Page 12 of Cupid Calling
Fuck me, Obiora thought, eloquently.
They didn’t have to wait long.
“So,” Obioma said the second he sat down, after passing them their drinks. “At first, Obinna and I thought maybe you’d come to us on your own, but since that’s obviously not happening and you’re leaving in two days …”
“Here we are,” Obinna finished.
“Uh, what … what are you guys talking about?” He laughed awkwardly.
Wow. Smooth one, Obiora; they’re definitely not suspicious now.
Obioma rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his drink—a vodka and lemonade on ice, with a wedge of lime on the edge. “Don’t play coy. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it, but do you really think Obinna and I believe you’re going on some therapy retreat bullshit?”
“Language,” Obinna said automatically.
They ignored him.
“Tell us what’s really going on.” Obiora opened his mouth. “The truth, Obiora.” He shut it.
“Are you really going on a—what did you call it? A grief counselling retreat?” Obinna asked. He gave him the “concerned dad” look, the one that said no matter what Obiora said, he’d love and support him anyway.
Obiora’s chest swelled with how much he loved them.
He took a large sip of his drink, grimacing a little. The ratio of coke to vodka was a little unbalanced; there was too much vodka.
“Fine, you want to know the truth?” His cheeks heated up, and his stomach roiled. “Don’t make it a big deal, or whatever, I’m just—it wasn’t even my idea—I’m only going along with it because I needed a break and I didn’t want daddy to freak out—”
“Obiora.” The dad voice again, except this time, it was in a tone that demanded answers.
“Fine,” he repeated. His heart raced. “It’s a dating show.” He practically spat it out. Like ripping a Band-Aid.
There was a pause.
“It’s a what now?”
Obiora could feel himself blushing harder. “You heard me. When Esther saw the casting call, she made me send in an audition, all right? And when I got the call back … well. Here we are,” he said sheepishly.
When he’d gotten the second call, he hadn’t actually planned to go, not really. But then Esther had said, “You’re right. It is a competition. If you went on without the intention to win, you probably wouldn’t last a day.” And Obiora had said “bet”, ignoring the sparkle in her eyes that told him she’d said those words on purpose, because obviously the bigger issue here was the challenge underneath said words.
Plus, if he were really being honest here, he really did want a fucking break from his job.
No, not want. It was a need. He hadn’t had a vacation in the past five years since he started working with his father, and by vacation, he meant a holiday by himself or with a lover, not one with his family, which they did at least once every year.
Esther was right. Working for his dad was becoming unbearable, even though acknowledging his stress only made him feel guilty. After Ada’s accident, his dad had practically shoved the job in his face, and it had helped Obiora immensely in coping with his grief. He’d buried himself in the work, and it had felt like an escape—a much needed breath of fresh air.
How could he repay his father’s kindness by up and quitting, just like that? And all because he wanted to become a fucking personal trainer? His old man wouldn’t show it, but Obiora knew he would be disappointed. The man was already planning how his three sons would take over the firm the second he and Emeka retired, since his best friend didn’t have any children of his own. The last thing Obiora wanted to do was break his heart.
“A dating show?” Obioma repeated. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Stop mocking him,” Obinna reprimanded. “What kind of dating show?” To anyone who didn’t know him, he looked blank-faced, but Obiora knew his family like he knew the back of his palm. The bastard was also trying not to laugh.
“Go on. Laugh it out,” he said with a tired sigh, groaning when Obioma did just that, startling the people sitting at the table over with how hard he chortled. “It’s called Cupid Calling. It’s new. The director is Ameri Shae.”
Obioma abruptly stopped laughing. “Ameri Shae? The Ameri Shae?”
Obiora felt smug. “The Ameri Shae.” He took a sip from his drink.
Obinna wrinkled his eyebrows. “Remind me what she directed again?”
