Her Forever After. Nani Khabako
worked from a small office in a strange corner within the single-level building. She’d done her best to make it homely, adding her favourite dark-brown leather two-seater couch and two cream-coloured ottomans. But oh no, there was nothing glamorous about the world of magazines; it took endless passion, creativity and doing everything all over again in an entirely different way with each issue.
Tumi decided to have a quick chat with her mother, to persuade her to take her up on her offer of paid-for swimming exercise classes. She had the distinct impression that her mother would rather ingest a python than go anywhere near a large pool of water. Silently she vowed to continue her attempts to find some sort of physical activity that would keep her dear mom around for many years to come, although she’d already gone through yoga, Pilates, power walking and aerobics. Okay, maybe that last one hadn’t been too realistic on her side.
The junior’s copy finally arrived and Tumi bade her mother goodbye with a promise to visit on Sunday afternoon. It was then that she took the time to look through her e-mail messages. Among the spam, job applications, fan mail and outraged tirades was an e-mail from Mandi. She felt her heart starting to hammer wildly; even through technology he had that effect on her.
Hey, Tum
(She’d always hated that nickname, yet he insisted on using it.)
I haven’t had any response from you since my e-mail two days ago.
I hope you’re not ignoring me, because I’m not above showing up on your doorstep. And we both know you don’t want that. Besides, I don’t think we’ll get any catching up done if I’m forced to go that route.
So be a good girl and meet me for drinks tonight.
Primi Piatti, 8pm, Waterfront?
Till then.
Mands
Oh, the nerve!
Knowing how relentless Mandi was, he wouldn’t be above pitching up on her doorstep if she didn’t meet him for drinks. The manipulative twat knew very well that she had no desire to see him, but he insisted on pushing himself into her life.
Now she’d have to worry about all the arbitrary things she detested about the dating scene. Things like what to wear and how to act, because she definitely wouldn’t be intimidated by him. He may be the top political correspondent for the African News Network, he may travel the world, he may be one of the most prominent figures in the media world, but she’d show him she’d hardly been selling mealies in the streets while he was doing all that!
* * *
“You’re absolutely pathetic.”
Tumi rolled her eyes at Tatum. She was in no mood for her friend’s crap, especially not tonight.
“I’m just trying to reach a balance between sophisticated and sexy without looking like I tried.”
“A thong and a shawl. That should work.”
“Tate, you’re not helping!”
“I’m not here to help. What kind of friend would I be if I shoved you into the arms of your destroyer, if I assisted you on the path to your doom, if I became the vehicle that took you to your untimely demise?”
“Are you quite done?”
Tatum was enjoying this a little too much, Tumi thought. She herself was in a frenzy, trying to look presentable for Mandi.
Meanwhile Tholaphi simply continued with her intolerable texting, a habit she’d failed to quit even after two semi-interventions by her friends. Tumi supposed when one had such a busy schedule, juggling modelling and drooling millionaires, it required a considerable amount of time on the phone.
Tatum was the more obvious close friend in Tumi’s life, an accountant with a wicked sense of humour and the most gorgeous four-year-old son one could imagine. She was short and petite, in a nutshell: cute. She was the friend you called when the world seemed to be crashing down on you. And if you failed to call, you could be sure she’d come battering down your door with whatever she thought you needed to pull you through the worst.
However, what a lot of people did not know about Tholaphi was that behind the ridiculous beauty lay a deep, complex and very intelligent woman. She was the most social of the trio, the one who dragged them to industry events and called them meter taxis when it became obvious they could no longer keep up. She was also studying law, and hoped to specialise in criminal justice. It was just like Thola to pursue a dangerous and exciting career.
Tumi took a minute to think about the look she was aiming for this evening.
She wanted to come across as sexy enough that Mandi would regret breaking her heart, classy enough to look unattainable, sophisticated enough to reek of success, and all that mixed with a touch of “I’m so over you” superiority.
“I can tell you right now that you won’t be able to go through with your plan. This is Mandi we’re talking about.” Tholaphi finally lifted her head from her cellphone for long enough to contribute that much.
“Well, we’ll just have to see about that!”
“Do you miss him sometimes?” That was classic Thola, the hopeless romantic.
Tumi quickly concealed a pained look before answering in an offhand way: “Goodness, Thola, really! It’s been like seven years.”
“But you never talk about him. When I bring him up, you recoil and . . .”
“That means nothing,” Tumi interrupted her friend.
“It means maybe you’re trying to be okay about something you never really got over.”
“Or maybe it means I truly am over it and I have no desire to rehash an embarrassing chapter in my life.”
Tatum kept quiet. She knew her best friend well enough to know which topics got her back up. As darling as Tumi was, there were some parts of her life she simply refused to discuss in a rational way.
In the end Tumi decided on a pair of high-waisted, tailored navy pants which fitted her so snugly and made her butt look so good it was sinful, combined with a deep-red blouse with ruffles cascading down the front.
Tumi finished off the outfit with small studs and a pair of killer Luella gladiators, which were oh so hot because of their black colour and bright-red soles.
She looked herself over and approved of what she saw. The outfit was probably a bit too dressy for drinks, but she was a career woman on the go, a woman who couldn’t be expected to rush home to change for some unimportant meeting – or at least that’s what she wanted it to seem like.
Although, looking at her reflection, she couldn’t help but see the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide on a daily basis. She quickly pulled herself together and went off to meet a ghost from her past that had never stopped haunting her. A man she definitely did not want to see.
She couldn’t help but think back to when things had been different and they had still been students.
Tumi had hoped her second conversation with Mandi would involve a whole lot more words, but it hadn’t been so. She’d had a whole speech planned. But standing next to his hunched figure, as he looked critically at some or other ancient text, she began to think it was a bad idea to try and extend an olive branch.
“Do you want me to hand your part of our assignment in for you?”
“Sure.”
It was not going well. Why wouldn’t he say anything more than the bare minimum?
“I think you’re bloody rude,” she had suddenly blurted out.
And then he’d done something completely unexpected. He had laughed out loud. A husky, soft laugh that revealed dimples he surely had worked very hard to disguise. Tumi had immediately been taken aback. She found herself mesmerised by the beauty of him, and almost breathless with the desire to touch him.
When