Love on the Menu

by Lerato Matsaneng

  “Unfortunately Mr Tladi is in a meeting, ma’am. May I have your contact details, then I will get him to return your call.”

  Lebo recited her name and details and ended the call.

  She felt irritated with herself. Maybe she should have called Molemo on his cell, or maybe she should have called later, or maybe not at all.

  Bongi saw Lebo deep in thought and tried to reassure her. “He’ll call, you’ll see. Don’t worry, you’ll be running your own business very soon.”

  Lebo spent the rest of the day working on her stories and waiting to hear from Molemo.

  * * *

  Later that evening Lebo was back at her flat after a hectic day at the office. She had compiled three stories for page three and done an interview for another article requested by the features editor, thankfully due only at the end of the week. After another of her usual one-woman dinners, she was sitting on her bed, going through a hefty document Rumbi had given her on how to compile a business plan. Judging by the thickness of the document, she had a long night of reading ahead of her.

  Her phone rang and she looked at the number, one she only vaguely recognised. Still, she answered, “Hello.”

  “Hi, Lebo, Molemo Tladi here. How are you?”

  She immediately sat up and made herself presentable, as if Molemo could see her through the phone.

  Not getting a reply, he continued, “My office gave me your message.”

  “Thanks for getting back to me,” she replied at last, trying not to seem too eager. “I called about your offer to be my mentor, when we met a few days ago. I wanted to know if you were still keen to help me.” Lebo got straight to the point. She had read somewhere that in business you must always be direct about what it is you want.

  “Oh, yes . . . Sure, we can still meet to talk about what you’re working towards.”

  Molemo sounded so serious and sophisticated. Very different from the laid-back guy she’d met at the Shisanyama.

  “At the moment, though, my company is very busy with plans for an important new infrastructure project, so my days are hectic. How about dinner instead,” Molemo stated rather than asked.

  He left Lebo with very little choice in the matter. She needed his help and would therefore have to do as he said.

  “Not a problem,” Lebo answered. She would do whatever it took to get her business off the ground.

  “Perfect. Tomorrow night at Katzy’s in Rosebank, 8pm. Can you get there on your own?”

  “Yes, I actually live in Rosebank, so that’s perfect for me.”

  “Great, see you then. Good night,” Molemo said and ended the call.

  Lebo couldn’t believe the arrogance he’d displayed in setting up the meeting – he hadn’t even asked if she was available! But maybe that was what was needed to survive in business: to be arrogant and aggressive.

  She vowed to work on her own arrogance, but chuckled at the idea of ever managing to be as arrogant as Molemo Tladi.

  * * *

  The next evening Lebo didn’t know what to wear. Eight o’clock was a bit late to look too formal, but it was a business meeting, so she couldn’t dress too casually either.

  At times like these she needed the help of her friends.

  Instead, she called her mother. She had told MaMokoena about Molemo’s offer to mentor her. Her mother was excited at the prospect of them starting their own business and cooking for dignitaries and presidents.

  “Mme, what must I wear to my meeting with Molemo?”

  “At this hour? What kind of meeting is that?” her inquisitive mother wondered.

  Lebo quickly brushed off her probing questions. “His company is working on some important new project, so he’s busy during the day.”

  “I see,” MaMokoena said, but she was clearly not convinced.

  She told Lebo to wear her skinny blue jeans, a pair of heels and her crisp white shirt – and not to forget her pearls. She also needed to take her black trench coat with her; it was a chilly night out and she had to keep warm.

  Lebo always trusted her mother’s advice. Even though she was in her fifties, MaMokoena still dressed well and always looked very elegant.

  * * *

  Lebo had been sitting at the restaurant for nearly twenty minutes and was about to call Molemo when he strolled in casually. He was wearing a fitted black suit with a dark blue shirt and a tapered blue silk handkerchief in the breast pocket of the jacket. Her grandfather had taught her that it was called a pocket square. He was the only other man she had seen wear one. She thought it was a very classic and gentlemanly touch.

  There was an aura about Molemo that commanded respect and made everyone within close proximity look up and take notice of him. He walked with pride, and you couldn’t help but feel impressed by his mere presence.

  “Troy, make sure the people from Public Works confirm that tender in writing before we organise anything from our end. Listen, I’ve got another meeting right now, so we’ll discuss this when I get to the office tomorrow,” Molemo said into his phone as he walked over to the table Lebo was sitting at.

  “Sorry I’m late, my last meeting ran over,” he apologised while settling into his chair. He put his two phones and car keys on the table.

  “It’s okay, I understand. I’ve ordered a drink,” Lebo replied, pointing at her daiquiri. “Would you like something?”

  The live jazz band in the background and the softly dimmed lights gave the restaurant a romantic ambience.

  Molemo summoned their waiter and ordered a double Johnny Walker Gold on the rocks.

  “So, Lebo, tell me about this company you want to start.” Molemo leaned back and relaxed in his chair, giving her his undivided attention.

  “All the women in my family are great cooks,” Lebo began. “Our cooking talent has been passed on from my grandmother to me. Our dishes are tasty and proudly African but also have a modern feel – like my favourite dish, the pork stew with dumplings.”

  He looked impressed, or was she imagining that?

  Trying hard to sound businesslike, Lebo continued, “My mother, my aunt and I have catered for a few small gatherings and have had wonderful feedback, so now we want to start a real business and make our services professional. The response has been great. People love the food and I’m even thinking of adding a series of cookbooks to the brand.”

  Lebo went on to tell Molemo about her dreams of eventually expanding her catering company to include event planning and PR. She had made enough contacts in the entertainment industry to venture in that direction, but that was something for the future.

  “You really seem passionate about this business,” he said, smiling slightly. “I’ve worked with many young entrepreneurs, but I rarely see such eagerness and drive in them. Look, I’m going to stick my neck out here and make you an offer. I want you to think about it and let me know if you’re interested.” He looked at her thoughtfully.

  Lebo felt her heart leap, but she just nodded expectantly. He didn’t elaborate any further, however.

  Later, while they were enjoying the restaurant’s signature dish, the grilled T-bone steak, Molemo again mentioned the offer he wanted to make her.

  Trying not to seem desperate, Lebo looked at him and signalled for him to continue as she ate.

  “My company is celebrating an anniversary soon and we’re hosting a gala dinner for many of our clients, as well as some potential new ones. It’s really a marketing exercise to get some business from government and the private sector, so everything has to be perfect and reflect our business as an ideal service provider.”

  Again, Lebo felt her heart racing, but she forced herself to seem calm.

  “If you’re keen and up to it, I’d like to offer you the contract for the catering. Obviously we’d want you to make a few samples for us to try out, but if you’re as good as you say you are, that shouldn’t be a problem. Or would it, Miss Mokoena?” Molemo asked, giving her a piercing look as he lifted his glass to take a sip of his whisky.
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  Lebo was taken aback by Molemo’s offer. It was the last thing she had expected. She was excited and nervous at the same time. This opportunity would be a good chance for her to show off her talents, and by the sound of what he was saying, the function would also present her with lots of potential business. She made a note to herself to have business cards printed as soon as possible.

  But she was nervous. There would be many important people at the event and she didn’t want to mess things up for herself and Molemo.

  Still, she said bravely, “I’d love to take you up on that offer. Thank you so much for the opportunity.”

  “Just be sure to bring your A game to the event.”

  “I will,” Lebo agreed. She wanted to prove to Molemo that she was serious about becoming a successful businesswoman.

  “By the way, I was in a hurry when I left the office earlier and forgot something, some reading material on business I wanted to bring you,” Molemo continued. “But on Thursday afternoon I have a meeting here with one of our subcontractors. So let’s meet after that – at about five – then we can go through the material. In the meantime I’ll forward you some details about my company to give you a better understanding of what we do.”

  Lebo was pleasantly surprised by the trouble Molemo was going to.

  He smiled at her and said, “So then, tell me about yourself, outside of being an emerging businesswoman with lots of savvy.”

  Lebo was taken aback by his interest in her. She hadn’t expected him to want to know her on a more private level, but she found him interesting and attractive and was all too keen to let him into her personal space.

  She told him about her job as a reporter at the Daily Mirror and how she had grown tired of the shallow culture of the entertainment world.

  Molemo agreed that there was a sense of entitlement among some leading figures in the industry. That was why he and his friend would be taking a different approach when they entered the entertainment scene with a lifestyle company they would be launching soon.

  The two of them continued to talk about growing up in Sebokeng and the people they both knew and all the local chitchat. The more Molemo spoke, the more Lebo felt attracted to him. There was much more to him than the rumours she had heard about him indicated. He was funny and sweet, and he seemed like a genuine gentleman.

  They were still talking when their waiter came to inform them that the restaurant was cashing up and gave them their bill. Molemo looked at his watch – Lebo was sitting close enough to notice it was a Rolex – and muttered that it was midnight. They quickly finished their tea and coffee before getting up from the table.

  Molemo settled the bill and left a very impressive tip for the waiter.

  “My goodness, Lebo, you talk too much!” Molemo teased her as they headed towards the door.

  “Oh, please, you’re the one with the big mouth,” she threw back at him.

  They were standing outside and had said their goodbyes when Molemo offered to walk Lebo to her car.

  “I left it at my flat. I live just down the road, so I walked here,” she said, and he insisted on dropping her off at home.

  Lebo had never been in a Range Rover before. The vehicle was clean and smelt expensive. As soon as Molemo turned on the ignition, the CD player continued with the song it had been playing – Ringo Madlingozi’s “Nanini Na”. Lebo knew the song by heart, since she was a big Ringo fan. She was impressed by Molemo’s taste in music and had to admit that there was something very alluring about this man.

  He stopped at her block of flats and whispered a soft good night as she got out of the car.

  Lebo walked into her flat with a light step. She was very excited about Molemo’s offer and dying to tell her mother, but she wouldn’t dare call her at this hour. MaMokoena went into a panic whenever the phone rang after 8pm; she always thought someone had died or there had been an accident.

  Lebo would just have to wait until the next morning to share the good news.

  Chapter 3

  3

  The next day at work Lebo told Bongi and Rumbi about her evening with Molemo. Her friends were very excited for her and screamed so loudly that their editor asked them to take their laughing outside, which made the girls laugh even louder at the grumpy man and his funny British accent.

  “Oh, choma, I’m so glad you and Molemo hit it off. He sounds like a real catch.” Bongi winked at Lebo and nudged her suggestively. “You two are going to be the country’s new Patrice and Precious Motsepe – a power couple.”

  “Come on, this is only about business, hle.” Lebo tried hard not to acknowledge to herself how attracted she was to Molemo, but she had to admit she liked what Bongi had said.

  After her chat with the girls, Lebo called her mother and told her the good news.

  She had to hold the phone away from her ear when the elated MaMokoena screamed at the other end.

  “Bathong, ausi, are you sure that’s what he said?” her mother kept asking. “Are you sure he wants us to do their big company event?” Much like her daughter when she got the good news the previous night, MaMokoena was excited and nervous at the same time at the prospect of catering for such a prestigious event.

  “Mme, let’s go through some recipes next time I come home, okay? We can talk about it then.” Lebo knew her mother would talk forever if she didn’t cut the conversation short.

  * * *

  Thursdays were Lebo’s busiest days at the office. In addition to her daily workload, she also compiled the weekend gig guide for the top three cities in the country: Joburg, Cape Town and Durban.

  Lebo dreaded this, since it meant having to call various club owners, promoters and publicists to find out about events taking place in those areas. Often her calls went unanswered and her e-mails were only replied to days later. The gig guide always took up a lot of time, and this Thursday was no exception – it was already 4:30pm and she still needed three more events to add to the Cape Town guide.

  Her meeting with Molemo was in thirty minutes and she was running out of time. In a frantic bid to complete the guide and still make it out of the office in time for their meeting, Lebo searched the internet, went through magazines and made irate calls to find events taking place in the Mother City.

  At 5:10pm she handed in the gig guide to her editor, grabbed her bag and ran out of the office. She tried calling Molemo to tell him she was on her way, but his phone just rang. She was feeling terrible; this was the one meeting she did not want to be late for.

  Lebo sped across the road to the restaurant, arriving at the door flustered and out of breath. She had no time to go to the bathroom to compose herself and was relieved when she spotted Molemo sitting at the same table they had shared two nights ago.

  “Hello. I’m really sorry for being late,” a breathless Lebo blurted out as she got to the table. “It was a hectic day at the office.” She went on to explain about her regular Thursday nightmares with the gig guide.

  Molemo sat in his chair, arms folded and looking at her.

  “Have a glass of water and calm down,” he suggested as he took a sip of his coffee and then passed her a bottle of water.

  She did as she was told and poured herself some water.

  After a few gulps she asked to be excused and headed for the bathroom. In the mirror she saw her glistening forehead and dry lips, and how distraught she looked. She pulled herself together and headed back to Molemo.

  “Feeling better?” he asked dryly.

  “Yes, thank you. I tried calling you to tell you I was running late.” Lebo felt very embarrassed.

  “Yes, I noticed,” he replied. “The most important thing in business is to be professional at all times. The minute you realise you’re running late, you should contact whoever you’re meeting – not ten minutes into your meeting.”

  “But you were late when we had our meeting here a few nights ago,” Lebo pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Do you want to argue about this?” Molem
o asked, seeming surprised by her comeback.

  “No, not really. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Lebo looked down at her hands. At times like these she wished the earth would just open up and swallow her.

  “No need to be too hard on yourself,” Molemo reassured her. “You’re still learning. And anyway, we’ve all been through it.” He smiled and handed her a purple folder. “I want you to read through this material on the basics of business planning. It explains how to transform the idea you have into a business. Make notes of any questions you might have and we can go through them.”

  Lebo reached for the folder and their hands touched. His hands felt soft.

  “Sorry,” she said and pulled back her hand, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for letting it linger longer than would be considered professional.

  “Not to worry,” Molemo chuckled.

  For a moment there was a slightly awkward silence.

  Then he continued. “I like setting up regular meetings with my . . . my mentees to check up on their progress and deal with any challenges they may be faced with. So let’s schedule a meeting for next week to go through any of the questions you might have in relation to the material I gave you. Based on that we can start working on some objectives on how to move forward.”

  “Perfect,” Lebo replied. “So where and when shall we have our next meeting?”

  Molemo picked up his phone and went through his diary to find a suitable date and time.

  Just then, Lebo’s phone rang. It was the office; there was a problem with one of her articles.

  Highly embarrassed, she said, “Will you please excuse me? I need to go back to work to sort out something. I’ll be right back.”

  “No problem. We’ll have our next meeting at a later stage,” he told her politely.

  Molemo watched Lebo as she walked away. He was deeply impressed with her. There was something different about this young woman, and he was looking forward to finding out what it was.