The Blessed Girl

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The Blessed Girl Page 7

by Angela Makholwa


  The construction tender is just one problem after another and it’s threatening to give me grey hairs. Now I’m behind on my mortgage instalments.

  Worst of all, Teddy has been cold and distant recently and we still have not received the second payment on the project. He’s not happy with our progress but how does the municipality expect us to complete a R60 million project with only R10 million in the bank? Whatever. Let him sulk. He’s also still unhappy that I short-changed him by R300,000 but I’ve promised I’ll pay it back when the second payment comes through. You don’t see him complaining when he spends a night of passion in the penthouse I’m buying with that money though. Eish. Men!

  The only silver lining in this cloudy phase of my life is that Mr Emmanuel is here this weekend! The girls and I are meeting with him and his business associates on Saturday.

  I went to the Melrose Beauty Clinic on Wednesday and Thursday to get ready for this meeting. This is BIG, my friends, I mean HUGE! Are you as excited for me as I am? Of course you are, you peaches!

  I asked my surgeon to do fillers on my skin and also some bleaching to get my complexion looking as luminous as possible. You know, I’m twenty-eight years old but I still get mistaken for a twenty-two year old all the time. Those are the benefits of proper maintenance of the face and body, darlings. Watch and learn.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I told you I was twenty-four at the beginning of my story. So what? It’s not like I’m the first woman to lie about her age.

  Moving right along.

  I booked an appointment for butt implants at the end of the month, although I don’t know where I’ll get the money to pay for them. I’m hoping that the government will have paid our invoice by then.

  You know the way this government is always going on in the media about paying their suppliers on time? I wish I could expose them in the papers for making us wait more than thirty days before settling our invoice. I mean, the incompetence is just mind-boggling!

  Anyway, thinking about the government will just ruin all the investment I’ve made in looking good, so enough about that.

  When I was at the clinic, I decided to do some anal bleaching just to make sure my lady parts are in porn-star condition. You’ve never heard of anal bleaching? Shoo! Well, I’m not about to educate you about basic grooming. Look it up, won’t you?

  I’m sorry. I’m sounding very arrogant today, aren’t I? My humble apologies for that. Whenever I come out of Dr Heinz’s beauty clinic, I feel like a million bucks, like I’m untouchable and the whole world is at my feet. I’m serious. I wish you could see me.

  I’ll post a picture of myself on Instagram, then you can just sit back and enjoy the glory of God’s work.

  As I walk to my car, my phone rings.

  It’s Iris.

  ‘Hey, babe. How’s it going?’

  ‘Stressed out of my mind. I’ve an exam on Monday so I’m still in my PJs doing some coursework. How’s you?’

  ‘I’m great, my love. Just came out of a meeting with my business partner, Mama Sophia. So … are our plans for the weekend still on?’ I ask as casually as possible.

  I’m not liking the issue about her exams on Monday. These student types will always fob off plans when it comes to their bloody exams and assignments. I literally cross my fingers as I await her response.

  ‘Hmmm. I’d hate to drop Mr Emmanuel so I’m going to try and cram as much of my workload in between today and tomorrow as I can, so as to leave Saturday open for him.’

  ‘And his friends,’ I add forcefully.

  She sighs.

  ‘I’m really looking forward to meeting Mr Emmanuel’s friends … you never know, maybe I’ll find true love,’ I say.

  She laughs. ‘As if. When was true love ever a priority with you?’

  I laugh along merrily. ‘Well, True Love or True Wealth. Same difference.’

  She giggles. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll see you whores on Saturday then.’

  ‘That’s my girl. Good luck with the studies.’

  ‘Thanks. I need it.’

  I’m giddy with excitement.

  Plus, if my girl is studying her bum off, she won’t have any time for high-level maintenance, which already puts me ahead in this race.

  Yay!

  Family Matters

  I’ve just delivered a decent order of hair extensions to the upmarket Face of the Future salon in Parkhurst so I decide to pop by Aunty Mabel’s boutique in nearby Rosebank, to hang out and catch up. I haven’t seen her in ages.

  As I drive the short distance to the boutique I get a lot of admiring glances from men in the cars passing by. I pretend not to notice, just look at myself in the rear-view mirror, then look back at the road and continue to drive. As I stop at the traffic lights, a young guy in a Porsche convertible gives me the eye. I give him a subtle, dimpled smile and he smiles back.

  He presses down his mirror and mouths ‘Hi’ to me.

  I say ‘Hi’ back but I’m already tuning him out. Too young, too good-looking, too single and way too cocky for me. I prefer guys who are humbled by my attention and affection. The kind of guys who pinch themselves at night at the thought of having landed a girl like me. Mr Young Porsche Driver over there can have about a hundred girls like me … and probably does, so no, thanks, I’ll pass.

  I pull into Rosebank Mall and proceed to Aunty Mabel’s boutique. I texted her earlier, announcing my upcoming visit. I find her chatting to a customer, looking very polished and professional as always. I adore Aunty Mabel. I say a quick hi to her, and she excuses herself from her customer and gives me a warm hug.

  ‘Hey, you. Looking fabulous, as always. Nancy, meet my niece, Bontle.’

  The lady who was chatting to my aunt proffers her hand and greets me warmly.

  ‘You have a very beautiful niece, Mabel.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Wish I could say it runs in the family.’

  ‘Aunty, you’re gorgeous!’ I say.

  I mean it. She may not have model features, but she’s attractive in the way she presents herself and honestly has a heart of gold, so she’s beautiful to me.

  ‘Aunty, you can continue with Sisi Nancy. I’m going to take a look around the store. I’m sure I’ll find something I love. This store is a little piece of heaven.’

  ‘Okay, sweetie. If you need help, ask Noma.’

  Noma is the shop assistant. She doesn’t really like me, but I don’t care.

  I notice that the store has new stock by the right-hand corner of the cashier’s desk and immediately move towards the clothing rack to see if I can find something to wear for my meeting with Mr Emmanuel.

  Oh. And his friends. And my friends.

  By the time I’m in Mr Emmanuel’s pants, he’ll just be Emmanuel. Or Ouagadougou. Or whatever his Nigerian name is. I find a gorgeous and classy form fitting VVB dress and immediately decide that it’s perfect for the occasion. I suspect Mr Emmanuel doesn’t go for the tarty look. Iris usually dresses very classy and understated. I guess that’s why she attracts the more intellectual and sophisticated type of blesser.

  I walk out of the changing room to find Aunty Mabel standing by the door, looking at me admiringly.

  ‘You have to take it!’ she says, clapping her hands. ‘That is an order from your wise aunt. Girl, you have curves in all the right places. Shoo! I’m so glad I’m not your age. You’d steal all our men!’

  Guilt hits me like a ton of bricks.

  I’ve been avoiding Uncle Chino for so long, I’ve almost forgotten that we had a thing. Eish. But why do I have to be such a slut? Look at Aunty Mabel. She is nothing but pure sunshine, but still I had to go and sleep with her bloody husband. Eish. Men! Fuck them. They just complicate our lives, hey?

  Now I really have to buy this dress.

  I look at the price tag. R16,000. Eish. That’s practically all I have between me and poverty. I’ll have to negotiate to pay it in two instalments. Aunty Mabel is a pure sweetheart, so she agrees to let me put down R8000 and take the dress with
me today. I promise her that I will pay the rest at the end of the month.

  I hope I’ll have raised enough for the dress and the mortgage by then.

  I can’t believe I’ll have to survive on R8000 till then. Yho. I need to make a plan. I think I’ll call Papa Jeff on Monday because if I call him before the weekend, he’ll want to see me. I don’t need other men’s chakras while I am focusing on Mr Emmanuel. He’s my main goal at this point and if there’s one thing I’ve never lacked, especially when it comes to men, it’s focus.

  D-Day

  I’ve just stepped out the shower and am feeling slightly nervous. This is new for me. Feeling nervous at the thought of a man I have never met.

  I don’t even know what he looks like. He could be an ogre … hmmm.

  I walk to the fridge in my birthday suit. I need a glass of white wine to calm me down. I have a cheap bottle of wine from Woolworths to see me through the weekend. I am so broke it’s not even funny. As I sip my wine I practise how I’m going to carry myself this evening. I tried googling Mr Emmanuel but Iris has given me very little to go on. I don’t even know whether it’s his first or last name.

  I go to my bedroom, grab my phone and spread my Google net wider. I type in Emmanuel + Nigerian businessman + oil baron + New York office. That Iris better not have embellished the details because, right now, this is all the information I have for my research.

  A number of search results come up. I go to Google images and click to see what’s there. The idea of him turning out to be a beast disturbs me no end. I may not need good-looking types but we must not get to a point where I need to cover the guy’s face with a pillow when we’re having sex. You know what I mean?

  A catalogue of pictures comes up but one image strikes a chord with me. It’s a businessman in an expensive-looking suit, who seems to be in his mid- to late-fifties, standing next to a woman of about the same age dressed in traditional Nigerian attire. I decide to click on the link beneath the image and read the entire article.

  Yes. This definitely sounds like my guy.

  Offices in New York, Nigeria and Johannesburg – check. Businessman with investments in oil, FMCG (whatever that means) – check. And … wait for it … construction!

  Ker-ching! We have something in common already!

  I know exactly how I’m going to work this. I will introduce myself as a businesswoman involved in the South African construction sector. Who knows? Maybe we could even partner on some projects so we can spend time together. I can just see it! I see it! It will work!

  Businessmen are always looking for new opportunities. I will highlight my close relationship with Teddy (as a purely business relationship, of course) and hint at the possibility of introducing them to each other. What businessman would not welcome a close relationship with the Chief Financial Officer of a municipality?

  I rub my hands together gleefully like a cartoon character.

  I told you. I may not be book smart but my street smarts are impeccable. Read Donald Trump. Read Richard Branson. Don’t be sleeping here, man. Catch a wake-up!

  Shoo. This cheap white wine is making me horny. It’s time for me to lather myself in my Versace body lotion and perfume and get ready for the big date before I lose track and start calling Papa Jeff. As far as I’m concerned, everyone else who’ll be there tonight is just an extra in me and Mr Emmanuel’s epic tale.

  Melrose Hotel, Tonight

  Fortunately for me, the girls and I are meeting Mr Emmanuel and his associates at the Melrose Hotel so it’s just a short drive from my place.

  I got a text from Iris to say they’ve been there for an hour. It’s time for me to make my grand entrance.

  My skin is glowing; it’s soft like a baby’s and bright and beautiful as the sun. I’m wearing platinum earrings and a matching necklace that the Teddy Bear bought me from Brown’s in happier times. I’m zipped into the Victoria Beckham dress, matched with black Louis Vuitton heels and a Louis Vuitton bag to complete the look of understated elegance.

  I sashay slowly into the restaurant at the Melrose Hotel and immediately feel all eyes staring up at me. This is exactly the effect I desired. All I’m missing is that extra volume on the butt that I ordered, but I know I still look fabulous.

  I walk up to the table where the girls and the three businessmen are sitting chatting.

  A small comical moment plays itself out as the three men all stand up, each competing to be the first to introduce himself to me. I smile and offer each of them in turn a firm handshake. I linger a bit longer when I take Mr Emmanuel’s hand in mine, but not so long as to make Iris feel uncomfortable. I make sure to acknowledge him as ‘the man of the hour’, the guy who made this happy meeting of like-minded individuals possible. I hug my girls and get a bit chatty with them to diffuse any discomfort that may have been caused by the men’s enthusiasm.

  I sit opposite Mr Emmanuel and in between Tsholo and one of Mr Emmanuel’s friends.

  I notice Mr Emmanuel trying not to notice me. This makes me very happy. I decide to spend the first part of the evening ignoring him and lavishing attention on his friends.

  PhD in MENcology, remember?

  In truth, he is always in my peripheral vision. I notice every gesture, every expression on his face. I even steal a glance down at his pants and notice a very obvious bulge, although at this point it could as easily be the result of Iris’s proximity as much as mine.

  My feigned disinterest in him is also designed to put Iris at ease. All I need is a few moments and I know I will be in the game.

  So I wait patiently for my opportunity.

  Throughout the evening, he is playing the role of attentive boyfriend to Iris. He’s touching her hands, looking her in the eye, whispering in her ear. All good and proper. You’ll be glad to hear I am not even vaguely threatened.

  I laugh uproariously at his friends’ jokes, especially the Arab guy sitting next to me. He’s one of the men who just signed a deal with Mr Emmanuel. His name is Wissam. He’s obviously rich, but, well, you know, some of these Arabs, they’re into kinky sex. You’ll find yourself doing things that you only see on the dark internet so, thank you, but no, thanks. There’s not enough money in the world that will see me having sex with a dog.

  Much later into the night, Iris gets up to go to the bathroom. To my utter delight, Tsholo offers to go with her. This is perfect. Knowing my friends, the bathroom break will include the actual bathroom business and a good few minutes dedicated to grooming, as evinced by the large bags being taken along for the ride.

  I ask Mr Emmanuel to refill my champagne glass and sip slowly and seductively as I gaze directly into his eyes.

  ‘So, Mr Emmanuel … I’m so glad finally to have met you. I’ve been curious to find out who the man is behind my friend’s bright smile over the past few months,’ I say.

  He smiles seductively back at me. He’s really kind of good-looking. The picture I saw on the internet does not do him justice at all. He’s got these manly good looks, a big athletic body, no beer belly and an all-round masculine essence that is terribly hard to resist.

  ‘Well,’ he says, shrugging, ‘I guess I can’t help it. If you know how to please a woman, you know how to please a woman.’

  The two men on either side of me laugh indulgently, while I nod my head slowly and appreciatively.

  ‘I wish I could meet someone who’s as confident in his abilities with women—’

  Wissam decides to grab the opportunity to do some self-promotion.

  ‘Maybe you’ve not been hanging around the right men,’ he suggests.

  ‘Yeah, that may well be. I do a lot of business with men, and sometimes I get frustrated because they either see me as a plaything, or they try to test how ballsy and hard-arsed I can be. I wish they could just accept that I can be feminine and still drive a hard bargain like any other business person.’

  They all seem instantly to look at me differently.

  Mr Emmanuel raises his glass of cognac and say
s thoughtfully: ‘Hmmm. Iris didn’t tell me that you were involved in business. What industry are you in exactly?’

  I detect a note of scepticism in his tone, but I plough on regardless.

  ‘I’m involved in large-scale construction projects. Mostly housing development. I almost didn’t come tonight because we’re so busy with a project in Limpopo these days.’

  He purses his lips and starts nodding. ‘Really? Who are your partners?’

  ‘I’ve partnered with another female-owned business called Dithari Construction. My business is simply called Bontle Tau Investment Corporation. I plan to diversify into other sectors; construction is just one of my interests.’

  ‘So, Limpopo? That’s up north … Polokwane?’

  ‘Yes. We’re building RDP houses. We’re at an advanced stage in the project, but you probably know how it is, dealing with government. Not always the best client, but very lucrative,’ I say, quoting something I read Mr Emmanuel saying in one of his many interviews. I hope it doesn’t sound too familiar. I didn’t really mean to quote him but the words just came into my head because I’d read them while Googling him earlier.

  ‘I say the exact same thing,’ he says, sounding impressed. He holds out a business card. ‘Here. Take my card. Call me on Monday. I’m also in construction. I believe you and I may have a lot to talk about.’

  I feel like jumping, hopping and skipping. Doing the Gangnam Style. Stopping in The Name of Love.

  Yho! I am King!

  Instead, I just open my Louis Vuitton clutch and slip the card in.

  I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

  Two Months Later

  Mr Emmanuel and I have been texting each other over the past few weeks since our first encounter.

  I had emailed him on Monday morning just to say it was a pleasure meeting him and that I looked forward to forging a business relationship with him, as I believed we could benefit from looking at synergies in our interests. I didn’t really phrase it that way. I kind of said I hoped we could meet in the future to see if there were any business opportunities we could share.

 

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