by Elsa Kurt
“Uhm, Mr. Breitenbach, are we going to talk about the details, or do you need me to read something else you prepared?” Her voice slightly broke away at the end, as her nerves were shattered.
“Right.” He finally stopped and turned on his heel. “I was born seventeen March in 1984 in Stellenbosch, as Meraldie Breitenbach’s only—”
“Stop, no. Not your profile anyone can find on a website.” She got out of the seat and walked toward him, hoping she wasn’t overstepping a boundary. “Uhm, so okay, something I’ll start off with is that I broke my left foot when I jumped off the bunk bed I shared with my sister.” It was an odd approach, but it felt personal enough to break the ice, while also aiding in reminding her that she should call her sister more often.
“I always went fishing with my grandfather, and about the first time, a hook caught the side my lip when I thought it was funny to swing the fishing rod around.”
“See, something we have in common. My mother always told me to use the ladder of the bunk bed and not jump off like a hooligan. I learned a painful lesson by not seeing that she was only trying to keep me out of harm’s way.” Shaking her head to herself, she noted he was still open to sharing.
“My grandfather simply told me to cry if it hurt, but not to expect sympathy, because he had warned me not to mess around with the rod while there’s a hook on. It was that stupid mistake that had me going with him every winter after. He treated me like an adult and listened to my dreams,” he surprisingly confessed, his eyes showing he was pondering over other fond memories.
She smiled at the idea of him being a happy child full of hopes and dreams, with so much opportunity to get there. “I had wondered what had happened to your lip, but did you follow your dreams in the end?”
Like a shroud lifting from his eyes, it seemed he was finally seeing her sincerity. “Yeah, I did, actually. My mother was a badass lawyer, my grandfather a legend, and I just wanted in.” He looked down at his feet and she could tell he was becoming uncomfortable again. “I don’t know if it’s just me, but aren’t these types of conversations too personal?” he asked when he made eye contact again, while a frown had settled between his brows.
Amahle sighed. “Right, sorry. I feel like we just need to find common ground and be less uptight because if we are to sell this, we should at least be comfortable with each other.” She thought on it and looked out of the window as the orange hue covered the buildings, while mist settled over Table Mountain.
“How do we break the barrier without going against the Salexis code of conduct, Ms. Peters?” he asked, standing behind her, and in the reflection, she saw him looking at either her or their beautiful city.
She turned to face him and saw the tiny scar, which reminded her how little they truly knew about each other, and it gave her the answer she needed. “We don’t fake it.”
“That goes against everything I understood from what faking a relationship was,” he replied with clear confusion.
“We’re essentially coming out as a couple. We’re supposed to still feel uncertain, not know everything about each other, and be trying to figure out if this, had it been a real deal, would work. So…we wing it.” She even threw her hands open in front of her chest to show the idea of just throwing themselves out there.
He wanted to counter with something, so she quickly added, “We’re obviously still going with the story that you wanted to seek some mental support counsellors for the Machi Foundation and that’s how we met. The fact that it’s something close to your heart, you felt afraid to move on—”
“But while looking for someone to help others, I found you,” he said, looking past her face and staring at nothing in particular.
She wanted to tell him that while he would pretend to have moved on, it didn’t mean by any measure that people would think he had forgotten about Machi, or that he needed to forget about her. But she knew that was something she could never say.
“There you go. We’ll be fine and all will go well. I’m just basically exposing myself to the media, meeting your parents, and doing it all before my mother has even been told. Definitely not expecting death threats from her side,” she sarcastically said to lighten the mood.
“Your parents won’t be informed either?” he cautiously asked.
“No, it was in our contract, and I know that sucks for you, but maybe by the end of this, we might be able to add acting skills to our CVs,” she joked, in an attempt to move on from the conversation, as she would rather repeat this evening a hundred times over, for facing her mother about dating a high profiled man was going to be a conversation she wanted no part in.
He merely smiled and turned back to his desk, while she rounded back to the other side and took her seat again. “So let’s run through important people who, when I introduce you, you should—”
“I studied everyone, from Mrs. Adebayo’s niece winning her netball match, to Mr. Yoshida’s son getting engaged. I know the names, you just need to help me meet the people,” she said, sounding impatient.
“Good, it’s simply for the sake of keeping business partners and investors pleased.” She saw his lawyer side come out as he said this, and could only imagine that it was the same persona he carried when helping clients get ready for court.
“It’s also to show you speak of them when they’re not around, which shows they’re important to you, and essentially so you might get more donations. I got this,” she confidently said.
“Very well.” He looked at his desk and she could see his eyes stray to the photo frame. She had to assume the picture was of Machi, for she still hadn’t been able to confirm.
“Your parents?” she enquired, hoping it would steer him away from the darkness she herself knew all too well from losing a person you love.
“My grandfather will be easy, and his friend is visiting for the event, so he’ll be busy, but my parents.” He paused and sighed. “My mother will likely be off-putting, but I know she’ll be very happy, even if she won’t show it, that I’m not alone. My father will try to joke but fail miserably, don’t laugh if his jokes are weak just to please him. It’s his test to see if people are genuine, and since I need them to like you, at least you know the secret.”
“Will there be a trick joke? Like a joke that might actually be funny and then I fail for having no sense of humour?” she asked in an attempt to move him away from his suddenly extremely professional demeanour. “Mr. Breitenbach, please, I know we need to be professional, but we seriously need to get used to each other and fast. We’re an hour away from heading to The Bay Hotel, and I think we both know this failing will look a thousand times worse, so can we please get on the same page?”
He eyed her for a moment. “Simeon,” he said with the slightest hint of a smile in his tone.
She nodded her head. “Right, and call me Amahle. We should get on a first name basis.”
“To be honest, the hardest part for me is to be comfortable with someone who is basically a complete stranger,” he confessed with wary eyes.
“We do have reports of each other’s extensive medical records and psych evaluations, which is far from how normal couples work, so in a way we’re beyond that, but I understand what you mean,” she agreed. “I do still think we both need this to work more than not.”
“Yeah,” he paused and added, “damn, we move fast.” He cloaked all his worries in humour, and she knew they would do well with the faking, as he far too easily stepped in and out of his mask.
Simeon watched as Amahle spoke to Mrs. Adebayo and praised her for supporting her niece’s dream of playing international netball. As she mentioned that she had also played the sport in high school, he could easily see her fit in the role of a goal attacker, as her tall frame fit the position.
While weaving through the people and greeting guests, they headed toward a photo with Machi’s face on, and a quote she had given about fighting even with her back against the wall. Her eyes drew him in, and every memory, the good and the bad
, came rushing back.
“Simeon?” He heard a voice beside him, while he felt a small hand on his back. “Are you okay?”
He turned only to find Amahle, and it was clear that she completely understood that he got caught up in memories from long ago. It was this simple action that had him wondering who she had lost, for it was clear she understood, even better than him, how much losing someone affected a person in everything they did.
“She was so beautiful, and definitely said something we can all take to heart,” Amahle commented and faced the poster. “I bet she was fun to be around. Soulful, and definitely the life of a party,” she said and her cherry lips curled into a beautiful smile.
In admiration he found himself staring at her and wanted to tell her that Machi was just that, but then he heard his father’s voice and prepared himself to start a show.
“Parents,” he warned, as he turned to face them.
He watched Amahle let out a quick breath, before doing the same.
“Hey, Mum.” He leaned in to greet his mother. “Dad,” he added, as he hugged his father. “Where’s oupa?” He asked about his grandfather to keep the conversation going, as he began to worry that they might ask questions on subject matters neither he nor Amahle were quite ready to talk about. It was only then that he realised he hadn’t even introduced her, while she was standing a metre away from him and looking like a guest rather than his date.
“He’s with Mr. Courier, probably complaining about the family legacy only having one line and how you and his sweet Kylie are both single…” His mother’s eyes narrowed, as she seemed to only then acknowledge Amahle standing close by. “I apologise, we haven’t been introduced,” she said, sounding like a pompous lady trying to re-establish authority while extending her hand toward Amahle.
He stepped closer to her, while his arm quickly reached around her hip. It was time to sell it.
“Mother. Father. I would like to introduce you to Amahle Peters,” he said, feeling more confident than he expected.
It was either awe, shock, or absolute confusion that crossed both his parents’ faces, as it seemed to settle in that he wasn’t messing about. They exchanged a quick look and wanted to say something, but Amahle was the first to step forward with her hand reaching out toward his mother.
“Good evening, Mrs. Breitenbach,” she said with the sweetest smile while shaking hands with his mother. “I’m absolutely pleased to meet you. Simeon and I have only been seeing each other for a short while now, but I’ve always been an avid reader of your books on common law practise in the workplace and social justice.” She crowned it off with a compliment he knew his mother would adore, while she shyly tucked her coily black hair behind her ear before she turned to his father and he expected a train crash to follow. “Mr. Breitenbach, nice to meet you. My father has always been a great fan, and said you were definitely the reason he kept on trying to improve his own game.”
His father softly groaned in apprehension.
“More specifically, the Nedbank Golf Challenge was his favourite when you got a hole-in-one at the fourth. That was a very loud moment in our home,” she said with a smile to sell it.
His father smiled back at her in full sincerity. “Call me Ashwin,” he said and extended his hand to her, while Simeon was still waiting on the test, but he seemed far too comfortable to care for it.
Amahle softly chuckled and shook his father’s hand. He knew she made even him feel more comfortable than most people did, but seeing her impact on others, had him wondering if it was simply the type of person she was, or if she was more professional in her line of work than Salexis and she had led on.
“We still need to make the rounds. We’ll see you two at the table later,” his mother offered, clearly needing to step away and discuss everything with his father before her mind exploded from keeping it in.
“See you later,” Amahle called after them as they slipped into the crowd.
He turned to her. “I wasn’t aware you knew my parents?”
“It was part of your background brief, and I wasn’t completely lying. Your mum’s first book is a requirement for medical practitioners, and your dad was a really good golf player.”
“Your father part in the compliment?” he asked, trying to see deeper than the façade she was using.
“Legit. I only fully saw the connection when I saw his face just now. I suspected that he was the golf player I knew from my younger days, but I thought it might have been another Breitenbach player.” She shrugged to emphasise her point.
He caught the hidden meaning in what she said. “You thought the husband to a second generation lawyer would be more of a self-proclaimed golfer than the real deal.”
She gave an awkward smile that crinkled her nose and he found it so adorable, it had him laughing.
“Well, yeah, I get that. People always assume my mother was his ‘glucose guardian,’ if you will, because of the age difference.”
“They seem as genuine as you do,” she admitted, and he could see the absolute sincerity in her eyes. “I know everyone has been hammering you, and even before that your mother, for not following your grandfather’s ways of running Breitenbach and Co., but I’ve seen and lived it.”
He only frowned.
“I grew up in Joe Solvo, as you know, and the truth is your mother helped so many families get better housing and move to better neighbourhoods. People don’t really worry about the small things, but I had a better education because of her fighting for us. And they practically hide the articles about what you’re doing for the Cape Flats, where your dad was from, but I see it, and you should focus on that, to be honest. Having me here will distract from what you’re achieving.”
He mulled it over. “I think it’s because when I was with Machi and they reported more on her illness than what she had achieved that I thought your presence might help me turn the focus again.”
“I see what you mean, and all I can say is that we’re gonna make it happen.” Determination he had never seen in another person before took hold of her expression. She locked her arm into his, faced the crowd, and added, “Let’s give them a show. Make the Machi Foundation so popular that you’ll need a bigger venue next year. And next week we get the story of the Cape Flats out. If they don’t want to listen, we’ll show them. Agreed?”
She looked at him and all he could do was nod because now he saw her and he had never been more certain that his message would reach the people.
This To Be
One Year Later…
“Go! And tell him about the false alarm, otherwise it’s both our asses!” Jody shouted from behind the steering wheel, while Amahle was half falling out of the car. “Handbag!”
She grunted in frustration for almost completely forgetting the damn thing, as she turned to grab it and then finally shut the door, before rushing into the Breitenbach Building.
For not only was the building home to the best law firm in Cape Town, it was also the home of the very man who currently owned it.
“How are you today, Abel?” she asked the guard sitting at his station.
“I was hoping for a slow night because my hip is acting up again, but you’re here, so I guess it’s not gonna be one,” he said in a teasing tone, while she knew he wasn’t looking forward to the evening ahead. He was one of the very few people who knew she and Simeon were merely putting on a show, while the press was sold on the idea of them since that very first night.
“I’ll try to steal you a piece of cake,” she promised, passing the turnstile with her personal keycard.
“Don’t make empty promises about cake. Cake is serious negotiating stuff.” He smiled and turned to face the monitors surrounding the building.
“I’ll even send some tomorrow if I must,” she called out, going around the corner toward the elevators and looking up at the camera, she knew he would see her in.
“I’m keeping that against you until I get that cake,” he said and she smiled.
&nb
sp; Entering the elevator, she swiped her keycard that would only take her to the penthouse. Over the last year she had become accustomed to all she had to face, and mostly she was used to Simeon, but today something was wrong. He had been quiet the entire day, and while she suspected she knew the reason, it was worrying.
To distract herself, she adjusted her ruby red cocktail dress in a tutu style that had slowly begun to slide down with its strapless design. Knowing she would wear a diamond necklace that was to be bid on later in the evening, she wanted the focus to remain solely on it, and even Jody had approved of the dress’ design.
After digging her cell phone out of her handbag, she saw that Simeon still hadn’t responded to any of her messages throughout the day, which was unlike him, as he was usually the one fretting over all the small details. Like if her shoes were walked in and comfortable, for seven months ago, she barefooted halfway through an event, when she didn’t have time to break them in during the time she was opening her private practice. He even still questioned if she studied up on business partners before dinners, simply because he needed reassurance that all would go well and they wouldn’t be caught in their lying game.
It was why his unresponsiveness had her wondering if he decided to get someone else as a date for the fundraiser or if he just simply decided to go on his own. Yet it still felt that she needed to be informed about what this meant for their media relationship, which only led to her becoming more infuriated with herself. For she not only decided that this would be her last event with him, but she already scheduled her meeting with Alexa to inform her that she needed to move on with her life.
Upon reaching the penthouse floor, the elevator doors swooped open and she stepped into the foyer with the numerous colourful orchids decorating the area, while there was more crystal than ceiling above her. She marched up to the door and knocked a few times, while her reflection in the black marble floor showed that her coiled dark hair was still perfectly in its bun on her head, as she patted the sides down while she waited.