Chapter 12 Ofosua
CHAPTER 12 OFOSUA
ADINKRA SAYING: (Kete Pa) It is when a woman enters a good marriage that she is put on a good bed.
HELEN ADDO: A good bed should also come with children… and orgasms. Not necessarily in that order.
The next night, I got ready for my date with trepidation.
I wasn’t a coward. I could do this.
It was just a date.
A date I wanted to go on. A date with a perfectly good man. A man who was not Hot Cole. I would never ever in a million years admit it, but my closeness with Cole had yielded some unwanted results.
I’d been having dreams. Inappropriate dreams. About Cole. Dirty , inappropriate dreams. Dream Cole was verbal and full of praise. And very, very good with his tongue.
Which was all kinds of unacceptable, obvi, so this date couldn’t come soon enough. I needed to shift the focus away from him, toward someone I could actually date.
It had been so long since I’d gone out. Last night I’d broken the seal. I was out of practice, so it had taken a moment to get ready. I’d gone with a simple red Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress.
The length was perfect, just above the knee. And it went perfectly with my satin Prada heels. I’d had it for years, but I felt like it was my lucky date outfit.
When was the last time I’d been on a date? Before Yofi, my last proper date was David Ayensu, a Ghanaian financier. We’d met in Ghana at an Achimota School alumni benefit. While I’d only attended for two years, both my parents were alumni.
David had done the whole sweep-me-off-my-feet thing, flying me from Accra to Capetown for our first date. But I’d been in my last year of school, and long distance was not in the cards.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t dated all that much.
With a confidence I was faking for all I was worth, I strutted out of my building with a wide smile.
The moment I saw Omar’s grin, I relaxed. He was good-looking. Medium-brown skin, smooth complexion. No beard. I hated beards. Decent jaw, slight divot in his chin, which I loved.
Cora knew me well. I was a sucker for a pretty boy. As I approached, I extended my hand. “Omar, hi. I’m Ofosua. It’s lovely to meet you.” He took my hand and immediately tugged me in for a hug.
He was strong. And admittedly, I was surprised by the hug, so I held myself stiffly for a moment. I didn’t like people I didn’t know touching me. And while he smelled fine, he smelled almost too sweet .
This was a date. He was going to touch me. I had to get used to it. “Oh, you’re a hugger.”
He pulled back and shook his head. “No, girl, but you look too good not to hug. True queen vibes.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but still, I held on to my Miu Miu clutch tightly and inclined my head toward the corner. “Shall we?”
As we walked toward the restaurant, we chatted amiably. Omar was clearly educated. He’d gone to Temple. He’d grown up in the suburbs of DC, and he was nice.
He did the door-opening thing when we arrived at the restaurant. Cubana was only a few short blocks from my apartment. It was new and a hot spot, and I’d needed Kukua to pull some strings to get a reservation as I’d chosen the location. She always seemed to have an in with the entertainment community, and the chef was a former Broadway star.
Luckily, we were right on time for our reservation.
As dates went, our conversation was easy. That was until our waitress came to the table. She was a beautiful biracial girl with her hair straightened within an inch of its life and elegantly clipped back with sparkly barrettes.
She had delicate tattoos lining her wrists and an eyebrow piercing. Those were her only real hints to being someone alternative. As she took our order, Omar spoke to her politely, he even asked me what my preferred choice of drink was. And since we were in a Cuban spot, of course I ordered a mojito.
I didn’t miss the wrinkle of his nose, though. Was I not supposed to fortify myself with alcohol? It was a first date, and I was going to run out of topics eventually.
I tried to lighten the conversation. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’ve been meaning to come, but I just hadn’t managed to make the time.” He looked displeased, though, his gaze sliding back to our waitress. “Is there a problem?”
“Just I hate to see a young half sister ruin herself like that.”
I glanced around. “Excuse me? Did you say ‘half sister’?”
“The waitress. She’s not really a sister. And you saw what she’s done to her skin. And the piercings. If those markings were tribal, you know, from where she came from in Africa or at least where half of her came from, it would make sense. But those are the marks of the white man.”
My breath caught. Oh no, no, no, no.
I had two choices here.
I could ask for elaboration, but I suspected the elaboration would come with verification of what I was dreading.
I was going to be locked in a dinner with him for the next hour and a half at least. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe he was just very Afrocentric. Maybe there was a chance he wasn’t a Hotep.
But it wasn’t looking good. I mentally ran through my Hotep checklist.
Fringe of the culture—Not really; he was friends with Cora and her boyfriend. He had people to check him. And they’d vouched for him. Green flag so far.
A little carried away with Afrocentrism. There was down for the culture, then there was too down. Red flag number one.
Heavy dose of patriarchy, homophobia. He thankfully hadn’t said anything homophobic. But the making judgments on our waitress and what she chose to look like was a red flag in itself.
The final nail in the coffin would be subscribing to conspiracy theories and pseudohistory with no real knowledge or education on the topic other than the internet. So far, no signs, but I was on edge already, just waiting for it.
There was no way I was overreacting. But I tried one more probe for clarity. “Well, I think she’s beautiful.”
He shook this head. “True beauty is in the soul. See, I can tell your soul is pure. You being from the motherland, the origin of the diaspora. But see, that waitress, I can tell everything I need to know about her just by looking.”
Shit. Final red flag. Waving free. How could I extricate myself without making Cora look bad?
Technically, this is Cora’s fault.
“You know what? I think—”
He cut me off. “I see a lot of young sisters doing that to themselves in my profession.”
I lifted a brow, torn between seeing what depths of hell we were traveling to and telling him about himself. “I’m not sure what that means. You see a lot of waitresses as a lawyer?”
“Well, I’m not a lawyer yet. I’m a paralegal, but that’s just for now, though. I plan to open a law practice that strictly serves the needs of Black men that this country has put in the school-to-prison pipeline.”
I was positive Cora had said he was a lawyer, but he was doing something good, so maybe this was salvageable. “Noble pursuit.”
“Right now, the only way to learn how the man works is to infiltrate. And then you get to figure out all their Illuminati bullshit.”
Oh no. Conspiracy theorist. Check. The Hotep trifecta.
He had to be kidding. He was friends with Travis. Of course he was kidding. Travis was educated and liked to call out conspiracy theory freaks all the time. No way Omar had slipped through the cracks.
“Illuminati?” I asked as if I didn’t understand.
He nodded enthusiastically. “Well, there certainly is a boys’ club, a white boys’ club, wherever you go.”
Shit. This was bad. And I was trapped. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.
I would at least get my food. I’d been waiting to eat here for a month. He then turned the conversation to me, asked about publishing and what I was working on.
When I told him all about my work, he was actually enthusiastic.
And even though there was that niggling voice in the back of my mind, I ignored it. I was too closed off, and this was my first time out on a date in months. So I needed to try.
Suddenly, the voice of freedom beckoned. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I was so caught in my reverie that, once again, I was surprised by the devil incarnate.
No, not the devil incarnate. Remember, you’re allies now. Almost friends.
I turned my head. “Cole, hi.”
His grin flashed bright, and his eyes danced. What was he up to? “I was at the bar with some friends. I just thought I’d come say hello. I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” His voice trailed as he waited for me to complete his sentence.
I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction. “Sorry. Cole Drake, this is Omar Matthews.” I turned to Omar with a smile. “Omar, meet Cole Drake. Cole and I work together. He’s one of my team members on that line I was just talking about.”
They shook hands and did the pleasantry thing. I wasn’t sure what it was about the exchange, but both of them were grinning at each other like idiots even though tension swirled between them.
“It was funny running into you here. I was just telling someone about the line and what a star you are. Audra Caplan. She’s an agent and might have some authors you’ll love.”
What was he up to? My gaze flickered over to the bar. “That’s great to hear.”
“Would you want me to make an introduction?”
Oh, so he was going to try to press me. Typical Cole. “Off the clock and on a date, so why don’t you be a dear and set up something for next week?”
There was no greater satisfaction than watching him try not to react to my treating him like my assistant. The tick in his jaw was prominent enough to give me pants feelings.
“Yeah, I can make that happen.” His voice almost dropped to a whisper, forcing me to lean close to hear him. And that little forever spark that was between us that usually ignited into a fight hit me right in the lady parts. I could feel the tingles straight through my body just from the one glance.
What the hell? I was on a date. With someone you have zero spark with. And then Cole was here, interrupting my date, giving me sparks and making me clench my thighs together in order to appease the tight ache between my legs.
“I appreciate that.”
“Of course. Sorry for interrupting. Matter of fact, I’m going to send a round of drinks to apologize. You two kids have fun.”
Omar shook his head. “No, man, I can afford the lady’s drinks.”
I blinked rapidly. What the hell? “Cole, that’s lovely but not necessary.”
“Please, I insist. I interrupted. Good to meet you, man. Take care of her. She’s one of our best and brightest,” he said as he strolled away with enough swagger to make heads turn.
Asshole.
When I turned back to Omar, he was frowning. “How long ago did you two date?”
The bottom fell out of my stomach. “Cole?” I shuddered. “No. We’ve never dated. He’s my coworker.”
“I know how they operate, forever trying to take our women. Subjugate them. To make them submit to them all over again. I mean, granted, you don’t carry any of that generational trauma. Since you’re from Africa, you don’t know. You think you can entertain them.”
With the final grind of my molars, I lost my tenuous control on my temper. “Actually, there are fifty-four countries in Africa. I’m from Ghana . Born in the US, but raised in Ghana and all over the world. I’m not entertaining anyone. You know, I don’t think this—”
He cut me off… again. “When Cora told me about you, she knew what I was looking for. A diamond in the rough. Last girl I tried to date was after me for my money. Cora assured me you were different.”
I blinked slowly. “Excuse me?”
“Women out here want kings but refuse to be submissive. And then you all get confused and start mixing the blood, ruining yourselves.”
Nope, this was my stop indeed. “Okay, I think I’m done.” I pushed my hair back.
His eyes went wide. “What? Why?”
He couldn’t be serious. “Besides your general Hotep fuckery? You’ve managed to insult our waitress, all Black women with tattoos, and women who speak their minds, and you’ve spouted no fewer than three disparate conspiracy theories and suggested that most women are after you for your money.”
“Well, not you.” He blinked at me owlishly. “You have a trust fund.”
In desperation, I chugged the rest of my drink just as two more drinks arrived. When I glanced at the bar, Cole lifted his glass in salute. “I think we’re done here.”
Omar pulled out his calculator. “Well, let me figure out what you ordered.”
And this was why I never left the house. “No worries. I have this,” I said as I opened my Miu Miu clutch and pulled out two hundreds. Then I called the waitress over.
“Yes, how can I help you? I promise you, the food will be out shortly.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” I reassured her. “This money will cover my portion and your tip. He’s on his own for the rest of it.”
She flushed and glanced back toward the bar. “I’m so sorry, but it’s already been paid for. Everything. The guy at the bar said whatever you wanted tonight was yours.”
I glanced back over, but couldn’t see him. “Of course, he did. Well, in that case, this is all your tip. Thank you so much. And I’m sorry for him.” I inclined my head toward Omar.
Omar frowned, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I can pay for my own dates.”
“Weren’t you just complaining about women bleeding you dry?” I pushed to my feet. “This has been an experience. I’m going home.”
“But why? Can I at least see you again?”
“What part of this has seemed like it was going well? I’m genuinely curious.” I couldn’t go on another date with him. I couldn’t. There was no way. “I don’t think we’re compatible.”
He wasn’t listening, though. “I’ll be at the Kukua Addo gallery opening in a few weeks. You’ll be there, right? Cora said you were going.”
I was going to kill Cora. “I’ll be there.” I ground my teeth and crossed my arms, trying to create a barrier between myself and his nonsense. “But I’ll be quite busy helping out.”
His grin flashed as if I hadn’t just rejected him. “You won’t be too busy for me. It’s a date.”