(Two Years Later)
The restaurant buzzed with the usual late-night noise — clinking plates and low chatter. Kofi shoved his chair back with a sharp scrape and slammed his fist lightly against the table.
“I gotta face it, I’m just never good enough for him.”
Kentucky leaned back, watching him with the calm patience of someone who’d heard it all before. “Man, just breathe. You letting Papa Odo get under your skin again? Ain’t no surprise; he’s still renting space in your head. What’d he do this time?”
Kofi let out a frustrated sigh, the words tumbling out. “He called me into his study… just to mess with my head, like always.”
(Flashback — Papa Odo’s Study)
The memory softened the restaurant noise, replacing it with the thick quiet of Papa Odo’s study. A chair slid across carpet. Ice clinked sharply against glass.
“Hello, my son,” Papa Odo said, his calm Ghanaian accent steady as ever. “Come have a drink with me.”
“Hello, Father,” Kofi replied, polite but guarded. “What’s going on?”
Papa Odo poured, the liquid hitting the sides of the glass with slow precision. “My son, I am very proud of you… excelling in your studies, increasing profits at the store. A real man works hard to make his place in the world. Once I am no longer here, you will be more than well off.”
He took a sip, voice smooth. “I understand how you feel, but as you know, I am leaving the company to my young bride… all will be well.”
The words hit like an insult. Kofi slammed his glass down on the desk.
“Old man… I didn’t come in here to be insulted! I am your flesh and blood — your only child! How dare you not even consider how your words hurt me!”
Silence thickened. Papa Odo began humming softly as he poured another drink, the tune unsettling in its calmness.
“Mostly behind, sometimes between, always above…”
Kofi’s teeth clicked in irritation. “Here we go with your riddles… you’re drunk, old man.”
“Maybe,” Papa Odo answered, unfazed. “But your problem is that you do not listen. You hear words, of course, but not messages.”
He gestured around the room. “In this room, you see many books — most of which I’ve read in their entirety. The room is rich beyond your wildest dreams, but you’re too stupid to see it.”
He sighed, pouring again. “It is so much more tucked away in these walls.”
Kofi blinked back to the present, shaking his head as the restaurant sounds returned. His father’s cryptic words clung to him like smoke.
“And he doesn’t pay rent,” Kofi muttered bitterly. “He owns everything — including me.”
Sylvia leaned in, eyes sharp. “You work hard. He sees the profits. He laughs and pours another drink. Seems like a bad investment for you.”
“He thinks I’m still a child,” Kofi said, the frustration tightening his shoulders.
Kentucky shrugged. “Then maybe it’s time you showed him you’re grown.”
And that was the moment the devil cut the pizza — three broke students staring down one expensive problem.
No one seemed to notice Lauryn hill' killing him softly playing in the background.
Now, they needed a plan.