Prologue
Pods, Prudence + Pursuing the Reckless
Luca
Six months ago. Vegas.
I hear her shuffle in her seat as she sits down.
God, please let this one be normal.
Then I hear it.
Burp.
Brilliant.
Another drunk one.
For the record—and I want this to be officially noted—Ihatereality TV.
I think it kills brain cells and nothing good has come from it since a Kardashian hit the big screen. And yet…here I am.
I’m a twenty-seven-year-old man, sitting in what’s basically a glorified broom closet, filming a show…a joke…that has gone too far.
A Las Vegas rendition of the reality dating show,SightUnseen. Everyone in Cinnamon Grove has been going on about the show where strangers talk through a wall for ninety minutesand sometimes, for reasons unknown to God or science, end up married.
I still don’t fully understand the point of this show or why anyone would sign up without being under duress. But I promised my best friend that I’d let my nuts hang.His words. Not mine.He told me I needed to do something completely out of character. Not for my family or the team, not for the press or to protect some spotless image.
Just for me.
Something fun. Reckless, even.
And somehow,thiswas what I landed on.
Don’t ask me why. I’m not even drunk. And I’m honestly still trying to figure out how the man on the street made the idea sound so enticing.
If my mother could see me right now, she’d say I’ve brought shame to the entire bloodline. Not because this will air on television, but because Nigerians don’t beg.
Not for love.
Not for attention.
Not for anything.
My father would say, “So you could not wait for God to send you a wife, ehn? You had to go andauditionlike some unmarriable vagabond?”
This is the same man who could be on fire and still refuse a glass of water, just to prove his faith was enough and he didn’t need a hand from anyone.
That’s the thing about us—Nigerians in general, and Chidubems in particular—we’re allergic to looking desperate. And yet, my father raised my siblings and me to lean on each other for everything.
It’s a strange contradiction: moving through the world appearing entirely self-sufficient and untouched, while being completely tethered to family and bound by loyalty. It’s wiredinto my DNA. It’s in the way I move, and coincidentally, the way I love.
Part pride. Part upbringing. All instinct.
Even though my mate, Croix, is an absolute menace and no sane person should ever take life advice from him, I can admit when he’s right. He’s only ever looked out for me.
Iamuptight. Painfully so. I treat rules like gospel, and I haven't had a proper good time since my buddy’s stag night six years ago.
