Love and Hiplife

by Nana Prah

  “What’s the point of worrying when it won’t solve anything? Live in the here and now. The rest will take care of itself when the time comes.”

  He’d spoken without diverting his gaze from the brilliant clarity of the sea when she had complained about how much more work she still had to do on her dissertation.

  A philosophy she could totally get with. And would. Maybe even when he wasn’t around.

  The sparks kept passing back and forth with each touch, accidental or otherwise. A delicious warmth had found a new home tucked under her ribs when he gazed into her eyes. She’d focused a lot of her attention on his mouth when he spoke, not only wanting to hear his words, but feel them against her lips. Proof that entering his room tonight when he’d invited her to watch a movie and hang out would’ve been a bad idea. One that might’ve led to a physical intimacy she wasn’t yet ready for.

  She’d barely started to trust him—sleeping with him this early was out of the question. At least, that’s what her mind kept reiterating. Her body, on the other hand, wanted to climb all over him and finish what they’d started in the studio last week.

  A gentle knock on his door wearing a robe with nothing underneath would lead to an invite inside.

  Her core throbbed as her fantasy went into overdrive as she slid her robe down her body so it pooled on the floor before she stripped his clothes off.

  She hopped out of bed, clearing her mind of him kissing her into oblivion as his hands roamed over her body, driving her to the pinnacle of need that compounded the one she already had for him.

  The water would relax her while washing away the sea salt that the refreshing ocean air had deposited on her skin.

  Thirty minutes later, she was sure the residents below her would come up and tell her to cut out the pacing. The activity kept her hands from twisting the metal handle that would release her from the room. She strode the few steps it took to get to the wardrobe cabinet where she’d stored her laptop.

  A muffled noise came through the wall on Blaise’s side. When his voice got louder, curiosity wriggled under her skin. What had happened to make him sound so upset?

  Not my business.

  Then why was her ear against the cool painted plaster, being incredibly rude by eavesdropping?

  “How did you find out about Lamisi?”

  The mention of her name was the sole justification for continuing to listen when she knew better.

  “Don’t try to change a subject that you brought up, Deola. I asked you a direct question.”

  She covered her mouth to keep from gasping as her heart clanged against her ribcage. She’d never make a good spy. Why was his friend talking about her?

  “I told you before that I’m not taking you to the VGMAs. In fact, the way you’ve been behaving lately, I think we should take a break from our friendship.”

  A low feminine screech reached through the wall.

  “I’m not someone in your command. If you can’t respect me and my decision not to get involved with you, then we can’t continue as friends. Lamisi has nothing to do with you, so you’d be better off forgetting her name. I’m not your man. I never have been and never will be. It’s time you understand that.”

  His voice sounded strained, as if attempting not to let everyone in the hotel know his feelings on the matter.

  This time, the pause lasted for much longer than the previous ones. Deola must be having her say. Was she the type of woman who’d beg? If she were anything like Lamisi, she’d let Blaise go.

  Then again, he was an extra type of special. Would she fight for him?

  She didn’t know.

  When Blaise finally spoke, his voice was too low for her to hear. Lamisi looked around for anything that would amplify sound. Where was a stethoscope when she needed it?

  What was that creaking noise? She leaped away from the wall with her hand on her chest when a door slammed shut.

  Okay. The conversation hadn’t ended to his satisfaction. Had Deola been convincing enough to retain a position in his life?

  And then, a red bulb went off in her head. Was Deola the one stalking her through calls and texts? Had the woman been so threatened by her that she’d stooped so low?

  Given the situation, Lamisi smiled. She’d never been anyone’s object of envy before. Much less a wealthy, world-famous heiress. She thrust her shoulders back with pride and strutted to the side of the room she should’ve been on the whole time rather than listening to Blaise’s conversation.

  Now that she was at least eighty-five percent sure of who’d been behind her stress for the past couple of weeks, it no longer held her captive. She could look at the phone, give the petty woman a millisecond of her time, and then carry on as if it had never happened.

  Lamisi would wait Deola out. She’d get tired of playing her petty games.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Blaise swayed his upper body to the beat while listening to a zouglou song by an Ivoirian artist that he admired. The lyrics held more meaning as he repeated them as Lamisi had instructed.

  So far, their weekend had been the best he’d had in a long while. Being with her was like breathing in the fresh, clean air from his hometown.

  Easing her into his more affectionate manner put a strain on him when he wanted to shower her with kisses, random caresses, and words that would melt her resistance. He’d kept things light by brushing her hair off her face when the wind blew as they walked hand in hand on the beach yesterday.

  The hug they’d shared at the end of the night before separating to their own rooms had stoked a strong desire to stay by her side. To hold her all night while they talked, nothing more.

  He refused to let himself recall how responsive her lips had been the week prior. It would’ve just driven him insane with a need he couldn’t fulfil.

  Deola’s call last night had perturbed him. She’d been tenacious about attending the music award ceremony together as if he’d never told her they wouldn’t. He’d been firm in his rejection. Even though her outrage had vibrated through the phone, he hadn’t back-tracked.

  And then, she’d mentioned Lamisi by her full name in a casual comment which had aimed to manipulate. His head had nearly exploded with rage when she’d refused to reveal her source. She’d either been having him followed, or one of his boys had betrayed him.

  Protecting Lamisi had become his main priority. He’d deal with how Deola had discovered her information later. No longer caring about upsetting the heiress, he’d broken off their friendship. Or at least tried to. Her tearful pleading had touched his sensitive side.

  He’d given her one more chance. Although the woman lived a privileged life, she had few friends, and when her guard was down, came off as lonely.

  He’d ended up putting stipulations on their relationship. She wasn’t to mention Lamisi. Had to keep things platonic. And there would be absolutely no manipulation.

  Thinking back on the conversation, he should’ve let her drop. If the rumours were correct, Deola’s lack of friendships was due to her controlling, vicious, and vindictive nature. He didn’t need the hassle.

  He’d stormed out of his room to stretch his legs and exhaust his ire with a walk. When he’d returned long after midnight, he’d raised his knuckles to rap on Lamisi’s door, but had stopped himself at the last second. His feet had dragged along the carpeted floor to his room.

  Now he stood at her door at a reasonable hour, looking to take her out on another tour.

  Lamisi swung the panel open wearing a sleeveless pink, blue, and cream-coloured batik print dress that hugged her waist and flowed out over her hips to her knees. She had applied a light layer of makeup that brought out her cheekbones, dark eyes, and full lips.

  He leaned against the wall as she stared, hoping he looked cool instead of a man whose knees had just gone weak.

  She touched her fingertips to hair she’d pinned away from her face. “What?”

  “You look wonderful.”

  “Thank you. Are
you ready to go? I have a full day planned.”

  No trying to get him to gush over her. No denying her own beauty. Just a confident answer from a strong woman. He looked forward to the experience of falling more in like with her.

  After eating breakfast in the hotel restaurant, they went to the local market and interacted with the market women. His ears picked up a lot from the atmosphere. When he repeated snippets of what he had learned to Lamisi, she beamed up at him.

  “You sound good.”

  The feeling of pride would last until he messed up again.

  “It’s a process,” she reassured with a pat on the arm. “Keep trying. I know you’ll get it.”

  The confidence she had in him made him want to succeed for her almost as much as for himself. Once again, he slid down the slippery slope of admiring her even more.

  Following the local market, they went to a shopping mall. The interactions with the people in the modern space weren’t as frequent, but he did get some practice in.

  During their lunch at the food court, they released the student-teacher role, enjoying the meal and each other as they talked about their family and childhood. Many of the stories they told had them laughing to the point of drawing attention from their neighbours.

  After one more round through the massive mall to help settle their food, he tugged her to the glass and metal railing where they watched people going about their business. “How about we return to the beach and relax until it’s time to head off to visit with Melanie?”

  Lamisi shook her head. “Not on the agenda.”

  He wished he could add some kissing onto the list of things planned to do. He had trouble focusing on anything but her reapplied gloss over such luscious lips.

  “Then what is?”

  She tipped her head, exposing the side of her neck. He brushed his lips against the area. From the way she leaned into him, she had also forgotten about the public space they were still in.

  Blaise flicked his tongue against her soft skin, eliciting a moan from her. He raised his head to find her eyes closed with her mouth slightly parted. He gripped the railing until his palms hurt and faced the other side of the mall to prevent himself from breaking further social norms and kissing her full on the mouth.

  His heart slowed to normal as he focused on people-watching.

  Lamisi positioned herself to face him head-on. “As much as I’m appreciating the air-conditioning, we should get going.”

  “Where to?”

  She grinned and wiggled her brows. “You’ll see.”

  He appreciated her teasing, but not her announcement. “I’m not a fan of surprises.”

  “Okay, then let’s call this an examination of sorts.”

  When she took off towards the end of the mall, he stayed in place, watching her hips sway and making the dress flounce around the back of her cinnamon-hued skin.

  She glanced over her shoulder to find him observing her. Halting mid-step, she pivoted and returned. “I promise that you’ll like it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “A gut feeling. Besides, it’s better that you know this about me now.”

  Interest had him standing at his full height, making her tilt her chin to look into his eyes. “What?”

  “When it comes to languages … and one or two other things, I tend to be right all the time.”

  He smirked, piqued by curiosity. “Is that so?”

  “Come with me and see.”

  The one invitation was all it took to accept her challenge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Lamisi took him to the last place he’d ever expect to end up while in Abidjan. A barber shop.

  He ran a hand over the short bush on his head. “I don’t need a cut.”

  “It’s not about the haircut. It’s about the interaction.” Grasping his shoulders with both hands, she caught his gaze. “Your mission is to go in there and speak only French. No other language will be allowed.”

  “Why a barber shop when we can do it anywhere? What if they butcher my hair?”

  Unable to help herself, she reached up and smoothed her fingers over his head. The dark coils sprang under her touch, and he shivered when she caressed the base of his hairline.

  What he’d started in the mall lingered, and her neck tingled with the memory of his kiss. His lips the only thing in sight, she stepped closer to diminish the unnecessary gap between them.

  The door to the shop opened, letting out raucous laughter from inside.

  Disappointed, she hung her head and dragged in a deep breath. She turned to the glass panel to see that men and a couple of women were looking at them, hooting. Head on fire, she dropped her hands to her sides and stepped to the left, out of their view.

  Lamisi risked looking up into Blaise’s face and found him grinning. She’d met the most irresistible man in the world. Either she learned how to deal with it, or she’d end up falling into their attraction every time they were together. Privacy be damned.

  She cleared her throat. “This is where Melanie’s husband has been getting his hair cut for the past fifteen years. As you witnessed from the number of people waiting inside, it’s a pretty popular place. I called the owner and told them Bizzy would be stopping by for a cut and chat.” She flung up a finger. “In French only. The guy said he was a fan of yours. Do you want to disappoint a fan?”

  He chuckled. “Since you put it that way …”

  “Good. Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll take it easy on you. When you’re done, we’ll head over to see Melanie.”

  He tugged her deeper into the shadow of the building. Her mouth dried at the passion in his eyes just before he lowered his head to her and slid his lips against her mouth. “When do we get to be alone?”

  Lifting her heavy lids, she gazed into his eyes, her mind hazy. “Um.”

  “Hey, Bizzy.”

  The familiar voice of the barber shop owner asking if he was going in lulled into her head.

  Blaise kept his gaze glued to her for a moment longer before pivoting his head to the left. “Oui, j’arrive.”

  Lamisi regained strength in her legs and followed him into the shop to observe the magic of black men bonding over the buzz of clippers and snipping scissors.

  ***

  Blaise and Lamisi sat side by side in the taxi for the late-night ride back from Melanie’s place.

  He skimmed a hand over his head. The barber had done as he’d asked and faded him out on the sides. The conversation flying around him at the barbershop had made him laugh so much that he’d forgotten about being self-conscious of his French and had participated when he could. Glimpses of Lamisi grinning as she flipped through a magazine had told him he was doing well.

  The guys at the shop had been accommodating and gracious when he’d messed up. They’d stayed for an hour after the owner had removed the cape and dusted off the excess hair because the positive vibes of the place had been conducive to learning.

  “Good job today,” she said once they’d packed into a taxi to head back to the hotel.

  “Thank you. Since it was an exam, what grade will you give me?”

  She cocked her head and tapped her chin as if thinking. “An A for effort and being a good sport. And a B minus for your pronunciation.”

  “I’m impressed with myself. It’s better than the F you would’ve given me last week.” He intertwined their fingers. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without you, Lamisi. Thank you.”

  Her grin squeezed his heart.

  “Glad I could help.”

  He heard the residual tension in her voice. She hadn’t been herself, at least what he knew of her while they’d visited with Melanie and her husband. Instead of the intense focus she could give to a conversation, she’d seemed side-tracked and a bit jumpy.

  “You seemed a little preoccupied with your phone this evening.” Blaise broke the comfortable silence. “Is everything okay?”

  “Since you asked.” With a sigh, she untangled herself fr
om him and pulled her cell from her bag. A couple of screen slides later, she held the device out to him.

  “This message slipped through my radar before what I was reading registered.”

  ‘I told you to stay away from my man. Since you don’t know how to listen, bitch, I’ll just have to show you what happens to people who cross me.’

  Not believing his eyes, Blaise read the message again before giving her his attention.

  Lamisi twisted her hands together. “I’ve narrowed down my stalker to one person.”

  Ready to do damage to whoever was causing her such turmoil, he asked, “Who?”

  She stared at him in a way that made him question if she thought he was the guilty individual. “Your friend, oil heiress Deola Olajumoke.”

  He believed her. Deola mentioning Lamisi during their conversation last night gave him no other choice. He rubbed a hand over his face.

  “After what I heard you say through the wall last night,” she continued, “I don’t doubt that it’s her.”

  “What?”

  She dropped her gaze. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were loud at some points.”

  He had to fix this. “I think you’re right. I’ll call her and tell her to stop.”

  Her hysterical laugh drew the driver’s attention in the rear-view mirror.

  A deep frown replaced her joyless laughter. “Have you heard the same stories about her that I have? Crashing cars while drunk driving and not being punished. Getting people fired from their job because they didn’t serve her fast enough? The woman is a holy terror who can get away with anything because her father is a billionaire.”

  She slumped into the seat. “She’s delusional enough to think that you’re her man. After what you told me, I know it’s not true, but still … The woman wants you and is willing to threaten me to have you.”

  “But she can’t have me. I’ve told her that several times, and I’ll do so again as soon as we get to my room.” Fearful that Lamisi would give up on their new relationship before it even got started, he gripped her hands. “This is the last time she’ll threaten you. I won’t allow it to happen again.”