Chapter 10 Cole
CHAPTER 10 COLE
ADINKRA SAYING: (Fawohodie) Freedom walks with suffering.
HELEN ADDO: Freedom comes with education and an advanced degree… like a master’s.
SAMUEL ADDO: Freedom comes with your birthright. Your home. Never forget your way.
That was a goddamn shit show.
It was a small miracle that no one got into an actual fistfight. True, emotions at acquisitions meetings could run high. Once, at my first intern gig after Princeton, at a small press, an editor lost his shit and threw a brick of Post-its at his director of sales.
That was years ago, though. And despite the fact that things hadn’t quite gotten that far today, what had happened was ugly. We’d only been out of the meeting for twenty minutes, and I’d already heard whispers. The rumor mill could kill hopes and career aspirations in this place.
But Ofosua had handled it well. She’d kept her cool and her poise. If my uncle had talked to me like that, I might have lost it. And I certainly would have told Nazrin where she could shove her comments.
If I wanted a shot at smoothing things over, I had two choices. Head for my uncle or Ofosua. And I was ninety-nine percent sure that neither was going to be receptive to my interference. But I thought maybe my uncle would be the easier of the two. I’d never seen him like that, waving his proverbial dick around. He was usually far more measured.
Yet he’d made it a point to shut Ofosua down, and publicly, over a book that frankly didn’t seem worth the fight. What had just happened in that meeting and why? When I stuck my head into his office, Steven was already on the phone talking to Greta, letting her know that we’d be coming to her with an offer for Aliza Mann’s manuscript within the next few days. Which was bullshit.
I lifted my brows as he hung up. “We need to talk.”
“Later,” he said.
And then he closed the door in my face.
All right. Ofosua, then.
As I made my way down the hall and to the right, where most of the editors sat, I managed to catch a glimpse of her back as she was headed in the opposite direction at a decent clip in her fuchsia-pink pencil skirt and sky-high heels that made her legs look a mile long.
As I rounded the corner to take the stairs behind her, Emory slid into my path. “What the hell was that? This imprint was your uncle’s idea. And now it seems like he doesn’t actually want Ofosua in charge. The vibe was way off. That was bad, Cole.”
“You think I don’t know that? Drake needs her.”
You mean you need her.
I snapped my jaw shut so the errant thought wouldn’t escape. I only meant she was good for Drake. And the only woman of color on our editing staff. We had Alejandro in thrillers. But they were the only brown people in upper-level positions. I knew the optics.
Also, you’re worried about her.
Luckily, Emory wasn’t privy to my inner thoughts.
I did not have time for this. “Emory, is this absolutely necessary right now? I need to talk to Ofosua before she gets too far. Like it or not, I’ve been assigned to her imprint. We’re a team. And I’m trying to smooth things over before it gets bad.”
When she’d left the conference room, she’d looked… hurt.
And that’s your business because?
My inner voice was like going to fucking therapy. I didn’t need to examine all these thoughts or feelings or whatever the fuck was going on. I just needed to get to her. What had happened in that meeting was fucked up. And at the end of the day, I wasn’t my uncle. I knew she could do this job and do it well.
Twenty flights of stairs was a long fucking way down. How had she done it in heels? Had she slipped to another floor to use the elevators?
I scanned the street to the left and to the right. Central Park West was busy, cabs honking, pedestrians crowding the street. And then I saw her. A few tendrils of her curls had escaped her pinned-up style today, showcasing her long, elegant neck.
I took off in her direction, but she had over half a block on me. And as I wove my way through the crowd, I tried to figure out what the hell I was going to say to her.
If she had any indication I was following her, she didn’t show it, though she eventually slowed her pace, allowing me to catch up. We’d gone several blocks north before she noticed me. She was looking at one of the store windows and then she hesitated and picked up her pace again.
“Ofosua. Don’t run.”
She didn’t turn around.
“Ofosua. Wait.”
“Stop following me, Cole,” she called back.
“I just want to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said before making a sharp right and hopping in a cab.
Shit.
I picked up my pace and slid into a taxi, stealing it from some guy in a suit. I gave him an apologetic look even as I asked the cabdriver to follow Ofos. I wasn’t sure if I should thank the driver for sticking right on her tail or hold on for my life. Either way, when her taxi pulled over, so did mine. Not wanting to fuss with payment and lose her, I threw him a fifty and told him to keep the change.
I caught up to her easily. “Ofos. Please talk to me.”
She turned on me. “Did you really just pull a follow that cab routine?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Look.” I applied a gentle pressure to her elbow and tugged her off the main walkway in front of a massive wrought-iron gate. The gate was open, exposing a street I’d never been on before. When I looked up, I didn’t recognize where we were at all.
I looked for a sign and saw one. Pomander Walk. The stairs leading up provided a hidden quiet place to talk. “Look, I’m sorry that meeting was a shit show.”
She was glancing up and around at our surroundings, which, to be fair, did look like something out of a Disney movie. It was a tiny, private, no-cars-possible street lined with two- and three-story Tudor-style single-family homes facing one another. Each home had colorful flowers planted in front of it, climbing vines, and brightly painted wooden doors and shutters in shades of cobalt, ruby, and hunter green. Were we even still in Manhattan?
“You think?”
“Look, I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have gone like that.”
“Did your uncle send you to find me? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s lunchtime, so I’m technically off the clock. I can do what I like.”
“I know you can do what you like, and my uncle didn’t send me. I just saw you leaving, and you looked… upset.”
She pressed her lips together firmly. “I’m not upset . I’m not overly emotional. I’m not overly passionate, and I’m certainly not angry, Cole. I just wanted a brisk walk.”
I’d seen this version of her before. The contained version. Her flat self. I’d seen it in meetings. When someone said something dumb or offensive, it was her zero-response face. Professional and detached.
But Ofosua’s face was normally so expressive. When she smiled and was truly happy, she lit up a whole room. You couldn’t help but watch her. When she was pitching a book she loved, it was impossible to tear your gaze away. The only choice was to sit there riveted until she released her hold on you. I also knew her sad face. It looked a lot like this one, except her eyes were more haunted.
I knew her pissed-off face too. That one I liked to think was reserved for me. She mostly kept that one locked away unless we were off-site. When we were butting heads in the office, she always stayed in the frosty, cool, contained zone with me. Which rankled.
“Oh, come on, don’t give me this face. The cool, detached one. Get pissed off. That meeting was bullshit. You know it. I know it.”
She gave me a tight smile then. “Pissed off? Because I didn’t get my way? Because someone blasted microaggressions at me hot enough to melt my face off? Tell me what it’s like to be you and pitch a tantrum whenever I like. Because I can’t do that. I don’t get to. What I get to do is take a fucking walk and make arguments to myself about why I have to go back to that office and keep fighting the good fight. So please tell me again how I should be acting.”
“Jesus. That’s not what I’m saying. I just…” Except that was what I was saying.
On her fingers, she recounted a few points to me. “I am good at my job. I handle bullshit like this all the time. I can handle hard conversations. What I don’t handle well is the precious few minutes where I don’t have to hold my shit together being eaten into by an entitled white guy.” Her last point was punctuated with a finger to my chest.
Which was when I realized just how close I was standing to her. Close enough for the hint of her hibiscus shampoo to waft around me.
“This is not going how I imagined. I just—”
“What, Cole? Just what the hell do you need from me? I left all I had to give in that meeting. So I’m filling up my well again before I have to go back to pretending for everyone.”
I hadn’t realized it, but now we were pressed up against each other. Her eyes were fire as they sparked up at me. And suddenly my skin felt too hot, too tight, and I was all too aware of just how close she was standing. “You don’t have to pretend for me. Would probably be easier if you didn’t.” My voice sounded like someone had put it through a cement mixer.
For a long moment, we stood like that. Too close for the distance to be professional. She had room to back up, but she didn’t. I had room as well, but I was rooted to my spot, held in place by the fire in her eyes.
“You want me to thank you for your attempt to stand up for me.”
I swallowed hard as I shook my head. “No.”
“Because that didn’t help, Cole. I know you think it did, but I need to fight my own battles.”
“Everyone in there knows you can fight your own battles.”
“Because I’m the aggressive one, right?”
I cursed under my breath. “Nazrin was out of order. And we are on the same team. I stand with my team, like it or not.”
“Out of order or not—” Her voice broke, and I watched helplessly as she rapidly blinked her eyes, not meeting my gaze. “I’ve worked really hard to seem approachable, friendly, and a team player.”
“You’re not unapproachable.”
Her teeth grazed her bottom lip, a soft frown marring her smooth forehead, the only crack in the armor she’d ever shown me. “Nazrin thinks I am. Now a lot of other people will too, because she’s influential in the office. I didn’t need you to come and give me a Band-Aid and kiss my boo-boos.”
My gaze flickered to her lips. The overwhelming urge to kiss away a thousand hurts hit me like a wave. I cleared my throat. Ofosua is your colleague. “That’s not why I came. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
Her eyes were large, dark pools that held me arrested in place when she looked up at me. One glance and she managed to hypnotize me.
“Why do you even care?”
I could at least be honest with my answer. “I have no idea. I just saw you and I ran after you. Because, like it or not, you and I are on the same team.” I was standing close. Too close. But she didn’t move back.
“You were put on that team. To keep me in check.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “You know, when my uncle gave me this assignment, I think that’s what he thought was going to happen. But he seems to forget that I’m my own person. I know you’re good at your job. I might need to learn more about what we are doing with this new venture. It’s the future. You embody what my grandfather wanted for Drake.”
Her gaze searched mine, and then her tongue peeked out to swipe over her bottom lip. And all the blood in my body rushed south. Fuck me.
A new voice interrupted the moment. “I just had the best showing. Oh my God. It’s small. I mean New York small. But it’s perfect. And it’s only two million.” A woman in high heels came clattering out the door to the house closest to us, talking loudly on her phone about real estate. The noise she made broke the spell. Shattered that glass cocoon I’d started to build around us.
Ofosua cleared her throat, and then I stepped back. She blinked rapidly and smoothed down invisible wrinkles on the fuchsia-colored skirt she wore. “I should get back to the office.”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that. Maybe spend the rest of the day working from home or something.”
She shook her head. “You should know by now that I don’t run from a challenge. I’m going right back to work. I have five slots to fill.”
She never said die. “Of course you do.”
She tilted her chin up and gave me a fuller version of her smile, her full lips parting, showing straight, perfectly even, white teeth. The dazzle of it pulling me in. “Careful now, Cole Drake, someone might actually call you a decent guy.”
“Oh, well, at least you’ll always be there to remind them that I’m not.”