Chapter 21
21
I’m so taken aback by Kojo’s presence at the restaurant that my body doesn’t even react when Wale’s hand lingers on the small of my back. He pulls out my chair and I collapse on to it, my legs no longer able to stand.
Fonzo gives me a tiny, ‘Hey.’ Although he has on a bright mustard shirt, his face looks as though he would rather be at home. Something tells me he didn’t know that Kojo was going to be here either.
‘Kojo was in the area,’ Wale says, correctly reading my expression.
Kojo’s wearing a fisherman beanie and a green bomber jacket, a silver chain over his top. He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.
Fucking bastard .
The waiter returns and takes our order. I fire Shona a quick text:
Temi:
Kojo is here!!!
And then I lock my phone and place it back on the table. She was right. I should have told Wale.
‘Well, this is weird as fuck.’ Kojo leans forward, his frog-like eyes flitting between Wale and me. He then looks around the table in an exaggerated manner. ‘Yo, am I the only one here that thinks this is weird?’
Wale smiles. ‘Call it serendipity.’ He throws me a furtive side glance, clearly checking for my reaction.
No , I ’ m not okay , my eyes tell him.
He searches my face for a moment. And then, in what seems like a genuine effort to redirect the energy away from us, he says, ‘Oh yeah, thanks for putting me in touch with Shona. You’re right. That girl does not play—’
‘What’s this about Shona?’ Fonzo sits up.
‘She’s helping me with the gala.’ Wale fiddles with his beard. ‘She’s got a background in events planning.’
‘Oh, that’s great!’ Fonzo brightens. ‘Well, if she needs any help …’
Fonzo is so into Shona.
‘Oi, Temi.’
Kojo’s scratching voice slices my brief sanity. I drag my eyes to where he’s slouched. He gives me another one of his chin nods.
‘Apparently, you have a few questions for me and Fonzo.’
I’m stabbing a cassava dumpling with my fork while trying to recall whether I’ve even asked a single question during this meal. Despite me saying, ‘I don’t think this is the time and place,’ Kojo has been talking non-stop. He’s been telling me – well, the whole restaurant going by the volume of his voice – about his and Wale’s history. They met spontaneously, roughly two years ago, at the gym, and since then they have been each other’s right-hand man, regularly attending parties together. Numerous times, Kojo brought up the hot girls they had seen or approached on the night – perhaps to see whether he’d get a reaction out of me – to which Wale would respond with a rueful laugh and tease his friend for his photographic memory. Throughout Kojo’s monologue, Fonzo, who has only interrupted once to state how much he loathes clubbing, remained heavily engrossed in his food (he’s now finished) and kept checking his phone. I keep zoning in and out. I want to get this dinner over and done with so I can talk to Wale.
‘Yo, Temi, you see this bruddah, here –’ I catch an unfortunate glimpse of minced ackee in Kojo’s mouth and scrunch my nose – ‘he wasn’t always this hench, y’know,’ he finishes. He reaches over and pats Wale on the shoulder. ‘My man was skinny ! Even skinnier than Fonzo.’
Fonzo glances up from his phone irritably. ‘God, Kojo, you exaggerate everything.’
‘So, what happened, then?’ I ask flatly.
‘He met me, innit!’
The lady behind Kojo hisses as she looks over at him practically shouting.
‘I basically became his PT,’ he carries on as he chomps another mouthful of food. ‘Gave him my regimen, showed him the ropes.’
‘Bet you regret it, though?’ Fonzo says.
‘Regret what?’
‘Giving Wale his glow-up,’ Fonzo says. ‘Now girls aren’t checking you. Though I doubt they were checking you in the first place. Isn’t that why you tag along with Wale?’
Wale laughs. Whether or not Kojo means to, his eyes flicker in my direction, suddenly self-conscious. I’m tempted to lean over the table and give Fonzo a high-five.
‘Bruv, who even asked you?’ he says, his bravado returning. ‘You don’t even know how to chat to gyal, let alone get one.’ He kisses his teeth. ‘So, yeah. As I was saying.’
The monologue continues.
Kojo is now dissecting the social hierarchy of masculinity – apparently, he’s an Alpha. I ask the waiter for the bill. This is getting way too much. Wale tells everyone dinner’s on him.
‘Oh, yeah. I forgot you’re Mr Big Shots,’ says Kojo, slouching further in his chair. ‘And, bruv, what you saying about this podcast, man?’
‘What podcast?’ Fonzo and I speak at the same time.
‘The one he keeps umming and ahhing about.’ Kojo throws Wale a pointed look.
‘C’mon, man. You know I’ve been busy.’
Kojo huffs and shakes his head.
‘Sorry, what exactly will you be discussing on this podcast?’ Fonzo says to Wale as a young couple walking by exchange in hushed tones, ‘Wait, isn’t that Wale?’
Wale gives the couple a bashful smile.
‘Oh, you know. The usual mandem stuff,’ Kojo says, rolling up his sleeves. ‘Football. Sex. Bitches.’
Wale nearly chokes on his drink. ‘Bruv, c’mon, man!’ He tilts his head at me.
‘My bad, my bad. Girls.’
I give him a side-eye. Honestly, he’s insufferable.
‘So, when do you plan to launch this podcast?’ says Fonzo, still directing his questions solely at Wale. He sounds concerned. Like me, he must think this is a bad idea.
‘It’s still early days,’ Wale says, slipping his card into the leather bill holder. ‘We haven’t even got a name yet.’
‘That’s because you keep stalling, bro!’
‘Bruddah, re-laaax.’ Wale tries to placate his friend. ‘Don’t worry, Kojo. We’ll talk, yeah.’
It takes us a minute to leave the restaurant – one of the waiters wants a selfie with Wale, and then they all seem to want one. After we spill on to the pavement, we exchange quick goodbyes as it starts to rain.
Wale and Kojo clap each other on the back.
Fonzo gives me a hug. ‘We’ll talk separately,’ he says into my ear.
Kojo turns to me. ‘Temi.’
I give him a cold look.
We watch Fonzo and Kojo go their separate ways. Then, at the same time, we turn and gaze at each other. Light raindrops speckle Wale’s skin.
‘Let me give you a lift home,’ he says.
I’m glad he offered. We need to talk.