Behind Closed Doors

Chapter Twenty-four

Henry was in love with Phoenix, so he got to be extremely possessive of the guy. He felt now, by a reason that totally defied rational explanation, that Phoenix was now a part of him. The passion he felt for the guy transcended anything he’d ever felt for any other person, and the guy’s exquisitely beautiful looks always got the better of him whenever he saw the guy. He felt that Phoenix was the most beautiful guy he’d ever seen－ maybe he was exaggerating, but the fact was that Phoenix was a true beauty, and that beauty always got to Henry.

It was as if Henry was bound to him in a way that defied logic. But he also felt that Phoenix was a little crazy, that some nuts had been unscrewed from his brain, and even though the guy was always filled with charm and true good humor, there was something frighteningly cold and closed off about him. It seemed as if the guy hid a lot of secrets behind those sparkling mud-brown eyes of his, that he was a permanently closed book. You could never get that close to him; he had a lot of shields up, and there was no way to penetrate it and get to the core of the person within.

And Henry loved him. He’d come to that shocking realization on that day after Phoenix had disclosed stuff to him about the kind of persons that sought the favor of his boys. He was hopelessly, totally, and madly in love with the guy, and because he had fallen in love, he started doing those little things that men in love were prone to do. He began to spy on Phoenix and regard every look and every smile his lover gave to another man with suspicion. Was Phoenix cheating on him? Did he have a stunning, sexy Lagos babe from either LASU or UNILAG doing him the honors of warming his bed at night? The guy was often pictured with very beautiful women; past and presents flames of the silver screens, fashion models, and even ex-beauty queens who often clung to his arm. But everything he thought was all based on irrational speculation because Phoenix was a guy who was never forthcoming with answers, a blank when it came to answering personal questions about his love life.

Henry was furious and almost crazy about the fact that there was nothing he could hold against Phoenix. He had his connections in the movie world which Phoenix was steeped in, so it was easy to get them to spy on Phoenix for him. They were the ones that told him whether the guy he loved was engaged in affairs with other actors, whether he was flirting with the female casts, etc. But the reports that he got about the guy were all a bit disappointing because, for a movie star who had a lot of women at his beck and call, Phoenix was a celibate who had no time to look at anybody twice, and he worked with a cold single-mindedness on the sets that was as endearing as it was infuriating. Phoenix was the complete workaholic who had no time whatsoever for partying, or drinking, or chasing after the fairer sex, an insufferable perfectionist who met anything short of perfection with iciness and a coldness that was freezing.

It was freaky to Henry that Phoenix was too . . . perfect, the rare celebrity whose name was untarnished by rumors and scandal. And quite inevitably, Henry began to compare his wife to his lover; why didn’t Fiona depict the high level of sensuality that Phoenix depicted so easily? Why would Fiona let her nails go unpolished? And so on.

Henry could feel the hold he had over his marriage slackening, and he felt that he was sliding from the high pedestal he’d placed himself. Everything that his wife did seemed to be inferior to what his lover could do; Phoenix was a better cook, a better lover than Fiona ever was. But he knew that the young woman was trying the very best she could do for him, and so, one, on one the lazy last days of November, he took Fiona and their two kids for a late evening ride around VI. It was an evening of pure fun, of them eating skewered meat from the Hausa vendors who sold the delicacy in front of the entrance to the 1004 Estates on Adetokunbo Ademola Street, and then they zoomed off to go to the Blue Bell restaurant at the Oniru Estate for their dinner.

They chose a choice table by the window where they could see the entire action with a little privacy, and then they ate and chatted amiably. Then suddenly, Fiona looked up, right past Henry, her eyes widening with surprise and recognition, her spoon of lasagna suspended in midair.