Behind Closed Doors

Chapter Twenty

From the Vanguard newspaper, Sunday Edition, 19 September 2001:

“In recent times, the country has seen an influx of moral decadence in the thin fabric of the society. Now, such decadence has reached its peak in the form of T. O. Phoenix who breezed into Nollywood last year with his shocking act in Desperate Mission. Then, we never knew what the guy had up his sleeves until he recently showed his face again in a more shocking role, and guess what this time: HE PLAYS A WOMAN.  And that, readers, is pure decadence on the part of this actor, with the hypocrite flaunting his homosexuality for all to see. That is－’

Henry Johnson flung the copy of the Sunday Vanguard down to the desk and then he went to stand by the window and looked down into the busy street two stories below the private dining booth of the four-star hotel where he was having lunch with Phoenix. He felt hot all over because of the sweltering heat of the September sun even though the air-conditioning system in the room was working. Now, he’d lost his appetite because of the offending article he’d read, and he felt suffused with an overwhelming sense of anger against the sleazy reporter that had written that article.

‘If they keep up with this nonsense, they will ruin me,’ Phoenix said, his voice pitched low. ‘Just yesterday I went to the Jacande market to buy some groceries and an elderly woman was screaming abuses at me, calling me an ashewo and a homo. And it was right at the bus stop too. I almost died with shame there. And this is all because of what they are writing about me in the papers. People were trying to calm her down, letting her know that I was just an actor, but the woman would have none of it.’

‘You’re getting aggravated over such a small issue.’ Henry turned back and went into his chair to sit down.

Phoenix laughed, and gone was the assured movie star with the overwhelming sense of charisma; he seemed insecure now. ‘Call me crazy, but if they don’t try to stop what they’re doing to me now, then I fear that one day someone may get a knife, box me into a corner and then start hacking away at me.’

‘You knew what could come of this when you refused to let an actress take that role; you were ready for this.’ Henry gestured with his fork.

Phoenix picked up his own fork, jabbed it into his plate, and came up with three triangles of chocolate pancakes which he shoved into his mouth. ‘I was ready for something akin to this. What I was not ready for was for some persons to take it as their God-given mission to try and run me to earth. If they succeed, then I will be dropped like a hot potato and may even get seriously bashed up by some persons who may feel me to be a threat to them. Or it could be by some persons who hate me because I remind them of their own homosexuality－ which they keep thoroughly repressed just for the record－ and they will then wipe me off the earth.’

Henry let his fork drop as he gawked at Phoenix with eyes that were round like saucers. He leaned forward in his chair. ‘Do you mean to tell me that you fear for your life?’ he asked incredulously.

Phoenix’s perfectly arched brows rose up as a smile curved on his lips, and Henry knew then that Phoenix was a guy that loved flirting with disaster. With his angelic, incredibly beautiful face, he was a mirror of beautiful tragedy, one that begged you to believe in him; the guy was a disaster magnet. He had toyed with death by strangulation when he’d played with Ali Hassan’s snakes, and he’d courted danger when he’d accepted the roles that would make him a Bankable Star in the industry. Henry knew that Phoenix was right about the fact that he could be in danger, so it was not something that he could overlook, at least not by a long shot.

‘I am on your side,’ Henry said.

‘I don’t need a knight in shining armor,’ Phoenix snapped, and the sound was like a whiplash to Henry’s mind. ‘If I were you, I would run as far as my skinny legs can carry me off. But thanks for being there.’

And with that Phoenix was on his feet, and he walked around the table to stand behind Henry. Then his arms enclosed around Henry’s neck, his cheek pressed against Henry’s hair. Henry squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled the rosy fragrance of Phoenix’s perfume, and deep within his heart he wished that this moment could last forever, and darn anybody who said he couldn’t be gay and be proud of it.

Slowly, he stood up and turned to look the actor squarely in the face, and the sadness he saw in those brown eyes were burned into his mind. And then Phoenix turned and walked away, his body looking so slim and firm, yet very fragile, like a baby’s.

Henry waited for a few minutes after his lover had left and then he took his car keys and went down to the street. On the drive back to his office he was in a very contemplative mood. He knew that he had to do something to those that were trying to destroy his boy.

On reaching there, he called two men into his office. They were the men Chinua Johnson used as his Muscle when he was still alive and Henry now wanted to put them to use. They were muscle-bound, both of them, and they had the menacing air of men who had seen virtually all there was to see and more too.

They were perfect for the job.