Otaare Page 5

  He laid the menu right back on the table and smiled at the girl. "I'll wait for my business partner before I order. Thank you."

  The girl nodded and walked off to another table, greeting them with a smile and with quick gestures brought out a notepad and a pen and started scribbling away.

  "Is it that fascinating?"

  Elizabeth's voice pulled him away from the server to her in her flowing dress, her bright scarf, and the smell of roses and jasmine that wrapped around him as she leaned over to brushed his cheeks with her lips in a quick kiss.

  A Naija woman who sometimes acted like a French babe.

  He held in a smile and greeted her as she took her seat. "Elizabeth."

  "Ukeme. Please tell me you've not been waiting too long?"

  Ukeme shook his head. "Just got here."

  "Good." Her eyes slid to the menu and she gestured at it. "You're not ordering?"

  "Not really hungry." When she met the words with a disbelieving stare, he added. "I ate already."

  "Is that so? Well then, let's move on to business, shall we?" She gestured at a girl who Ukeme noticed had started hovering when Elizabeth joined. "Two small Pescatora pizzas and two glasses of red wine. Chianti, please."

  Ukeme made to speak, but Elizabeth held up a hand till the serving girl had written their orders, leaving with a smile and a "your meal with be with you shortly". "Think of it as being for me. I wouldn't feel comfortable eating whilst you watch me eat." He made to talk again. "Even if you've already eaten."

  Truth was, he hadn't eaten. The last thing he'd had had been the fried fish he had bought from the roadside seller on his way home. And if he was to be honest with himself, he really was starving.

  "Fine. But not a lot," he said. "I really am full."

  She nodded. "Take a slice or two. Have a glass of wine." She wriggled her fingers in the air and brought them back down to her tote, from which she pulled out her phone, her Mac laptop, and her iPad.

  She said nothing for a while, just kept swiping through her screen and mumbling to herself. When she finally fell silent, Ukeme saw his chance. "You wanted to talk with me about my book?"

  Elizabeth beamed and placed her phone back down on the table, leveling her eyes and her attention on Ukeme. "Yes."

  Damn, that was good to hear. When was the last time anyone had offered him a chance at a book deal? "I'm thrilled to hear that. I have great vision for B.C.…"

  Elizabeth scrunched up her face. "B.C.?"

  Ukeme gestured at her. "My story." She still looked confused. "Before Colonialism?" She looked even more confused. "The story I sent to you? The one you want to talk to me about?"

  Her face cleared.

  Thank goodness. Ukeme had been worried that she had no idea what he was talking about.

  "Oh, that story. Nope. That's not why I called you here. I have no interest in that story," Elizabeth said.

  "I don't understand," Ukeme said.

  Elizabeth flipped the cover off of her iPad and pushed the tablet towards him. Her red manicured nails tapped at the screen. "This is what I'm talking about."

  Ukeme looked at the screen.

  Right there on the top page was a screaming headline: Blaze in an ethnic & familial war with Ukeme Collins. A rehashing of Niger-Deltan past.

  Fucking hell.

  Ukeme's eyes swept up to meet Elizabeth, who was, at the moment, beaming at him. "That dear boy is the story I want and which every Nigerian would want to read. A detailed account of the underdog taking on the golden child of one of the richest and most ruthless men in the country. A memoir of exactly how much destruction Adegoke Johnson has caused and how he's wrecking our country one oilrig at a time."

  She clapped her hands together and gave a loud cackle. "That is the story everyone is waiting for."

  chapter four

  For those who have been living under a rock with no internet access or friends who keep them in the know of Naija news, Bolarinwa Johnson—more popularly known as 'Blaze'—has been embroiled in a Twitter war for the past week. It started with the release of his hit single: Otaare. If you've never heard of the song either, click on this link to listen to it courtesy of notjustok—you'll thank us. Anyway, the hit single which has been blazing across the airways has caused some controversy for our billionaire's son-turned-singer. A writer, who our sources tell us has been horning his craft for years, but hasn't gotten any substantial contract out—which would explain why we've never seen any of his stories out yet—has accused Blaze of plagiarism. For those of you Naija peeps who are as confused as me when I first heard the word, plagiarism simply means the writer, Ukeme Collins, is accusing Blaze of stealing his work and pushing it out in the music. In other words, Ukeme Collins is saying he is the original writer of Otaare, not Blaze. And to make things even juicier, our sources tell us that Ukeme Collins is even more pissed because someone from Blaze's camp offered him some money to keep quiet and not cause any fuss. Which led to Ukeme making the following rants on Twitter. For you fans of Blaze, please be warned. These tweets show that Ukeme doesn't give a hoot about our boy Blaze. Nope, this man is certainly not star-struck at all.

  Ukeme Collins @writingcollins

  @BBJohnson Just when I think I might have overreacted, you turn around and prove that you are trash. Absolute trash. How dare you?

  *~*~*

  Ukeme Collins @writingcollins

  @BBJohnson So not only are you like your thieving father, stealing from my people, but you also think you can make this all go away with money?

  *~*~*

  Ukeme Collins @writingcollins

  @BBJohnson You think you can buy my silence with a few measly million naira? Unfortunately for you, that is not going to happen.

  *~*~*

  Ukeme Collins @writingcollins

  @BBJohnson Otaare's mine and I shall continue to shout it to the world. You getting your cousin to try and shut me up is not going to make it go away. I shall just shout louder.

  *~*~*

  Ukeme Collins @writingcollins

  @BBJohnson Offer all the money you want, but it's not going to make me change my mind. I shall continue to say it to everyone who can hear. You are thieving scum!

  Ukeme cringed as he read through the article. Gods, it looked even worse as he read it for the second time. He heard laughter filter in through the walls of his apartment and glared at it, convinced that his neighbours were also reading the article and were laughing at the mess he'd made of everything.

  "Damn. When you said you were going to tell everyone exactly what you thought of Blaze stealing your work and then getting Sukanmi to do his dirty work for him, I never thought you meant you were going to be one of those people on Twitter spilling vitriol in the name of making a point." The words were said with a rueful chuckle as Ima shook her head. She held her phone in her hand, eyes lit up as she gleefully caught up on the entire debacle that had turned his life upside down.

  "Excuse me," Ukeme glared balefully at his sister. Not like she seemed bothered. She just reached for another chip from the box of Pringles and popped it into her mouth. The crunching sound was loud in the room that had gotten silent after Ima Collins had walked in, holding out her phone that was open to Ukeme's twitter page.

  Eze, the betrayer who had helped him composed quite a lot of the tweets last night after they'd worked through three-quarters of a bottle of Jack was now silent, with his eyes on the floor. Like anything had changed in the white-and-black linoleum since the very first day the two of them had rolled it out over the wooden floors.

  "You heard me, little brother," Ima said after she'd chewed her Pringles sufficiently enough.

  "I did not spill vitriol," Ukeme said.

  "What do you call this?" Ima waved her phone in the air. "Extolling the brilliance of Blaze?"

  "I simply called it what it was," Ukeme said. "The man stole from me and attempted to bribe me to say nothing about it. If it had been you, you would have said something. Hell, Dad would have never
allowed me to keep quiet about it."

  "Well, Dad has always been very vocal," Ima admitted. "But he wouldn't have transferred his anger of the father on the son."

  "What if the son is the same as the father?" Ukeme asked. His laptop and mobile phone were too far away on the table. Plus, he wasn't in the mood to get up to go get them. He'd shown Ima the mail the day after he'd gotten it and his sister had been as outraged as he'd been. Then, sometime after, she'd laughed. Found it funny or something like that. He never could understand how her mind worked.

  He heard the vibrating sound come from his phone and ignored it. Ever since Elizabeth had made him her offer, she'd been calling him in two-hour intervals, trying to get him to agree to it.

  His eyes wandered to the small, round, and short three-seater table he'd turned into a dining table and occasional study table right beside his fridge. It had multiple sheets on it, some of them even spilling on the ground. The sheets were filled with reams upon reams of his scrawl; the outpouring of the writing he'd started when he'd been worked up on exactly how he felt about the Johnsons. If he wanted, he could complete it and let Elizabeth know that he had already started writing the memoir, but he just wasn't sure if he wanted to do it.

  "Yoo-hoo. Earth to Ukeme."

  He turned to Ima, who was shaking her head and looking at him like he'd lost his mind. Eze had finally deigned to look up from the floor and was staring intently at him. Ukeme glared at him, and Eze's eyes skittered away.

  Fucking coward.

  "What?" Ukeme asked.

  "You know, there's always a probability that the boy doesn't know that his cousin offered you money, right?" She leaned back in her seat at the disbelieving look he threw her. "Just saying. Blaze doesn't seem like the kind of person to do that."

  "Ima, you're talking like a virgin who doesn't know that a man can't use a balloon as a substitute for a condom," Ukeme said.

  Ima half-laughed, half looked incredulous. "What the hell?"

  Ukeme waved the words away. "You get the idea."

  "But the comparison…" Ima said.

  "An old schoolmate told me a long story." Thinking of the story had Ukeme shaking his head. "I swear straight men can be so daft."

  "I still insist though, balloon condoms or not," Ima said, with a laugh just beneath her voice, "the boy might be innocent. Maybe what you need is to give him a chance to explain himself. Instead of writing some sort of expose that would get you in even more trouble. Even though the money…" She fanned herself. "Whew! Ten million naira as a payment upon submitting the story? That's a lot of dough."

  Ukeme glared at Eze, who had perked up when Ima started to speak. Again, the betrayer's eyes skated away when he met Ukeme's eyes. "I told you that in confidence."

  "Confidence, my ass. We both know anything you tell 'this one' he can't not tell me." She blinked up at Eze, pursing her lips in a way that had both Ukeme and Eze shrinking back.

  "Ima, have some respect," Ukeme said with a roll of his eyes. "I don't think even your baby wants to be hearing that." He gave a pointed glance at Ima's protruding belly.

  That just seemed to give her the courage she needed to push her stomach out some more and slouch in the chair. "Whatever. I don't think any child of mine would be horrified by anything I have to say."

  Ukeme shook his head. "That's the reason why not everyone should have kids."

  Ima laughed. "And yet, baby brother, you will spoil the little tyke the minute he pops out."

  "You can count on that," Ukeme said with a chuckle. He glanced at Ima and sighed. "I'm still not going to write about it. Or if I write about it, I'm not going to sell it to anyone. Maybe I will just put it in a journal or something."

  "Then we can release it after you're dead and make a shit load of money," Ima said teasingly.

  "Doubt if the Johnsons would still be relevant by then," Ukeme said.

  "You will be surprised," Ima answered.

  "Know what else would surprise you?" Eze interrupted. "Blaze's publicist replied."

  Blaze had a publicist? Ukeme scoffed. What a waste of money.

  "You wouldn't be laughing if you could read what the guy's saying," Eze said as his eyes swept across the page.

  "What did he say?" Ukeme asked.

  "Did he tweet it or put it in a blog post?" Ima demanded.

  "Instagram post," Eze replied and turned the screen around.

  It was a picture of a recording studio. All dark with some fancy lighting that illuminated Blaze's frame without showing his face—not like that surprised Ukeme. Blaze had this way of keeping his face out of his social media accounts. Ukeme had no idea what he was hiding from. It wasn't like his face wasn't splattered across magazines all over the country, or in the plethora of music videos that were a constant on all music sites and the occasional television station.

  Ukeme's eyes went down the picture to the caption. Whilst some people are in some corner laughing at Blaze and saying that he doesn't do anything original, our boy is hard at work on his next record. Spending time hating on someone who's focused on his hustle is just a waste of time. Instead, pray to Baba God to make your own dreams come true. Shikena.

  "Is this guy really a publicist?" Ukeme had to ask.

  "Damn. Talk about a direct diss to you," Ima said with a laugh.

  "He is. I've seen him in quite a lot of events with Blaze and Blaze's manager has introduced him as the publicist, several times over."

  "Blaze's manager," Ukeme scowled. "You mean Sukanmi? I wouldn't believe anything he says. Publicist my ass."

  "Even if you don't think he's a publicist or a good one at that, his strategy's working," Ima said. She pushed off from the chair and waddled over, using her foot to nudge Eze so he could move and make space for her on the couch.

  Ukeme took that opportunity to get his ass off the floor and onto the chair she'd just vacated. Seated, and not in contact with Eze.

  Perfect!

  "What strategy is working?" Ukeme asked.

  "The post already has over ten thousand likes, and the guy just put it up less than two hours ago. That's a success if you ask me."

  "Well, the asshole shouldn't think he's the only person who can use Instagram or write a bloody caption. Eze," Ukeme snapped. "Get your Nikon. I want to take a picture of those sheets on the coffee table. Let's show him how writing's really done. Writing in a studio, my ass."

  chapter five

  Bola resisted the urge to fidget. Silence descended, held and stretched. Knowing his father, if Adegoke Johnson as much as noticed him move on the seat, he would harp on it like it was all the proof he needed to confirm that Bola had some hand in the new blog post presently circulating in the Nigerian blogosphere.

  Fuck Ukeme Collins. This was all his fault.

  "Dad," Bola said, hoping that would be enough to get his father to talk.

  It wasn't.

  His father still had his eyes closed; like he'd had the minute he'd entered Bola's apartment and taken his seat by the open windows. He didn't even flinch when the sun made its morning appearance across his face. Nope. He just sat there, silent and breathing.

  It worried him.

  Bola felt a nudge and turned to Sukanmi who mouthed the words, "What's wrong?"

  Bola shrugged. How was he to know why his father was suddenly acting like he was a second away from leveling him with an auto-reset slap that most Nigerian parents simply tagged as Ifoti.

  "Bolarinwa. Sukanmi," his father said and opened his eyes.

  Sukanmi immediately blurted a "yes, Sir." Bola simply nodded.

  "Did I fail you in any way?"

  Strange question. Of all the things he'd expected his father to say since he got into the house, especially considering the amount of backlash Stella's Blog had been causing all over Naija, those were not the words Bola had been expecting to hear.

  He turned to look at Sukanmi, who gave him a wide-eyed stare, followed by a shrug. It was Sukanmi's way of saying, 'don't ask me. He's your father a
fter all.'

  It was because it was his father that he chose his next words carefully. "Not in any way, Sir."

  His father breathed. To fortify himself? Build himself for the sudden splurge of energy he needed to box their ears?

  "Then tell me why my name and my business are the most talked-about topic on this blog."

  He held up his iPad to their eye-level and there, smack dab on the landing page was the screaming headline: Blaze in an ethnic & familial war with Ukeme Collins. A rehashing of Niger-Deltan past. With the subhead: Johnson is being called out for his crimes.

  No matter how fast Bola's mind worked, he couldn't come up with anything that would make the situation easier. He looked at Sukanmi.

  Sukanmi was, at the moment, trying to give as much space between himself and Bola. As if it wasn't his bribing fault that they were in this mess, anyway. Bola reached for him and yanked him back so they were thigh-to-thigh.

  If he was going to meet his father's wrath, there was no way he was going down alone.

  "Are both of you deaf?"

  A rhetorical question that his father was likely not expecting them to answer. Bola leveled his eyes to the ground and murmured. "I'm sorry, Sir."

  "Sorry?" his father scoffed and rose to his feet as he started to pace. "What is 'sorry' going to do? How is your damn 'sorry' going to fix this?" Those leather shoes stopped their pacing and his father's voice reached him, pitched low. "Are you going to fix this, or do you want me to intervene?"

  "No, Sir," Bola blurted, his head rising as fast as he could spit the words.

  His father raised an eyebrow. At the look, Bola lowered his voice. "No, Sir," he repeated. "I'll handle it."

  His father sniffed and put his iPad away. "Ukeme Collins. I wonder what his problem is."

  Your father stole from my people. Accused them of not shutting up about the theft, offered them money to shut up, and accused those who refused to lie low of being public nuisances. You're no different from him.

  Two days after his conversation with Ukeme, and those words still made him shift in his seat. The roiling in his gut had nothing to do with guilt. Nor did his aversion to his father meeting Ukeme before the whole issue got resolved have anything to do with keeping Ukeme safe.