The other day, My Diva meter shot right up. Instinct took over and I found myself in a little black number, beige coat and black heels. I hailed a taxi from my hood and told the cab driver to take me to a well-known Casino-bar along Mombasa road. Being a weekday, the place was empty, save for the ones getting one for the road after work.
So here I am, as confident as ever, with no care in the world, getting into the joint.
Two bodyguards usher me in, giving me that ‘she’s-got-money’ look, making me chuckle from the insides. A gold-covered chandelier ceiling and shelves of expensive wine greet me and I instantly feel at home. I felt on top of the world, so much so that I was about to bust a tune and sing, ‘There’s no other place in the universe I’d rather be right about now than where I am.’
I sit at the counter and order a cocktail, god knows what name it was, but I perfectly pronounced it out to the bar man who seemed half impressed and half scared away by this sassy young girl. Glass in hand, I swirl around and check the spot out again, barman to my back, piano bar to my front; slowly drawing in the place with my eyes, red lips on my glass, toned legs crisscrossed.
In retrospect, it was my second time to be here, the first almost being two years ago when I was performing on stage next to the grand piano. All of a sudden, I saw myself on that same stage, standing next to renowned singer Wendy Kimani in my African dress as nervous as ever, introducing myself to the crowd. That had to be one of the best nights of my life. I chuckled and swung my seat around to face the barman.
“Another one, please.” This time round, I ordered a Snapp. From the moment I saw that Ad on TV, I knew I was most definitely one of those girls who stroll into the party and all eyes would be on them.
To my right was this older-looking guy who was doing a bad job at disguising his dilemma as to whether he wanted to sit next to me; or whether he should completely disown the idea because the sight of a beautiful girl at the bar seated alone probably meant that she must’ve been waiting for someone. I found it intriguing, going through the thoughts that had been possibly running through his mind, oblivious of his knowledge of course. If it’s a lesson that I’ve learnt well in this life, it’s that I would never let my body language betray me.
“Another one.” I told the guy, this time round, a glass of white wine. The angel to my right was busy screaming at me to stop over-spending; the devil side however, wanted more, and more, and more. At around midnight, I decide to call it a night and leave for home.
While I’m waiting for my cab guy, Mr. Dilemma comes around. Well, if this was any ordinary day, I would probably have given him my number, he was dressed as quite the dapper man. But tonight was my night. I was a Diva. And sure as hell didn’t care about anyone else.
So here we are, him saying hi to me… me looking at him.
“I noticed you were alone the entire time. Where’s your man at?” He asks.
“I don’t have one. Don’t have the time.” In my head, I probably pictured myself as one of those Cashmere Mafia women.
After a while, he blurts out in nervousness, “So can I have your number?”
Typical. I thought.
“Maybe next time.”
“What if I never get to see you again?” He asks.
“Then I guess that’s too bad,” I smile and with that, get into the cab that had just arrived and left. I saw him do a confused-amused scratch on his head as he headed to his Range Rover.
Damn, he drove a Range.
But just for tonight, I was the Diva. I called the shots. Everything was up to me.
As for Mr. Dilemma, now Mr. Range, maybe there will be a next time.
You never know with this funny thing known as fate.