Love and Hiplife

by Nana Prah

  His turn to go silent. Maybe he had no recollection of her.

  “We met climbing Mt. Afadjato a few weeks ago. I understood when your friends were speaking in Hausa. We drove you home when you sprained your ankle. My friend, Precious, told you that I’m your biggest fan.”

  Shut up already! How many other people had he met on that mountain?

  “Yes. I remember.”

  His emotionless tone told her he no longer had an interest in her. Why did that fill her with so much disappointment?

  “Good. How are you? And how’s your ankle?”

  “I’m well and on the mend. Not at a hundred percent yet, but much better. Thanks for asking. What’s going on?”

  She wiped away the sweat dripping onto her phone as she held in her standard reply of being fine herself. He hadn’t asked of her welfare in return. May as well get it over with.

  “I’m working on my dissertation for my PhD.”

  “I recall that I was your inspiration for the topic.”

  She heard the smile in his voice, and her tight muscles relaxed in response. “You were. I met with my supervisor, and he suggested that I add interviews from a few multi-lingual artists.”

  “You’d like to interview me,” he said without any type of inflection to let her know how he felt about it.

  “If you could make time in your schedule for me to ask you some questions, I’d really appreciate it.”

  The line remained silent. The whooshing of blood through her arteries filled her ears as she angled her body forward, hoping he’d say yes.

  “I’d also venture to guess that you’d like me to get in contact with some of my colleagues to arrange interviews with them.”

  She didn’t miss that he had neither accepted nor declined the interview.

  “Actually, that would be very helpful.” She hated being on the receiving end of a favour.

  “I’ll do the interview.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Anything you can do about getting me some artists that are almost as great as you?”

  “Good one,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll see what I can do. How about if we get together and discuss it in person?”

  They’d be meeting for research purposes, she reminded herself as she tugged on one of her twists and chewed the corner of her bottom lip. It wasn’t a date. Not even close.

  “Sure,” she said with a casualness that made her proud. “When are you available?”

  “I have a meeting in the morning, so how about in the afternoon?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Where was the time she’d need to mentally prepare herself for seeing him again? Her body needed strong warnings to keep from reacting to him.

  “If you’re available.” Was that hesitation in his voice? “It would be best to schedule with the other artists as soon as possible.”

  He was right. She’d just have to get over herself and put her education at the forefront. Unsolicited physical responses to Blaise be damned.

  “Tomorrow afternoon would be fine. Where should we meet and what time?”

  “I’ll be in Accra. Where do you live? I could pick you up.”

  And have it feel like a date? No way. Her heart wouldn’t be able to take it, and her mind would lose the necessary focus to get through the encounter with him. She’d spend the time zoning out that he’d said he liked her rather than concentrating on her project.

  Who was she kidding? That would probably happen anyway while looking at him. His eyes were hypnotic with their intensity. And his lips. Full, dark, and soft. Irresistible.

  “Hello? Lamisi? Are you still there?”

  “Hello, can you hear me?” She played into the consistent network problems that plagued the phone network systems. “Hello?”

  “I can hear you,” Blaise said. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. I live in East Legon. I could meet you at Cool It in Legon Mall.” The place wasn’t as crowded as the bigger restaurant in Accra, so she wouldn’t have to watch throngs of his fans snatch his attention.

  “I don’t mind picking you up. I’ll be at Circle.”

  “That’s okay. I have an appointment with my supervisor in the morning, so I’ll be in the area of the mall. What time?”

  “How about at one?”

  Professor Amartey should be done berating her research skills long before then. “Sounds good.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you at one.”

  Tempering down her squeal, she kept her voice level. “Okay. Bye.”

  “Bye.” He sang rather than spoke, bringing a huge smile to her face.

  She pressed the end call button and sighed. Not only would she see him again, but he’d agreed to help her. If she hadn’t had a major crush on him before, it would’ve started right that minute. Something she had to guard against now that he was involved in her research.

  She couldn’t afford to have her doctorate disapproved because of bias due to a personal relationship with one of the interviewees. Not after everything she’d gone through to get to that point.

  ***

  Blaise finished his second drink of ginger beer within the hour he’d been waiting at the restaurant for Lamisi. She’d sent a text saying she was running late.

  When had he last waited an hour for someone? It tended to be the other way around. At least, she hadn’t cancelled. She’d only called for a favour, not because she liked him. And yet, he got the sense that she did.

  He hadn’t gotten jittery at hearing a woman’s voice in a very long time. He’d wanted to keep her on the phone last night, chatting about nothing and everything.

  What was it about her that he found so special? He could find beauty, charm, and intelligence in so many women in Ghana. Lamisi possessed a quality he had yet to identify that had caught and kept his attention when others hadn’t. Probably why he was still lingering around with his stomach growling when he could’ve eaten and left.

  The door to the Jamaican restaurant opened. His breath caught when Lamisi stepped in and looked around the place. Finding him, she walked towards his corner table. He slid out of the booth as she reached him.

  Wearing a light green, button-down dress shirt tucked into a navy-blue straight skirt, she got into the booth. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “That’s okay.” Glad to finally be together after two weeks of missing her, he smiled. “At least you called. More than I’ve gotten from others.”

  She shook her head. “I hate wasting people’s time. It’s just that my supervisor held me up.”

  Her eyes started glistening. If that wasn’t enough to concern him, her sniffles were. “What’s wrong?”

  She fanned a hand in front of her face.

  “Nothing. I’m just …” She swallowed hard before pointing to his glass. “May I?”

  Not waiting for an answer, she reached for the water and took several sips. It didn’t seem to help as the tears escaped her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

  The bench squeaked as he shifted closer to her. His fist clenched with the urge to eradicate whatever or whoever had upset her.

  “Lamisi, what’s wrong?”

  Taking a tissue, she swiped her face with a force that left him surprised she hadn’t caused herself injury.

  “My supervisor is such an arrogant know-it-all ass.” Her eyes kept filling. “He makes me so angry, I could punch him.”

  She banged the bottom of her fist against the table, making the glasses shake.

  He waited for the reason behind the tears. Minutes passed with her silence. “Why are you crying?”

  “I told you, I’m upset at my supervisor’s behaviour.” She sniffed and drank more of his water. “From the first moment I got assigned to him, he’s given me a hard time. He’s the kind of professor that wants to be the only one at the top of the pyramid. He makes things difficult so I’ll want to give up on attaining my doctorate.”

  He had to be missing something. “And?”

  “I’m no
t going to quit.” She blew her nose. “I’ve come too far.”

  The tears had stopped, leaving her eyes red and him still not understanding. “Did he make you sad?”

  “No. Why?”

  He’d never had a more confusing conversation in his life. “Because you were crying.”

  She stared at him with her brows drawn as if she were the one confused. And then, as if comprehension dawned, she laughed. She couldn’t seem to stop. He’d missed the sound as much as he had her.

  “Thanks, Blaise. I needed that.”

  “You’re welcome?” He could accept gratitude even though he had no idea what he’d done.

  “It’s embarrassing, but I cry when I’m exasperated.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s better than throwing things, but people end up thinking that I’m sensitive.”

  “You aren’t.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not at all. I’m pretty sure that if I didn’t cry when I got angry, I’d end up in jail for beating someone, or at least trying. It’s as if God infused me with that annoying trait to save His people from my wrath.”

  Intriguing. “Then what do you do when you’re sad?”

  “Cry. But it’s different.”

  “Okay.”

  She looked him in the eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see me like that. I’ve held it in for too long. My supervisor would’ve never let me live it down if I had cried in front of him.” She stuck her tongue out and looked down at it. “I thought I’d bitten it so hard that it might be swollen.”

  He chuckled, still not clear about what had just happened, but glad to have the lighter version of Lamisi back.

  The server came over. “Are you ready to order?”

  Without looking at the menu, Lamisi said, “I’ll have oxtail with beans and rice, and a glass of ginger beer.”

  “Curried chicken and plain rice,” Blaise said.

  “Anything to drink?”

  “A big bottle of water.”

  The server left with a nod.

  “Why don’t you get a new supervisor if this one is frustrating you?”

  The sound she made lay somewhere between a whimper and a grunt. “He’s my third. My first supervisor was amazing. Just before the end of my third year, he died.”

  Blaise hoped he didn’t set her off with the depressing conversation. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Me, too.” Lamisi smiled. “Professor Ogah had a great influence on how I viewed linguistics. He spoke more languages than I did and gave me a better understanding of how I learned. He changed my life and way of thinking about languages.” Her shoulders slumped. “He’s in a better place now.”

  “Yes.” What else could he say?

  “Long story short, my second supervisor moved to another country, and then the third one in line, Professor Amartey, took her place.” She said the name with teeth exposed in a snarl. “He makes writing my dissertation a living Hell.”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked as rage at the injustice Lamisi had faced brought out a growl. “That’s not right. Do you need me to talk to him to ease up?”

  Her head flinched back.

  Had he said something wrong?

  “No, but thanks. I can handle my own battles. He hasn’t crossed any type of line into abuse or anything like that. He just doesn’t appreciate how much work I’ve been applying to the dissertation and is highly critical about everything I turn in. Including the interview questions for the artists I submitted. He had me wait for two hours in his office while he attended a meeting before he gave me his suggestions.”

  Not ready to stand down with his offer, he leaned in. “Let me know if anything changes. I can be quite influential.”

  She nodded and grinned. “I can handle it myself. Thanks for the offer.”

  His heart expanded at the sweetness of her smile, making him feel even more protective of her. Blaise held his index finger and thumb a centimetre apart. “Just a little chat with him? He’ll be as kind as a puppy to you afterwards.”

  Her incredible brown eyes twinkled. “As much as I’d like my supervisor to be docile, I decline.”

  His head and shoulders slumped with the drama of his heaved grunt of a sigh. “Okay. Fine.”

  Little did she know that the next time her supervisor made her cry, for whatever reason, he’d be in the guy’s office so fast that plaster would fly off of the walls.

  She deserved to be treated well. By everyone.

  How had he come to care so much about a woman he had only recently met?

  There was only one answer. The same thing that had kept him thinking about her. She was different. He’d be an idiot to not realize it. An even bigger fool to let her slip away from him again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Having skipped breakfast due to fear of vomiting in her stress-inducing supervisor’s office, Lamisi downed her oxtail and rice as if it had been a week rather than all night since she’d last eaten.

  The whole episode of her fury-induced breakdown in front of Blaise had more entertained rather than humiliated her.

  She’d found the fact that he’d offered himself as her protector to be both horrifying because he didn’t see her as someone who could take care of her own problems, and sweet because it showed that he cared. The man had a way of chipping away the resistance she’d built against him.

  She took a break from her food and glanced around at the full restaurant. “I’m surprised no one recognized you.”

  He tipped his head towards one of the tables across the room. She twisted her torso to observe a group of women stealing covert glances in his direction and whispering to themselves.

  “They aren’t sure if I’m who they think I am. I rarely get approached when I’m out. For those bold enough to do so, I appease them with a conversation, sometimes a photo.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not how I imagined your public life to be. I thought it would be more like we see on television.”

  “Very few Ghanaians have a reaction to me one way or the other. They’re too busy trying to find their own way through life to worry about me. You’re my number one fan, and yet, you ignored me when we first met.”

  “That’s not true. I smiled and winked back.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said in that breathy voice that made her shiver. “That moment is imprinted in my mind forever. Just as I was about to approach you, your face went all sour.”

  She laughed when he scrunched his features together and sucked his cheeks in.

  “I wasn’t that bad.”

  She bowed her head for a second before facing him with the truth.

  “I didn’t know how to handle your attention.” Starting with his head, her hand waved to where his torso met the table. “You’re a handsome musician with successful albums to your name, and I’m … me. The encounter wasn’t what I expected.”

  Hinging at the hips, he leaned closer, propped his elbows on the table, and gave her a lopsided flash of teeth that made her want to crawl over the barrier to close the space between them.

  “You think I’m handsome?”

  An eye-roll accompanied her drawn-out teeth sucking. The man knew his appeal, so his joke fell flat.

  “How about we discuss the interviews I need for my research?”

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a printed sheet of paper which included the title of her project, its objectives, and the names of the top fifteen Ghanaian multilingual hiplife artists who best suited the parameters of her dissertation.

  Blaise was number one. Professor Amartey had agreed to the list of artists. She got the sense it was because he didn’t know who they were; otherwise, things may have gone in a more harrowing direction.

  The server came to remove their plates and asked if they wanted dessert. They both declined.

  Blaise read through the list. “Ambitious, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Since I already knew the greatest of the greats, I figured you’d have no difficulty hooking me up wi
th at least seven of the others.”

  “Slick. When would you like to conduct the interviews?”

  “Since my supervisor has approved the interview questions, anytime this week or next would be perfect. Each interview will take about an hour, and I can meet them anywhere they want.”

  “Can I be with you for the interviews?”

  She kept her face from morphing into a look of surprise at his request. Why would he want to be?

  “Between travelling and the interview itself, that would take up a lot of your time, which I’m sure you could spend on more worthwhile ventures, like writing fabulous chart-climbing songs.”

  She hoped she’d been diplomatic enough for his ego.

  “Besides, your presence might skew the artist’s answers, which wouldn’t provide a true evaluation for my research.”

  “In that case.” He picked up the pen she’d placed on the table. “Is it okay if I write on this?”

  “Yes.”

  Blaise struck out two of the names on the list.

  “Why did you do that?”

  He tapped the pen between the two names he’d cancelled out. “I wouldn’t trust these guys alone with a beautiful woman. So, I won’t even ask them.”

  Heat crept up her neck and resided in her cheeks. With all the women he must encounter, he thought her beautiful? Would she sound as if she were begging for a compliment if she asked him to repeat himself?

  For the next forty minutes, Lamisi watched him contact his musician colleagues. His ability to smooth-talk them into accepting to do the interview had her mesmerized. If she could speak to people like that, she’d probably want for nothing ever again.

  Eight confirmations had her clapping and kicking her legs under the table with excitement.

  “Thank you so much, Blaise. I’ll be a busy woman this week with interviews every day until Friday, but it’ll be worth it. And I get to meet some of the best hiplife artists in Ghana. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. What can I do to repay you?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Well, there is one thing.”