this time.