Chapter 25
25
Taking a deep breath, I push open the glass door. Thanks to Uber, I was able to reach the studio in record time. On the way, I kept calling Wale, but he didn’t pick up.
As I pace down the lobby, I have a gut-twisting feeling that I have reacted too quickly. I don’t even know what I’m going to say. Too late, I’m here now.
‘Hi, I’m here for the charity shoot,’ I tell the nose-ring-wearing receptionist. ‘I’m one of Wale Bandele’s stylist’s assistants,’ I add.
I’m in luck, the receptionist buys it. She hands me a clipboard and tells me to sign in.
‘Room is on the third floor to your left,’ she says as she points me towards the lift.
On the third floor, I can hear the beep and flash of a professional camera, as well as an exuberant voice that keeps saying, ‘Nice!’ and ‘Hold that pose!’ I follow the sounds to an open, airy room, complete with a small kitchen and wide windows.
I stop dead in my tracks.
Wale is naked.
Like, actually naked.
Well, not nuts-out naked. He’s posing with a football, which he has placed right in front of his crotch.
I don’t know who is more surprised – me or him – but when our eyes meet, he almost drops the ball.
‘Temi!’ he exclaims.
I shield my eyes as if I’ve never seen Wale in the nude before.
‘Sorry, may I help you?’ says an achingly fashionable woman who, sure enough, looks to be the actual assistant to Wale’s stylist, with her floaty, bohemian dress and wide, floppy hat.
Although, would a naked model need a stylist?
Just as I’m about to introduce myself as Wale’s PA, Wale says aloud, ‘Don’t worry, she’s with me. Mind if we take five?’ He grabs a towel nearby and literally side-skips around the backdrop before reappearing again looking like a god of a man on the way to the sauna. Damn , I ’ ve missed those abs. With his towel now wrapped dangerously low around his hips, he strides towards me with an inscrutable expression.
‘Let’s go in there,’ he says.
We enter a dressing room with a vanity table covered with a refreshment spread, a full-body mirror and a railing with swimming trunks on hangers. Wale shuts the door behind him. Thanks to the vanity’s intense light bulbs and the baby oil I now realize he’s slathered in, I can see the man in his full glory. The black ink along his defined arms shimmers like obsidian in the sunshine.
‘You’re naked.’ My thoughts practically fall out of my mouth. I’m so flustered by his lack of clothes.
Wale peers down at himself as if he’s just realized this too. ‘Charity calendar,’ he says with a coy smile. ‘To raise awareness of prostate cancer. What you doing here? Is everything okay?’ He puts a hand on my shoulder.
I’m hyperaware of his touch. Focus , Temi .
‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m actually here for you.’
His brows converge in confusion as he waits for me to explain.
‘This Spotify meeting that you mentioned earlier, is it to discuss the podcast?’ I’m speaking so fast, desperate to get it all out.
His frown deepens. ‘It’s to discuss sponsorship for the gala, Temi. Shona set it up.’
All my pent-up worries flood out of me, and I keel over, feeling both exasperated and relieved. I can’t believe I abandoned my writing with the deadline imminent. I clutch my chest and stand. ‘Have you seen Kojo’s Insta Story?’ I ask.
Wale stares at me, irritation filling his eyes. ‘Did you seriously gatecrash my photoshoot?’ he says. I open my mouth but he carries on sharply. ‘Do you not trust me to know what’s right for me? I get it. You don’t like Kojo.’
‘He kissed me!’
The words shoot out before I can soften them.
There’s a deafening silence. My pulse is racing.
‘It happened while you were on the show,’ I say quietly, rubbing my elbow. ‘We bumped into each other at Starbucks in Lewisham. We got talking about you and suddenly everything hit me and I got incredibly upset. I should have listened to my gut and turned down his offer to drive me home, but he insisted. Then, just as I was about to leave, he made a pass at me. I kept telling him to stop. I tried to shove him off. But he wouldn’t let go. So, I threw my drink at him and ran.’
Wale is rooted to the spot. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s looking past my head towards the wall, quietly enraged.
He’s fuming. I can tell. His nostrils are twitching and the light in his eyes has gone. I wish I didn’t have to tell him like this. But I had to. I had no other choice.
‘He assaulted you,’ he says finally, his piercing, hot gaze scorching holes into the wall.
The word ‘assault’ triggers a memory – me hitting Kojo’s arms, telling him to get off. Even though I know what Kojo did to me counts as sexual assault, I never gave it a name. It was this ugly thing that I didn’t want to give power to. I also didn’t want to identify as a victim. No one ever does.
Wale goes silent again, but I can tell that his mind is racing from the way he keeps shaking his head.
‘You tried to warn me,’ he says, more to himself. ‘That fucking prick. And he had the audacity to sit across the table from you.’ He’s getting riled up now. He pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales a ragged breath. Finally, he looks at me, guilt pooling in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Temi.’
I stare at him, a burning lump at the back of my throat. Remorse grips his face. He looks distraught.
I now understand why people keep secrets from the ones they love. They do it to protect them; they don’t want to see them hurt. Because once the truth is out, not only are things not the same and relationships irreparable, but a part of them dies inside too. Maybe that’s why I held back from telling Wale sooner? Trust means everything to him and, when broken, he completely withdraws – after all, doing therapy doesn’t necessarily get rid of coping mechanisms. Perhaps I held back the truth because I was scared about him retreating within himself, going backwards. I was scared the truth would reset his healing.
‘Are you okay?’ he says softly. He places a hand on my shoulder, concern laced in the creases around his eyes.
I nod. ‘I’ve had time to process what happened. Are you okay?’
‘Don’t worry about me. This is about you.’
‘Kojo disrespected you—’
‘And Kojo violated you. Did you report it?’
‘To the police?’ I make a sound of disbelief. ‘You know how it is with these types of cases, Wale. They rarely go anywhere. It’s hard to get justice. Besides, I very much believe in the power of my ancestors. Kojo will get what’s coming for him.’
Briefly, Wale closes his eyes, drawing air into his nostrils.
‘I will be having words, though. I may not be confrontational but, bruv, don’t ever take me for a dickhead. And then,’ his jaw tics before he says, ‘he’s dead to me.’
A swell of emotion rises. I respect Wale for taking the high ground. I also appreciate him believing my story without poking it with questions or asking me to go into more detail.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, pulling me into a baby-oil-scented hug. He wraps his strong arms around me, his mouth muffled in my hair. His body is warm and comforting like a snug winter jacket. I feel protected. Safe.
‘It’s not your fault,’ I whisper.
He responds by tightening his grip around my shoulders. I splay my hands on the contours of his back.
Then he releases me. ‘You should get going. You have half a book to write.’
My belly clenches at the sudden reminder.
I watch Wale walk towards the door, his shoulders lower than usual. He goes to open it, stops, turns around. ‘How do you feel,’ he says, ‘now that you’ve got all that off your chest?’
‘Um, free,’ I reply. ‘Relieved. Lighter.’
Wale gives a slow nod. I can tell he’s mulling something over.
‘Well, maybe tell Mayee the truth too?’