by Nana Prah
Precious snorted. “Is that how you’re going to play it? Lamisi picks up nuances in languages like the skin absorbs sun rays on a bright day. She likes your music because of the meaning you attach to it. Unlike most people, we don’t understand every language you sing in. She does.”
Lamisi nodded at her friend’s support.
“Besides,” Precious continued. “If you haven’t guessed, you’ve just met your number one fan.”
Those appealing lips rose into a smug smirk, adding a gleam to his eyes. “Is that so?”
Her face heated to feverish levels as she ducked her head.
“She is. She’s been following you ever since she heard the first song you released. I’m surprised you don’t recognize us from your concerts. She’s dragged me to at least five of them.”
Not needing any more mortifying truths to spill from her friend’s mouth, she gathered her courage and looked Blaise in the eyes. “It was for research purposes.”
Not a complete lie, if years ago she’d been to a psychic who had foreseen coming up with an idea for her doctorate based on his music.
“Uh huh.” The disbelieving murmur from the front seat wasn’t helping her case.
“Your songs inspired me to write my PhD dissertation on the use of mixed languages in music and the impact on the listener.”
His smile broadened.
“I don’t know what impresses me more: myself for inspiring you, or the fact that you’re studying for your PhD.”
“Since I have your injured ankle in my lap, if I were you, I’d praise me going for my doctorate.”
He touched his hand to his chest. “But my magnificence brought it out in you. I deserve the credit.”
Lamisi giggled. “You’re right. It’s all about you. Years of coursework, intensive research, writing, and disappointing mishaps that waylaid my progress with a year left, if I’m lucky, before I stand against a panel to defend my work means very little.”
“When you put it like that … How about we share the accolades?”
She tipped her head from side to side as if considering. “Sounds fair.”
“Have you really been to five of my concerts?”
“Yes,” Precious answered. “We flew out to Lagos for one of them. She knows all of the lyrics and could sing your songs if you ever got sick.”
“Precious,” she hissed. “Please don’t let me inform Blaise about some of the adventures I’ve had with you over the years.”
Her oldest friend caught her gaze in the mirror and clamped her lips together. The smile of mischief stayed in place.
“So, Lamisi Imoro is my number one fan.” He reached out to her. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
She glanced down at his palm and then back at his earnest eyes before shaking it.
Without warning, he tugged her to him and whispered, “Gorgeous and intelligent, with a great ear for music. A magnificent combination. It would be my pleasure to get to know such a spectacular woman better.”
Her heart took off at a gallop as electric currents shot up her arm and charged her whole body. A slight turn of her head would place her lips against the bristles of his short, well-kept beard.
She struggled to haul in a breath. What was the response to someone she’d crushed on from afar for years?
“Um …”
His mouth against the shell of her ear sent feathery flames along the area with every movement of his lips.
“It’s okay. We can take our time and see what happens. I wanted you to know that I like you.”
His withdrawal left her filled with longing. For once, a man’s direct approach hadn’t irritated her. In the short time she’d known him, he’d done nothing but impress.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lamisi had asked him to share one of his deepest secrets. That took confidence. For both of them.
“You asked me about ‘A friend forever’.”
She nodded.
He wiped a hand down his face. Was he really going to do this?
“Most people presume it’s a song about friendship, but there are two lines within the lyrics that reveal the truth.”
“One day, the time will come when …” she recited in English then continued in Ewe as he’d originally sung it. “My broken heart will mend.” Then, “From your inability to love me as more than a friend,” was completed in a perfect Nzema accent.
Did she realize that she’d placed her hands back on his leg? Her gentle touch exposed how lost she was in the words.
She looked into his eyes. “They were the only lines I have ever heard you sing in Ewe and Nzema. As if you’d learned the languages just for the song.”
He grinned, proud of her ability to comprehend more than the lyrics, but the depth of them. “I wanted to sing about my unrequited love, but not have people truly understand.”
“Give me the full translation in English,” Precious ordered.
Instead of speaking the words, he sang the song in English the way he’d written it, but then hidden it with Ewe, which he spoke fluently. The words sung in Nzema, spoken by an ethnic group in the Western Region, were all he understood of the language.
“Awww. That’s so sad,” Precious said with a hand at the centre of her chest. She took a second to turn to Lamisi. “I can see why it hit you so hard back then.”
Blaise shifted his gaze between the two. “One-sided romantic experience?”
Lamisi cleared her throat. “I’ll share if you will.”
Did he really want to hear about her past loves? Could he afford not to? What if she were still hung up on this guy?
“Mine was nothing major,” he said. “One of my college classmates saw me as nothing more than a friend.”
“You wrote a song about it and veiled the lyrics in languages you don’t use. Doesn’t sound minor to me.”
He shrugged. “What’s in the past is done.”
“What happened to her?” Precious asked.
“I don’t know. We didn’t maintain contact.”
Because I couldn’t watch her go out with other guys knowing one of them would be the lucky one to win her heart.
Lamisi looked at him. “Are you still hung up on her?”
He chuckled.
“Not at all. It happened years ago. What’s that saying about time healing all wounds? It surely does.” He pointed at her. “Unless it didn’t for you. Are you still in love with the guy?”
Her twists shook along with her head. “Not at all. Time truly is a cure-all. At least for relationship issues.”
One question pressed on him that he needed an answer to. “Are you involved with anyone right now?”
She snapped her eyes to his. He expected an indignant refusal to answer.
“No.”
His chest collapsed as the air he’d been holding in rushed out. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”
***
Blaise’s talent as a musician had always been obvious to Lamisi, but she wouldn’t have guessed he’d be quick-witted and hilarious. The banter between the three of them had her ribs hurting with laughter. The return trip had taken much less time than when they’d driven up.
Wasn’t it always the way that the journey home seemed shorter than when heading out to an unknown destination?
Precious parked in front of a house set in an estate complex in Tema that Blaise had directed her to. Aside from the differences in colour, the homes, from what she noticed above the protective wall, appeared similar. The area was pretty, with trees planted along the sidewalks and clean, but bland. At least on the outside. The interiors of the properties were probably as unique as the owners.
What would Blaise’s home look like? She’d guess cool and comfortable. Like how it felt to hang out with him. Then the practical part of her brain smacked down her romantic one, and the word flashy came to mind. He had the means, so why not show it off, right?
Lamisi looked down at the weight on her lap. Her own legs had gone a little numb, but she’d refused
to give up the proximity.
“How’s the ankle?”
“For right now, I’ll say its fine. I have a feeling that as soon as it touches the ground, the pain will be excruciating.”
She stroked the top of his foot and said a silent prayer for healing. “You’ll be better sooner rather than later.”
“Thanks.”
A knock sounded at his window. His friends and their wives were lingering outside.
He pressed the button to slide the glass down. “Give me a minute.”
Not waiting for a response, he rolled it back up, pulled out his phone, and placed his thumb on the finger scanner to open the screen.
“How about we exchange numbers?”
Filled with uncertainty, her hand flew to her hair and smoothed down the twists on the right side of her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Precious opened her door. “I’ll be back. I’m going to stretch my legs.”
She got out and closed the door, leaving them alone.
Traitor.
He rotated the device end to end several times. “I thought we were getting along.”
Rejecting him might be easier if he wasn’t still resting on her.
Who was she kidding? The necessary task of declining his interest would be difficult regardless. She lived a life of complete privacy. From what she knew about the stars in Ghana and the world, they existed in the spotlight, seeking attention everywhere they went. She had no desire for that.
“We were.”
He raised his phone and wiggled it. “Then can we chat?”
Only one way to shut it down. “Look. You’re a fantastic musician, and I love your work. Meeting you has been wonderful. Thanks for answering my questions about your songs, but we live in two completely different worlds.”
He turned his head side to side and looked around. “Aren’t we still on Earth?”
An exasperated sigh hid her entertained smile.
“You know what I mean. Your lifestyle is all flash while mine is as simple as khaki trousers.” She flung her vision to the front to avoid the heaviness of his gaze. “I’d like to keep it that way.”
“My life isn’t as crazy as you’re making it out to be. For the most part, I’m a normal guy when I go out in public. Ghanaians don’t make a big deal about seeing me unless I’m on stage. They have more important things to concern themselves with, like their own lives.”
He had a point. And he would know his lifestyle way better than she would.
“I already told you that I like you, Lamisi. It would be great to get to know you better.”
His words had hit her straight in the chest. She liked him, too. Beyond his musician status. He was a down-to-earth man who was easy to talk to.
Yet, the fear in her gut churned. She couldn’t risk the pain that getting to know such a man would eventually entail. As stereotypical as it sounded, she didn’t doubt that he had more than his share of women and was able to toss one out when bored because so many others had lined up to fill the role. She had no desire to compete. Would she even be able to?
“You should let your friends help you inside and put some ice on the ankle.”
His shoulders slumped. “So I can’t convince you to give me your number?”
Already regretting her decision, she gave him a negative shake of her head.
“How about if I give you mine? There’s no harm in that, is there? If you want to ask me more questions about my music, I’m at your fingertips.”
A risk-free venture. “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll sell it to the highest bidder?”
“Just make sure you give me my share of the profits if you do.”
Back to being comfortable with him, she grinned. Maybe she’d given him enough negative responses for the day. What would it hurt to have his number? She grabbed her cell from the space next to her. With her mind a little hazy from excitement, it took two attempts to slide the pattern onto her screen to unlock it.
Where was that contacts icon again? She located it and tapped. “I’m ready.”
She input the number as he rattled it off. Blaise. What more did she need to add as she saved it?
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Lamisi. I hope you call and we get to see each other again one day. If we don’t and you’re ever at my concert, please come backstage.”
Her mouth went dry with the temptation of the offer.
“By the way,” he said and then paused.
“Yes.”
“Let it be known that your lap doubled as the absolute best pillow. If you happen to hear it in a song, you’ll know where it came from.”
She laughed. “Just as long as you give me my share of the proceeds.”
The joviality they’d experienced on the ride lingered until he tipped his head towards the glass. “My friends aren’t the most patient people, and I’m sure they’re exhausted.”
“You must be, too.”
He lowered his leg to the floor of the vehicle. Try as he might, he wasn’t able to hide his gasp, and she felt for him.
“My body might be a bit sore, but thanks to a beautiful, strong woman who kept me distracted from the pain, I’ve never felt more energized.”
Wouldn’t he stop his stream of lovely words so she could leave him without feeling the need to use the number he’d given her?
“Take care, Bizzy.”
Just like when he’d first met her, he winked. “You, too Lamisi Imoro, master of many languages. I really hope I hear from you.”
Unlikely, but she did, too. Sometimes, she longed for things that weren’t good for her. He’d been flung to the top of that category.
They opened their doors. When she stepped out, she held tight to the metal as her legs buckled for a second. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that no one had noticed because they were too busy helping Blaise.
She walked to his side to get some blood circulating to her weakened muscles. Getting one last glimpse of him.
Hobbling with support, he waved. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
She raised her hand in a goodbye gesture before they escorted him up the walkway to his front door.
Misery over leaving a man she’d known for less than a day trumped the joy she’d felt while being with him. There was one thing she knew for certain. The man had captivated her.
CHAPTER NINE
A week had passed since Lamisi’s trek up the mountain had ended in a roll down its slope with a stunning man to break her fall.
Blaise still stayed on her mind. It might be easier to forget him if she’d stop listening to his music on repeat. Each song fascinated her with the strength of his lyrics and the artistry involved in their creation.
Much to Precious’ annoyance, his number sat unused on her phone. Lamisi had stared at it enough to memorize it. Yet, she never pressed the button that would have his smooth, low tenor voice sending tingles traipsing across her skin as he spoke.
She shouldn’t be focused on a man when she had a doctorate to complete. Since she’d registered for the programme, the process had been thrown off the tracks not once, but twice.
Her principal supervisor had been brilliant—a linguistic studies professor who was knowledgeable, kind, and direct. Lamisi had always known where she stood with Professor Ogah who never wasted her time. Efficient and dedicated to academia and helping others to progress to their highest level. After a year of coursework, she had been assigned to him.
Towards the third year of her PhD and blissfully working on her dissertation, he had died after undergoing a minor surgery. She’d mourned him with the intensity of losing a beloved father figure. A tragedy not just for her, but the world because he had been such a spectacular individual.
Her second supervisor of the three she had been assigned had had to step up. A stressful time that she never wanted to repeat. It would’ve been better if her new supervisor hadn’t even taken on her project because a year later, the woman had transferred to a university
in Spain.
Where was the justice? Lamisi had been shot down so low that she’d spent a full week in bed crying, whining to anyone who would listen, and contemplating her educational goals. A master’s degree wasn’t something to sneeze at. It wouldn’t get her to the level of academia that she desired, but she could live with it.
No, she couldn’t.
She had set a goal of obtaining her doctorate, and nothing would stop her. As long as she had breath in her lungs, she would complete her dissertation, no matter how much time it took.
By the time her third supervisor had made himself available, she’d had to extend her program, which meant paying an extra year of tuition. Her doctorate would take five years instead of four. Not fair, but what could she do?
Professor Amartey was the kind of person who didn’t want anyone rising up the ranks to meet his own. He hadn’t thought her original topic was good enough and had wanted her to adapt her theses into something that would suit him.
Lamisi had been driving home, dejected after a meeting with Professor Amartey, when a Bizzy song had come on the radio. She’d wondered how many people understood the three languages he’d sung in.
The brilliant topic idea would appease Professor Amartey without her having to completely change her dissertation. She’d never forget the joyous desire to hop out of the car while dancing to the music as the vehicle moved forward, just like in those video challenges.
When she’d presented the idea to him last month, his frown hadn’t seemed as negative as usual when he’d nodded his approval.
To this day, her hands still trembled when she walked into his office. The man hadn’t become less intimidating in the least.
Between hospitals and having to see Professor Amartey, she wondered which one she hated more. At least, hospitals made it their mission to help a person feel better. Not so much for her supervisor.
Taking a deep breath to help calm her racing heart, she knocked on his office door.
At his gruff “Come in,” she forced her feet to move.
“Good afternoon, Professor Amartey.”
“Sit down,” he grunted without looking up from whatever he was reading.
Not put off by his lack of greeting, she walked to the closest chair, swept her dark blue, knee-length skirt under her legs, and lowered herself down, placing her ever-present research notebook on her lap, and waited. Sometimes, it took up to five minutes for him to address her again.