Page 2 of Cupid Calling
“An audition for a dating show,” his twin repeated, radiating false calm and confidence. “Exactly.”
Ejiro tried once more to read between the lines, but the women were suddenly stoic, watching him with unreadable expressions.
“Okay … so, like, speed dating shows?” he asked tentatively.
“Exactly like speed dating shows.” Ajiri was already switching the camera back on. “Imagine that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you to meet the love of your life; you have to give your audition tape your all.”
The words made Ejiro flush, the colour thankfully hidden underneath his deep brown skin.
“Oh,” he said. He cleared his throat.
A once in a lifetime chance to meet the love of my life, he thought with a madly racing heart, closing his eyes and pretending for a brief moment that the audition tape was real.
He opened his eyes and smiled softly at the camera. “Hi, my name is Ejiro David Odavwaro. I’m twenty-five years old, I live in Manchester, and I’m an assistant chef in Ewoma’s, my uncle’s restaurant.”
The women glanced at each other with pleased and excited expressions. Ejiro’s cheeks warmed further.
“Perfect,” Ajiri whispered, her eyes bright.
He beamed. On the inside, the raw ache for an actual romantic and sexual relationship tried to claw its way out of his throat, but he swallowed it forcefully back down.
If only it could be this easy.
EJIRO HAD JUST FINISHED SETTING down the trays for table one and three when Damilola came into the kitchens, removing the top page from her handheld sticky notepad and pasting it onto the counter’s surface.
“Two peppered gizzard starters, two plates of fried rice with plantain as main, and one chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream for dessert,” she recited by rote before expertly taking both trays Ejiro had filled and heading back to the front of the restaurant.
Humming along to the radio, Ejiro took a second look at the sticky note before he began to prepare the meals.
“I will soon introduce those iPad menus,” his uncle spoke from behind him, his Nigerian accent thick despite the many years he’d spent as a citizen in England. He was sitting on a small wooden stool, munching on packaged plantain chips. “What do you think, Eji-ji?”
The nickname, as usual, made Ejiro feel all warm and mushy inside. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“Abi? That way when people order, it will come straight to the kitchen, instead of having waitresses running up and down.”
“Makes sense.” Ejiro nodded.
They were silent for a few minutes, while the delicious smell of caramelised onions wafted into the air. He turned down the flame, then added the finely chopped hot peppers and tomatoes, standing well back from the pan as it sizzled when he gently stirred. When it was gently mixed and bubbling, he sprinkled in some spices: thyme, beef flavour cubes, salt, and a dash of mild curry, his secret ingredient.
The gizzard was already cooked and fried, so it just needed to be stirred in with the sauce and it would be done. While that was cooking, he started in on the vegetables for the fried rice.
“Your mother,” Uncle Reuben said, making Ejiro’s heart skip several beats. He hummed to show he was listening. “Has she called you recently?”
“No, she hasn’t,” he said, focusing extra hard on dicing the carrots.
His uncle’s following silence felt heavy. Ejiro swallowed nervously. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone began to vibrate in his back pocket.
“Talk of the devil.” Uncle Reuben laughed with delight.
Ejiro felt like he was drowning. Please God, not now; he wasn’t ready—
Uncle Reuben stood, reaching for one of the aprons hanging on a peg by the back door. “You answer that, I’ll finish up the order.”
“But—”
“No buts. Go on.”
Ejiro couldn’t even take his sweet time walking outside because his uncle didn’t take his eyes off him.
