‘Of course,’ I say.
‘About the car …’ Papa Jeff says then.
‘Babe, let me come up with a plan for the car,’ I say quickly. ‘What if I carry on with the instalments myself?’
‘Her issue is that you are driving it.’
‘She knows about me?’
‘She knows that there’s a Merc in my name she has never seen on our property.’
‘What if we arranged with the dealer for you to “sell” it to someone? And that someone will happen to be me?’
He shrugs. Then, after a long pause, says: ‘I’ll think about it. But this time it’s really bad. It could ruin my marriage.’
Hmm. I wouldn’t want that, it would just add to our problems. Not only would he have to give up half of what’s left of his diminishing wealth, I would have to transform into a Triple S (Solid Support System).
Nope. Not qualified for that.
We need to think and work hard. And fast.
The Season to be Merry
I’ve been popping anti-depressants since my meeting with Papa Jeff. What a way to end the year.
My new supply of hair extensions has arrived from China, but business isn’t going well. The artsy, Black Consciousness chicks have taken over social media with a crusade against artificial hair. They want women to embrace their natural locks – with no regard whatsoever for those of us who derive our income from the business of fake hair. Where does their Black Consciousness feature in the economics of my stomach? Nx! I’m also black, aren’t I? You don’t see me question where they get their weed, do you? Probably from some white dealer in Melville. Nx!
A well-known musician made some inane comment about not wanting to be photographed with girls who wear weaves because it makes them look ‘un-African’, so now everybody is suddenly woke and embracing their African heritage. If you ask me, he’s full of shit.
It’s a bullshit trend but if it doesn’t pass soon I’m going to have to run around with a pair of scissors and cut off people’s dreadlocks for resale.
The Face of the Future salon scaled down their order by 20 per cent which got me really worried, but at least I’m still guaranteed clients at Chimamanda’s salon because a lot of older socialites go there and take their daughters too, and they have no interest in social media or being woke. Four days before Christmas and I still don’t know where I am going to spend the Yuletide season. When I went to see Golokile, he said he’d decided to spend the holidays at my grandmother’s house. How he could prefer the company of my grandmother and my mother’s crazy sisters over me is a great mystery. He’s become more withdrawn with me and Mom since he came out of rehab. He’s ashamed as it is and on top of that every day Gladys keeps reminding him of what happened. I’m scared her constant scolding is going to drive him back to drugs. That’s probably why he wants to spend Christmas at his grandmother’s, to get away from us. I went to Mamelodi to visit him and took him out to our shisanyama spot and we talked about other lighter subjects. When he told me about his Christmas plans, I tried not to look too disappointed and volunteered to drop him off in Hammanskraal.
My aunts like to gossip about me because I am my mother’s daughter. I told you their relationship with her has had its ups and downs. I’ve never felt very welcome in their house but they’re lovely to Golokile, which is great. I dropped him off, had juice and biscuits, and hightailed it back to Sandton as soon as I could without seeming rude.
Now that I am home, I realise that I still do not have the answer to the question of where exactly I will be spending Christmas Day. Ntokozo has also been very quiet recently. Must be busy with his new healthcare-with-a-heart business and his hospital duties. And in what capacity would we be spending the holidays together anyway? With him as my ex-husband? My friend?
To distract myself, I send my men season’s greetings. Their responses are delayed and brief, meaning they’re already with their families. I’ve been down this road before. It’s important not to come across as either clingy or lonely during this period. A lonely girl is not an attractive girl. So I wait a few days and send them a family-orientated, spiritual Christmas message.
I spend the holiday alone in my apartment. I make myself eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and drink a bottle of wine. Combined with the anti-depressants and a few sleeping pills, it makes me nice and dozy.
Before dropping off, I go on Instagram and post an old picture from a holiday in Camps Bay that I spent with one of my ex-blessers.
‘#Sunshine & good loving #Baecation’.
It’s not the best Christmas I’ve ever had.
I spend the whole week alone.
On New Year’s Eve, I send my men sexy, bikini-clad pictures of myself. Some of them have just been taken because I want to show off my new curves. Not eating since Loki’s trouble has made my butt look extra big and luscious while the rest of me dwindles. I ask one of the security guards to the apartment complex to take snaps of me poolside, holding a Margarita I made in my apartment. It looks as perfect as one made at any of the bars and lounges I frequent. Aesthetics are everything.
It’s important to remind my men what awaits them after spending all that time with those wives of theirs, who suffer from low libidinal drives.
I post some of the pics on Instagram. After all, I could be lounging at a hotel pool-deck in Camps Bay in those pictures. Who’s to say I’m not?
And so … Happy New Year to you all.
New Year, New Beginnings
I spend the second day of the New Year drawing up my resolutions.
#1 Make a plan to hold onto the Mercedes SLK
#2 Start clothing business
#3 Get another multi-million tender, but please, not construction
#4 Get new blesser – join Blesser Finder website?
#5 Keep a close eye on Golokile
#6 Maintain figure, looks and complexion!
#7 Own a News Café!
In the second week of the year, Teddy calls to inform me that he’ll be in town in a day or two. We agree to meet on Wednesday.
I’m not sure about the tone of his voice. I expect him to be a bit mad at me for the way things have gone with the tender, but I don’t detect any irritation in the way he speaks to me. I must admit that I generally find the Teddy Bear hard to read.
One thing I do know about him is this: he is a thigh man, and he absolutely goes weak at the sight of my fit, yellow thighs. So I do what any girl in my situation would do. I turn it up! I wear a teeny, weeny, itsy, bitsy Freakum dress; sprinkle a bit of Poison perfume onto my body and some more on my thighs. I always try to match my perfume with the type of man I’m seeing. Teddy is a bit of a freak in bed, he likes it low-down and dirty, so Poison, with its musky scent, usually gets him all crazy and horny before we even leave the restaurant. As usual when I meet with him, I don’t wear panties. He likes for me to go commando!
When I arrive at Signature, a swanky restaurant in Morningside, the Teddy Bear is all smiles. He reminds me of that actor from Generations. You know the one. He used to act in those old SABC movies; he played the role of Nkwesheng. Yes, he reminds me of that Nkwesheng from Generations or whatever that old TV series was called. Hmmm … I may be mixing things up, but I know you know who I’m referring to … all dark skin, flat nose, thick dark lips and dimples. Teddy is beautifully ugly, just like that guy.
I place my clutch bag on the table and lean over to hug him.
‘Happy New Year, my Teddy Bear,’ I say, and hand him a gift. A small, cheap teddy bear tucked into a large cup.
It’s good to give these men gifts now and then, even the kind of gifts you know they’ll throw away. Every relationship has to have the appearance of being reciprocal. If you’re the kind of girl who’s always taking, taking and taking, and never giving, you’ll end up as just another notch on his belt.
Broke as I am, I can still go to a gift shop and buy a man a R100 stuffed toy.
I hope you’re taking notes.
The Ted
dy Bear orders our starters and mains. He orders for both of us. He also orders a bottle of Moët Brut Impérial. I’m so happy I still have someone in my life who can afford the finer things. Meeting Papa Jeff left my insides in a tremble. It’s got me worried about the entire South African economy.
Teddy gets right down to business after placing our orders. I like how he first takes his napkin and places it carefully on his lap. Hmmm … today I am having all sorts of sweet feelings for Teddy.
‘Bontle, we have a lot to talk about …’
Oh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.
‘Teddy Bear – we’re not even going to enjoy our champagne? We’re already on some “lot to talk about?”’
He smiles but returns to looking stern a moment later.
‘You know me. I’m a straight talker. Wena, you owe me a lot of explanations. I set you up on a sweet deal and you act like some bimbo. You never answer calls. You don’t check emails … banna! You really embarrassed me to that lady.’
Oh, shit.
‘But Teddy … we’ve talked about this before. I was new to the construction business and that woman was hard on me. And she’s not as great as you seem to think. I told you, didn’t I, that at one point she wanted us to pay for building materials with that first payment you needed for the politicians?’
‘What?’ he says, scrunching up his nose. ‘No, you mustn’t lie. Is that how you defend your actions? By lying?’
‘I’m serious. Ask her. I even told her that I would ask you to return the money since that’s what she was implying.’
He stops and sips his champagne while giving me the side eye. He’s got a frown on his face. ‘That’s a serious allegation you’re making. You know that I will ask her, ne?’
I wave my hand dismissively.
‘Ask her. She’ll tell you. She’s not as perfect as she pretends to be. At least I admit to my faults. I know I wasn’t as dedicated as I should have been, but I was intimidated. She never really mentored me. Just kept on bullying me throughout the project.’
He frowns, looking unconvinced. ‘Hmmphh.’
I can see he is not quite ready to give me the benefit of the doubt.
You see what I’m dealing with here? If more blessers were as sweet as Papa Jeff, life would be a beautiful thing. Papa Jeff wouldn’t give me all these frowns and ambiguous gestures.
Eish. These government types!
Teddy keeps quiet for what seems like an eternity. Even eats his starter in complete silence. I’m trying to eat mine as if nothing’s the matter, as if I’m used to eating during long, awkward silences. Basically, I’m pretending to be his wife, imagining how she gets through living with someone like this.
Eventually, he says, ‘About the audit.’
I look up. ‘Yes? How is that going?’
He nods.
‘Hmmm,’ he says, and continues eating.
Like, what the —?
So I dig into the silence as I slice through my beef carpaccio.
‘It’s not good. Not good at all.’
Teddy sips his champagne. He calls the waiter to clear the plates. ‘Bring the mains in about ten minutes, boss. In the meantime, a refill for me and the lady.’ He keeps sipping his champagne. Checks his phone; types a message. He’s acting like he’s forgotten I’m even there.
Ja, I decide I wouldn’t want to switch places with his wife.
In his own time, he looks up and says, ‘I was telling you about the audit.’
I nod.
‘So … it’s not good. That woman … your partner. She sent fake documents.’
‘What?’ I gasp, covering my mouth. Yho! Who knew Mama Sophia had it in her?
‘Yes.’ He nods. ‘What’s a man to do? You women are cunning. Hmmphh. That’s what she did. It was a huge mess. A big one.’
‘Which ones were fake? All of them?’
‘Hmmm!’ He nods, then shakes his head. Who nods then shakes his head? How am I supposed to read that? It’s like he wants me to feel unsure.
‘The cidb certificate – fake.’
‘So what did your bosses do to you? Are you going to lose your job?’
‘Am I a forensic investigator?’ he asks, looking baffled by my question. He he. This guy though …
‘It looked real. The entire tender committee thought it was real. Why would I lose my job? I’m not hired to check what’s fake and what’s not. Heh!’
Okay. So that’s a relief. We’ve passed Level 1. Now the important one. Level 2.
‘Are we going to lose the tender?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘I’m trying to put out fires. The project is at an advanced stage. It will cost us a lot of money to bring in a new contractor. Right now, we have to weigh up our options. If it’s leaked in the media, we’re in shit. But if we have to re-advertise the tender, we are in shit again. New contractor, new budget, new everything. It’s a mess. And the politicians are not happy with me. I have to figure this one out but I don’t see you two seeing the project to the end. I will meet with you and your partner next week. The best we can work out is that you complete this phase of the project and then we award it to another contractor to see to completion. But we can’t afford a media exposé. That’s the most important thing.’
I nod. Just as I’m calculating if I’ll make enough money from the last invoice to stall things with the Merc, he starts talking again.
‘One thing you should know, though, is that the contract is very much behind. I doubt you’ll make even R10,000 from the remaining work. I just want to be realistic with you.’
I feel like crying.
‘But, baby … why … how?’
‘You people were not smart about distributing your costs. The upcoming phase of the project will cost you about R20 million – which is what the municipality is willing to pay your consortium. And only after delivering the key milestones. You basically have to stretch yourselves to see things through because you are not going to get paid until you’ve fulfilled your obligations.’
‘Teddy, there must be something you can do?’
‘Hmmm … even negotiating this settlement was a big deal. Maybe talk to Sophia. She’s not going to make much of a profit from that R20 million. If you want a cut, you’re going to have to show more dedication and effort.’
This is bullshit. I don’t want anything to do with this tender anymore. Teddy must just maintain me like any normal blesser. The project is too stressful for me. I don’t want to have to see Sophia again.
‘Teddy … I don’t like to deal with dodgy characters. If Mama Sophia forged her documents, do you really think she’s someone I should regard as a role model? No. I have standards and principles.’ I know, I know, it’s a bit rich coming from me but I have to commit to it, so I press on. ‘Just cut me out of the deal. I was never after tenders anyway. I’m just interested in you. This thing with shady tender people … I’m young. I don’t want my reputation tarnished. Imagine seeing my name dragged through the newspapers, guilty by association. What would my little brother think of me then? My family? He-eh. I can’t, Teddy. Seriously.’ I end with as much moral rectitude as I can muster.
Teddy nods.
‘I understand where you’re coming from, I do. One thing I always say is: keep your name out of these rubbish stories. Keep your name clean. A deal can only take you so far, but your name stays with you forever. That’s why you’ll never even see me give a media interview. Even these social-media things of yours … I don’t do them. My name – that’s the name given to me by my ancestors. It was prophesied. I’m not going to drag it through the mud for the love of money.’
I nod gravely. His ancestors named him Teddy? Yho.
‘We have a lot in common, you and me. I don’t even care if Mama Sophia was willing to give me a million. She can keep her money. I’ll continue my hustle, but in an honest and clean way,’ I say.
For the first time, I see Teddy looking at me a bit differently. Can I talk to him about paying for my Merc now? No. I
need to let this moment marinate. These are the moments that elevate your status from gold digger to girlfriend.
Greetings from Bali!
Shooo! I’ve been quiet for a while again. My sincerest apologies, dear friends.
I’ve been in such great spirits lately.
It was my mom’s birthday two weeks ago so I booked a weekend at Sun City for her, Loki and me. We had such a fantastic time that it felt like we were just a normal, balanced, happy family.
As if that were not enough, Mr Emmanuel whisked me off to a villa in Bali for ten glorious sun-soaked days!
Before we get into the details of my fabulous trip, let me share a few tips, just because I love you.
How to Travel Well with your Borrowed Lover: A Mistress’s Guide
1 Pack luggage with the following items: four skimpy bikinis that can be torn off by the teeth of a skilled lover; good-quality condoms; two sexy night-on-the town items; designer jeans, T-shirts and caps; zero nightdresses/pyjamas and the like.
2 Bring your brightest, shiniest disposition. No moaning, groaning (unless in bed) or any disagreeable behaviour. No moodiness, please. If it’s your period, suppress it (I’m planning on writing a sex book later. I’ll mention the tips there. Spoiler alert: it’s much easier than you think). Don’t bring any drama. That’s the wife’s job.
3 No credit cards, cash or debit cards. Again, it’s the wife’s job to act like some kind of equal partner. You are there to be spoiled and to spoil him in kind.
4 Bring different perfumes, scents, massage oils, and a few new bedroom tricks. Your job is to add the element of surprise each time you spend long periods with him – watch Pornhub or buy The Kama Sutra if you run out of ideas. Bring sex toys: vibrators, lubricants. Go wild! Enjoy!
5 Learn the art of strategic photo-taking. Remember, this is not your man. He’s on loan to you so don’t get carried away. Any picture with him must not feature his face. If you want to show off how loaded he is, learn half-body photography. Capture the designer pants, shoes and watches, but don’t ever make the mistake of taking a picture of his entire body. Trust me, you will thank me for this tip. Unless you’re willing to be saddled with him, why would you want to shake up the foundations of his otherwise happy home?
The Blessed Girl Page 11