Takes Three To Tango

Beats and tunes engaged lyrics in a shouting match. They burst forth from two waist-high speakers with such vengeance that the cones rippled. Their noise was decoded as dancing orders, which were obeyed energetically by a roomful of youths. It was Stacey's 22nd birthday party, and she was marking it in style.

         Stacey acted as the deejay. In case of any trouble, her big brother Kimiywi, distinguished by his Arsenal jersey and his bulk that nevertheless didn't slow him down on the dance floor, was on hand to play the bouncer.

         But the only trouble thus far was between one couple: Louisa and Chris. They'd taken several breaks from dancing, and now Louisa  seemed to have had enough. She started walking out and didn't stop despite her boyfriend's grip and pleas.

         Louisa had on a flowery dress top and black linen trousers, which put her low on the erotic scale of dressing other girls had assumed to be the meaning of Stacey's “dress cool” request. But her slim figure and light complexion would have most boys happily switch dancing partners with Chris. One who'd got drunk too fast had even attempted to pull her away. Chris, nicknamed after the wrestler Chris Jericho, had given him a “greeting” that had left him shaking his hand like it were a new dance style.

         He and Louisa zigzagged their way between other couples until they reached the front door. Louisa opened it and the music seemed to spill out of the house with them. At the time of their arrival, the sky had been in that visual netherworld between shadows and vapour; now it was darker and the wind had a sharp edge.
 
         A chubby, bespectacled guy stood next to the kitchen window, facing away from them. He threw something on the ground when he heard the door open, and turned to walk in. He recognized Chris and said, “Sema,” but then looked at Louisa, winked a knowing smile at Chris, and moved on quickly. He left in his wake a scent that revealed what he'd come out to do. Chris and Louisa moved farther away for fresh air.

         “Come on, Louie,” Chris said. “We were just–”

         A sudden burst of barking interrupted him. They'd strayed into the view of a German Shepherd by the gate that didn't seem to like them. Chris grabbed Louisa's hand and led her past Stacey's dad's Mercedes, past a uniformed watchman calming the agitated dog down, and past a wrought-iron gate. They stopped a few steps away on the gravel road that led to town.

         “We were just getting started.”

         “Woie, Chris. I promised you two hours, I've stayed for three.”

         “But we've only danced for like one hour.” Chris raised his index finger to prove he could count.

         The first half hour had been marked by the arrival of the party's guests; the next half, couples started standing up to dance, partly because sitting space in the surrounding sofas had run out; the next half Chris spent urging Louisa to join the fun, and thereafter, each time he started getting cosy with her, she asked that they take a break on the sofas.

         “I'm sorry.” She flipped back a strand of her curly hair that a passing breeze had blown onto her face. “I've already told you I won't stay the whole night.”
 
         “Louie, lovely; you're going back to campus next week. When's the next time we'll have a chance like this?”

         It was only the second time in two years that their holidays – Chris went to Egerton and Louisa to Nairobi University – had coincided. But it had taken most of the first holiday for Chris to make her feel obliged to change her Facebook status to “in a relationship”. This time there'd been a constant barrier in the form of Louisa's best friend, Michelle. They hung out at her place; conveniently in town and a halfway point from their homes, but inconvenient because it denied Chris much time alone with Louisa.

         The party of Louisa's old classmate, Stacey, was Chris's chance to make intimate strides with her; perhaps win his first kiss from her. But now it was slipping away.

         “What more would we do if I stayed till morning?”

         She crossed her arms as the breeze got to her. Chris saw it as an act of defiance.

         “We would, we would...” He couldn't find the right words. He'd hoped the party atmosphere would help his cause, but Louisa had resisted it.

         “I've had enough fun, already,” Louisa said. “You can stay on if you like, but I want to get home before it's too dark.”

         Chris rubbed his goatee. He stared at the direction Louisa would go. Stone houses with cassava-and-barbed wire fences framed the way, with smatterings of bushes and grass on the roadside. He looked at the horizon. It was impossible to tell where the sky ended and the earth began; it was all a grey haze. He looked back at Stacey's. From here, the deafening music and ground-shaking beats were but a low hum with soft thuds.

         “Please understand me, Chris. Please.”

         He finally looked at her. Those almond eyes of hers made it impossible for him to get mad at her, and that sweet voice made him feel like he was the one in the wrong.

         “Okay.” He forced a smile. “Maybe next time.”

         “Yeah. Maybe.”

         She reached up and hugged him goodbye. It was perfectly normal for her to do so, but it felt funny in a way Chris could not explain.



When Michelle saw Chris and Louisa leave, she pulled away from the dancer she was with, lying that she'd be back in a moment. She headed to the sofa near the entrance to the sitting room and sat down next to a couple who were half-seated, half-leaning on the rest of the sofa. She recognized them as fellow “comrades” from Nairobi University, but neither party acknowledged the other.

         There were three beer bottles on a stool beside the sofa (tables had been removed to create space). Michelle motioned for an opener from the couple seated on the opposite sofa, grabbed one Tusker, pried it open, and started sipping. She loved partying, but hadn't quite got into the mood of it today. Instead, she'd obsessed about making Chris dance with her without outrightly “borrowing” him from Louisa. But even her strapless top and a silk miniskirt hadn't caught his eye thus far. She'd only attracted all the wrong boys, including Stacey's brother. Though a bit plump herself, she deemed Kimiywi too much for her. The one before him had been skinny, and the one she'd just left smelled of cigarette smoke.

         She checked the front door. No sign of Chris and Louisa yet. Had they gone for good? She'd left her phone home, hence couldn't call to find out, but she knew for a fact that Louisa never liked overnight parties. They'd once gone for a leavers' bash after clearing Kenya High School, and despite attracting a lot of interest, Louisa had dashed off  to catch a matatu before the transport vehicles finished their night shift. Another time, Michelle had hosted a housewarming party in her apartment after moving out of her parents' house, only for Louisa to pull a disappearing act before midnight. Upon conducting a search, Michelle had found her in her bedroom, fast asleep.

         If Louisa maintained that trend tonight, it would drive a wedge between Chris's obsession with her and his appetite for partying. Or so Michelle hoped.

         It had all begun the other holiday when Michelle shared a bus ride with Chris from Nairobi. Though she'd carried a novel, she spent so much time stealing glances at him that she only managed two pages  over the 45-minute trip. To her pleasure, they'd both alighted at Ngong. She'd bumped into him and used apologies as a door to conversation: She'd never seen him before; did he stay in Ngong? Yes, he'd moved to his brother's place over here a year after he’d started campus. She was in UoN doing Computer Studies, second year; what about him? He was a third-year B Comm student. I'm Michelle, by the way. I'm Chris. They shook hands. Was he on holiday? Yes. Her too. Which part of Ngong did he stay?

         Before he could answer, a voice that seemed to be coming from a drum had said, “Eh Jerry, umepotelea wapi?” She'd then been crowded out by three big boys who came around Chris, and had left feeling puzzled that his name was Jerry, not Chris.

         The next time she had seen him was when she and Louisa had gone for Rugby Sevens. Someone had said, “Eh Jerry, ule manzi ulikuwa na yeye.” They'd turned and seen Chris with his deep-voiced friend. Chris had offered a hand, but Michelle had hugged him. Louisa had offered a hand, but he had hugged her. Chris couldn't remember Michelle's name, but readily admitted to loving Louisa's when she introduced herself. Instead of carrying on from where he and Michelle had left off after the bus ride, he had chatted up Louisa for the few minutes they were together, only addressing Michelle when explaining that 'Jerry' was a high school nickname derived from the 'Jericho' in Chris Jericho; that it had to do with his rugby-playing days in high school. He hadn't even asked Michelle for her number when they parted ways; only Louisa's.

         It didn't have to come to this, Michelle thought, reeling herself back to the present. She half-hoped Chris wouldn't come back.

         She took another swig from her bottle but only swallowed air. She reached for a refill, but found her bottle was empty. She chuckled. She'd been so lost in her thoughts, she'd drained it without noticing. The realization reminded her of how Chris had given up drinking just so he could be more compatible with Louisa. Their lack of chemistry on the dance floor, which Michelle had noted with silent delight, made her feel it would have helped if Louisa had started drinking instead. Not that she was complaining.

         She glanced at the front door, and was about to shift her gaze to another beer when she caught a glimpse of the lock turning. Chris stepped in, but dilly dallied like he wasn't sure he'd come to the right house. Not seeing any sign of Louisa, Michelle strode up to him.

         “Where’s Louisa?”

         “She's gone home.” He started walking past her.

         “Huh?” She leaned in on his chest, as if she was drunk.

         “Home, gone home.” He pointed in the general direction of Louisa's place.

         “What? Why?”

         He took a deep breath and stroked his goatee.

         “She’s er...” He wanted to say, “not feeling well,” but guessed her best friend would know better. “I donno.” He waved a hand through the air. “She just went.”

         He whipped out his cellphone and unlocked the keypad. He stared at the phone for a second or two, but then shook his head and clicked. He thought he saw relief on Michelle's face as he pocketed it.

         “Why not dance with me?”

         He raised his eyebrows at the suggestion.

         “Don’t look at me like that.” She did a little jig on the spot. “I know how to dance too.”

         “I haven’t said you don’t.”

         “Then what? You want to leave, too?” She made it sound like it was a crime. “Don’t be silly, Chris. You came here to dance, right?”

         Chris listened to but didn't hear the music floating over from the dance floor. A couple making out on the corridor wall gave Michelle and him curious glances. Michelle said loud enough for them to hear, “Dance with me Chris.” In a lower voice, she said into his ear, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Chris had to laugh. He hadn’t quite seen Michelle in this light before. She was so laid-back, so self-assured, and... oh, so hot with those shiny lips and penetrating eyes.

         “Come on, Jerry. Be a sport.” She took his hands and tugged as her moist lips parted in a playful smile.

         If she wanted to cheer him up, the effort alone was already commendable. He felt himself buckle under the pressure of an audience that now included Stacey, whom he recognized from the corner of his eye because she was the only person in the party wearing shorts. Before he could say “Happy Birthday,” Michelle yanked him away as she began walking to the dance floor.

         The song playing drew to an end just as they arrived. The dip between it and the next song lent audibility to a soft wolf whistle from a nearby admirer. The whistler, a guy leaning against one of the walls, eyed Michelle with open lust, making Chris embarrassingly aware of how much skin her black top and purple mini showed. But Michelle didn’t blush. If anything, the sense of admiration expunged any inhibitions of carrying on with her intentions. Chris, meanwhile, tried his best to hide behind her.

         When she started dancing, it was with a vigour that her previous partners hadn't seen. It wasn't immediately contagious though; Chris danced like an actor with stage fright. He looked sideways every now and then to escape her allure. But whichever way he looked, he saw couples enjoying themselves and got a vicarious thrill from it.

         The way Michelle's body flowed with the music, you'd think her slingbacks were dancing shoes. They made Chris's Timberland boots look like high heels. Chris liked what he saw. If only Louisa danced like this!



From the vantage point Louisa had reached, Ngong Town was an array of dots below her, gathered together like balls on a pool table before the first strike. The dots scattered in the periphery were the lights of residential houses. Her own home was twenty minutes' walk away. Around her now was an open space with buildings few and far between.

         She was thinking about her argument with Chris. It occurred to her that she had evaded his question on when they'd next have a chance to bond. She wondered if that was why he hadn't offered to give her a “push”. She remembered how she'd felt uncomfortable on the dance floor whenever he pressed her close or strayed his hands below her waist.

         She'd once confessed her hesitation to Michelle, who’d asked, “Are you sure he loves you?” Come to think of it, she mused, what man would let his girlfriend walk alone at night in such bushy surroundings? It's not like they'd quarreled enough for him to abandon her like that.

         I hope Louisa gets home safe, Chris thought. It had hit him that he'd let his disappointment get the better of his concern for her. But Michelle's gyrations dragged him bit by bit back to the dance floor. He'd long suspected Michelle of having a thing for him, but had not dared jump to conclusions. It seemed now she was building a bridge to that conclusion, willing him to cross it. And soon, he found himself ogling at her swinging hips, her wriggling ass, her jiggling breasts...

         Don’t even think about it, his inner voice warned. He'd been there, done that, during his rugby days. The girls came easy for rugby players But Louisa had tamed the monster inside of him. Michelle slithered her arms round his chest and slowly nudged him with her bosom.

         Chris felt himself heat up. There weren't beads of sweat on his forehead. It was more like a swamp, and not just because of the heat trapped under his cap. His pointed Adam's apple bobbed up and down, as though also dancing. His armpits felt the same, and his hoody was likewise not to blame. Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, he let them land on the small of her back.

         How far can I go?

         The only other person around Stacey who wasn't dancing was Mr Drunk, who’d stopped shaking his hand now and was running it through his spiky hair. Rather tired of sitting down, she stood up and let herself get carried away by the music. She glided around the dance floor with her hands in the air, but stopped short when she saw for the first time Chris and Michelle dancing together.

         She spotted them just as Michelle was turning to nuzzle her butt up against Chris's nether regions. At first, Chris frowned like he didn’t fancy the idea. But then he pursed his lips like he'd got titillated; he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her in each time she backed up onto him; and he rocked his groin back and forth till they formed a rhythm. Getting adventurous, he slid his right hand around to the inside of her uncovered thigh and started caressing. Despite the loudness of the music, Stacey could hear Michelle moaning appreciatively.

         She remembered seeing Chris and Michelle at the kitchen door when she'd gone to fetch beer replacements  from her bedroom. She'd wondered where Louisa was, but Michelle had rushed Chris off before she could ask, and she'd assumed Louisa was still around. But there was no way Chris would dance with Michelle like this if Louisa was around. She got her phone and texted Louisa.



Louisa got home well but without any confirmation of the same by Chris. As if to make her more lonely, she wasn't received by anyone – her siblings were in boarding school, her dad on a business trip, and her mum asleep. Opting to bathe in the morning, she went straight to her room, emptied her phone, handkerchief and tissue paper from her trouser pockets onto a table, and changed into a night dress. She checked her phone for any missed calls. She found only one SMS. Probably Chris asking if I've reached safely.

         What she read, though, made her heart race and her armpits rekindle the dampness they'd had when she had danced with Chris. She reread the text a couple of times. Then she pressed the reply button.  She looked at her diary on the table, as if what she had in mind needed to be vented out over several pages.

         Yes Chris hadn't offered to give her a push, but had she thought of asking for one? Yes she'd disappointed him by leaving early, but had she felt obliged to stay? And yes, she hadn't loosened up when she was dancing with him, but wasn’t love supposed to help one let go?

         She reflected on his partner in love crime, her “best friend”, and a trail of memories appeared on her train of thought: Michelle hugging Chris the day he'd only offered a hand; Michelle urging her to have her meetings with Chris at her place; Michelle not even “liking” her social status the day she updated it to “in a relationship”; Michelle asking, Are you sure he loves you… Michelle dirty-dancing with Chris.

         She cancelled the blank reply page, logged into Facebook, edited her status, and switched off her phone before other friends could follow Stacey's lead.



The first hint of dawn was sifting through the curtains in a blue-grey haze. A dreamy melody hung gently in the air as Stacey, who'd gone back to her deejaying role, aptly switched to blues in tune with the now tired legs on the dance floor. Among the couples cuddling and slow-dancing were Chris and Michelle, whose antics  still baffled Stacey but not as much as Louisa's failure to reply to her text. 

         Chris and Michelle also pondered the night's happenings as they shuffled about in a warm embrace. Chris was analyzing Louisa's farewell. Her preference for a handshake or simple wave was part of the reason he'd taken so long to build a rapport with her in the first place. He couldn't remember a time when she'd hugged him without his prompting. Yet this time she had. That, he figured, was why it had felt odd. And when he'd resigned to her departure, he'd exuded optimism by saying, “Maybe next time.” But instead of giving him hope that there would be a “next time”, she'd latched onto the “maybe” bit.

         Perhaps he was thinking like this just to justify his deeds, but he felt a certain solace with Michelle he'd never quite achieved with Louisa. What she'd done was an act of desperation, and he liked her guts. Whatever had inspired her to go against her best friend was a mystery to him, but she'd laid her heart on the line, and he felt inclined to play along. Maybe with time he'd learn to love her as much as he had Louisa, whom he didn't imagine would ever forgive him. It's like she'd always been looking for an excuse to get away from him, and now he'd laid one on her feet. There was no turning back.

         Michelle, meanwhile, wondered if Chris felt he was settling for second-best. Give me a chance, she planned to tell him, and you won't regret it. Her line for Louisa was that she'd got drunk and one thing led to the other, but if Chris sided with her, then that obvious lie wouldn't be necessary.

         Not everyone was still dancing. Some guests had sat down for a drink, others for a nap, and others for some tap-tapping away on their phones. Stacey checked her own for Facebook updates, fishing for compliments about her party. She smiled at what she saw, but kept scrolling down before coming back to comment. It's when she reached the bottom of her home page that she came across an update that drove the music out of her head and her gaze onto the dance floor in search of a certain couple.

         It read: Louisa is now “single”.