Page 22

I’m supposed to be OK.

He shakes hands and hugs our old friends like a politician on a campaign tour and I try to focus on the people before me, but they seem to be a blur of colourful features, try as I might. And so, to check if my eyes are working properly, in an effort to be health conscious, I allow my gaze to sneak in his direction, test them out. This is not a hallucination. There he stands, in 20/20, 4K, the crew’s Golden Boy, glinting handsomely, rudely sexy, obnoxiously comfortable, taking up space outside my head, far outside my heart.

Kofi approaches him casually, his excitement consciously measured as he greets him with, ‘Oga,’ and a playful d?bal?, to which Malakai lobbies a ‘Chief!’ punctuated with a salute. The groom-to-be, not to be outdone with the hailing, returns with a ‘General,’ before Malakai opts for an exotic, jovially deployed ‘El Jefe!’ It’s this that breaks the fourth wall, and they tumble through, it, laughing, bringing forth a coda of daps and hand claps and finally a hug, with forceful thumps to the back.

‘Hello? Earth to Kiki!’ I jump, my best friend’s voice penetrating the inner din of what I am mature enough to recognise is an emotional freakout. Aminah’s waving a hand in front of my face, as she holds out a flute of champagne to me with a slight frown.

I take it with some gratitude. ‘Um, hey, you good?’

Aminah’s brows hoist as she watches me empty the flute in approximately two seconds flat. ‘Um, hey yourself. Areyougood, sis?’

I push out a smile. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I am. I mean it’sweird,but I’m good. In a way I’m glad he’s here. Look how wide Kofi’s grinning.’

Aminah darts an eye over to the boys. ‘Yeah, I guess I’m glad Kofi’s got his husband back. Takes some pressure off me.’ I choke out a laugh and Aminah shakes her head as she surveys the scene. ‘Man. Malakai’s got ugly as hell. Very clapped. That Equinox membership and those green juices have not been kind to him. You made a lucky escape. What’s the new skincare craze in LA right now? Octopus snot?’

‘Shark semen.’

‘It’s eating him alive.’

I pause, note the telling quirk in her lips, the glint in her eye. A blessed friend is one who knows the time to tell a blatant lie to make you feel better.

I pantomime a shudder. ‘An ogre. You sure you want him in your wedding pictures?’

‘Hmm. Will photoshop him out.’

Our eyes snag and our giggles erupt and melt over my tension and then I’m OK. I swear, I’m OK.

‘MinaaaahMafia!’ As if Malakai’s ears were burning, his eyes roam over to Aminah– and pointedly only Aminah– hand curved round his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, his smile as broad and welcoming to her as it is hostile to me. It’s the first time in almost three years I’ve really heard his voice, and the low caramel sound, smooth and decadent, flows into grooves in my psyche, knowing its way around, disturbing peace. He looks as if he’s about to approach, but Aminah squeezes my elbow surreptitiously, immediately going to him, I know, to evade the awkwardness of him having to come up to us (me).She allows for a ginger side-hug and a peck on the cheek before stepping back from him,managing to tower over Malakai despite being almost a foot shorter than him. Her arms fold across her chest as she looks up at him, brow arched.

‘Well, look who it is. The prodigal ashewo.’

Malakai is easy, he is always soeasy–how dare he be so easy– my blood is spiked and heated as his smile warms with genuine affection for the girl I know he loves like a sister and who he also slightly fears.

‘Our bride! Lovely to see you too, Lady Aminah. Why am I an ashewo again?’

‘Without Kiki’s protection, you revert to how I saw you before. A wanton slag.’

Malakai’s face only twitches slightly at the mention of my name, but his expression remains perfectly placid. For some reason, I’m rooted to the spot. His brow rises with bemusement in a way that usedto send flutters to my belly. I have flutters in my belly now, but that’s just due to the inner battle between homicidal feelings and too much champagne. ‘Wanton?’

‘I’ve been reading Kiki’s historical romances.’ Aminah has now mentioned me twice. She’s testing him, and the unspoken, ‘speakingof historical romance,’ chimes loudly.

Malakai doesn’t bite into the bait, doesn’t trip, doesn’t stutter, his demeanour as chill as ever, as he says, ‘I’ve really missed you, Meenz.’

‘And it’s so kind of you to finally grace us with your presence, Newbie.’

He scratches the back of his head, having the grace to look sheepish. ‘I am so, so sorry—’

‘As you should be,’ she clips, before releasing a sweet smile, capping the edge of her words.

If Malakai catches the shot, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t seem to have missed a beat, sliding into the gap left in the group by his absence, so comfortable, so unbruised. Then, with the smile of a residual laugh on his face, his eyes drift, catch mine, dark gaze inscrutable. My chest jerks. His smile holds rigid, but reduces by the smallest fraction. Then it raises again, hooking my breath to it. It’s not amiable– it’s a challenge. Who is going to be the bigger person?

The elephant in the room trumpets, garnering the attention of my friends, who, without realising it, start to bounce surreptitious glances between Malakai and I, trying to see which one of us will smash the ice.I suddenly really need to pee. And look in the mirror. Check my lips, check my tits, but I can’t– I have to win this– and I push out an unbothered smile on my face, powered by the fact that I am very fucking bothered. I step forward, the heels of my slingbacks working as an ice pick, smashing the ice between us, but Malakai moves too, smooth with it, long strides, sure footed. We meet in the middle of the floor.

I’m not too big to admit that I’m momentarily disorientated by his proximity when I stop in front of him. Of course, Malakai has managed to be approximately 2.75 times more attractive than the last time I saw him, when he was already insanely attractive. Right now, I can’t help but feel that this is to spite me. Breaking my heart wasn’t enough– he had to go ahead and get finer too. It’s not like I wanted him to look like he’d felt a gaping gap where my love once resided that shows in the hollows of his eyes, but does he necessarily have toglowlike this? We get it, bro. Your skincare routine is ascorbic acid, Jaws’s jizz and freedom from my clutches. His crisp white button-down shirt is slightly creased– he obviously dressed quickly– but he makes it look deliberate, snug in his aura of careless sauce. It fits him perfectly, confidently, not too tight, but fitted enough to let me know that he’s more filled out now. Thicker, more muscular. It suits him. He’s grown. Well-tailored black tapered trousers brush his leather brogues, and he smells warm, a woodsy scent of black pepper and cognac and the fire in my veins. His beard frames his mouth, full and healthy, a masterpiece you want to trace. It now curves like a scythe.

‘Kiki Banjo. The one and only.’

The low grit of my name on his tongue pricks into my pores like hot prongs. I call on my cool, and tilt my head casually, like I’m not trying to drain the effect of his voice from me.