Dating Mr Famous

By Glory Abah

The best way to get over a man is to get under another man.

I’ve been a good girl all my life, and what has it gotten me? Nothing but heartbreak. So, when famous actor, hottest bachelor in town, and recently single Michael offers me a romantic night out, I can’t resist the sparks between us. Unfortunately, our romantic night turns into a movie marathon because honourable Michael will not touch a tipsy woman.

When pictures of us kissing hit the media, and I become the target of hateful blogs, society labels me a hussy, and my reputation is in shreds. Branded a promiscuous woman overnight and on the verge of losing my job, I need a knight in shining armour. Or a plan.

Michael has a plan which could save me or leave me more heartbroken than before. But that’s the danger of dating Mr Famous. Am I willing to pay the price?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Love Africa Press
• Release date: Feb 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215329221

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First Published in Great Britain in 2023 by

LOVE AFRICA PRESS

103 Reaver House, 12 East Street, Epsom KT17 1HX

www.loveafricapress.com

Text copyright © Glory Abah, 2023

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

The right of Glory Abah to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

BLURB

The best way to get over a man is to get under another man.

I’ve been a good girl all my life, and what has it gotten me? Nothing but heartbreak. So, when famous actor, hottest bachelor in town, and recently single Michael offers me a romantic night out, I can’t resist the sparks between us. Unfortunately, our romantic night turns into a movie marathon because honourable Michael will not touch a tipsy woman. 

When pictures of us kissing hit the media, and I become the target of hateful blogs, society labels me a hussy, and my reputation is in shreds. Branded a promiscuous woman overnight and on the verge of losing my job, I need a knight in shining armour. Or a plan. 

Michael has a plan which could save me or leave me more heartbroken than before. But that’s the danger of dating Mr Famous. Am I willing to pay the price?

CHAPTER ONE

MEGHAN

The best way to get over a man is to get under another.

I had been ruminating on these words all evening, ignoring the throb of music that had my friends dancing and gyrating away on the dance floor.

Mary’s words. Spoken whilst we prepared to visit The Ritz, the most expensive club in Port Harcourt. In fact, she had been repeating them for two weeks now since I’d heard the news.

Was it really true?

At this point, I was ready to do anything, anything at all, to ease the ache in my heart. Only so many ways you could muffle the sound of your heart breaking every night to avoid waking up your roommate.

Proof of how much the news of the idiot’s upcoming marriage had unsettled me? I’m considering getting under another man. Just to see whether this heartbreak would cease.

Not like getting under a man had been a pleasant experience the few times I’d done it. Yet here I was, seriously considering doing the unpleasant deed for dis-honourable reasons.

You look like you need a man to make you smile.

I looked up. Sure enough, one man, probably in his early thirties, was staring at me and smiling as if he were God's gift to women.

This is what you get when you come to a club. Get ready to be hit on by all and sundry. Like people didn’t come to dance anymore. The men came to pick up girls, and the girls came to be picked up by wealthy men. Maybe that was the point, but it didn’t mean I had to take this crap.

I rolled my eyes and went back to my phone.

You are too beautiful to be rude. The man placed his beer bottle on the table, his pot belly shoving the glasses.

I glared at his protruding stomach in disgust. It always made me tired how Nigerian men proved so careless about their bodies, trotting pot belly, flabby skin and such all over the place. Yet, they expected the women to be skinny and blamed their wives' childbirth-stressed bodies for their indiscretions with small lekpa girls. The man standing before me was a perfect example of that hypocrisy, and it was appalling.

Like what you see? He leered, apparently thinking I was staring at his crotch.

Gross! A shiver of distaste rippled across my spine.

Get lost, I growled at him. Why would he even think that I would be remotely interested? Oh, yeah, I am currently at a club. Apparently, girls who frequent a club are only looking for men. Idiot!

His smile dimmed. Come on, baby. I can make you feel really good.

Oh my goodness!

Maybe the shock of my ex’s wedding with the lady he introduced to me as his ‘cousin’ had me feeling reckless. Perhaps I was just plain tired of being used and underestimated by men. Without thinking, my hands curled around my glass, then tilted towards him, and the content splashed on his face.

In shock, I looked at the drink splatter on his face, running down in black rivulets to stain his shirt, then at my hands in disbelief. Had I just done that? Oh, shit!

Apparently over his initial shock, the man galvanised into action. He cursed furiously, swiped his face, and lunged at me, knuckles fisted. His face distorted into raw rage quite easily, like something he frequently did.

As if in slow motion, his fist travelled towards me. I could have ducked to dodge the blow. But I sat still, not in fear or shock but in fascination. I had never been hit before, not even by my parents, and strangely, the urge to know what it felt like came to the fore. Would it be any different from the pain inside?

His fist whizzed past my face, missing my jaw by a hairsbreadth, probably because he was already slightly drunk. Two men, maybe his friends, appeared behind him and held him down, restraining his arms.

Leave me. Let me teach this bitch a lesson, he growled, lunging and twisting to escape his restrainers.

What's going on here? Sophia shouted as she marched towards us, eyes shining with anger.

To my chagrin, I realised my friends were standing behind me, and we were the focus of the whole club. I hated public attention.

Stupid girl, I will teach you to respect a man. You're not even happy I came to toast you, ugly toad. The man was screaming, spittle flying out of his mouth.

I looked away, twinges of embarrassment and remorse stealing up my spine like creeping vines. Why had I done it? I was not the confrontational or fighting type.

Hey, look here, mister. You can't touch her. You hear me? I will arrest you, Sophia The Bold declared.

Stupid girls. Ashawo with no home training. Go and marry and stop living useless life, the man replied as his restrainers began to drag him away.

Woman wrapper. Wetin you dey find woman for club for? Jane retorted angrily.

Frankly, I never thought Jane could get angry. Or raise her voice. Or speak Pidgin. Tonight was bringing up new revelations, and it was still early.

Mary turned to me with concern. Are you okay? Did he touch you? What happened?

I snickered. He didn't touch me. The useless man wanted to pick me up, and I refused. See me see wahala oh.

Don't mind them. Some men are just dogs. So he wanted to beat you up here, in public, too? Sophia grimaced, arms open in amazement.

I'm sure that's how he beats up his mother and wife, Jane said, picking up her glass and sipping from it. It was safe because I’d been guarding their drinks while they danced.

But babe, you no try. You shouldn't have poured your drink on him, no matter what, Mary cautioned, sitting down on the booth and bringing out her phone from the small purse slung over her shoulders.

Yes. I don't support it either, Meghan. You shouldn't have done that. You know how men, especially Nigerian men, behave. It would have turned nasty. Sophia looked at me with concern, frowning.

I glowered at them. I thought you girls wanted me to have fun. To get drunk and go crazy. That’s why we came here, right?

That means partying all night and maybe shagging a random guy. Remember, the best way to get over a man is— Mary said.

—to get under another man, we all yelled, rolling our eyes.

What? It’s true. Mary huffed, flinging her hands and scrunching her nose. Who your good girl help? Is it not part of the reason for ... she halted and looked at me as if seeking my permission to say the dreaded words aloud.

I glared right back, daring her silently to mention the forbidden name.

All I’m saying is that you need a rebound guy, someone to sleep with and get over this nonsense, she said instead, chin jutted out in a stubborn angle.

My anger dissolved, and I burst into laughter. I need to get this night back on track. Discussing the failure of my love life was definitely not on today’s agenda. Point of correction, I am over that toad. It’s just that hearing about the wedding threw me off a bit. And I don’t want to get under any man anytime soon.

I couldn’t tell them the only man I’d gotten under was the idiot when I thought our marriage was a done deal.

Fine. But you can’t sit here by yourself and nurse one drink all night. We came out tonight to cheer you up, and you are not even dancing, Sophia interjected.

Or checking out any of the fine young men here, Mary cajoled. Don’t be a killjoy. Come and dance with us. At least kiss a stranger since you don’t want major action. Get drunk. We will make sure you get home safely.

Even Jane was nodding.

They were right. I had been stewing in a quagmire of pain and bitterness for weeks. Time to loosen up and try to put my past behind me. Besides, I was grateful to my friends for caring enough about me to bring me to this stupid expensive club. We should get the best out of our money.

I smiled at them. Find me a hot guy, and I will kiss the hell out of him.

Whoooo! Mary hollered and raised her glass up. To having mad fun tonight.

Yes! we cheered and drank deeply.

Mary filled my glass again, and I downed it in one gulp. Then Sophia topped the tumbler, and I swallowed it again. The alcohol made my blood sing, and I didn’t feel so angry and bitter anymore.

Dance time, Jane said.

We promptly went to the dance floor, basically a small opening in front of the bar.

It had been so long since I’d danced my heart away. The music built up in my body, the beats thumping in my chest.

Of course, I never believed that I would still be

Reviews for Dating Mr Famous

[Kizza Racheal · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I loved Michael amd Meghan's love story got me giggling like a school girl. It was great reading a romcom set in Nigeria, such a short and sweet read. Some sentences amd scenes were cringe worthy but that doesn't take way the fact that I enjoyed the love story.