Love and Hiplife

by Nana Prah

“So, it isn’t broken?”

  His charming crooked smile eradicated the misery she’d suffered through while waiting.

  “No. Badly sprained, though.”

  Relieved and unable to keep her hands to herself when she’d been so worried, she reached out and touched his arm. She wasn’t sure who passed the current, but she took a moment to enjoy it before letting her arm drop. “That’s great to hear. Much better than a break.”

  His eyes captured hers and refused to release her. “You stayed?”

  “Yes.” She ignored the heat creeping up her neck and hitched a thumb at Precious. “She wanted to make sure they treated you well.”

  Precious cleared her throat.

  So what if she’d just revealed her true feelings to her best friend with that tiny lie? She’d deal with the teasing later.

  He shifted his eyes away, leaving her with a longing to bask in them.

  “Thank you, Precious.”

  “No problem. It was actually—”

  “We need to go.” After years of friendship, she knew when Precious was about to rat her out. “It’s a long journey to Accra. And you should get off your feet. I hope you’ll be able to elevate your leg while you drive back.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Musah said. “Let’s go.”

  Blaise raised his leg. “Lamisi has a point. The doctor instructed me to keep it up and iced.”

  Not wanting to leave him, she lunged at the opportunity. Nothing prevented her from getting to know him. As her favourite musician.

  “Since it’s just Precious and myself in her car and yours is full. How about if we give you a ride?”

  A choking sound came from Precious.

  Blaise cut off anything Musah had opened his mouth to say. “I accept. It’ll give us a chance to finish our discussion.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Blaise lounged in the back seat of the Kia Sportage SUV. That new car smell permeated his nostrils as the air conditioning cooled the atmosphere. He had his long leg extended along the backseat without it touching the door as an ice pack sat on top of his ankle.

  The medication they’d given him had taken the edge off the pain. He no longer winced each time he adjusted his leg. From his vantage point behind the driver’s seat, he observed Lamisi’s profile while she kept her sights on the road. Her forehead sloped into a pert nose that shadowed a slightly smaller and darker top lip than the pinkish-brown bottom.

  His lips tingled as he recalled the pillowy softness of hers during their fleeting kiss. He wanted more. Not just physical encounters, but to get to know the beautiful woman. He had no doubt her personality would be gorgeous, too.

  “Tell us all about Deola,” Precious said after she’d gotten them fifteen minutes into their journey.

  He glanced over his shoulder to find Abdul still on their tail in his Land Rover Discovery. He anticipated a heated lecture for the stunt he’d pulled. It would be worth it if he could get Lamisi to go out with him on a date. His instincts screamed in a way he couldn’t ignore that getting to know her would change his life.

  They could hang out and indulge in the heat of attraction that ignited when they got close. Perhaps if they fell in love, she’d be willing to convert so they could marry. The possibility pleased him.

  As if ice water had been thrown in his face, he realized that he’d never visualized marrying anyone before. He’d just met Lamisi and knew little about her. The medications must be stronger than he thought to allow him to have such ridiculous musings.

  “Are you okay?”

  He snapped out of his thoughts to find Lamisi’s concerned gaze focused on him.

  “Yeah.” He grimaced as he rubbed his thigh, hoping they’d think it had been pain that had let his mind stray. What had Precious asked? Oh, yes. About Deola. There isn’t much to tell about Deola. She’s all over social media and what you see is what you get. High fashion and travelling.”

  He’d leave out the negative aspects that she didn’t show everyone. Her persistence in having her way all the time rivalled that of a manipulative politician. She was spoiled, rich, and controlling. Not a good combination for anyone who had to deal with her.

  Precious clicked her tongue. “I meant about you and her. It’s rumoured that you’re together.”

  He was sure Deola had started it, but he had no proof. It was ironic that they’d come out after she’d started dropping hints that she liked him in more than a platonic way.

  “We’re friends. The media made more out of our attending a few events together than they should’ve. As you know, she’s the heiress to an oil empire. With me being the son of a prominent chief, they called me a prince. The concept of a royal romance in modern West Africa appealed to them, and obviously, their audience.”

  He caught the way the women tipped their heads towards each other and exchanged a glance. He didn’t question it. The media had promoted the rumours with enough verve to make it seem believable.

  Lamisi angled her body with her shoulder propped against the back of the seat. Her eyes narrowed as if she had the power to see through him like the X-ray machine they’d used on his ankle. “The tabloids say that you’re dating exclusively and are on the cusp of getting engaged.”

  He maintained eye contact to help provide support to his words. “That’s not true. We’re only friends. Nothing more.”

  “Benefits?” Precious asked.

  He shrugged. “That’s none of your business.”

  The women exchanged another poignant look.

  “But no,” he admitted. If he wanted to see Lamisi again, he had to be transparent. “We’re two people who hang out every once in a while when there’s a special occasion with press hovering.”

  No need to tell them about the time Deola had kissed him. The memory still left a sour taste in his mouth. Her beauty and elegance hadn’t stirred anything in him. Attraction had to be present—in their case, it proved missing.

  “At glitzy events,” Lamisi muttered as she settled into her seat, facing the windshield.

  “It helps to hang out with someone who knows the business. Her father may be an oil mogul, but she’s into hanging out with celebrities. Her social media numbers are through the roof. It never hurts to be seen with her.”

  Precious’ brow rose as she glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. “Are you using her?”

  “Not at all.” He had difficulty finding a way to explain. “We’ve just never addressed the rumours with the public. Denying anything to the media triggers them to latch onto it. We both know it’ll die down.”

  Unless Deola feeds into it.

  Lamisi returned to looking over the side of her seat. Probing him. When she seemed appeased with the truth in his answer, her lips curved up into a smile. A good sign.

  “How did you meet?”

  “At a party Wander threw in Nigeria about a year ago. He introduced us, and we got along.”

  The car swerved towards the left before Precious corrected it. “The Wander?”

  Blaise chuckled. “The one and only.”

  He’d had similar reactions when he’d met his favourite artists for the first time. The humbling experiences had given him the insight into why people stumbled over their words when they came in contact with him.

  Lamisi’s eye roll before she resumed her proper seating position showed just how impressed she was with his name-dropping.

  “Who is the song ‘A friend forever’ about?” She carried on with the interrogation.

  His lips puckered into a frown, and he blinked several times at the mention of a single from his first album that never got radio play. The fact that she was able to rattle off the title so readily let him know how much she appreciated his music. Warmth swirled beneath his ribcage and settled in the centre of his chest.

  “It was released years ago, so it couldn’t be about Deola.” He skirted the question.

  She nodded. “True. Precious, please pull over.”

  Her friend did a double take in her direct
ion. “Why?”

  “I’m getting a crick in my neck from turning so much. I’m going to sit in the back with Blaise.” She looked at him. “If that’s okay with you?”

  The anticipation of having her closer elicited tingles all over his scalp similar to what happened every time he went on stage.

  “Sure,” he said in as casual a manner as he could manage.

  Precious slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. Women carrying one-man-thousand and abolo on their heads ran to the vehicle. The miniscule fried fish paired with the steamed corn and rice flour wrapped in banana leaves were popular in the area.

  Lamisi climbed out of the vehicle, opened the back door, and assessed the situation.

  With a twinge of pain, he moved his leg to the floor to give her space, and she got in. Once settled, she patted the top of her thighs. “I’ll be your pillow.”

  For someone who knew how to create and spit out lyrics with the ease of breathing, he sat speechless.

  “It’s okay,” she coaxed. “I know one of your legs probably weighs as much as both of mine, but I’ll be fine. If it gets to be too much, I’ll return to the front.”

  “The added elevation is good for your ankle,” Precious contributed as she removed her wallet from her bag.

  He placed his limb on her. Electric shocks infused into him from the heel of his bandaged foot to where their contact stopped mid-calf.

  For the first time, he thanked Allah for the injury he’d sustained. This might end up being the best car ride of his life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The intimacy of them in the backseat ensconced in a way that people who had known each other for years would engage in should’ve been uncomfortable.

  Not even a little bit. The weight of Bizzy’s leg settled on her thighs set off a familiarity that she wanted even more of, so she took the liberty of resting her hands on top of his lower leg.

  The tantalizing sparks of awareness where they touched made her breathing shallow and rapid. She’d hyperventilate if she didn’t gain control of her body, so Lamisi ducked in deep inhales and releasing them slowly.

  What had she been thinking by getting so close to him? Her heart hadn’t settled into a normal rhythm since they’d sat in the same car. Now, she doubted that any part of her body was getting enough blood with the speed the organ was racing.

  That’s right—she had wanted to ask her favourite artist questions regarding his work that she was sure no one had ever queried him about before.

  Precious caught her attention in the rear-view and smirked as if she understood the lies in the excuse her mind had created.

  Now that she knew he didn’t have a girlfriend, she’d ceased fighting the magnetism pulling her closer to him as if they were each tied to an elastic cord that had reached its peak stretch. A wonder she hadn’t crawled on top of him already.

  Precious waved towards the sellers surrounding them. “Do either of you want abolo and one-man-thousand?”

  Lamisi snapped out of her daze of sensation. “I almost forgot that Alhassan asked me to get him some. He can eat two big bags of the one-man-thousand in one sitting. Please get me enough of the fish and of the abolo to keep him happy.”

  She didn’t miss the tightening of Blaise’s calf muscle against her. When she gave him her attention, he was staring at her with a tight frown.

  Without thinking, she rubbed her fingers along his shin. “Are you in pain? Should I go back to the front seat?”

  His muscles clenched again at her touch, and then relaxed.

  “No pain,” he said in the husky voice from their mountain encounter.

  His fingers as they grazed her arm spiked a barrage of incredible sensations that caused goose bumps to burst out onto her skin.

  “Stay,” he whispered.

  The dry state of her mouth made it difficult to speak, so she nodded.

  Oblivious to the fireworks going off in the backseat of her car, Precious asked, “Blaise, do you want anything?”

  His gaze remained steady on Lamisi. The passion that filled his eyes as the tip of his tongue licked his lips enticed her. Of its own accord, her body leaned closer to him. One more taste wouldn’t hurt. Their first kiss, although nice, hadn’t satisfied.

  Halfway toward her destination, Precious’ throat-clearing jarred her out of the craziness she’d been about to indulge in, and she sat straight up.

  “Fish or abolo is what I meant by anything.”

  “Nothing for me. Thank you.” His low tenor voice brought to mind hot nights entwined with a lover who could satisfy.

  Lamisi tore her gaze from those succulent lips to view the cement buildings outside her window as she fanned her face. The same woman who was quick to remove her hand from a person’s grasp during a handshake had been about to initiate a kiss. It had to be the combination of physical exhaustion and the remnants of oxygen deprivation that had her acting so out of character.

  Or she’d finally come into contact with a man she had a hard time resisting. Considering that his upper body had risen towards her as she’d closed in, it had been a mutual moment of yearning.

  Precious looked between them with a grin before ensuring that the food she’d placed in the passenger’s seat was secure. And then, they were back on the road heading to Accra.

  “Who’s Alhassan?”

  The hardness in his voice caught her attention more than the inquiry. Was he jealous? It would explain the initial scowl and the tension in his muscles when she had mentioned the name.

  She’d asked him quite a few personal questions already. Only fair she reciprocated. “My older brother.”

  His head jerked back as if surprised. “Alhassan is an Arabic name.”

  “It can be.” Just because she’d give him the information didn’t mean she’d make it easy to learn more.

  “Are you Muslim?”

  As always, the question asked by someone she barely knew irritated her. What did it matter what name she called God or how she chose to worship as long as she treated people with respect, love, and dignity?

  “My mother was a Muslim before she got married.”

  She’d asked her mom several times why she hadn’t maintained her religion. Her answer had always been about love and sacrifice. She’d discovered a better life by converting in order to be with her husband rather than to live without him and remain a Muslim.

  “She insisted on naming her children, though.”

  He leaned closer with interest. “Your name is popular in the north of Ghana.”

  “She’s Dagomba from the Northern Region.”

  “Do you speak Dagbani as part of your language repertoire?”

  Precious interrupted with her laughter. “Don’t even bother asking her that again. Any language you can think of, she probably speaks, understands, or can pick up in like two minutes.”

  Lamisi denied with a shake of her head. “That’s not true.”

  “Close enough.”

  Blaise’s grin took the sting out of her embarrassment.

  “If I had your skill for languages, I’d—”

  “Become an international spy? A quadruple agent?”

  He chuckled. “I was thinking more along the lines of writing songs in lots more languages. But being a spy might be fun. Are you one?”

  Making sure her face remained neutral, she cocked her head the slightest bit as she stared at him.

  “Do you think I could tell you if I was?” And then, she giggled. “I can’t lie to save my life. With me, what you see is what you get.”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s a lot to learn.” He winked. “I’m looking forward to taking up the task.”

  Either he was a great liar or he really did like her. Would he ask her out when they dropped him off, or was he all talk? The real question raced within her bounding pulse. Did she want to see him again?

  To her credit, Precious kept her mouth closed.

  “Back to your siblings. How many are you, and what are your na
mes?”

  It was as if he knew she didn’t know how to handle the flirtation.

  “We’re five in total. The eldest is Alhassan, then Miriam.” She pointed to her chest. “I’m right in the middle. Then comes Ras, and the baby is Amadu.”

  “What do you all do for a living?”

  She raised her right hand from where it rested on his leg. Her palm cooled when a second ago, it had been absorbing his heat.

  “Your turn. Remember that’s why I came back here in the first place?”

  Precious’ snicker was the only indication that she’d been paying attention to them. Where was a divider when you needed it? Lamisi wanted Blaise to herself.

  Realizing the possessiveness of her thoughts, she rested her hands at her sides, limiting their contact. She needed to keep a clear perspective, and touching him any more than necessary blurred her reasoning.

  He raised a brow while the corner of his lips twisted towards the side in confusion. “What was the question?”

  She laughed at his adorable expression. “Since your memory is so poor, I’ll refresh it. Who did you write ‘A friend forever’ about?”

  And are you still in love with her? Pining for a woman who doesn’t return your affections?

  She wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t answer. It wasn’t any of her business. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she willed for him to appease her curiosity. The song beheld a haunting melody, and the lyrics had touched her at a time when she’d fallen in love with a man who never saw her as more than his student.

  Time had healed her from the, but regret still lingered at what could’ve been whenever she saw him.

  Had Blaise gotten over his own heartbreak, or was his heart still beating for another?

  “What if I just made up the song?” he asked.

  “I could be wrong, but I don’t think that’s your process. Your music sounds personal.” And touches my spirit with their depth. “Nothing can convince me otherwise, especially after hearing the song you created before we fell.”

  His dark eyes seemed to consider her. Or had his mind wandered to the past?

  “It’s about someone I loved and lost.”