Women always get what they want

By Tony Masikonde

Beep! Beep! My phone rang signalling that I had a message. This was the magic sound I had been waiting the entire Friday afternoon.

Earlier in the day, I had made a call to a close friend, a senior counsel in the making. I had put across my case explaining in detail why I was ‘pecuniary embarrassed’ and therefore, needed a soft loan. The good lawyer, having been touched by my story and being a rare breed in the capitalistic profession, promised to M-pesa me Sh5,000. But when I opened the message, it was not the magical text that comes with some capital letters and integers, proclaiming that you have received money. Instead, it was an SMS from Stacy: “Tony, I want to see you urgently at Java. Tag Brayo along!”

Darn. Seating for hours at a coffee shop listening to a woman’s woes on a Friday evening was the last thing on my mind.

“Sorry, can it wait until tomorrow afternoon? I’m meeting some boys at Nairobi West.” I knew she was desperate and would do anything to meet us. “How about we do three quick beers at Choices then you bounce?”

If I played my cards right, I could have a fun-filled Friday evening without spending a cent.

“You know, I have already paid for the meat. The boys are supposed to buy beer and if am too late, they will eat my meat and refuse to buy beer because they will already be drunk,” I mustered.

“Forget their beer, Tony! We are doing Jameson tonight!” went Stacy.

Stingy Stacy buying? Clearly, whatever she wants us to discuss must be crucial, I mused.

The appointed hour found me perched on a high stool at Choices face to face with the famous green bottled Irish whiskey. Stacy, being a regular had already called the barman. Brayo arrived soon after. Where alcohol is concerned, he arrives well ahead of schedule.

Stacy came half an hour later apologising profusely while at the same time darting towards the bottle to analyse how far we had drained it.

“This traffic is crazy, I tell you,” she offered. “I don’t get it. Why do all the men take the lift after you, yet in traffic, none of these apes will cede an inch on the highway?” she fumed.

“It’s simple, Stacy,” Brayo said as he swirled his whiskey glass. “The men want to walk behind you to ogle your booty.”

“Booty my foot!” she hissed with an evil grin. “Anyway, gentlemen, I need help. I have a met a guy who makes my…”

“Goodness, please spare us the details!” I cut in. “But the problem is he is a football fanatic and I know nothing about football,” she continued.

“So what can we do for you?” Brayo asked.

“I need a crash course on football — everything that I can learn in two hours. Our date is tomorrow afternoon. As he watches football,” she begged.

“What team does he support?” I asked.

“Could be Arsenal or Harambee Stars. I’m not sure…”

We groaned. That bottle of whiskey was turning out to be very expensive.