Close shave for tripple dealing pal

By TONY MASIKONDE

The whole of last week, Frao has been oozing money pretty much the same way Arsenal’s Mesut Ozil has been oozing class. In fact, on Wednesday, he asked me to meet him at Kengeles Nairobi West to view a car he intended to buy.

When I finally landed on the bar stool at about 5:30pm, the bugger looked like a drunken fish.

“Common slave, this is the time your boss is releasing you? Can’t you join people like us who work up to noon and retire before 40?” he roared in greeting.

Second homes

He was caressing a beautifully curvaceous woman, one I had never met and they looked like they could get down on it anytime.

 I could have sworn she must be one of those women who hung around pubs in Nairobi West, but again after making Nairobi West our second homes, I know almost everyone. But this was a strange one. I later came to run she is Jacque.

I tried to enquire from her where she was from, but Frao was quick to defend her “kwani wewe ni polisi?”

Knowing that the alcohol tap could be shut any moment, I decided to keep my peace.

Half an hour later, I got an sms from Njeri, one of Frao’s many projects. It read “Hi Tony, are you with Frao? He is not picking his phone”. I immediately sensed danger. Frao did not look like he was sure of what was going on around him.

I started cursing. We have invented weapons of mass destruction, yet we have not made any headway in coming up with applications that can enable us read a text message and if we don’t like it, we prompt the phone to send another sms pleading mteja.

With this seemingly potential disaster, I summoned my remaining sober brain cells and came up with what I thought was a watertight alibi: “I am held up somewhere in a meeting but we had planned to meet later on. As soon as I get him, I will ask him to call ya.”

Marriage

A couple of minutes later, Joyce happens on the scene. Joyce is yet another major stakeholder in Frao’s life. She believes the four years Frao has ‘wasted’ for her should be handsomely compensated with marriage. Luckily, when she arrived Jacque was in the cloakroom. I couldn’t have been more thankful about the amount of time women spend in the washroom.

Quick thinking by yours truly, (Frao even when he is super like a Sunday morning cannot think on his feet) saw Jacque intercepted by the bouncers. I had to squeeze out a sweaty Sh500 note to have her declared drunk and disorderly, money I intend to recover through beer.

Amusingly, Frao didn’t event realise that Jacque was gone. He continued narrating his recent visit to Masai Mara.

Never mind he was telling the same woman he went to the Mara with! But as it approached midnight, Njeri started calling frantically. I had to conjure up another lie.

“Frao is totally drunk. He is sleeping in my car. I want to rush to Langa’ta for a quick errand then I come back to join him. He will be sober by then. Why don’t me meet tomorrow? ”I said hoping to derail her.

“No. I’m coming over,”  Njeri declared empatically.

At this point I gave up on my stunts to save Frao from his women. What happened next is a story for another day.