Otaare Page 6

  "Adejare."

  The words snapped him back to the present and he blinked at his father. His father who had just called him by his middle name. A name he only used when after he'd spent way too long trying to get Bola's attention. "Sorry, Sir. I didn't hear you."

  Thankfully, his father didn't press the issue. Beyond giving him a long drawn look. He spoke. "I said, 'what do you boys have planned?" And it had better not be something as stupid as waiting it out."

  "No, Sir," Sukanmi spoke up. "We plan to meet him and hopefully reach a happy middle where we will put all this to rest."

  "Hopefully?" Adegoke asked.

  "We will reach a happy middle," Sukanmi corrected. "The rest is just a bunch of pictures. Bola and him hanging out at the same clubs; the same party, showing everyone that everything is resolved. Collins gets the notoriety he wants, maybe even some book deals from publishers begging at his door, Blaze will become more of a household artist, and the Johnson name will be left out of the unpleasantness. Like Bola said, it's something we can handle by ourselves."

  Bola held his breath and said a prayer, hoping that Sukanmi's words were enough to convince his father.

  After several minutes where his father sat with his head bowed and chewing his inner cheek, he nodded. "Okay, then. You both handle it."

  Bola breathed a sigh of relief, and cut the sound short when his father glared at him. "And it had better not be like your handling it."

  Bola winced at the reminder. His father knew how to twist in the knife. Two days ago, he had said that, and at least he had tried to fix it. It wasn't his fault Sukanmi had gone on ahead to destroy the playing field before he'd started.

  "We'll handle it, Sir," Sukanmi said, and if he wasn't the reason why Bola's father was there in the first place, Bola would have thanked him.

  "You'd better," his father told him, still staring at Bola. "Just because your career choice is useless doesn't mean you should be useless in protecting our name."

  With those words, he stood from the chair, adjusted his agbada and walked out. They saw the flash of gold on the white clothes for a millisecond before the door closed behind him.

  Bola's breath rushed out of him with a whoosh and he sank back into the couch. Sukanmi sank right along with him, although his breath came out in a drawn-out hiss. "Your father is terrifying."

  "Tell me about it," Bola mumbled, before he remembered whose fault it was that his father was particularly terrifying that morning. "No thanks to you," he said and glared at Sukanmi.

  Sukanmi, thankfully didn't need him to spell it out. He looked guilty and chastened. "Sorry."

  Bola waved off the words. "Just as long as you don't keep poking your nose into my business, we'll be fine."

  Sukanmi raised one hand high up in the air and placed the second over his heart. "I promise."

  He looked so earnest, Bola snorted. "Yeah, right. I give it six months, tops. You can't help it," he added with a smile.

  Sukanmi grinned. "Actually, I was thinking more like three months, but we can do six months."

  They both laughed.

  Sukanmi held out his phone and the laughter died down.

  "Should I call him or do you want to do the honours?" Sukanmi asked.

  Bola looked at the phone, then pulled out his. "Why not use mine?"

  "He already has your number," Sukanmi said. "If he's pissed, that's not enough time to convince him not to be pissed."

  "He can just as easily hear my voice and hang up," Bola said. "Besides, what does he have to be pissed about? It's my name that's all over the news."

  "And you think he doesn't consider his name just as important?"

  The sudden words made him jump.

  That got a laugh, and he glared at his baby sister, who had suddenly made an appearance out of… he looked at the door. It was wide open, and her boyfriend, Uchenna, was, at the moment, lugging in boxes of stuff. He nodded at Bola, dropped the boxes, and went right back out, probably to get even more boxes.

  He was one of the most patient people Bola knew. And he was perfect for Bola's baby sister.

  "Seriously, Tinu. You do understand the concept of knocking, right?" Bola huffed.

  Not like Tinu seemed in any way bothered about his tone. She just extended her arms and Bola walked right into them, patting her back as he whispered. "You're good, right?"

  "Amazing," Tinu breathed and turned to give Sukanmi a hug of his own as well.

  "So, what brings you here?" Bola asked.

  Uchenna dropped a particularly heavy crate, grunted a hello, and walked to the kitchen. Probably in search of his trademark Guinness and a bag of chips.

  "Damage control," Tinu answered.

  The lethargy Bola had been sinking into vanished and his eyes sharpened. "Debs sent you."

  "Got it in one." Tinu smiled.

  "You all would never leave me alone," Bola said, and tried to glare.

  The key word being tried. He couldn't stay mad at her—or any of his sisters—for long. And with the way she was chuckling, she knew it, too. The little minx. "How exactly has she decided to help fix the damage? A damage that is totally his fault," he pointed at Sukanmi and took some satisfaction in the 'eep', Sukanmi released as Tinu tackled him.

  She finally let him up, and Bola smirked at Sukanmi. When Sukanmi gave him an injured look, he stuck his tongue out at him.

  "Thank you," he told Tinu when she came back to sit beside him.

  She gave him a thumbs-up and motioned at the crates. "Debs said they were taking up space. And that she was sure you would want them back."

  "Want what back?" Bola asked. He got to the box and ripped off the tape. There, nestled beneath the sheets Debisi had packed were his music notes, his journals, and seven years of teenage obsession and masturbation materials in men's fitness. The sight made him smile. His father had thought nothing of the magazines, believing that his son needed them for inspiration with getting into shape—"Johnsons don't have baby fat" was his usual refrain. Debs, though, had called it for what it was. And helped protect him and kept his secret safe till he'd been ready to share the news with the rest of the family. The rest of the family being his younger sister, two older brothers, and Sukanmi.

  His father still thought he was a heterosexual slut, sleeping with all the upcoming artists, actresses, and video vixens he kept getting linked with every day on social media.

  "And Cece called."

  Think of the she-devil and she doth appear.

  "What does she want?" he said as he closed the boxes back and pulled them into the dining area. Tinu said something, but he was too far away to hear. "Huh?"

  She said something else, and he walked right back to the living room. "What did you say?" he asked.

  Tinu crossed her arms. "That you should bring your ass right back out. I don't have the patience to keep shouting at you."

  "You sure about that?" Sukanmi said. "Because you did a lot of that when we were kids." That got a laugh out of all three of them, though Tinu snapped her thumb and middle finger together in the ' I'll get you back for this' motion.

  "What did she want?" Bola asked.

  Tinu shrugged. "She wouldn't say anything. When she heard that you were not home, she hung up."

  "She called the landline?" Sukanmi asked.

  "She doesn't have my personal cell," Bola said.

  "Oh," Sukanmi said. "Wouldn't people get a kick out of that? Your supposed girlfriend doesn't have your phone number."

  Bola shuddered at the mention of 'girlfriend'. "Thank heaven for that."

  "She asked for it," Tinu said.

  "When doesn't she?" Bola muttered.

  "Luckily enough, I got to the phone before Emmanuella could actually give her your number," Tinu said.

  Emma, that nitwit! Bola made a note to give his father's P.A. a piece of his mind. Maybe she would actually listen this time around, so that the next time someone—Cece—called asking for any information about him, she would actually shut the fuck
up.

  His father wouldn't like that, but she would probably deserve it.

  "She didn't seem happy that I got there in time," Tinu was saying.

  Bola nodded. "Serves her right."

  "Emmanuella didn't even get what she almost did wrong," Tinu said.

  Sukanmi snorted. "Not very smart, that one."

  "Don't let dad hear you say that." Bola laughed. "He likes her."

  "Ew," Tinu blurted and scrunched up her nose. Before Bola could remind her that the guy was a billionaire and a philanderer, she continued. "But speaking of dad, do you guys have a plan?"

  And they were back to the Ukeme mess that Bola had been working hard to forget. "Just the basics. Call him and have a meet," Bola said.

  "Didn't you already try that?" Tinu asked.

  "Please don't remind me," Bola said. "Plus, Sukanmi is calling him this time around. Hopefully, he would be nicer."

  "Who would? Sukanmi or the writer?" Tinu asked, and laughed when Bola glared. "I have a better idea." She paused for a moment. "Let me call him. I'm sure I'm nicer than Sukanmi. Plus," she pointed at Sukanmi, "it's his fault that all this happened, anyway. I don't think the writer would be happy to hear his name."

  She had a point. "His name's Ukeme," Bola corrected. When she gave him a blank stare, he added, "he's Ukeme." He saw the smirk and hurried to add, "you don't want to call him writer dude when you call. So, his name's Ukeme."

  She smiled and nodded. "Ukeme, then."

  Out came her phone, and she motioned at Sukanmi. "Well then, on with it. What's his number?"

  Eleven digits later and Bola held in his breath as she waited for the person on the other end of the line. Just when she started to shake her head, she brightened. "Hi. Is this Ukeme?" Tinu smiled. "Good. My name's Atinuke. Atinuke Johnson."

  Silence. Then, "Hello? Ukeme, are you still there?"

  A long, drawn-out silence and Tinu gave a relieved sigh. "Oh, good. Thought you'd hung up. Not like I would blame you."

  Even more silence more static. "Yeah, I get that a lot. I'm the nicer Johnson. So I've been told several times over." She tittered and glanced at Bola. "Tell me about it. He can be very prickly."

  Who could be very prickly? Hopefully not him. And why the hell did Tinu look so happy talking to Ukeme? What happened to the angry man who had just heard his name and immediately lit into him? Didn't Tinu mention her last name when Ukeme had picked up the call? He could have sworn she introduced herself as Atinuke Johnson. So what gave?

  Tinu giggled. Giggled and covered the mouthpiece to whisper to them. "He's amazing." She removed her hand and went back on to her conversation.

  There was no denying it. He'd been dropped into the twilight zone. If he stepped out, he was sure he would be seeing the gods of old having a dueling session. Sango would be challenging Amadioha to a lightning effect competition.

  Bola looked at Sukanmi. At least Sukanmi looked as flummoxed as he did. He thanked the heavens for little mercies.

  "I know. But he's not so bad, really," Tinu said as she glanced at Bola. "Seriously. Just one meeting, and I'm sure you would get along even better."

  Bola doubted that. Something told him that they might not get along at all. If the man had almost torn him apart over the phone, then there was no saying what he would do if they met. Maybe tear out his hair or pluck out his eyeballs.

  The sound of Tinu cheering brought him back to her conversation. She was bobbing her head so fast and had such a wide smile on her face, he almost didn't need to hear the words that followed. "Perfect. Bottles?"

  She scrunched up her face and leaped to her seat, gesturing at Sukanmi to hand her the iPad that he had on his thighs. He handed it to her and Tinu's fingers flew over the screen, her mouth pursed. "So, the Place then," she said and nodded. "The one at GRA or the one in Ikeja?"

  More static and Tinu nodded her head. "Thank you so much for this. We'll see you tomorrow." There was some more silence and then she chuckled. "Don't worry. They will both behave." With that, she hung up the call.

  "They," Sukanmi asked, even as Bola's mind still tried to wrap itself around what just happened.

  "Yeah." Tinu shrugged. "I told him the three of us will meet him tomorrow."

  Sukanmi gasped. "Sorry," Tinu said, looking anything but sorry. "You started this, anyway. It's best you're there when we end it."

  "Technically, I didn't start it," Sukanmi said, then pointed at Bola. "He was the one who created a song with lyrics that were too close to what the guy was reading at Bogobiri."

  Brown-nosing traitor. Not like Sukanmi looked like he cared. Bola kept glaring at him, but Sukanmi had all his attention on Tinu.

  Bola turned his attention to Tinu as well. She'd reached for his remote and was scrolling through the channels on his decoder. Like she was going to go to any other channel but—and there it was. E! And right in the middle of one of their news reports, too.

  Tinu had effectively shut them out. And even though Sukanmi kept looking at him like he was hoping Bola would intervene and maybe say something to fix the situation, Bola was quite content to ignore him. Maybe next time, he wouldn't run his mouth and betray him like that.

  Asshole.

  chapter six

  "If you look at that watch again, I'm going to strangle you," Eze said.

  "For what, breathing?" Ukeme asked.

  "Looking like you're about to take off with something fancy," Eze said.

  The words were so ludicrous that Ukeme had to smother a laugh. He looked around at the room. Sure, it looked nothing like the local buka close to his house where he had his lunch on a constant basis, but the Place wasn't that fancy. Rhapsody was a hundred times fancier. And the people hadn't been giving him the stink eye.

  "But you weren't anxiously waiting for Elizabeth at Rhapsody, were you?" Eze said.

  Oh. So, he had said the words aloud?

  "Nope. You just have that frown on your face, plus I've learned how to read you like a book," Eze said.

  "Well, if that's the case, do you mind explaining why I'm so anxious now?"

  Eze shrugged. "Sometimes, your mind fluctuates between being a six-year-old's reading material and a complex PhD dissertation. That question is a PhD dissertation," Eze said.

  "Clearly not yours. I've read your dissertation, remember?" Ukeme said.

  "Which is why I prefixed that with the word ' complex, '" Eze said. "Plus, at least I've written a PhD dissertation. What have you written?"

  "Six books and counting," Ukeme said.

  "How many of those books have been published?" Eze asked.

  "Not relevant," Ukeme said.

  Eze scoffed and Ukeme rolled his eyes. He turned his eyes to the door, the anxiety rising again, although he had no idea why. Actually, he knew why, he just didn't want to confront it. He caught Eze from the corner of his eye, opening his mouth to probably say something when the door to the restaurant swung open.

  "Hope we haven't been keeping you for too long."

  The high, feminine voice brought their banter to a halt and Ukeme gave Eze a grateful smile. Nothing beat a best friend who knew that the best way to get him to stop worrying was to turn a conversation into an argument.

  It worked.

  A petite five-foot-one woman was walking towards them. She wore short-shorts, an off-white crisp shirt that probably cost more than his three-hundred-thousand-a-year rent and gold studs that definitely cost more than five years' worth of rent put together. Her dark skin glowed, set off by her teeth—perfect shade of white, of course. She looked stunning.

  And her smile was so contagious, he smiled back at her.

  "No, you didn't," Ukeme said and rose to take the hand she extended. Soft palms and a strong grip. They settled back into their seats and Atinuke kept smiling. Ukeme kept right on smiling back at her. And Eze? Eze was looking at the new addition to their table like she was the most exquisite creature he'd ever seen.

  "Hi," Atinuke said and waved a slender palm in front of Eze
's face. That seemed to work, because he beamed.

  "Hi. Eze," he said and pointed to himself.

  "Atinuke," Atinuke said. "But please, call me Tinu." She gave a wide grin. "Atinuke just reminds me of getting into trouble at home."

  The words brought to mind Tinu's father and the fact that if given half the chance, Ukeme would gladly stick a knife in the man's gut. Years of resentment, of all the tales he'd been told built, the rage searching for an outlet. In most cases, he was a pacifist, but every time his people's past came crawling back into his memory with such vivid detail, he lost all sense of reason.

  Ukeme pushed the thought away and focused on Tinu and the fact that she was alone. Hadn't she said that all three of them would be coming over?

  "Where are the others?" Thankfully, Eze had no qualms about asking the question outright.

  "Right behind me. They had to find a parking space. Parking here's a bitch," she said with another smile. "It's like, a Place thing. Whether they're on the Island or the Mainland, there can never be enough parking." She chuckled. "Did you find it easy parking?"

  "I don't have a car," Ukeme said.

  "At least you don't have to deal with having to get out of that traffic shit-storm, then." She recovered quickly. "Are you guys not having anything?"

  What the hell was it with people who lived on the island and feeding him? "We're fine."

  She gave another knowing smile and was just about to say something when she craned her neck and waved. "Oh. There they are."

  He'd seen Bolarinwa 'Blaze' Johnson several times over the last year. Ever since he'd blown big and became one of the hottest stars, the man popped up on Ukeme's screen any time he could afford to pay for his Dstv subscription and could watch Trace Nigeria. And even though he'd never really admitted it to himself, he had to be honest. Bolarinwa Johnson was gorgeous.

  Especially with those dimples that only flashed when he smiled.

  And that puppy-face that spoke of a life that hadn't suffered so much.

  Ukeme had always assumed that all that beauty was make-up and the screen. He'd seen many stars get slathered with paint and look perfectly ordinary when they met them off-stage.