Chapter 12
12
Love_Drive_Draft1.doc
Target word count: 4,000
Current word count: 3,302
The interview with Uncle Les and Aunty Shirley is still fresh in my head, so I start planning as soon as I get home. I use an app to transcribe what I recorded, and then I experiment with a few chapter headings – something which isn’t necessary now but tends to help give me focus. I try to infuse Wale’s humour.
People assume that I don’t have a sensitive side
The truth is, I’m as soft as fudge (well, I can be)
After reading the interview transcript a couple of times, I work with what I’ve got – Wale would fill in the gaps. I’m so engrossed in the process of ghostwriting again that I have to drag myself away to begin my next task: Love Drive . And still, I don’t start straight away – I make dinner first (Pot Noodle) and give myself a generous break because I deserve it. Then the critical step before I can write: choosing the perfect Spotify playlist to listen to.
By the time I open the document, it’s nearly midnight.
Regardless, I commit to the task of writing, reminding myself after every few words that it does not need to be perfect. But unlike yesterday, I struggle to push through. My fingers itch to work on Wale’s memoir. Weirdly, writing about your ex is kind of fun. Eventually, after hours of trying to force myself to get some words down, my unmade bed begins to look very appealing. Sod it. I give in.
There ’ s always tomorrow , I tell myself as my head hits the pillow.
I wake to a panicked 7 a.m. phone call from Shona: she has a kids’ party starting in five hours and her sister has come down with a bug – ‘Help!’
So much for hitting my word count today.
Now I find myself in the large garden of a detached house in Bromley, minding the candy station so that none of the children get a sugar overdose. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to find the energy to write and work on Wale’s memoir when I get home. Maybe I should fuel up on sweets.
I reach for a bag of Haribo and scan the garden that Shona and I have transformed into a five-year-old’s dream: propped up on the grass is a bouncy castle, a dinosaur-themed peep board and a ten-foot balloon arch which is routinely being used by the parents for photos. Shona is still face-painting, so I get out my phone and FaceTime Wale. We didn’t manage to catch up yesterday evening in the end.
‘Oi, oi, tiger,’ he says when he sees me.
I scowl before remembering that Shona had painted whiskers on my face. When we were together, Wale and I used to video call each other all the time. I should have just called him.
‘I’m actually supposed to be a Siberian cat.’ I deadpan. ‘I’m at a children’s party.’
‘Ahh, sorry. My mistake. There was me thinking you had a new kink or something. Anyways, how can I be of help?’
What happened to us agreeing to be professional? I want to say. But I have no legs to stand on when I have actual paint on my face.
‘I’m just calling to – wait, are you still in bed? Dude! It’s like one in the afternoon.’
Wale brings up his free hand from under the duvet and places it behind his head. He’s wearing a vest, so I now have a front-row seat to both his muscle bulge and the tuft of hair underneath his armpit.
‘I was out late last night,’ he says as I strain to keep my focus on his silk durag. ‘Remember, I told you ’bout that nightclub appearance.’
‘Oh, yeah. How was it?’
‘Honestly?’ he says with a lazy smile. ‘I kinda just wanted to be at home, drinking herbal tea with my durag on.’
I laugh so loudly that a few children turn their heads. ‘What are you? Twenty-five going on eighty?’
He chuckles. ‘Thankfully, I only had to show face for two hours. And at least I got a good cheque out of it.’
I’m still struggling to believe that this – being a public personality – is now Wale’s profession. Not only is it so far removed from what he was doing before but he was never one to crave the spotlight or post heavily on social media. He always preferred to live in the moment, not worrying about capturing the perfect photo.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t keep you.’ I cast a glance at Shona. She’s currently transforming a five-year-old into Spider-Man. ‘I’ve emailed you a draft of what I’ve done so far to get your thoughts on the voice.’
‘Gosh, already,’ he says. ‘Speedy Gonzales.’
A growing smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. ‘It would be good to go over it. You free tomorrow?’
We agree to meet at ten at Anansi Books.
‘Ooh, one last thing,’ I say, remembering. ‘Aunty Shirley mentioned that you kept a journal when you were a kid?’
‘Oh. Yeah. What about it?’
I bite the inside of my cheek. ‘Now, only if you feel comfortable, but it would be really helpful if I could read it. Even if it’s just a few pages,’ I add quickly.
Wale blows air out of his cheeks. ‘To be honest, Temi, I’m not even sure if I still have it.’
‘Are you able to have a look?’
‘Yeah, sure. Can’t make any promises, though.’
I’m in the middle of telling Wale to send me a few childhood photos when Shona makes a beeline towards me. As though I have been caught skiving on the job, I tell Wale that I have to go.
‘Is there anything else you need doing?’ I ask when she arrives. She’s wearing loosely fitted black clothes with chunky New Balance trainers.
Shona walks around the candy station and leans her body weight on the back of the chair beside me. With the sun in her eyes, she scans the garden. ‘Nah, I think we’re good. At least for now. Honestly, babe.’ She pushes back the chair and with a loud exhale collapses on to it. ‘I owe you one.’
‘In that case, what are you doing on Sunday the eighth of September?’
She now looks dubious. ‘Um, nothing. Why?’
‘Fancy free food and a trip to Oxford?’
I tell Shona about my childhood friend, Rosemary, and how my parents are throwing her a celebration lunch.
‘I’ll be your date, don’t worry,’ she says and I feel an instant sense of relief. ‘Anyways, how’s the new job going?’ she adds, reaching for a handful of jelly beans. ‘What’s it like working with your ex-boyf? Still keeping things profesh, yeah?’
‘Always, girl! You know me.’
She hisses, ‘I take it he doesn’t know about your revenge novel, then?’
I push out my lips. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this. Does he need to know? It’s not like I have any plans to publish it. Writing The Ultimate Payback was basically therapy for me. Cathartic. However –’ I rummage through my packet for a gummy bear – ‘I am in two minds about telling him about—’
‘Kojo?’ Shona finishes.
I can barely get my head to nod. The memory is like a burning coal in my skull.
Shona sits up and turns her full body towards me. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong,’ she says. ‘What’s holding you back from telling him?’
My eyes drop to my lap. I, too, have asked myself this very question.
‘Look, I know they’ve only known each other for a few years,’ I sigh, ‘but at the end of the day, Kojo’s still Wale’s friend. It’s not going to be a comfortable conversation. Plus, I don’t know how Wale is going to react. I’m not saying he’ll get physical with him – Wale isn’t like that. But he may go within himself. Withdraw. And I can’t afford for him to be distant with me right now. Not when I have his memoir to write.’
Shona chews her lip. ‘Hmm. I see where you’re coming from. But whatever you decide, just make sure you’re choosing yourself first. Because the longer you leave it, hun, the longer you’re protecting Kojo. And we don’t enable dickheads, do we?’
‘No, you’re right. We don’t.’
She scans the garden again, stopping to wave over a sulky boy nearby who’s eyeing the candy. With a finger in his mouth, the boy repeatedly twists his body, and then, as though he has just seen a ghost, he promptly runs away.
‘Oh yeah,’ I say, remembering. And with a knowing smile, I add, ‘Fonzo says hi by the way.’
Shona doesn’t even look up from her phone. ‘Yeah? How is he?’ She’s swiping through Instagram. ‘What is he up to these days? Is he still doing his Masters in photography?’
‘Um, yeah. I think so,’ I reply. ‘So, what do you think of him?’ At the exact same time she holds up her phone to my face.
‘Err, what’s this?’ she says.
My mouth falls open.
On her screen is the picture that Wale and I took yesterday. Along with the photos he took with Aunty Shirley and Uncle Les. I really didn’t want to get in the picture but Aunty Shirley kept insisting.
‘What the hell?’ I whip out my own phone and open Instagram. I have so many notifications. I tut. Why did Wale tag me?
I breeze through the comments, not quite sure what I’m looking for. To my relief, the comments are pretty typical. Well, as typical as one would expect for a reality star.
razzle_dazzle It’s the eyes for me
unicorn63 I’m melting
tataloves I would do anything to run my fingers through his beard
But it’s a particular one that catches my attention.
kelechi_iwobi Love this for you!
My lips part.
It’s her.
She’s blue-ticked and her comment has already garnered over 200 likes.
And then I notice there’s a reply.
From Wale.
walebandele
I’m still staring when Shona says, ‘Babe, you okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah. Fine.’ I wince. I just pulled a Wale.
The last time I saw Kelechi was on The Villa: The Reunion . She was going off at Wale, saying he made her look like a right mug. I don’t get it. What has changed since then? The reunion aired on TV not too long ago, but maybe it was filmed earlier.
Knowing I will regret it, I click on Kelechi’s handle – something I have not done since her first appearance on the show. In a little over a month, she’s already gained nearly one million followers. I work my way through her perfect photos.
Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.
There’s no question Kelechi is stunning. She has big Bambi eyes and lips women would pay thousands for. And she’s got a banging body: slim thick. Perky boobs. Abs. It’s no wonder Black Twitter was rooting for her and Wale. Together, they look like a power couple.
I think back to when Wale and I dated and the reception we got. There were a few occasions when women would openly stare at him, no doubt assuming that I was just his friend. And there were other times I would receive shifty looks when we linked arms. How in the hell did you bag him? their eyes said. Which is hilarious because I actually think that I’m hot too – not hot for a plus-sized girl but hot. Period.
I always thought I was good-looking growing up. And I found it frustrating that people would automatically put me in the less-attractive box just because I carry a bit of extra meat on my bones. Why does being ‘fat’ need to be something derogative? Is it not a descriptor like the word ‘thin’ or ‘tall’ or ‘pale’? Sadly, not everyone thinks this way. For some, if you’re overweight, you’re by default unworthy, less than. It’s partly why I stopped watching the show. Kelechi was a visible reminder of the type of person the public felt Wale should be with.
Ignoring my better judgement, I click on Kelechi’s Insta Story. She’s at a nightclub with a few of her fellow castmates. They are taking shots, singing the lyrics to a Burna Boy song. I tap the screen to view the next story. This time, she’s with Wale. He has one hand over her shoulder, while the other is holding a drink. She’s posing like a true influencer – tongue sticking out between two fingers.
I can’t quite say why but a weird sensation stirs inside of me.
‘What’s the deal between Wale and Kelechi?’ I ask Shona this as if she could possibly know. ‘Are they cool now?’
‘Huh?’ Shona is serving the boy who ran off earlier a bowl of sweets.
I wait for her to finish and then thrust my phone in her face. ‘Is it just me or do they seem pally to you? And look—’ I go back to Kelechi’s comment under Wale’s photo and point to it. ‘“Love this for you.” What in the world does that mean?’
Shona studies the screen for a few seconds, then hands me my phone back. ‘Who knows? And why you so bothered anyway?’
Her tone isn’t accusatory, and yet I reply with a defiant ‘I’m not!’ I blow out a breath. ‘Sorry, I just wanted to get your opinion, that’s all.’ I look straight ahead and pop a Haribo heart into my mouth. I can feel her still watching me.
‘You’re not jealous, are you?’
My head snaps back to her so fast, I practically give myself whiplash. ‘Shona, for me to be jealous would mean that I’m catching feelings for Wale again.’
‘And are you?’ she says.
The feelings never really went away.
‘No,’ I say boldly. ‘I’m not. Me and Wale are done.’