Love and Hiplife

by Nana Prah

  “How can you stop her? She’s money and power. That combination means she can do whatever she wants no matter who it hurts without consequences. God knows what she has planned for my dissertation. Not only have I had three advisors, but my current one already stalled me several times out of spite. If Deola whispers into his ear, I may never get my doctorate.”

  Lamisi bowed her head and rubbed her temples.

  “I can’t give up my dream, Blaise. I’ve worked too hard to get here, and I refuse to get pulled back.” She raised her head and held his gaze. “By anyone.”

  A heaviness settled in his chest at her ominous words.

  The taxi came to a halt. He looked out the window to find that they’d arrived at the hotel. Discussing how to handle Deola ranked high on the schedule for tonight. Just as Lamisi wasn’t willing to jeopardize getting her PhD, he wouldn’t lose her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Lamisi’s hand trembled as she pulled the cab’s handle to let herself out while Blaise paid the driver. She’d been off-kilter ever since reading the horrible message. Melanie had pulled her to the side and asked what was wrong. She’d claimed nerves about being so close to the end of her dissertation.

  And now, she’d confronted Blaise. His offer to talk to Deola was sweet, yet ridiculous. Whatever the woman wanted, she got, not matter who suffered in her acquirement of it. Was he strong enough to withstand Deola’s wrath if he got in her way?

  Doubt lingered as she waited for him to join her on the short path into the hotel. When he’d caught up with her, a man wearing a dark hoodie jogged towards them.

  The guy called out, “Here’s your lesson, bitch!”

  Within the blink of an eye, he untwisted a bottle and aimed it.

  In slow motion, liquid squirted towards her face and splattered before she could raise her hands to protect herself. She pushed out a scream just before Blaise ran and tackled the guy to the ground.

  Their rolling scuffle didn’t take long as she yelled at the anticipated burning of her face from the acid the man had sprayed her with. She would be scarred for life. Her howls brought people sprinting out of the hotel.

  “Lamisi,” Blaise said, out of breath. “Are you okay?”

  He tugged at her wrists to bring her hands down from her face.

  “Madam, what happened?” One of the hotel’s attendants squatted next to her and asked in French.

  Lamisi gulped in the cool air that hit her skin. Where was the sizzling agony of flesh melting that should’ve had her writhing on the ground? With gentle fingers, she tentatively touched her cheek where the fluid had landed. No pain. No caustic smell of chemicals. Nothing but moisture.

  Heart racing, she looked at Blaise while answering the attendant.

  “My face. He threw liquid at it.” She swallowed hard. “Is it … disfigured?”

  Brows furrowed together, Blaise took out his phone and turned on the flashlight. She squinted at the beam of light as he assessed her. “Not at all. Are you feeling any pain?”

  She slumped and let out a sob of relief. It hadn’t been acid in the bottle. Whatever it had been, she needed to wash it off. Struggling to get to her feet, she fell as her knees buckled. Blaise helped her up.

  “Bathroom.”

  He assisted her inside with an entourage of gossiping hotel workers and a few guests following. He insisted on getting her into her room. Rather than wait for the elevator, she took the stairs two by two. Her hands too shaky to slip the key card into the slot, he took it and opened the door.

  Sprinting in, she tore into the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, and rinsed her face.

  Siphoning in a deep breath, she gathered courage to look into the mirror. She clutched the sink to keep from sliding to the floor when unmarred skin reflected back at her. Gratitude filled her chest. The back of her hand to her lips stifled the wail of relief that shook her body.

  Not knowing what had been squirted at her, she dragged her crying self into the shower. Her nearly full bottle of face soap didn’t hold enough for the number of times she scrubbed her face, neck, and chest. So she continued with her body soap.

  A knock against the barrier startled her.

  “Lamisi, are you okay?”

  She swallowed back her tears and palmed the tiled wall for support.

  “Yes,” she choked out as the water continued to stream down her face.

  Air ruffled the shower curtain as the door opened. His voice reached her ears clearer although he hadn’t entered. “Are you sure? We should go to the hospital to have you checked out.”

  The last place she ever wanted to be. “No … no hospital. I’m fine. I think it was only water the guy shot at me.”

  “Not acid?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? We should still get to the emergency room to confirm.”

  “My face isn’t burning. If it had been acid, the skin would have become warped.”

  “But what if—”

  “I’m fine.” The ferocity in the words bounced off the shower walls. Taking in a shaky breath, she spoke at a reasonable level around the lump that had formed in her throat. “Give me a while. I want to make sure to wash off whatever he got on me. You should do the same.”

  Seconds ticked by, and she feared he wouldn’t leave.

  “My door is open if you need anything. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as she heard the closing click of the door, tears mixed with the water sluicing over her, the drain collecting the residue of the nightmare she’d just endured.

  ***

  There was nothing Blaise could do for her at that point, so he limped to his room. The fight with the assailant had led to soreness in the ankle he’d injured on the mountain. He’d wanted to chase the guy down when he’d escaped his grip, but taking care of Lamisi had been more important.

  Worried about her, he took a quick shower. Her “fine” hadn’t sounded it at all. Who would be after being attacked? Thank God it wasn’t acid. Not only her beautiful face would have been marred, but her whole life would’ve been affected. Her outgoing personality might’ve taken a huge hit.

  Her strength of will would have gotten her through it, especially since he’d have stayed by her side the whole time. She meant more to him that being a pretty face. Her intelligence, sense of humour, huge heart, talent, and determination made her special. She brought a unique light to his world that hadn’t been there until he’d met her. Scarring wouldn’t frighten him away from someone so extraordinary.

  He hopped out of the shower, dried off, got dressed in a pair of shorts and T-shirt, grabbed his phone, and left his room to rap on Lamisi’s door.

  The barricade between them cleared, with her on the other side of the open threshold. Eyes puffy and red, the sight of her both made his heart clench and had him sending up a prayer of gratitude that her face hadn’t been disfigured.

  “Can I come in?”

  She swept a hand into the room.

  He took in an area almost identical to his, varying with a colour scheme of light orange and cream. Fighting the need to wrap her up and hold her for the rest of the night, he lowered himself into the only chair as she sat on the edge of the bed. Space might be the best thing for her. For someone he was strongly attracted to, he really didn’t know her all that well.

  “How are you doing?”

  She shrugged, and her lower lip quivered.

  He sprang from the chair onto the bed and wound his arms around her. Her tears poured onto his shoulder until her sobbing transitioned into intermittent shuddering breaths and sniffles.

  She pushed herself up and walked across the room to grab the box of tissues. After blowing her nose, she kept her head bowed. Needing to soothe her, he went over and rubbed her back.

  “Do you want to go to the police?”

  “Ha. And say what? That a guy called me a bitch before squirting me with water? I can hear them having a big laugh and saying, ‘Madam, when we have murders to solve, you expect us t
o care about this bit of nonsense?’ just like they would in Ghana. No, thanks.”

  She had it right on point.

  The guilt hit him once again. His association with Deola had caused this misery for Lamisi. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  He pulled out his phone from the cargo pocket of his shorts.

  She grabbed his arm, her eyes glimmering. “Who are you calling?”

  If it was the last thing he ever did, Blaise would make Deola pay for what she’d done. But first, to flush out her informant.

  “There’s only one way Deola could have known where I was and who I was with.”

  “You believe me that she’s responsible?”

  “Yes.”

  She closed her eyes for a second, inhaled so that her chest and shoulders rose, and nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you would. I have no real proof.”

  “Your instincts are good enough for me.”

  “Thanks.”

  He hit send on Abdul’s contact and waited. He would’ve never thought his friend would betray him.

  Abdul’s smiling face popped up on the screen when he answered. “Hey, man. How’s Franco land treating you?”

  Blaise held back a growl. “Lamisi got attacked. What the fu—”

  She pinched his side.

  He clenched his jaw, rubbed his chin, and counted to three. “Tell me what you know about it.”

  Mouth slackened, Abdul blinked several times while craning his neck closer to the phone. “Me ya faru?”

  The Hausa flew naturally out of his mouth.

  Blaise narrowed his eyes. Abdul had done a great job at looking confused, but he wasn’t buying it. “You know what happened. And speak English.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What happened to Lamisi? Is she okay?”

  “Someone has been harassing her over the phone, and tonight, they threw acid in her face.”

  Lamisi clutched his arm and squeezed.

  “That’s terrible. How is she?”

  Blaise ignored the question. “You’re the only one I told about my trip to Côte d’Ivoire with Lamisi. You’re the only one who could have told the attacker where we are.”

  Abdul gave a fierce shake of the head with a hand over his chest, as if swearing like they used to do as children. “I told no one of your trip.”

  Blaise assessed his friend’s mannerisms with a critical eye. “Are you sure?”

  “I promise on all that I hold dear that I told no one. I would never betray you, my brother.”

  Either Abdul had been taking acting lessons from top actors in Nollywood, or he was telling the truth. If that was the case, then how did Deola find them?

  “I believe him,” Lamisi whispered.

  He gave a single nod of both acknowledgement and agreement. “Then how could Deola have known where we were?”

  Eyes once again as round as clay bowls, Abdul’s mouth dropped open. “You believe Deola did it?”

  “Yes. She called me last night reminding me about the music awards. When I insisted that we weren’t going together, she mentioned Lamisi.”

  Abdul set his mouth in scowl and waggled his finger. “I told you she wasn’t a good person. I could sense it in her. Besides, young rich people who don’t work for their money have too many issues. That one especially. Alima is always telling me that Deola is misunderstood, but I don’t believe her. Being spoiled is never a good thing.”

  Blaise’s spine straightened at the mention of Abdul’s younger second wife. A memory niggled in the back of his mind but refused to clarify itself.

  “Alima speaks highly of Deola. When Salifa or I contest her opinion on the woman, she becomes outraged. If I didn’t know that they’ve never met, I would figure Alima to be a friend of hers.”

  A revelation announced itself in Blaise’s head louder than the call to prayer. “When I told you about my trip to Côte d’Ivoire, I remember Alima hovering behind you.”

  He hadn’t thought anything of it because the favoured wife was always around her husband.

  It took Abdul a few seconds to make the connection before he bellowed out her name.

  Alima jogged into view.

  Lamisi leaned closer to Blaise so that her face was in the small section at the bottom of the screen. “She’s the one who kept shooting me dirty looks and whispering while glaring at me at the hospital the day we met.”

  When Alima looked to the screen and noticed the faces staring at her, she narrowed her gaze and emitted, “Karuwa.”

  The word whore couldn’t have been meant for Blaise.

  “Alima! What has gotten into you, spitting out insults as if raised in the gutter? Apologize.” Abdul had switched to Hausa since the woman didn’t speak English as fluently as his first wife.

  With militant defiance, she folded her arms so viciously under her breasts that it pulled at her hijab. “I will not.”

  “Why not, Alima?” Blaise asked on a tone much kinder than the one he wanted to dish out. He would play good cop today. “Has Lamisi offended you?”

  “Yes.” Spitting with indignation, she continued. “By trying to steal you from my friend, she has become my enemy.”

  Guilty. It wouldn’t hurt to get more evidence. “Who is Lamisi trying to steal me from?”

  “Deola. You have agreed to marry her. She has told me that the announcement will be made at the music awards where you two have planned a public proposal. My friend has told me all of the details.” She sighed. “Very romantic.” Her eyes sharpened with a flick towards Lamisi. “She will not ruin it. You belong with Deola.”

  The occupants in both rooms stilled with silence and confusion.

  “I’m not marrying Deola,” Blaise shouted. The woman had gone too far.

  “How are you and Deola friends?” Abdul asked at the same time.

  Alima grinned at her husband. “She responded to me when I left a message on her page a few months ago when Blaise and she initially met. I was proud that Blaise had finally met a woman worthy of him.”

  At least, she’d had his best interest at heart. It still didn’t dispel the anger keeping him on the cusp of crashing his phone against the wall.

  Lamisi rested a hand on his upper thigh.

  “Did you tell Deola that Blaise had travelled to Abidjan?”

  “Yes. We are the best of friends and talk about many things.” The young woman’s smile lit her face. “When she asks about Blaise, I inform her. She always takes my calls. She was pleased with me when I told her about your weekend trip to Abidjan.” Alima shot daggers from her eyes at Lamisi. “Even if it was with her.”

  Lamisi’s low growl hit his ears, but didn’t reach the phone’s speaker. He had no doubt that blood would be shed if the women were in the same room.

  “You have not done well,” Abdul chastised in a strict tone, leaving no doubt that Alima would learn the error of her ways. “Leave me.”

  Alima opened her mouth as if to protest, but then seemed to think better of it when she looked into her husband’s scowling countenance. She scurried away.

  Blaise had heard more than enough. He returned to English. “I’m sorry I blamed you, my friend.”

  “No worries, Blaise.” Abdul averted his gaze to meet Lamisi’s eyes before bowing his head. “I apologize for the actions of my wife. I assure you that it will never happen again.” The screen filled with his face. “I’m glad you weren’t injured.”

  “Thank you.”

  Blaise turned to look at Lamisi’s profile at her softly spoken words devoid of any irritation. Her features no longer held the tension they had just moments ago. Could she have truly forgiven that quickly? He knew that she had when she turned and her dark brown eyes caught his gaze and held.

  He was honoured to have met such a remarkable woman.

  Abdul cleared his throat.

  Resistant to lose the link he had with Lamisi, it took him longer than it should have to return his attention back to the screen. He entwined their fingers to keep the
connection.

  His friend rubbed his full beard. “What will you do about Deola? The woman is crazier than I thought.”

  “That’s a fact. I’ll talk to her. By the end of the conversation, I know she will back down.”

  Abdul raised a brow, but didn’t ask any further questions. Once again, he gave a slight bow to Lamisi. “I am truly sorry for the stress you have suffered and my wife’s role in it.”

  He must really be feeling the guilt to elicit two apologies.

  “Na yarda da uzuri.” Lamisi accepted the apology in Hausa, revealing that she held no ill will towards Abdul.

  “Just make sure she understands that what she did is wrong,” Blaise added. “My business is no one else’s but my own.”

  “Yes. I’ll talk to you later, my friend. Have a good night, Lamisi.”

  “You, too.”

  The screen went blank with the cut call.

  Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose and released a mouth full of air, glad that his friend hadn’t betrayed him. Now to shake Deola from his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Over the shock of being assaulted, a wild hunger of fury took its place. Abdul’s idiot wife wasn’t the one to blame. Deola was.

  No matter what Blaise said to her, nothing would change. The woman with the kind of power and money Lamisi couldn’t even fathom would come after her again. And again. The prima donna wanted Blaise, and there was probably nothing she wouldn’t do in order to make it happen.

  Scenes from too many Nigerian and Ghanaian movies where a woman was kidnapped by a jealous ex came to mind. The ideas had to be initiated from somewhere. She had no doubt that Deola could and would make her disappear without getting caught.

  Was she willing to risk her life for a man? Not just any man, but Blaise. The one her heart seemed to beat for. They hadn’t known each other for long, but he was so comfortable to be around that she had no difficulty being her true self. That had to mean something.

  Didn’t it?

  No one else could live for her. Being with Blaise would be a wonderful experience, but she came first. If she were to continue down a path of having a relationship with him, she would live in a constant state of fear. Watching over her shoulder, waiting to be attacked from any and all directions. What kind of life would that be even if she were with the man that made her feel amazing and special?