Chapter 48
48
We barrel out of the hall, Shona and I behind Wale, holding hands.
‘I took him off the guest list,’ Shona cries.
Fonzo is by the bar, gesticulating. Kojo is lounging on one of the stools with a nonchalant expression. Not only did he have the audacity to gatecrash Wale’s event, but he’s also wearing a suit. My entire body is vibrating with rage. Every time I try to put Kojo behind me, he keeps creeping back.
‘Kojo!’ Wale walks slowly towards him – he’s a man who’s not to be messed with. Shona and I stop and watch from a distance.
Kojo turns to him. His lips curl into a snarl. ‘Here comes Mr TV star,’ he says.
Wale places a hand on Fonzo’s shoulder. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
Fonzo gives Kojo a long, hard glare before stepping aside.
‘You need to leave. Now,’ says Wale with firm assertiveness. ‘Otherwise, I’m calling security.’
Kojo’s expression twists with disbelief. He laughs, but it’s tinged with hysteria.
‘Man tryna call security on me now. I’m not doing anything, so what’s your problem?’
Wale holds his composure; his stance self-assured. ‘I’m not going to go back and forth with you. I’m giving you the option to leave of your own accord.’
Kojo pushes his stool back, the legs making an abrupt screeching sound. ‘Have you really forgotten what I’ve done for you?’ he says. ‘You would be nothing without me. Nothing!’ He towers over Wale. He’s a lot bigger than him and, truthfully, he looks rather intimidating.
Fonzo steps forward.
‘I got it,’ says Wale, holding out a hand. ‘Kojo, leave.’
Kojo squares up to him, his shoulders broad. ‘Make me,’ he says.
‘Call security,’ I urge Shona.
Shona pulls out her walkie-talkie. By now, there are other people watching in the lobby. A few of the younger ones even have their phones out.
Oh , for fuck’s sake . Not again .
Kojo takes a step closer to Wale, encroaching on his personal space. ‘I said – make me,’ he repeats, his voice lower, deeper, harsher.
I swivel around. ‘Where the heck is security?’ I’m wretched with anxiety; my pulse is racing.
Wale doesn’t back down. He squares his chin. ‘Kojo, you and I know we cannot afford to be moving mad like this. Black men are judged enough as it is. Just leave without making a scene.’
‘Pussy.’
There are a few gasps.
Wale doesn’t do anything; he stares back at his former friend, his glare unflinching. I can tell that word stung by the tic in his jaw. Throughout his life, he has grappled with being sensitive. Too soft. Too emotional. Not man enough. Whatever he does, he cannot let Kojo get a rise out of him. It will cost him dearly. He has so much to lose.
Each passing second is like the ticking of a time bomb. My heart is beating so fast, I feel as though I’m about to pass out.
Finally, Wale draws out his walkie-talkie. ‘Security, there’s a man in the lobby who is disturbing the peace and refusing to leave.’
Right on cue, two men in black suits barge past me. They grab Kojo by his arms and physically restrain him.
‘Hey, man! Get the fuck off me!’ Kojo yells.
His arms flail; he is screaming expletives. The man is truly unhinged.
The commotion attracts more and more people, including Kathy, Aunty Shirley and Uncle Les. At last, the security team gets Kojo under control. They pin his arms and drag him towards the exit. There are actual cheers as they leave. I lock gazes with Kojo as he passes. I want him to see me.
Even though he deserves a lot more than the humiliation of being thrown out of a private event, I take small solace in seeing him helpless. Wale, with admirable restraint and without any physical violence, has managed to hold on to his dignity. His values. And, most importantly, he didn’t allow Kojo to reclaim his power – to control the narrative.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few weeks, it’s how crucial it is to write your own story, otherwise someone else will do it for you. Perhaps if I had reported Kojo after he assaulted me, we wouldn’t be in this position. I may never get justice but there’s nothing like sending a warning.
You will never hurt me again.
Kojo cuts his eyes at me then glances away.
I watch him until he’s shoved out of the door by security.
‘All right! All right! Nothing more to see here!’ Kathy shoos people back to the ballroom.
Of all songs, ‘Macarena’ blares from the speaker and everyone scuttles back to the dance floor, ready to leave this ugliness behind. Wale strolls over to us.
‘Who the bloody hell was that?’ Kathy cries.
‘No one,’ Wale says. ‘Well, an ex-friend.’
Aunty Shirley kisses her teeth. ‘Hm, he lucky he didn’t cross me. I would have given him two good slaps and a thump around the head.’
Fonzo blinks. ‘Sounds violent.’ He turns to Wale. ‘You okay, man?’
Wale nods. ‘Thanks for having my back.’
I place a hand on Wale’s elbow. ‘You handled yourself really well.’
‘Took the words straight out of my mouth,’ Shona says. ‘Like a real man.’
Wale wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in, the feel of him safe and comforting. He kisses the side of my head. Despite what’s just happened, Fonzo and Shona swoon.
‘Our plan worked!’ Fonzo says.
Shona loops her arm into Fonzo’s and, with a grin, says, ‘Does this mean you two are getting back together?’
I immediately look at Kathy, Aunty Shirley and Uncle Les. They only know me as his ghostwriter.
‘I had a feeling,’ Kathy says, wagging a finger. ‘When I saw you both on the dance floor.’
‘Oh, I knew,’ Aunty Shirley says with absolute certainty.
Uncle Les scoffs. ‘How you know?’ He lifts his chin.
Aunty Shirley looks between us, a knowing smile spreading across her face. ‘He walk different,’ she says. ‘His spring came back.’