Tuesday evening. The air was cool, but Stan was sweating on the inside.
He sat on his bed and looked at his phone screen. He had opened his bank app. The numbers were red. He had exactly 1,500 Naira.
In the hostel, 1,500 Naira is a fortune. You can eat bread and beans for three days. But in the dating world? 1,500 Naira is an insult.
Buzz.
A text message from Amaka.
"Hey Stan. Are you free? Let's grab dinner. Maybe that new pizza place?"
Stan stared at the phone. Pizza? One box of pizza cost 6,000 Naira. If he went there, he would have to wash plates in the kitchen to pay the bill.
Tobi looked down from the top bunk. "Bro, just tell her you are broke. It happens."
Stan stood up slowly. He put on his sunglasses, even though it was 7 PM inside the room.
"Tobi," Stan said calmly. "A lion is never broke. A lion is just... financially restructuring."
Stan picked up his phone. He did not type "I have no money." That is for weak men.
He typed: "Pizza is too commercial. Too much grease. I don't poison my body with fast food. I want to take you somewhere... spiritual."
Amaka replied instantly: "Spiritual? Wow. Okay. Where?"
Stan smirked. "Dress simple. Trust me."
Twenty minutes later, they met at the junction. Amaka looked beautiful. She was wearing a nice top and jeans. She looked ready for a restaurant.
Stan was wearing a black t-shirt and track pants. He looked like he was going to the gym, or maybe to rob a bank. It was a "tactical" look.
"So, where is this spiritual place?" Amaka asked, looking around.
"Follow me," Stan said.
He walked past the pizza place. He walked past the expensive eatery with the AC.
He led her to a small wooden shack on the side of the road. Smoke was rising into the air. The smell was spicy and dangerous. It was Musa's Suya Spot.
Amaka stopped. "Stan... this is a suya stand."
"No," Stan corrected her, leaning against the wooden post. "This is indigenous charcoal-smoked beef. It is prepared by a master chef who has been doing this for twenty years. Musa doesn't use gas. He uses the wind and fire."
Musa, the suya man, looked at Stan. "Oga, you want the regular 500 own?"
Stan raised a hand to silence him. "Musa, please. Give us the Signature Cut. The one for VIPs."
Musa didn't have a signature cut. He just cut the same meat. But Musa respected the hustle. He nodded. "Okay boss. 1,000 naira."
Stan paid with his last 1,000 note. He had 500 left for transport home. It was a calculated risk.
They stood by the roadside, eating the spicy meat from the newspaper wrap. Cars were honking. Dust was flying.
Amaka took a bite. "It's... actually really good."
"Pizza makes you heavy," Stan said, watching the traffic. "This? This makes you feel alive. We are standing on the earth. We are eating fire. This is romance, Amaka. Not sitting in a plastic chair waiting for a waiter."
Amaka looked at him. She had dated rich guys who took her to fancy places where they sat in silence. But here was Stan, broke as a joke (though she didn't know that), making a piece of meat feel like a 5-star meal.
"You are so different, Stan," she laughed, wiping spice from her lip. "You really don't care about what people think."
"People are sheep," Stan said. "I am the shepherd."
Just then, a bus drove past and splashed a little water near them. Stan didn't flinch. He didn't jump. He just chewed his meat.
"Come," he said. "The date is over. Leave them wanting more."
"Already?" Amaka asked. She was having fun.
"I have to go," Stan said. "I have a conference call with... my team." (His team was Tobi and a game of FIFA).
He put her in a tricycle (Keke) and paid the driver with his last 500 Naira. Now he had zero.
"Goodnight, Stan," she waved, eyes shining.
"Night," he nodded.
The Keke drove off. Stan stood alone in the smoke of the suya spot. He had no money. He had to walk 30 minutes back to the hostel. He was hungry because he let Amaka eat most of the meat.
But he smiled.