Chapter 15 Ofosua
CHAPTER 15 OFOSUA
ADINKRA SAYING: (Fofo) A symbol of warning against jealousy and covetousness.
HELEN ADDO: Fofo is a constant companion for most. Try not to marry a man who holds his against you.
Two weeks after the near-kiss incident in the park, I still didn’t know what to quite make of Cole. That day in the park was like having a layer peeled off of our interactions for the last few years.
But then… nothing. As if that night had never happened. What did it mean ? Did he remember? Should we talk about it? So far, we hadn’t, and I was fine with going back to pretending. Liar.
Didn’t matter. I had bigger fish to fry. I was sweating, and my nerves were going haywire.
When Cole strolled by my shoebox of an office, his brow fell the moment he saw me.
“What’s wrong?”
“After the acquisitions meeting a couple of weeks ago, I feel like I’m gearing up for battle every time I have a meeting with Steven.”
He gave me a sardonic lift of his brow. “I’m here. What do you need to hear, that you have this, that this is in the bag, fuck them? Which pep talk version do you need?”
I leaned back in my chair and eyed him up and down. I knew he was trying to help, but he had a totally different perspective. “What is it like to be you and think everything can be resolved with a pep talk?”
His brow furrowed. “I’ve seen movies, Black people get pep talks too.”
“Yeah, but I’m not Black American. I’m African . It’s different. Even though we have some shared experiences, there’s other cultural differences. There’s no such thing as a pep talk with African parents. Especially abroad. You are an immigrant first, African second. So the idea is there’s no room for failure. The pep talk is more like, do you know how lucky you are to even have an opportunity? No room for feelings. Usually it’s ‘waje m?r he’,’ which, translated, is basically ‘harden yourself’ or ‘toughen up.’ And then you get knocked on the back of the head and are expected to perform.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave me a sheepish smile. “I can tell you to harden yourself if it helps.”
God, his smile, it warmed something in the middle of my chest. “As pep talks go, that is severely lacking.”
He shrugged. “I know. It’s what I’ve got. But maybe it helps that I know you’ll be fine.”
I pushed to my feet and grabbed my laptop and my tablet. Cole gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder. The contact made me suck in a sharp breath and focus on the electricity coursing through my veins.
On the plus side, it gave me something else to think about besides the last shit show of an acquisitions meeting.
For the love of Christ, haven’t you learned anything?
Had I learned? The thing was, ever since Bryant Park, I’d found him less annoying than usual.
Every now and again he’d bring lunch and we’d talk about new submissions. Marketing plans and ideas. He’d even brought me a prospect. Some girl he saw busking on the subway reading her work. Yes, he’d gotten back on the subway. He needed to get to a meeting and a cab wasn’t going to cut it. He’d given her his card and taken her information. So of course I’d been stalking the poor girl online.
And he’d even managed to drag me out to one more happy hour. That one had gone far more smoothly. I’d managed to mingle and chitchat just fine before ducking out after an hour.
Not that I was falling back into that sinkhole of the starry-eyed girl who thought this guy could be totally into her. Although, let’s face it, I was probably the most fabulous woman he’d ever met in his entire life, but more like, actual friends. Which was new.
“Okay.” He put both hands on my shoulders and leveled a gaze on me. “We have this. Your lineup is great. We can sell every single one of the books you’ve acquired.”
“Why are you helping me?”
His smile was soft as he released me. “I may be a dick sometimes, but I like you.”
“Since when?”
“I’ve always liked you. You’re just a pain in the ass.”
“ I’m the pain in the ass?” I asked him incredulously.
“No, you’re not a pain in the ass to everyone. You’re professional, courteous, gracious. Easy to work with for most other people. You’re just a pain in the ass to me, specifically. But now that we’re friends, that’s all over.”
“I don’t know. Now I sort of have the faint urge to be a pain in the ass again.”
He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Addo. Game face on. Let’s go get Aurora St. James on our list.”
“Right. I’ve got this.”
Steven, as was the case more and more these days, was late.
I sat back and forced myself to take a deep breath. There was no starting a meeting at Drake without him. And I knew from experience he’d be the first one to complain if we ran over at the end.
When he strolled in a full fifteen minutes late, without apology or explanation, I was certain I’d cracked a molar from clenching my teeth. If I had so disrespected my colleagues’ time even just once… I’d be done for.
Heat suffused my face. Steven sat down and smiled as if he had not a care in the world. Across from me, though, I took in the set of Cole’s shoulders. They were rigid, and I noted the muscle ticking in his jaw. He was pissed too.
I decided to begin as if everything was going perfectly.
“Let’s get started, shall we? I wanted to start with the current authors and where we are on development. At the sales conference last week, we discussed Aurora St. James. Here’s why she’s amazing. You’ve all already seen the first few chapters of the book she submitted, plus her backlist sales, and I hope you’ve had an opportunity to review the material. If not, let me give you the highlights.”
I slid my gaze over to Cole, who gave me a quick wink that hit me directly in the lady parts. Which was inconvenient. But it also gave me a boost.
For once, I wasn’t alone.
Cole and I were like a bookselling dynamic duo. While I described everything that was transformative about Aurora’s work, Cole jumped in immediately to talk about how easy she would be to sell into major accounts at a higher level than she currently was and all the things he loved about seeing her reading with Emory and me.
And of course Emory was there to give the social media hot take. Aurora already had a substantial platform. She didn’t even need us for the socials. In truth, we needed her .
The three of us made a hell of a case and ended with zero objections from the acquisitions board to Aurora. I was elated. We could do this. We were doing it. That feeling made the sting of what I had to report next to my team hurt a little less.
“As for Kenya Jones, the actress and activist with that wildly successful indie romance hit last year, she’s currently declined through her agent to submit her new novel to us, but I follow her Substack and she had posted some early snippets. I think she would be a great addition to the line. I’ll reach out to her agent and see if I can keep the conversation going.” I was leaving Aliza Mann out of the conversation for now. Carol was still reviewing the material I’d sent her.
Steven’s chuckle was without mirth. “ She doesn’t want to submit to Drake ? That’s ridiculous.”
Of course he’d see it that way. I thought I could and should explain, that it would be helpful. “Kenya has good reason. We aren’t exactly known for publishing diverse voices, and she wants a house that has a track record already. I think our new imprint is perfect for her, so I’ll keep pushing. We might get lucky.”
Steven became very red in the face and looked like he had plenty to say about all of that (none of which was likely to be good). Oh no. I shouldn’t have said lucky. I should have reminded myself that I would never be in the clear to speak freely in a room like this one. I braced myself for what was coming.
But again Cole was right there for the one-two punch, persuasively redirecting his uncle to focus on the very promising debut list we had so far. Somehow, it worked. Steven seemed to lose all interest in Kenya Jones, his face placid again within seconds.
You’re doing that thing again.
I was not doing the thing.
Yeah, you are. You’re starting to believe in him. You’re starting to like it.
I had to forget about him immediately. Besides, I had lunch with my mother in exactly twenty minutes, and I needed to grab my purse and get the hell out of there.
After the meeting, Cole beat me to my office. I found him with an arm raised. “What, no high five?”
“I’m not really a high-fiver.”
“This deserves a high five. Come on. We kicked ass in there. Whatever my uncle’s motivations for starting the line, you’re far exceeding his expectations. Or was I in a different meeting?”
I laughed. “Yes, Cole, we kicked ass.”
“What do you say we go to lunch to celebrate?”
“I would actually die to take you up on that right now. But I have lunch with my mother. So I might as well enjoy the happy endorphins while I can. Because those will be gone by one thirty.”
He wrinkled his nose. “That bad?”
“Yeah, well, she’s about to dive in on what a barren wasteland my love life is, so not ideal, but thank you, though, and thank you for the assist in there. I really appreciate it.”
The smile he gave lit his eyes up, making them crinkle at the corners. Jesus Christ, any woman he turned that full grin on was done for.
Might as well sacrifice your panties on the altar of Cole Drake’s smile.
Nope. No thank you. I wasn’t going there with him. Not again. “Well, you have a great lunch. But after-work drinks are on me.”
“I can’t drink every night after work, Cole.”
“Fine, dinner?”
Ugh, this man was on a mission to force me out of my house. And isn’t that exactly what you need?
“Happy hour. How’s that?”
“I’ll take what I can get. My treat. I’ll see you later.” He turned to leave but then stopped abruptly. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled out an envelope of heavy stock from his suit. “This is for you.”
I glanced at the envelope warily. “What is it?
“Why don’t you open it and find out?”
I took the envelope from him, careful not to touch him. When I pulled out the black card stock with silver writing, I gasped. “The McMillan Gala for the Arts! Are you kidding me?” The McMillans were New York billionaire royalty and had a massive endowment for the arts. Every year in early June, they had a massive gala to support the visual, performing, and literary arts. I’d never gotten to go. Of course not. Most publishing houses invited only a very short list of the most senior staff if they were going to attend. Tickets were expensive.
There was no hiding my grin or containing my little wiggle of excitement. That’s when I made the mistake. One I would take back if I could, but I was so damn excited that I hugged him.
It was brief and exuberant, and I immediately backed away, but the damage was done. The memories, sweet and sharp, hit me like a truck. His arms around me, his hand cupping my face, the little growl he made as he deepened our kiss. He barely had time to register my hug and hug me back.
But my mind and body were flooded with the kind of endorphins I didn’t need. My brain cells had immediately vacated the premises, and there was a dull ache in my lower belly now that reminded me it had been nearly a year since I’d gotten laid.
Fantastic.
He didn’t help me either when he flashed me his grin, clearly happy with himself. “Drake has a table every year. My aunt didn’t want to go, and my uncle never goes, so I got the tickets. I figured they make a good congratulations gift.”
I chewed my bottom lip, reconsidering. “Are you sure this is okay?” There were editors at Drake who would literally kill to attend.
“Yes, of course. And, bonus, Kenya Jones will be there.”
“What?” I smacked his arm. “Way to bury the lede. When did you find out?”
“I know her manager from Princeton. He confirmed while we were in the meeting.”
“Cole, this is…” Riding the wave of serotonin, I couldn’t hide my smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You’ll still need to make the pitch. But we have an in. I’ll see you tonight.” As he backed out of my office, I tried not to watch him go. But it was a hell of a view.
“You like him.”
I squeaked in alarm when Emory popped into my office. “Who? What? I have to go.”
“No, not until you tell me what is going on with Cole. It’s like you were speaking your own language in there. Are you two…”
“No! Absolutely not, never.”
Emory blinked slowly at me. “Okay. Something tells me there’s a story there.”
“Nope, no story. I don’t bone people I work with. I’m not messy.”
She sighed. “No one thinks you’re messy.”
“Trust me, I’m sure Nazrin would love, love, love to think I’m messy. And I’m sure someone thinks I fucked somebody to get this imprint. You know how the other editors can be.”
She winced. “Yeah, but honestly, no one thinks you fucked your way into this imprint. They’re jealous as hell and kind of pissed off. And maybe some of them think it’s some bullshit affirmative action nonsense, but they can go fuck themselves. No one thinks you fucked Steven Drake.”
“Well, thank God, because ew.”
She shuddered on my behalf. “Exactly. I came to pump you for gossip, but since you don’t have any, you may go.”
“I promise you, Emory, if I have gossip, you’ll be the first one to know.”
And as I went to go meet my executioner, I prayed to God I never had any gossip to give her or anyone else at the office.