I don't do drugs. I am drugs.

~Salvador Dali

Romola sighed. It had been a long day. She wanted noting better than to go to bed. She would have loved to ignore Olumide's plea but she remembered the way Yetunde had behaved towards her last night. If Yetunde was indeed living a drug free life then she didn't have a right to be angry about being caught with drugs in her blood. In fact, Yetunde was supposed to marvel and elaborate on the experience while shedding a few tears and cursing whosoever had made her a victim of drug abuse. That was what the Yetunde she knew would have done. Romola shook her head, musing. If someone had told her mother about her other life, the one that involved drinking and clubbing, she would also be furious at such individual.

She picked her purse from her bag and dropped her bag on the floor beside the sofa. She slipped her key holder around her middle finger and she raced down the staircase making her footstep as light as possible. She emerged from the hostel gate in time to see Yetunde board a black Toyata Camry. It was probably a uber ride and not one of the ubiquitous yellow taxi that boasted of two black stripes across their metal frame work.

Before Yetunde closed the taxi, she looked towards the gate. Romola made herself scarce, hiding in the shadow of the gate. She wasn't sure that Yetunde didn't saw her and she only drew a breath when she saw the car drive down the street. She didn't waste a second. She hurried to the Okada park a few feets away and sat astride the nearest one, pointing towards the path Yetunde's taxi had taken.

"Oga, follow that car?"

"How much you go pay?" The driver asked, planting his foot on the floor while standing astride bike.

"Just go. I go pay you when we reach."

The bike followed the cab at a steady pace, keeping enough distance to avoid suspicion, as though the driver knew her motive, but moving fast enough to never lose sight of the cab. Through the night traffic of Lagos state, it tagged the car until it got to Red Glasses.

The driver slowed down the motorcycle but she urged him on, slapping her palms against his back. "Dey go. No stop for here. Na front i wan drop."

Keep going. I'm stopping I front.

The driver did her bidding, stopping the okada at the narrow close where the club lights failed to reach.

"How much?" Her thighs ached from the ride. The bumpy roads had been unforgiving and the distance was not a walk in the park. She had never ridden a motorcycle to red Glasses before. It was supposed to be beneath her status. And hopefully, she would never have to do it again.

"2000."

"Ehn." Her jaw dropped as she stared at the bike man. "Which kind? Na 500 jhoor."

It's 500 for sure

"Abeg, madam, no make me vex oh. Shebi, I been dey ask you. You talk say you fit pay. No use me play this night." The bike driver got off his bike, raising his voice. She eyed him even though he could not see her. What gave him the effrontery to speak go her in that manner.

Please, madam, don't make me angry. I asked you right? You said you could pay. Don't joke with me tonight

"I no fit pay that one oh."

I can't pay that amount

"You for talk before you climb. We don reach now, you no get money. All these Lagos girls. They go just dey behave like say they no get sense." The reproach in the man's voice resonated in the grimace on his face. "If you want touch them now, they go come dey shout like chicken wey dey hot water."

You should have said that before you climbed the bike. We've gotten to our destination, you don't have money. All these Lagos girls. They behave as though they lack common sense. If you try to woo them, they'll begin to shout like a chicken submerged in hot water

"You dey craze," Romola pronounced. Had she known that she would be taking this impromptu trip, she would have ordered an uber or at least a Gokada. "Ordinary from Yaba to Aguda you dey call 2000. It be like say you don smoke."

You're crazy. Just from Yaba to Aguda, you're mentioning 2000. It's like you've smoked

The driver took a step towards her, then doubled over to pull up the legs of his pant to a bundle above each knee. "whether I smoke or I no smoke, he no concern you. Wetin I know be say, you go pay me my money. 2000 naira kpere."

Whether I smoked or not, it's not your business. All I know is that you will pay me my money. 2000 naira completely.

Romola puffed her chest and hardened her face as she glared at him. "Shey you think say I be mumu or Johnny just come. I don waka this Lagos tire. No try nonsense with me oh."

Do you think that I am an idiot or a new comer. I have walked around Lagos so much that I'm tired of it. Don't try nonsense with me

"Wetin be my own with Johnny? Abeg pay my money make I dey go. No be me ask you to come club." The driver shot her a condescending look. "See as you dress fine, you no kan get money. Chai..."

What business have I with Johnny? Please, pay me my money so I can be on my way. I wasn't the one who asked you to come to the club. As fine as you are, you don't have money

"It don do." Romola whispered looking around. The driver's raised voice could draw attention and the last thing she wanted was attention. She was supposed to be invisible. She glanced at the club before scowling at the cause of her anger. She couldn't risk missing Yetunde.

It's okay

"He never do oh."

It's not okay

"See, make I just help your life, asan ti ko wulo." She opened her purse, pulled out some crisp naira notes and handed him two thousand naira.

See, let me just be generous, useless frog

"Shut up jare. Abi na me dey help you." The driver snatched the money out of her hand and hissed as he walked to his bike, mumbling to himself. "Fine for nothing. See how she take her sense use am to grow big yansh."

Shut up. Rather, I'm the one helping you. Fine for nothing. See how she used her sense to grow big buttocks

"I don't blame you," Romola reverted to polished English as her eyes lit on a man walking towards where they stood. "Your greediness will be the cause of your demise."

"Go and sleep jhoor." The driver barked at her.

She eyed him and hissed before walking to the club. Her eyes blazed as she joined the queue in front of the club. She ran her fingers through her hair to reclaim her sense of poise and dignity that had been stripped during the argument with the okada man till her eyes lit on the girl in front of her. The slim girl was dressed in a backless red sequined gown that stopped just below her butt. Romola soon noticed a pattern to the dressing on the queue. Everyone was dressed in one sequin clothing or the other. Everyone but her. Even those that joined the queue behind her continued the sequin craze.

The line moved quickly and soon she was standing in front of a hefty man with muscles that rippled underneath a black body hug shirt. He held out his coarse palm to her. "Tickets please."

"Tickets?" Romola raised her dark brow. It was Yetunde who usually handled their tickets and the bouncers. Besides, they had a club card that gave them yearlong access to the club. Why would she need a ticket? Was it a party?

"Em... My club card."

She opened her purse and pretended to search for it. She produced two thousand naira, the last cash in her purse and presented it the bouncer with a gaze that was a mix between helplessness and irritation. He accepted the money then handed her a piece of paper where the word crayfish had been scrawled in thick crude lines. She gazed at her new ticket and shook her head as she was allowed into the club.

Her eyes remained glued to the paper as she tried to decipher why this particular name had been given to her. That was all until she raised her head and stared at the people in the club. Fog enveloped the air, perfuming the club with the scent of something burning. Most of the people there were dressed in sequins that seemed to emphasize the very body parts that ought to be hidden. It didn't look like a normal red glasses night.

The club goers seemed to be dancing to a beat that was slightly off sync to the DJ's music. They were talking and laughing, grinding against each other, making out or passed out at one corner. All of that was normal but the greyish brown powder on several plastic pedestals standing at strategic places in the club was not normal. Each pedestal glowed with a neon color that bouced off the sequins on their clothes. Its glow was the main source of light in the club as most of the lights were turned off. The people crowded each pedestal so she could barely see what was going on.

She stretched, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the pedestal closest to her as her mind raced with different thoughts that centered around the pedestal. The smoke that filled the air invaded her eyes with stinging puffs. It had a strange strong smell, like some chemical had ben added to burning wood, that forced her to cough. Someone pushed past her, hitting her shoulder and hurrying to the pedestal like it was a God and he was its loyal slave whose world revolved only around the content of the pedestal. The people around that pedestal gave way for the new comer to participate in their strange ritual.

She caught a quick glimpse of the new comer bending his head towards the pedestal and inhaling the powder. She shook her head, unable to believe what she was seeing. She had seen people taking drugs at this club but it was never like this. This looked like a drug festival. It was a drug commune and it wasn't the kind of place that Yetunde would ever visit but it was Yetunde that had led her here.

Yetunde wouldn't come here. Her best friend had always reiterated the importance of a healthy lifestyle. That was why she had been able to drop so many unhealthy characteristics that were part and parcel of her real life and background. There was no way taking drugs in this condition, beside hot sweaty bodies was hygienic.

She turned around to search for her best friend but someone gripped her wrist and pulled her towards a corner. She pulled her hand free and turned to the attacker, ready to pour out all her anger and irritation at the person but her fury seceded to shock as she stared at Yetunde's face.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Yetunde asked through clenched teeth, screaming over the electronic music that played in the club.

Romola's jaw dropped and her stomach followed a similar trajectory. "I was worried about you leaving the house so late. Alone."

"Really?" Yetunde gripped her arms and shook her so much that she feared her brain would be displaced. "Is that really the truth or did you come to report me to Olumide again?"

Romola's eyes widened. Did Yetunde know what Olumide had asked her to do? "It's not like that. I did not report you. He was waiting for you."

"And I'm supposed to believe that Olumide would leave his house on the island and wait for me to finish clubbing just so he could take me home?" A derisive smile played on Yetunde's lips.

"Yes! That's exactly what happened."

"You are a fool Romola. A big fool."

Yetunde pulled her to the door. She tried to free herself, aware of the looks that several people sent their way, but Yetunde's iron grip was clamped around her hand. She worried about Yetunde's incessant teeth gnashing than the fact that her friend seemed to have developed super human strength. Yetunde pulled her, out of the club, to the bouncer she had paid earlier.

"This girl is a nuisance. Keep her out." Yetunde yelled to the bouncer, pushing her out. The push sent her stumbling forward. She tripped on her own heel and fell in front of the people queuing at the entrance.