Deola was walking into the foyer on Tuesday morning when she saw a beautiful young girl coming out of Femi’s office. She looked vaguely familiar, and Deola stood there trying to remember where they had met.
Then it came back to her. Soji’s video shoot. He had introduced her as his girlfriend. She had been very sweet. Different hairstyle and clothes, but the same sweet face. She noticed that the girl was staring at her as well, probably thinking exactly the same thing. Then suddenly Femi came out of his office.
“Hello, Deola. Have you two met? This is my beautiful daughter, Morenike.” Femi glowed with pride. “She is going to university this year. You are looking at a future Nigerian president.”
The two women exchanged a look as Femi talked animatedly about his daughter, then his phone rang and he excused himself and went back into his office.
Deola looked at Morenike again and whispered, “I know I’ve seen you somewhere. You are Soji’s girlfriend, right?”
The girl looked mortified. “I didn’t know you worked for my dad. Please don’t say anything to him about us …”
“Come on. Soji’s in the limelight now. How long do you think it would be before someone in the media found out and it got into one of the gossip magazines?”
“My dad just doesn’t understand. He would hit the roof if he knew I was dating a musician, but Soji is a really nice guy. I mean we haven’t even … you know … yet. He wants to get to know the family. Do things properly.”
“And how do you think your dad will feel when he finds out you have been lying to him?” Deola whispered urgently. She paused and took a deep breath. “To be honest, this isn’t my business. I just come here to work, not to get involved in family stuff.”
“You’re not going to tell him are you?”
Deola folded her arms across her chest. “Of course not. I’m going to let you tell him yourself! Like, yesterday!”
“But we need time. I need time. You don’t know my dad. It is ‘no boyfriends. Period.’ When I asked him when the ban would expire, he said when I was thirty – if I wasn’t married by then! And do you know, he said that without blinking an eye.”
Deola heard voices and saw Funmi bringing some clients towards Femi’s office. She needed to be at that meeting as well.
“Let’s leave this for now. I need you to tell him, though, OK? I’m not comfortable with keeping this quiet. This is a major conflict of interest.”
Deola was gratified to see a glimmer of guilt in the young woman’s eyes.
After the meeting, Deola shut her laptop and chatted with the graphic designer until one by one the meeting room emptied. She looked up and Femi was the only one left in the room. He got up and applauded as he walked towards her. “That was fantastic! The clients loved it. They’ll sign the contract for us to represent the brand for a year.”
“That’s brilliant. I’ve been working on it for a few weeks. I’m glad the pitch and presentation went as planned.”
“You were … ” Femi was searching for words. “Just wonderful.”
“Thanks.” She glowed at the compliment.
He stood with his hands in his pockets looking down at her. She couldn’t read his expression. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious and started fiddling with her laptop and iPad, packing papers away into her bag.
“Let’s have dinner again and celebrate,” he said, his voice low, barely audible, the words tumbling out as though if he didn’t get them out fast enough he might not say anything at all.
“Do you take all your consultants out to dinner on a regular basis?” She didn’t look up from what she was doing.
“It depends.”
Really … she thought, though she didn’t say anything.
Femi’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “So, what day will be best for you?”
This guy isn’t going to give up. And to be honest, she liked his company. “I will just check my schedule and get back to you.”
“Brilliant.”
Femi left the room, leaving Deola pondering. He was easy to talk to and good company. She felt like unburdening after her experience at her parents on Sunday. She was still irritated at their clumsy attempts to set her up with a man who felt it was OK to ask her in front of her family whether she could cook, how many children she wanted and whether she was prepared to relocate back to Naija. For goodness’ sake.
She had said very little, and her mother had tried to fill in the awkward silences until Peter had taken his leave, saying he had to see some VIP in Banana Island. Everyone had gone quiet after he left and she hadn’t said a single word to anyone from her family since.
Over the past couple of weeks, Deola had felt a subtle change developing between her and Femi. And this evening he was coming to take her out for a meal for the second time. She wondered what a girl was supposed to do when she could sense a relationship hovering uncertainly between the ‘friends’ stage and an undefined valley on its way to ‘something serious’?
Both of them dealt the awkwardness this by throwing themselves into their very hectic work life. Sometimes she thought Femi was so formal that it was hard to believe that he might have some kind of feelings for her, but then she would catch a look in his eye, or he would crack a little joke or go out of his way to check up on her and she realised that there was a chance her hunch was right. He was attracted to her.
It was a thrilling thought because she really liked him. A lot.
She was going to take her time and wait until he put all his cards on the table before she committed herself to anything, though. Besides, falling in love wasn’t part of the plan. Work was coming along well and she was beginning to put the pain of the past behind her. Wouldn’t exploring her feelings with this very nice and kind man stir all up all that again?
This was a big step, and not one she was entirely sure about. In work she excelled because she was in charge of all the variables. She could predict the outcome. In relationships she had to put her faith in someone else and that, in her experience, meant someone was going to let her down.
Either way, she wasn’t going to be a pushover.
Deola looked at herself in the mirror as she got ready. She had decided to wear a long dress in indigo Adire print. With a heart-shaped neckline and flute sleeves, it flattered her curves and complemented her warm bronze complexion. She swept her Expression braids over to one side and fastened them with pins so that the curls cascaded on to her left shoulder. Then she retouched her light foundation, added some pressed powder and applied some nude lip gloss to her lips. Then she added her crimson beaded necklace and matching earrings.
She was ready to go. Femi drove towards Alagbodo on his way to pick up Deola. He was filled with a sense of anticipation. He hadn’t dated a woman in almost twenty years, not since he first approached his late wife.
Until now.
This woman had come into his life with her big sad eyes full of secrets and he had been intrigued. He had wondered whether she knew what she was taking on when she told him she was coming to Naija to take a job in PR. He knew what a cut-throat profession it was here. Yet she didn’t sink or just float. She had gone out there and excelled. He would sit at a meeting with clients and watch her charm them, then stun them with her attention to detail and grasp of the subject. He could rely on her to be on point with her research before she made a pitch. She knew her stuff.
It was the way she stood up to Amber that had really marked her out to him. She was like a quiet storm. One minute serene and calm and then when you least expected, surprising you with a double whammy.
He hoped he wasn’t going to behave like a tongue-tied teenager tonight. He found her very appealing. They were becoming good friends. He could see her barriers were beginning to come down, and he didn’t want to mess things up by being too forward.
Maybe they were both characters in this script and what would happen would happen. The director had issued the cue and everybody had to take their place. Like the old song his parents used to love – Que sera, sera … Femi and Deola ordered drinks and looked at the menu. They both ordered some pepper soup for starters.
“So, how was your weekend?”
“Don’t tell me you asked me to dinner to ask me about my weekend?”
His eyes held hers. “No, I asked you to dinner to find out about you, this young lady that is slowly revolutionising Target PR. You work for us and I hardly know anything about you apart from the fact that you are my friend’s younger sister.”
“Well, how about the fact that I was almost married off last weekend?”
His voice was rough. “To who?”
Deola chuckled. “My mum and aunt invited this pompous twit to dinner. It was all a set up.”
“I take it this isn’t going to be the romance of the century?” A smile played around his lips.
“Your deduction is so on point.”
Femi found himself breathing a sigh of relief and changed the subject. “So tell me more about you.”
“I live in London. Had a job in a big PR firm. Decided to come down to Nigeria for a change of scene. I’m sure my brother told you about my ex, Kunle. He was the one I wanted a change of scene from really. Not London.”
“I was a bit curious about this Kunle when you kind of mentioned his name several times in your sleep on the plane.”
“Yeah, I felt like jumping out of the window in embarrassment.”
“You shut me off for the rest of the journey.” A small smile rested on his lips as he looked at her.
“Well, I had to style it out somehow … ” She tried to laugh.
“Rotimi mentioned him a couple of times, but the more I got to know you the more I realise that the guy was an absolute fool.”
“Why would you say so?”
“He didn’t snap you up.”
She looked up and tried to crack a joke but he looked so serious.
“I mean you are accomplished – I saw your resume and it blew me away. You’re ambitious, gutsy, and bold in business … I mean, you even told Amber where to go. You take no prisoners. It’s great having you here. Now I don’t know how we will cope when you leave.”
“You flatter me. Of course you’ll cope. You’ve got a great team.”
“Seriously though. I initially signed you up for three months, then we extended it for six months … I just wanted to know – why the rush? I don’t want to sound impertinent, but as a businessman I need to know – do you have another job waiting for you back in London?”
“No, not yet.”
“So why the rush?”
She could hear the intensity in his voice and knew that her response meant a lot to him. “Well for the record I am the master of my own destiny. I can come and go as I please. Right now I’m happy to stay, see how it goes for a few more months.”
The smile on his face widened. “So we won’t be losing you any time soon.”
Deola smile was enigmatic. “I do have other clients I’m obligated to here.”
“I tend to forget that sometimes. I want— I mean, we want more of you.”
“It’s all negotiable.”
“A bit of give and take either way?”
“If trust could be established I guess compromise could be reached.”
“Really. So it’s all about trust?”
“Yep. Don’t you think so? It’s like all relationships.”
He nodded, deep in thought, and she gave him a small smile.
The waiters cleared away the soup bowls and set the table with the main course, leaving Femi to decipher the coded language they had both been using to set the terms of engagement for any future ‘collaborations’.
“So what made you decide to study public relations?”
“Do you want us to stay here all night?” She smiled.
As Femi drove Deola home, they continued to chat.
“Thanks for a lovely evening.”
“I enjoyed it as well,” she replied. “It was good to get a chance to chill.”
“Is that what you call it? I thought we were getting to know each other.”
She only shrugged in response.
“The more time I spend with you, the more I want to know more about you.”
She smiled.
“Your eyes are as enigmatic as ever,” Femi said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Proper Naija. Answering questions with a question? OK. I have a confession to make.”
She was silent for a moment. “OK … ”
He took a deep breath. “Deola I’m attracted to you. I don’t know how you feel. I feel a bit crazy voicing my thoughts like this, but I had to say something, to see how you feel.”
He noticed that her eyes widened and then a second later she had regained her composure, her face impassive.
“I would say that such a move would change the terms and conditions of our working relationship, which I think works well for both of us the way it is at the moment.”
It was his turn to shrug. “Supposing I was wondering whether the terms of our working relationship were – in your words – ‘open to negotiation and change’ in the nearby future?”
“I would say that I would hate anyone to mistake me for your plaything. All my hard work would be dismissed as just being due to the fact that we have a relationship.”
“Cool. I respect that.” He nodded because his head understood – but his heart was slow to catch up. What’s a man to do? He had been in love with the memory of his wife for almost a decade and the first time he plucked up the courage to approach another woman he greatly admired, he got a knock back. He knew despite the fact that he was a bit rusty in the women’s affairs department that the next thing she was going to say was …
“I’m so glad you understand.”
“Of course, Deola,” he lied.
“I’m glad we’ve made things clear. I would hate there to be any misunderstanding between us. I really like you. As a friend.”
Those words again. He looked at her for a minute and heard himself lying once more. “No problem.”
Then her phone went and she rummaged in her bag. “Sorry, Femi. Do you mind if I …?”
He nodded and watched as she took the call.
“It’s my neighbour. I don’t know why she would be calling.” Her voice seemed tense. “Wait … Funmi? What happened? OK … We are coming home now. She needs to get to hospital.”
Deola hung up and looked at him, her eyes filled with concern. “It’s Funmi. She collapsed and one of the neighbours is with her.”
“Is she OK? I mean was she ill when you left?”
Deola closed her eyes. “It’s a long story.”
As soon as Deola got into the flat she noticed that it was quiet.
“Funmi? Funmi?”
One of the neighbours appeared looking worried and explained that she had seen her coming upstairs with some shopping and just as she was about to greet her, Funmi had collapsed.
Femi, who had been hovering around the door, followed her into the flat. “Is she OK?”
Funmi emerged from the bedroom in a T-shirt she wore over a wrapper, looking dishevelled and sounding incoherent. She could hardly stand. They both rushed over to her and got her into a chair.
“Funmi, what’s wrong? Shall I get your tablets? Water?”
Funmi shook her head. “I think I’m going to have to take you up on that favour you promised a few months ago … I hope that’s OK.”
Deola nodded. “No problem. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, sis.”
Deola turned to Femi. “I’m going to take Funmi to Mount Sinai Hospital.”
“What’s going on?”
Deola went into the bedroom and emerged with a large overnight bag into which she stuffed a nightdress, toiletries and slippers. “Hopefully she is going to have an operation as soon as they can fit her in. I’ll explain later.”
Femi took the bag from her. “You can explain on the way there. I will take you.”
Funmi breathed a sigh of gratitude. “Thanks so much. I really appreciate it. I have called my consultant and he has said come in as soon as you can. I couldn’t drive because of the pain. It is like knives stabbing at my insides.”
“Funmi, why didn’t you call me earlier? If it wasn’t for Aduke from downstairs I wouldn’t know you were so ill.”
“I know how much you were looking forward to tonight and did not want to spoil things.”
Deola noticed that Femi’s ears picked up on this but he pretended as if he didn’t hear it.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you to the hospital. My car is downstairs.”
Funmi nodded. “Thanks, boss. So sorry for all this wahala. I can’t walk.”
Femi picked her up effortlessly and walked to the door.