Love and Hiplife Read online

  “You’re right. I must look victorious for social media.” She stood next to the signpost, placed her fists on her hips, and focused straight ahead at the clear blue sky. “Snap away.”

  The trio headed in their direction, looking as if they’d taken a stroll on flat land rather than the gruesome incline Lamisi had endured. She tried to ignore them, but had a tough time keeping her gaze away from Bizzy’s commanding presence.

  After more than enough pose changes and a few pictures taken by the guide with them together, she hooked her arm through her best friend’s and walked to the edge overlooking the town. “I wonder if the people down there think anyone is watching them.”

  Precious chuckled. “We can see houses and cars, but the humans are dots from this distance. I’m trying to figure out how many of them have ever climbed this mountain.”

  “I’d guess very few.”

  The sudden presence of a voice smooth as whipped shea butter made them both jump.

  Bizzy held up his palms. His crooked grin did more to increase Lamisi’s heartbeat than his sudden presence in their conversation.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Not feeling charitable towards him or his crew, her tone came out harsh. “It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

  He dipped his head forward in acknowledgement. “It seems that our transgressions against you are piling up.”

  “This is your first offense.” She waved a finger at the two men standing on either side of him. “Unlike them.”

  The one with the lightest skin amongst them all stepped forward. “We’re sorry to have offended you. If we knew you understood our language, we would never have done it.”

  Lamisi fought the upward twitch of her lips at the withering look Bizzy shot his friends. She craned her neck to look into his eyes. The men held the characteristic height of those from the most northern regions of Ghana.

  “Is it right to talk about people in a language they don’t understand?” she probed. “I was taught that it was bad-mannered.”

  Before either of his two friends could speak and dig themselves further into their trench, Bizzy shook his head.

  “What he meant was that he shouldn’t have been speaking about you at all, especially about something so—” His eyes twinkled as his tongue flicked out to lick his tantalizing lips “—sensitive.”

  Lamisi feared she’d collapse with the sudden thinness of the air. She refrained from looking down at her breasts to make sure her hardened nipples weren’t poking through again. With one word, he’d aroused her. Well, one word said in the sexiest voice she’d ever heard.

  Unnerved, she’d gain control by informing him that he shouldn’t be the one apologizing, but Precious pinched the back of her arm.

  “She accepts your apology.”

  “Thank you.” He spoke to Precious before turning his attention to Lamisi. “My mother always tells me that only people with big hearts are able to forgive. My name is Blaise Ayoma. These are my friends Abdul Fobil and Musah Adongo.”

  Lamisi allowed Precious to be their spokesperson since she wasn’t as ready to forgive as her friend had indicated. She’d rather put the men on the hot seat and enjoy watching them squirm for a little while longer. At least until they realized their offense.

  Precious touched the tips of her fingers to her upper chest. “I’m Precious Kpodo, and this is Lamisi Imoro.”

  Blaise looked into Lamisi’s eyes when held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  She wiped her moist palms on her sweat-soaked jeans before sliding the right one against his. An unexpected electrical current coursed its way up her arm and down her spine. She swallowed hard, enjoying the odd combination of pleasure and awareness inviting her to move closer.

  “It’s …” She cleared her throat when it came out raspy. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  After longer than what seemed normal, they released each other, and he offered his hand to Precious. Lamisi extended hers to the other two men in turn. She noted that the contact with them didn’t do anything but make her want to wipe their dampness from her palm. There was no desire to bask in the attention of their gazes like she’d wanted to do with Blaise.

  Standing within arm’s length to one of the greatest hiplife artists in Ghana, her tongue loosened. “I’m a fan of your music.”

  And you.

  No need to reveal the silly crush she had on him. As a musician, not a person. She didn’t know him like that.

  A lopsided grin appeared. “That’s good to hear.”

  Not what she’d expected. His modesty elevated her attraction to him. As an artist, not a man whose handsomeness stole her breath.

  Precious pointed and squeaked. “Oh my goodness. You’re Bizzy.”

  Her friend had never been good with faces, but it had taken her long enough to recognize him.

  All three men beamed, making her wonder how the sun reflecting off their teeth at such a height didn’t temporarily blind her.

  “My friends call me Blaise, so feel free.”

  Lamisi bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at Precious’ besotted gaze.

  She fought her own giddiness as she thought about his accomplishments. He’d struggled for years before making the charts two years ago with his hit song, I dey gaya da nokwrƐ. The translation of I tell you the truth didn’t sound as rhythmic as when he sang in the four languages he’d used.

  English, Pidgin English, his own mother tongue of Hausa, and Twi, the most spoken local language in the middle and southern portions of Ghana.

  The song impressed her more each time she listened to it. Not only did the beat have her wiggling her hips, but the lyrics were insightful in a way that few people could understand unless they spoke all four languages. Which she did, with an addition of seven others.

  His songs tended to possess a powerful depth that most people had limited understanding of because of the mix of languages.

  On the surface, his music appeared light and fun as he sang about a love which has been lost or found, enjoying life, or some other frivolous theme. Those who could interpret the words understood that he incorporated politics, issues of social justice, and even the overuse of religion in the system as undercurrents to his lyrics.

  She hadn’t wanted to know if he wrote all of the songs himself. Already holding him in high regard, she didn’t need her awe and fascination of him rising to the stars.

  She turned to Precious and tugged at the hem of her shirt to stop from lifting her friend’s chin to close her mouth. “Are you ready to go?”

  It took a few more seconds of staring before Precious turned her attention to her. “Pardon me?”

  “Let’s head back down.”

  Never shy, Precious held her phone to Lamisi before asking Blaise, “Can I please take a picture with you?”

  “No problem.”

  Precious pointed to the signpost. “Over there.”

  Once they reached the spot, Blaise draped an arm around her shoulders.

  Lamisi placed a hand over her stomach at the surprise burn of jealousy in her stomach. She stood rooted in place and snapped several pictures instead of charging to the pair to pull them apart.

  “That should do it,” she announced.

  Relieved when they separated, she reached out to hand Precious the device.

  Blaise stayed in place and nodded at Lamisi. “Would you like a picture, too?”

  Saying no would be rude, wouldn’t it? She handed Precious her phone. With each step, she hoped he would loop his arm around her, too. But then, she recalled her sweat-soaked shirt and recanted the wish.

  He didn’t seem to mind her sopping-wet clothing because he tucked her into his side. She snaked her arm around his waist and gripped his shirt as she leaned into him. Despite a height difference of at least half a foot, her curves fit into his firm body as if they’d been pieced together in a puzzle. Heat burned the side in direct contact with him, and she snuggled in
closer as he squeezed her shoulder.

  A part of her hoped the photo session would never end. The muskiness of his perspiring skin blended with the spiciness of the cologne that clung to his shirt had her inhaling deeper. If he smelled this amazing after having climbed a mountain, he’d be irresistible when freshly showered and dressed.

  Women threw themselves at the star for a reason. Hell, she’d become one of his groupies for a moment. Who was she trying to kid? She still was. Yet, no matter how friendly, handsome, or talented he was, they came from two different worlds within the same country. He lived for people to watch and admire him while she preferred to stay in the background, observing. She’d do best to remember how different they were because their relationship would never last.

  As if there was a miniscule chance of him thinking about me in that way.

  When Precious announced that she was done, Lamisi released her arm from around him and started to move away, only to be held in place.

  He handed his phone to Musah. “Take some with mine.”

  Lamisi craned her neck to look up at him. “I’m not famous, like you. What do you need my picture for?”

  The intensity in his eyes softened her knees.

  “It’s only fair,” he stated in Hausa.

  He had a point.

  “And you feel too good against me to release just yet,” he added.

  He couldn’t be serious. The line would work on one of his younger groupies. Her maturity kept it from going to her head. “I’m sure you say that to all the women you pose with.”

  His brows drew together as he canted his head in thought. “No. Never. You’re the only one.”

  A warmth that had nothing to do with the sun radiated out from her chest. The ego of a simple woman who spent all her time with her head buried in journal articles researching for her PhD and teaching language courses wanted to believe him. Her rational mind kept her connected to the reality of him being a charming man who knew how to weave words into entrancing spells.

  “Share your beautiful smile with the camera. And me.”

  His whispered words breezed into her ear eliciting a delicious shiver.

  She looked at him to see if he’d taken his own advice. Her lips complied with his instructions when she discovered him focused on her. Smiling.

  “I’ve snapped at least twenty pictures. I’m done,” Musah said with a scowl directed at Blaise that hadn’t been present before he’d been given the job of photographer.

  Lamisi shuffled away from the electricity of Blaise’s touch. She regretted the loss of contact.

  “Thank you for the pictures,” she said in a rush to leave the man who set off an unfamiliar desire in her to plaster herself against him. Possibly press her lips against a mouth which sang lyrics that had the power to touch her heart with their conviction.

  She pointed towards the centre of the earth with her left hand and waved with the right as she back-pedalled to where they’d come to flat ground.

  “We’re heading back down, so enjoy the rest of your stay.”

  Blaise caught up to her. “Would you ladies like to join us for lunch when we reach the bottom?”

  He’d used the breathier, huskier timber from when they’d first spoken on the way up. If exertion hadn’t caused it like she’d thought, what had? Was he flirting with her?

  Goosebumps erupted at the possibility. She had to get away before she begged him to say her name. Maybe whisper it and then have his tongue trace along the shell of her ear. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest to hide any evidence of her reaction.

  Her enamoured state came to a screeching halt. Hadn’t she read or heard somewhere that he was getting married to a Nigerian heiress?

  She answered his invitation before Precious could. “Thanks, but we have to get home. It’s a long journey.”

  “Where do you live?”

  She looked at Blaise from the side of her eye. “Why do you ask?”

  His muscular shoulder rose in a shrug. “If you’re going to Accra, you could ride with us. Unless you drove.”

  His friends stepped to either side of him.

  “There’s no room,” the tallest said. “Not with our wives.”

  She had her reasons for getting away from Blaise; what was theirs? “We drove, so there’s no need for the ride.”

  “Thank you, though,” Precious said with a huge grin. “It was generous of you to offer.”

  Blaise’s gaze never left Lamisi’s face as he held up his phone. “Can I have your number?”

  She blinked several times. What the hell for? She’d never been and never would be a home wrecker. She didn’t believe in disrespecting herself or her fellow sisters.

  She snarled in disgust. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate that.”

  She grabbed Precious’ arm and called for their guide who stood watching the scene.

  Lamisi led the way, not waiting for anyone’s response to her comment. She would’ve loved the chance to interrogate him about his insightful lyrics, but knowing he’d be willing to cheat on his girlfriend, a beautiful heiress who ruled social media, set a blaze of ire in her belly.

  What a philandering jerk.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lamisi found the descent a hundred and fifty percent less tiring than the climb, yet more treacherous. She slid a few times as the stones and dirt shifted under her feet, before wizening up and slowing her pace rather than rampage down the mountain to get away from a certain womanizing hiplife artist.

  A patch of dirt loosened as she stepped down, causing her foot to resist gravity and kick into the air with the other soon to follow. A strong grip stabilized her and kept her from hitting the ground. Heart beating with a bounding so intense that it hurt her ears, she looked up to thank her rescuer. The words got stuck in her throat as she met the handsome face of the man she’d stormed away from.

  Forgiveness for the way he’d disrespected his girlfriend with his blatant flirtation had yet to enter her consciousness. She pulled her arm out of his grip and mumbled, “Thank you.”

  Then, she turned … only to slip again. Dammit. This time, she regained her balance without help.

  “Take your time. There’s no rush.”

  Ignoring how his presence, to her annoyance, made her stomach flutter, she took more careful steps.

  He hitched a thumb behind them. “We were getting along well. What happened up there?”

  A direct man. Of course he was, because how often did talented, outrageously gorgeous, communicative men drop into her life?

  “Why did you ask for my number when you have a girlfriend?”

  “I’m a single man.”

  He was a performer—the sound of surprise and conviction in his voice could be an act. Yet, he hadn’t hesitated for even a second before answering. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d come to the wrong conclusion about a person, but her source had been reliable. Kind of.

  “That’s not what the entertainment news report.” She placed a hand on her hip as he stepped closer to her so that Musah could get past. “Deola, the Nigerian oil heiress? Remember her?”

  Abdul laughed as he slapped Blaise on the back. “I told you that escorting Deola to those functions would come back to haunt you.”

  And then, he continued on his way, leaving them planted on the side of the mountain.

  Lamisi watched the others meander towards their destination as she waited for Blaise’s answer. Precious was in the midst of pointing at a tree as she chatted with the tour guide. The woman loved all things science.

  He shook his head. “I’m not dating Deola. Or anyone else right now.”

  “So she’s not your girlfriend like the tabloids say?”

  Why should she even care? They’d just met, and unless she attended another one of his concerts, they wouldn’t see each other again.

  “It was a misunderstanding.”

  By this point, she had heard enough. She turned to make her way down the mountain so s
he could get as far away as possible.

  “We aren’t dating, but we sort of use each other.”

  She nodded as she tried to convince herself that she didn’t want to hear the whole story. “Thank you for clearing that up. I wish you two a happy life together.”

  He skittered past her and blocked her path. “Please, let me explain.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot out of annoyance, but disappointment held a bigger portion of her current emotional state. She’d rather have never discovered that her hiplife hero was a plain human male who made bad decisions without caring who he hurt.

  “What for? I’m someone you just met. It’s not necessary. Besides, I’m hungry.”

  His full lips spread into a smile as he took off his backpack. Curiosity got the best of her as she watched him open it and pull out a chocolate bar.

  Blaise waved it in front of her face. “I’ll give it to you if you listen to my explanation.”

  Her stomach grumbled loud enough to scare the hidden wildlife as she eyed the candy with longing. What would it hurt to hear him out? She’d get some gossip directly from the source and a snack to tide her over. No negative in that equation.

  He reached for her hand and placed the chocolate in it. The tingles skittering up her arm from the contact overtook the sensation of hunger.

  He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head with a deep frown. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I should’ve just offered it to you without the bribe. It was nice meeting you, Lamisi.”

  Then, he swept his hand to indicate that she should walk ahead of him.

  She hesitated for a moment before opening the candy bar. “You’re invited.”

  He chuckled and shook his head to decline. “Thank you.”

  The tradition of offering to share food tended to be a source of entertainment. What was the saying about sharing being caring?

  She took a bite and moaned as the flavour of the peanuts, caramel, nougat, and chocolate merged onto her tongue as the most decadent treat she’d ever eaten. Hunger made everything taste incredible.

  “Thanks,” she said around the confection still in her mouth.