Otaare

by Alessandra Ebulu

  On a regular day, Bola wouldn't have minded that. Ukeme gave Bola a great view of his ass as he stomped off. But at the moment, they had a guest in the person of Stella—the blogger who had first broken the news of their tiff. All their evenings of outings and enjoyment of each other's company had been leading them to this.

  Ukeme didn't seem to get it though, and looked just about to snap until Bola whispered to him. "Stella's here."

  Those eyebrows furrowed but there was no comprehension in those brown eyes. "The blogger."

  He could see it when everything clicked into place for Ukeme. His eyes cleared and he swung an arm over Bola's shoulder.

  "A little too much," Bola whispered.

  Ukeme didn't act like he heard. Just squeezed Bola's shoulder just a bit harder.

  "Well, well. If my eyes didn't see it, I wouldn't have believed it." Stella's stringent voice called out with her thick Igbo accent.

  Bola pasted on the fake smile he only pulled out for such moments and peered over Ukeme's shoulder, taking note to tell Ukeme that, "your smile's looking a little wooden."

  "Says the person that's smiling like my mother used to every time she needed to take her agbo to supposedly cleanse her body."

  Bola snorted at the image just as Stella made it to them. Her small, beady eyes swept from Bola to Ukeme and back again. "Something funny?"

  "Just an old joke," Ukeme said.

  She made a clicking sound with her tongue and clapped her two hands together. "Na wa o. Who would have believed it? That Blaze and Ukeme would become friends?" Her mouth said something but her eyes said another. They stared at them with suspicion.

  "Well, it wasn't that easy," Ukeme said.

  Her eyes narrowed on him. "Really?"

  Ukeme nodded. "It's all thanks to Tinu, actually." He gave her an innocent look and Bola had to restrain himself from laughing at the expression and the way Stella was obviously buying it. "You know Tinu, right? Bola's younger sister."

  Stella tittered and just like that, the suspicion was gone. In its place was…interest? And why shouldn't there be? Ukeme Collins was six-foot-one of absolute gorgeousness. He cut his hair low. His eyes were a stunning brown that peered at you through the longest, most gorgeous eyelashes that Bola had ever seen on anyone, man or woman, and his lips weren't the stereotypical black or brown of the Nigerian lips. Nope. Ukeme Collins' lips were thin, just a little bit pink, and that dart of a pink tongue that swept across the lips occasionally to moisturize those same lips drove him just as crazy. Put all that on a body that was lean-but-strong, and those intelligent eyes, and he was a goner.

  Of course Stella would like what she was seeing. Bola liked what he was seeing. He had liked it ever since the first day he'd set his eyes on Ukeme.

  He shifted around just as Stella reached for Ukeme's hand and her hand brushed his. She pulled her hand back and smiled at Ukeme. "Yes, I do. Matter of fact, we finished from the same university."

  Not like Tinu had known she even existed then. Or cared. Tinu's dream then had centred around graduating at twenty-one—she was a stickler for time—and getting her Master's by twenty-three.

  She'd pulled both off quite remarkably.

  "She got her Master's abroad. The four Johnson kids all did. But Tinu was the only one that got her Bachelor's at the University of Lagos," Stella said.

  "I like Unilag. I finished from Unilag. Hell, there are a couple of Unilag students that stay in the flat right beside mine. Cool kids," Ukeme said.

  "Oh, really. And where do you live exactly?"

  "On the mainland," Bola cut in, before Ukeme could tell her exactly where it was he lived. The doofus might not have even realized yet that Stella was flirting with him, and would find nothing wrong with showing up to his house, bearing Afang soup and saying she was 'in the area and decided to drop by'.

  The image pissed him off.

  "Oh. The Mainland," Stella said.

  Ukeme chuckled and the sound had Bola's insides rolling. "Says the chick that that finished from Unilag." He nudged Bola's shoulder with his in a friendly, heterosexual way and Bola had to resist the urge to shiver at the touch.

  Just his luck that his new 'friend' was so fucking hot and totally straight. Talk about temptation.

  "Seriously. All you Island people just like to form," Ukeme continued.

  "You call it forming, we call it packaging," Stella replied and gave a dramatic shrug.

  Ukeme laughed and Bola joined in.

  "How did Tinu get the two of you to settle your beef?" Stella asked. The suspicion had crept back in, but it wasn't as bad as when she'd first approached them.

  "She dragged us to the Place, and had us bury the hatchet in a bowl of hot ogbono soup and pounded yam," Ukeme replied.

  Stella laughed and shook her head. "Chai! Pounded yam! Starting and settling quarrels since forever."

  "Yes o," Ukeme said, the smile still in place.

  It was strange that he was so good at this. They'd gathered a bit of a crowd, who were all listening attentively and Ukeme had them captive, weaving his hands in the air as he embellished the tale of how their first meeting had been a colossal mess, and how neither of them had thought they could recover. He even went as far as saying they'd almost brawled, save for the peering eyes of the people eating at the Place. There was a bit of truth there, but Ukeme was over-stretching it and having way too much fun.

  Bola stepped back and someone took his place.

  Someone bumped into him from behind. "And where do you think you're going?" Oh. It was Sukanmi. Thank heavens for little mercies.

  "He's handling it all well on his own," Bola told him and his eyes scanned the room. Hell, even Korede was chuckling, and that was something the elusive singer rarely ever did.

  He could see it, too. The interest in their eyes. Both male and females. The males hid it well. But it was there, in the way they occasionally angled their bodies towards Ukeme and how they clapped his shoulders when they laughed. The females didn't bother hiding it and Bola felt irritated at the way Ukeme seemed to flirt right back with them.

  "Jealous?"

  Bola rolled his eyes. "Of Stella? You must be joking."

  "You are. You're jealous of every single person there that Ukeme is currently talking to and smiling at. Everyone that is not you."

  Shit.

  "Shut up," Bola snapped.

  "Just confirms that I'm right."

  He turned around to glare at Sukanmi, who offered him a glass of some dark liquid. Bola took a sip. Brandy. Not bad.

  "What I don't understand is why you're over here, sulking while you should be there, cozying up to your new boyfriend."

  Bola shrugged. "He's making friends. He's not my boyfriend,” Bola added the last sentence as an afterthought.

  Sukanmi smiled. "And he's at the moment, searching the crowd for the one friend he does have in here, not counting his best friend, of course." Sukanmi jutted his chin forward, over Bola's shoulder and Bola turned around.

  Just like Sukanmi had said, there was Ukeme, with his brown eyes scanning the crowd. Once they landed on Bola, they brightened and those gorgeous lips curved into a smile. Damn. If Ukeme kept smiling at him like that, he would be a goner. A total goner.

  And then he heard that laugh that sounded like warm whiskey sliding down his throat and settling into a warmth pool in his belly and realized that nope. He wasn't on his way to being a goner.

  He was gone. Done. Out of his mind, and well on his way to not only falling for someone who might or might not hate his guts, but also someone who could compromise his career and everything he'd worked for; someone whose hands he couldn't hold in public for fear of being lynched; someone who would even more certainly than his music cost him his inheritance and whatsoever hope he had of repairing his relationship with his father.

  chapter nine

  Sound. Light. Someone murmuring.

  And a poke.

  "Get the fuck out of my room, Sukanmi," Bola growled.
r />   Sukanmi, the ass, didn't listen to him. Instead, he poked him even harder.

  He heard someone titter, and realized that nope, that wasn't only Sukanmi. His sister was also in the room.

  "I swear to God, I will have your heads if you don't get the fuck out of my room right now," Bola said. God, his head felt like something had sat on it all night and not let up. Hell, his eyelids felt like whatever was sitting on his head had wrapped its fingers around his eyelids as well.

  Trying to open them was hell. And he hoped that they would get a clue. He would not be a very happy man if he had to open his eyes.

  Another poke, this one followed by a hard pinch.

  Bola woke up swearing, ready to rain all manner of curses on them when his eyes lighted on his sisters. All three of them, with no Sukanmi in sight. They had their arms crossed across their chests and full-blown smirks.

  He knew that look. He'd had that look several times over. It was the look he had just when he was about to screw someone over. Or when he was about to catch trips with the person.

  That look was not his friend.

  He made to bolt out of the bed, but the women grabbed a hold of him. Debisi—or Debs, as she insisted on being called, grabbed one foot. Tinu grabbed his arm. And his middle sister Olatunji—they had no idea why their parents had given her a name that was usually reserved for men—held on to his shirt. All three of them pulled and he came crashing right back to meet them.

  Fuck. They tag-teamed him.

  This would not be good.

  "No," he said.

  Debs' smirk got even bigger. "We haven't even said anything yet."

  "You don't have to," Bola grumbled. He wagged his finger in their faces, not like it did anything. "You're ganging up on me, which means it's not going to be anything good. I don't want any part of it."

  "But we're not asking you to do anything," Tunji said with a grin.

  That was not reassuring, either.

  "It doesn't mean you're not about to ask for something, either. And before you ask, no, I don't want to answer anything, either," Bola said.

  "You have information we might be interested in," Tinu crowed.

  Damn. Screwed by his own mouth. Bola went with the next best thing he could fall back on: silence.

  "You're not getting out of this, baby brother," Debs grinned.

  "I'm not trying to get out of anything," Bola said.

  "Right." Tinu rolled her eyes. She motioned with her hand for him to sit up, and although he tried resisting, Tunji helped him along just fine. "Nothing interesting happened at Banky's party last night?"

  He froze, his mind working quickly to trying to come up with something, anything to say to get his sisters off his back and keep some form of his privacy.

  He should have known that would never work.

  "You were right. He has that shifty look," Debs crowed.

  "I don't have any shifty look," Bola snapped back.

  "Plus he's getting testy," Tunji said. "You're so right."

  "I'm not testy. You're the one being testy."

  "Really intelligent response," Tinu said and laughed. "Sukanmi was right. You've lost it. Lost your head to the writer who hates your guts."

  Sukanmi. The traitor!

  "No need to bother thinking about what you're going to do. He's out of town," Tunji said and flopped down on his bed.

  It was like that was the sign the other two needed. Debs took her spot at the foot of his bed and Tinu walked all the way around to slide into bed beside him and she wrapped her arm around his middle. No matter how much he tried jerking the arm off, she held on even tighter, till he just sighed and accepted it.

  "Come on, baby brother. Admit it. You like him." Debs grinned.

  "You know, most people would be panicking," Bola said, trying to buy himself some time. "Like think of what shit would hit the fan if anybody even caught a whiff of me liking Ukeme."

  It didn't work. Debs waved the words away with the air of one who couldn't be bothered with the technicalities. "How would they find out? Abeg e, say something that makes some sense." She peered at him. "Do you intend to do some sort of interview?"

  "Interview?" Bola asked.

  "On the radio," Debs added impatiently.

  Bola shook his head.

  "Well, then, how do you think anyone would find out? 'Cuz I'm sure none of us will say a word," she said and she gestured at the others.

  Bola shrugged.

  "Sukanmi might have spilled the beans to us, but he would only do that to us. He's not one to run his mouth," Folake said.

  That was true as well.

  "So, if everyone that knows, knows to keep quiet, how do you think anyone else would know?" Debs said.

  "Maybe because the writer in question might just jab to someone, and then I would have people breathing down my neck, from the Mountain of Fire Ministry who would offer to deliver me from the spirit of homosexuality, to Pops coming to beat the gay out of me," Bola said. He'd not expected the words to come out as bitter as that, but the emotions spilled through. Emotions he'd not felt since two weeks after his fourteenth birthday, and he'd realized that rather than having a crush on Damilola Adegberin—the prettiest girl in his class, he'd like Ugochukwu Ike—her boyfriend.

  There was silence for a moment and he closed his eyes, hoping he could shut out any form of pity his siblings were most likely wearing on their faces at the moment.

  The bed dipped and he was surrounded by six pairs of arms, all of them trying to get around his body. He yowled when one dug hard into his ribs.

  "Sorry," he heard Tinu mutter. She adjusted and then the offending arm had found its way under his back, curving around his side. He turned so he could face her and buried his face in her neck.

  "You told him you like him," Debs said, after a moment had passed.

  Bola smiled against Tinu's neck and pushed away from her, so he could look at his sister. She had always been the impatient one. In a hurry to leave their mother's womb, like their mum was fond of saying, and now, she just wanted to solve the problem so they could move on. He loved her. But there were some times when her railroading didn't work out so well.

  "Well, not technically," Bola said.

  Debs eyes narrowed. "Define 'technically'."

  "I might have told him off," Bola hedged.

  "Told him off how?" Tinu said. Her voice sounded perky. Like yeah, we'd just gotten to the juicy part and she wanted in on all the information.

  "A 'fuck you' kind of tell-off," Bola said.

  "The best kind," Tunji said. She gestured at him to carry on.

  He winced internally. This was the part he had been avoiding sharing with his siblings.

  "Well…?" Debs pressed.

  Tunji huffed. "Just spill it."

  Tinu narrowed her eyes. "Why do I get the feeling that you said something bad?"

  She was the youngest, the one closest to him in age, his partner in runny-mouth syndrome, and the one who probably guessed that he'd said something he shouldn't have.

  "You were the one who jabbed," Tinu said.

  "He might have said that I wished I could fuck him," Bola said. His sisters nodded. Their smiles widening, their eyes hungry for more details. "And I might have told him that I wouldn't fuck him. Not even if I got paid to."

  Yup. That wasn't where they'd thought the conversation was going. He could tell in the way Tunji's eyes widened, the way Tinu dropped her head into her hands and made a moaning sound as she rocked from side to side, and the way Debs was shaking her head.

  "You are an idiot," Debs said succinctly.

  He hung his head. When an insult was honest, it just made sense to go along with it.

  "An absolute nincompoop," Tinu said.

  "No working brain cells," Tunji added.

  But when the insult was getting too much, it made perfect sense to give some sort of token protest. "A-han. That's too much na."

  "Too much ke," Debs hissed. "You not only insulted the guy, but
you blew your chances to hook up with him. What idiot pours sand in garri he hasn't even drank yet?"

  "An idiot who has never drank garri in his life," Tinu said.

  "You haven't ever drank garri in your life either," Bola said.

  "At least I have enough sense to know that you shouldn't pour sand in the food you want to eat," Tinu replied.

  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are we actually talking about food or my—"

  "Your sex life," Debs said. "Or rather, your non-existent sex life, since you shot yourself in the foot."

  "It wasn't my fault, either," Bola grumbled. "He was running his mouth, insulting Pops and all. I just got mad."

  Debs conceded his words with a nod.

  Tinu, not so much. "Lots of people have insulted Dad before. With what I'm sure were even harsher words. You never got mad. What was so different?" She cocked her head and he stared back at her. She looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on the planet. "Moron. You lashed out because the guy you like doesn't like Dad."

  The words hit him hard and his eyes widened, mind working as fast as it could, trying to see if really he could have liked Ukeme then and had just lashed out because Ukeme had insulted his father. A father Bola didn't particularly care for. He shook off the thought. There was no way that could have been the reason. Even if it were, Bola narrowed his eyes and looked at his sisters, all waiting for the opportunity to light into him, there was no way in hell he was going to admit it. "We'd never met in person until the day we met up at the Place. I couldn't have liked him by then," Bola said.

  "Says the guy who usually falls for the mind first, voice second, and face third," Debs said. She gave him a look. "Admit it. He might be a pain in the ass, but you probably read through his Twitter profile and liked his mind before you made the call. You imagined that it would go differently, what with you being your smooth, suave self, and the two of you would have met and squashed the beef. Then you could get on to—" she trailed off and waggled her eyebrows, "—seeing if he played for your team."