Anda di halaman 1dari 103

OBSESSED WITH ME

When She Rejected Him, He Set Out To Destroy Her


Book One
By Eve Rabi
~~~
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2013 Eve Rabi. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media used in this book are fictitious
and are the product of the author's imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and
trademark owners referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The
publication use of this trademark is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark
owners.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given
away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an
additional copy for each recipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Where to find Eve Rabi online

Chapter One
APRIL 1993,
CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA
One year before apartheid officially ended and
Nelson Mandela became president.

Wait, wait! I have one whats the difference between a bitch and a slut?
Some people at the table of ten mutter inaudibly, while others look expectantly at the teller of the
inappropriate joke.
A slut will fuck anyone, Tarago Jakobus says in Afrikaans, while a bitch will fuck
anyone but you.
That joke-telling jerk Tarago is the owner of Die Groot located in Camps Bay, the restaurant Im
working in, which means that the arsehole is my boss.
Never heard him tell jokes in English, always Afrikaans. Never heard him speak English at all.
From the tray Im balancing, I place tequila shots in front of my table of racist, sexist,
politically-incorrect drunks.
Six beefy, slurring men, three striking, but slurring blondes, one long-haired, but you guessed it
slurring brunette been hitting the drinks hard for the last two hours. Mainly shots.
A roar of laughter at the table as they pick slices of lemon off the plate.
Which one are you, meisie (girl), a man with green eyes, a crew-cut and a drooping moustache
asks.
Even though I find their comments and jokes offensive, I smile it off. Is there anything else I can
get anyone? I ask, using an Im-nursing-my-tips voice.
Which one are you? crew-cut repeats and extends a heavily tattooed arm, trapping and
preventing me from leaving them. Slut or bitch?
Eh, sir, I am none of them.
Kom meisie, kom (come girl, come), you have to choose one if you want me to let you go.
Okay, he asked for it. The eh, latter, sir.
He blinks rapidly as his inebriated brain tries to figure it out.
Fok, Jooste, she got you there, man! Tarago Jakobus says.
With a confused look on his face, Jooste drops his arm.
With the sound of raucous laughter ringing in my ears, I dart away, flustered and red-faced.
When we serve their food more than thirty minutes later, theyre still at it.
Wait, I got nother one, Tarago Jakobus says, holding his index finger up, A bruino (light
skin, coloured man), a charro (Indian man) and a peckio (black man) are in a car whose driving?
All eyes are fixed on him. The cops!
I gasp. How could this man be so blatantly racist? In public too?
More laughter and table slapping.
Your surf-and-turf, sir, I say, trying to maintain a poker-face as I place the plate of food in
front of Tarago.

Sexist, politically incorrect, arrogant, male chauvinistic pig some of the adjectives that come
to mind when describing Tarago Jakobus.
Oh, and also, loud, obnoxious and a moron with a penchant for women and whisky.
But hes my boss, so tolerate him, as I do want to keep my job.
An hour later, Eric, the manager walks up to me. Tanin, Meneer (mister) Jakobus would like
you to join him for drinks, he says. Hand that tray over to Sonja and go.
What? I cock my head and look at him. Me?
Ohmigod! Sonja says in a voice filled with envy, as she takes the tray off me. How lucky are
you? She leans in and drops her voice, Actually, the guy with the tattoo, he said, Bet you a rand
you cant get this one, Tarago. Then Tarago said, Bet you a rand I can. Thirty days. So if you say
yes, Tarago wins the bet.
A whole rand? I hang onto the tray. Ill give him two rand if he leaves me alone.
Tanin! Eric hisses. Whats your problem? Go! Go! Go!
Eric, I whisper, I have a boyfriend and and Eric, I dont wanna have drinks with him. I
dont even drink.
What? You dont drink? Anyway, that doesnt matter, Tanin, just go!
But hes so so obnoxious. I loathe the man.
Eric cocks his head to one side and looks at me. Tanin, this is Meneer (mister) Jakobus you
dont say no to him. If you wanna keep your job, that is. And I know you do, right? So, I suggest you
put down that tray, take a moment to freshen up, put on a smile on your dial and go drink with your
boss.
This is a common occurrence. Most nights, Tarago Jakobus chooses a girl from the staff for
drinks, and she usually spends the night or nights with him. Since hes the owner of a string of
upmarket restaurants and is known to be stinkin rich, most girls thrill at the prospect of being chosen
by him, and are sour-faced when they arent.
I shake my head slowly. Please, Eric, dont make me do this.
Ill go, Ill go! Sonja says, raising her forefinger. Ill just tell him just tell him you got your
period, thats all. Sonjas really pretty blonde hair that cascades down her tanned shoulders, bright
blue eyes and willowy.
Shes recently got into ramp and photographic modeling and works part-time as a waitress until
her modeling jobs increase.
Shes fun, flirty, street-smart and always ready to party. Not the sharpest chick around, but shes
sweet.
Eric doesnt even look at her. You have to go, Tanin, he says in a no-nonsense voice.
Consider having drinks with him as part of your job as you are getting paid for it. He gestures
towards the door. Now!
I remain where I am and put a palm to my forehead. Disgusting and repulsive how do I handle
him?
Tanin! he hisses. What is your problem?
Erics coloured, in his late fifties and has seventeen grandchildren. Hes been with Tarago
Jakobus for almost ten years. Hes loved by customers, employers and staff. Right now, I see his
anguish.
Probleem?
We three spin around and look into Taragos face, then exchange nervous glances. Just how much
of the exchange did he hear?

Tarago is an imposing figure around six-foot-four, dark blonde beard, blonde unruly hair that
falls on broad shoulders which blocks the entrance to our work station. That leather jacket hes
wearing makes him look like a wrestler or rugby player so not my type. (My type is more Tom
Cruise and definitely no beard.)
Word has it that he has German and Irish ancestry, hence the cobalt eyes, blonde hair and the
penchant for booze and partying. Hes supposed to be single but hes always surrounded by bimbos.
Eric turns red in the face. Eh, nee, Meneer Jakobus. No problem at all, Meneer.
Tarago narrows his blue eyes at me. I look at the ground, intimidated by him.
Eric is so flustered and nervous, that, in spite of my nervousness, I decide to help him out.
Mr Jakobus, Sir, I say in a voice a therapist would use on a nut job, I am rather honored by
your invitation, but I have a boyfriend, so I have to decline.
Something like confusion flits in his eyes. No problem! he says in Afrikaans.
I exhale, while shoulders around me relax.
He turns to Sonja, his eyebrows raised.
Sonja thrusts out a bony hip, places an equally bony hand on it, cocks her head and drops her
voice. Im one hundred percent single and ready to mingle, Meneer Jakobus.
With a smile, he sticks out his arm. She takes it.
Whats your favorite drink? he asks in Afrikaans.
Dirty Cosmo.
How dirty?
Veeeery.
He lets out a low chuckle.
Eric and I look at each other.
See? No problem at all, I say.
He doesnt answer.
Eric?
Shouldnt have done that, he mutters as he walks away.
Compared to Sonja, Im just your average South African Indian girl medium height, long dark
hair (in a ponytail while I work), slim, brown eyes, full lips, generous bust nothing out of the
ordinary. So Im baffled why would Tarago Jakobus choose me when he has a smorgasbord of
women to choose from?
Ashwin, my boyfriend of two years, is standing next to his car in the parking lot, waiting for me
to finish my shift. At 11 PM, I grab my bag, rush out of De Groot and throw my arms around him. We
kiss and cuddle for a few moments.
Thank you for waiting, sweetie.
Anything for you, baby, the love of my life says and plants another bunch of light kisses all
over my face. Anything for my love.
Aglow in his endearing words and warm hugs, I lean right back and give him total access to my
neck. He kisses then nuzzles it, making me giggle.
After some serious canoodling, we get into his car. As I do, I glance up at the restaurant. Through
the glass window of the building, I see Tarago the jerk, sitting in his favorite chair which overlooks
the parking lot, smoking a cigarette and eyeing us. Something about the way he looks at me makes me
feel a little uncomfortable.
How was work?
I tear my eyes away from my boss. Huh? Same ol, same ol. No need to mention my brush

Tarago Jakobus Ashwins a bit of an alpha male and can get pretty territorial.
Hows the job offers going? I ask as I kick off my shoes.
Good. Narrowed it down to three.
Oh really?
Yep, any day now, I will be gainfully employed, then maybe you can stop working and just
focus on your studies, he says as he drives off.
Mm. It would be nice if I could do that. But I really need the money.
You tired? he asks as he slides a hand slowly down my thigh.
Bushed.
With a devilish smile, he pulls into a make-out point and kills the engine.
I know a way to energize you, he whispers as he reaches for me.
I narrow my eyes at him. Oh, yeah?
Yeah, he says as he unbuttons my blouse and slips his hand into my bra.
Ashwin has recently qualified as an engineer and is being a bit picky with the jobs coming his
way. He doesnt need the money like I do, as his parents are well off and very supportive of him.
Since Im a full-time university student, I work part-time as a waitress, but its just so
exhausting.
Recently Ive taken double shifts to get more money because of my family commitments. But
Tarago Jakobus pays well, arsehole or no arsehole, I tell you that much. Better than most of the
restaurants around and people clamor to work in his chain of restaurants.

Chapter Two
What what do you mean, Eric? What does letting you go mean?
Im sorry, Eric says, not making eye-contact with me. We have to, Tanin. Im sorry.
Eric, we are so busy all the time why would you possibly let me go? Im a good worker. One
of your best. You tell me that time and time again.
Eric looks pained and shifts about in his shoes. Im sorry, Tanin. Im I just he lets out a
long breath, just following orders, okay? Im sorry. Really sorry.
Desperation claws at me. But Eric, I need this job. You know I have university fees to pay, my
moms treatment my brothers university fees, my sisters schooling you know everything about
me why are you doing this to me? How could you?
I know, I know, I know and Im sorry, Tanin. You are a very good worker and
My breathing become erratic and my hands start to shake. Has this something to do with me
turning down Tarago Jakobus three nights ago?
What? No! No! No! No! Absolutely not! His protest is a little too fast and too furious.
Cos he seemed okay with it. I mean, he said it wasnt a problem. I search my brain for signs
that he may have not been happy with it. I find nothing.
Eric eyes the door, no doubt wanting to run away from me. Hes a kind, decent, father-figure who
likes me, and Im aware that hes obviously under pressure to do something hes not comfortable
doing.
Fine, I finally say in a weary voice, then turn and walk away.
Good luck, Tanin.
With a bubble in my throat, I give him a whatever wave, then fight to prevent my tears from
falling.
As I walk out of the restaurant, I see Tarago Jakobus seated at his usual table. We lock eyes for a
moment. Something about the way he looks at me, tells me that he is behind my getting fired. My gut
adds that it may be because I had the audacity to turn him down.
Son-of-a-bitch!
Id like to wave goodbye to him using my middle finger, but I still have to collect my pay and
Im going to need a reference, so no waving just yet. There will come a day.
In the parking lot, I turn around one last time and look at Tarago hes still looking at me.
If he did what I think he did, then its sexual harassment, a case for the Industrial court. Im smart
enough to know that.
****
I cant understand it, I whine to Rheema who sits by my bedroom window smoking a cigarette,
just about all the interviews go really well and as I walk away, Im convinced that I have the job.
But for some reason, I just havent been able to secure any of the positions I interviewed for. Its such
a mystery to me. I mean like what the hell?
Well, Rheema, my best friend and second-cousin says, after taking a long drag on her cigarette,
its only been a week

Yes, but Rheema, Im articulate, Im presentable, a fast learner, and most of all, Im a hard
worker. I mean, ask Eric I was one of his best, most reliable workers. I stood in for him so many
times. If anything they should promote me.
She shrugs, then throws her cigarette butt out of my window.
Hey, dont! I cry. My ma is going to get really mad when she sees those butts.
My words just roll over her.
Just keep at it, she says as she opens my room window really wide to get rid of the smell of
her cigarette. Stop lying around watching soaps. Go get drunk, smoke a joint all the things
unemployed people do anything.
Mff. I flop back onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. Thats Rheema, all right. Full of bad
advice and never takes anything seriously. Known to elicit a smile from you in the most serious of
circumstances. Shes twenty-one and also at university, so we have a lot in common.
My mother, Uma, knocks and enters, carrying mail and with the deepest frown Ive have ever
seen.
Whats wrong, ma? I jump out of bed.
Without a word, she thrusts a letter at me.
I scan the letter, then gasp.
What? Rheema asks. Whats wrong?
Theyve sold our house! I whisper.
What? Who?
And and theyre giving us two months to vacate this place!
You serious? Rheema eyes flit between my mother and me
I nod. I didnt even know this house was for sale. I slap my forehead with my palm.
Ma, dont worry, I say in a voice unconvincing even to me. Itll be okay. We have two
months. Well find something.
She nods and leaves the room, her shoulders drooping.
Rheema and I exchange worried looks.
Slowly, I sit on my bed and bite my nails.
Hows her treatment going?
I shrug. Dialysis is costly. Our bills are I sigh and shake my head.
You shoulder so much, Tanin, she says in an unusually serious voice.
Tarago Jakobus, the bastard, hes behind this, I mutter, ignoring her pity.
Cmon, Tanin. You cant possibly blame him for this. I mean, the firing, maybe but this?
I shake my head and say nothing, but my gut feeling Tarago Jakobus is behind this. Ever since I
turned him down, things havent gone right with me.
Im calling the agent, I say and pick up the phone.
The real estate agent, Gloria Vorster is a snappy, rude bitch.
Who are the new owners? I ask.
She rattles some papers, and in an irritable voice says, Its a trust Jakobus
Jakobus?! I look at Rheema with huge eyes and point to the phone. Jakobus, I mouth.
Her jaw drops.
I thank the snappy bitch at the other end of the line and hang up.
I knew it! I knew it! Rheema, I told you that man is after me!
Tanin that must be a sheer coincidence. Hes one of the richest men around, why would he
target someone like you? No offense.

I dont know, but my gut tells me that somehow, he is involved, Rheema. None taken.
Thats quite an ego you have there, she says with a smile.
Noooo, Rheema, I dont have an inflated ego I know that that arseholes behind it.
Well, why dont we call for a reference on you and check it out hear what they say about
you?
I snap my fingers and point at her. Brilliant idea. I wanna listen in.
We huddle around the phone. Putting on her managers voice, she dials De Groot, identifies
herself as a manager from another restaurant and requests a reference on me.
Eric answers. As we listen, our jaws drop. Miss Tanin Gordhan was fired. We found money
missing and all evidence pointed at her, but since we couldnt be one hundred per cent sure, we chose
not to pursue the matter and we simply let her go. She is not a bad worker; however, we couldnt
possibly have her working around our tills.
I have to sit my knees have turned to jelly. How could he possibly say something like that?
Rheema hangs up and looks at me, her face ashen. Fuck, Tanin, what are they talking about? Did
you take ?
Rheema, I have absolutely no idea. I cannot oh my God, how could they tell such lies? I
never stole any money.
She looks at me and shakes her head. No wonder you didnt get any of the jobs you expected to
get. Whod employed you with a reference like that? Fuuuuuck! She rifles through her purse. I need
a cigarette after that.
Rheema, its Tarago Jakobus I tell her about the bet and how I turned him down.
This time she doesnt fight what Im saying.
Im going to confront him.
No! You cant do that, Tanin. Youre sounding crazy. Hes gonna laugh at you.
I dont care, Rheema, Im going to. I have no choice. With my moms illness, I cant afford to
move house now. I cant afford to be without a job. I have to go to him, talk to him, put an end to all
this shit, Rheema.
****
I sneak into the restaurant through the service entrance. Erics face turns the colour of the roses
on the table when he sees me.
I heard your reference, I say. I know that you value your job and that youre only following
orders, Eric, so you dont have to answer my questions. However, if Im wrong, just say youre
wrong. That will suffice.
With a low groan, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge off his nose.
Tarago Jakobus is targeting me?
He doesnt answer and keeps his eyes averted.
I nod. Hes after me cos I rejected his advances and he wants to win the stupid bet, right?
No answer.
Tarago Jakobus paid you a grand to do destroy me.
What?! Youre wrong!
Nuff said. Im flabbergasted by the truth. My suspicions were not unfounded he really is after
me. Why would he be that mad at me when he said that it was no problem?
I decide that enough is enough, I am going to confront Tarago right now.

Feeling like David approaching Goliath, I walk into the restaurant and up to the hostess who is
not a familiar face to me. Her name tag says Sarah.
I would like to see Mr Jakobus please.
Meneer Jakobus? She glances at the far end of the restaurant where Tarago dines with two
men and three women.
This is not Mr Jakobuss office, she says in an abrupt voice. He does not see people here.
I think he may just see me. Can you please ask him?
I think curiosity gets the better of her, because she hesitates, then looks at Tarago Jakobus.
At that moment, Tarago looks up and sees me. I watch him dab his mouth with his napkin and put
it down, his eyes all the time on me.
I think youd better go or I will have to call sec
Mr Jakobus flicks two fingers at her. She hurries over to him. Their heads meet for a few
moments before Sarah hurries back to me. Mr Jakobus, he regrets hes unable to eh, see you.
I look at him. He said that, did he?
Im losing my house, Ive lost my job, I cannot get another job because of his lies and he is too
busy dining on his surf and turf to talk to me? I dont think so. Fury takes over. I stride over to Mr
Jakobus.
Hey, you cant do that! Sarah yells.
I ignore her and continue walking.
Tarago sits back and watches me, an amused look on his face.
Deep breath. Mr Jakobus, Im sorry to bother your dinner, but there seems to be a problem. I
seem to be the target of a vendetta. Yours. And I would like to know why?
Surprise registers on everyones face.
He gets up, excuses himself and walks over to the computer room. I follow him.
He leans against the desk, arms folded across his chest and eyes me.
Am I intimidated by his 64 frame, his piercing blue eyes, his Rolex and his thick gold chain?
For sure. But that doesnt stop me from doing what I have to do.
Kan jou Afrikaans praat? (Can you speak Afrikaans?)
I think you understand what I am saying, Mr Jakobus. I have conversed with you several times
in the past in English, sir. So, please, could you tell me what is it that you want from me?
There is a short silence before his eyes turn to slits. Jou.
His voice is so low, Im not sure I heard correctly. Excuse me?
I want you, he says in Afrikaans. His candidness floors me.
I touch my chest. II whyyyy? You dont even know me.
He shrugs. The flicker of amusement in his eyes confuses me. Is my life simply a game to him?
Am I a monkey here to entertain this motherfucker?
Is this why you had me fired? Is this why youve bought up the property we live in? Lied about
me stealing ?
He nods. I cant believe his audacity. Hes not even hiding it.
I press my fingers to my temples as I try to make sense of the situation.
Sir, I am twenty-one years old and I am nothing like any of the women you date. So why?
I like variety, he says after a shrug.
Anger takes over. What if variety doesnt like you, sir?
Variety will, when her arse is on fire.
Whaaaat?!

Do you need a translator?


No, I dont need a translator, I say in an indignant voice. All this because I rejected your
advances?
I do not remember making advances. I remember asking you to join me for a drink.
I shake my head in disbelief. So this orchestrated attempt ?
Kan jy Afrikaans praat?
No! I fold my arms across my chest. I prefer English.
Hoekom (Why)?
Because, sir, Afrikaans is the language of the oppressor.
It is also my language. Now, if you dont mind, I would like to continue my surf and turf. Have a
good evening.
As he tries to walk away, I step in front of him and block his path. Opening my purse, I take out
two one rand coins and slap them on the table.
He looks at the coins, at my face and his eyes twinkle.
Furious at his inability to take me seriously, I take out more coins from my purse and slap them
in front of him. Or do you need a note instead of coins? Huh?
Again, he looks at the coins and smiles.
I open my purse and empty the contents on the table. Why stop at coins, huh? Take my lipstick,
my pens, my keys, my wallet take everything! Just leave me the fjust leave me alone.
With a smile, he brushes past me and walks away, leaving me staring after him.
Sarah appears and jerks her thumb towards the door. Or do you want me to get security?
Feeling like Im in a really bad dream, I collect the contents of my bag and make my way out
through the back door of the restaurant.
As I leave, I spot Tarago Merc parked in a special parking bay. A shiny, silver SLK. Ashwin
always admired this car. Said it costs as much as a house. Mm.
I walk over to the stack of liquor bottles waiting to be collected, grab a Johnny Walker blue
label and smile to myself. Taking a deep breath, I walk over to his car and slam the empty bottle on
the windscreen. Bam! It shatters.
That felt greeeeat!
Damn bottle broke in my hand, though. No problem; I run over to the heap of empty bottles and
grab another. Bam! The bonnet buckles. Man, this feels amazing. Why didnt I do it before?
What the fok are you doing? a man screams.
Stand back! I warn as I raise the bottle.
He fired me bam!
Hes evicting us bam!
Hes lying bout my stealing bam!
Hes an arrogant son of a bitch bam!
All around the car, I walk and slam bottle after bottle and I feel alive and energized. This is how
insanity must feel. What a delicious feeling.
Sy is mull (She is mad), someone complains.
I turn and look at the man who said that. When I smile, he shrinks back.
I most certainly am, I say, as I lift up the bottle and slam it on the roof of the car.
You missed a spot.
I whirl around to look up at Tarago, leaning against the door, eyeing me with crinkling eyes,
while everyone around him have their hands on their head or pasted over their mouths.

No, I didnt, you racist fucker! Im saving the bottle for your HEAD!
Really now? His face has a bring-it-on look.
I nod and take a step towards him, bottle raised. He doesnt move.
Pity the police has to arrive. With all their sirens blaring, they ruin a damn good cathartic
session.
Tarago watches with a smile as I am handcuffed and thrown into the back seat of a cop car by a
beefy red-faced arsehole with a badge.

Chapter Three
Kan jy Afrikaans praat? the cop in the drivers seat asks.
I fume in silence.
He looks around to me for an answer.
Just a few words, I say, maintaining eye contact with him. Like, FOK JY! (Fuck you!) and jou
ma se MOOR! (Your mothers cunt!) Basics. I give a mirthless smile.
His eyes narrow. Got attitude, hey? Well see about that. Do you know whose car you fucked
up? Hey?
Satans?
Nee, that is Meneer (mister) Jakobuss vehicle. Taraaaaago Jakobus. You want to mess with an
important man like that, hey? You little smart Alex.
Alec, you retard, I mutter.
Wat?
I fall silent and sit with my lips pressed together. Im beyond angry now and this cop is wasting
his time talking to me.
When we get to the local police station, my handcuffs are removed and Im placed in a holding
cell. Strangely, even though overcrowding is rife in these cells, I am alone.
I lie my weary body on the wooden, bolted-down bench and look at the high grey ceiling that is
in need of a coat of paint.
As the hour progresses, the adrenalin wears away and fear sets in. I know I should call someone,
but who? My mum? Shell be shocked, stressed and disappointed with me.
Im always the level-headed one in the family, mainly because I have to be. A good example for
my four younger siblings. Yet, Im in jail for destruction of property vandalism.
All this because I turned down Tarago Jakobus. How I despise the beast.
Reality nips and tears prick the back of my eyes. I refuse to cry. I am stronger than this. I will not
cry. Deep breaths.
I get up and walk to my cell gate. I would like to make a phone call please, I say to the
policewoman seated nearby doing paperwork and eating a muffin. My plan is to call my Uncle Anand,
who is my fathers brother.
Hes a medical doctor and hes our rock. Hell know what to do and maybe he wont even tell
my mum about this.
Later, she says without looking up from her papers.
I saunter back to my wooden bench.
Three hours later Im back at my cell gate.
Please can I have my one phone call? I ask another female police officer.
Hoe jou bek and sit vas (Shut your mouth and sit tight)! she says in a no-nonsense voice. Shes
around 59 with hair on her chin, a lot more than a peach fuzz on her upper lip and a crew cut, so I
creep back to my bench and lie on it. Soon, Im fast asleep.
Tanin! A female cop shakes me. Your bail has been set at one hundred thousand rands, she
says.
What? I rub my sleepy eyes. But but how? I havent been to court as yet?
She shrugs.

I dont have an attorney, ei


It works differently with vandalism and destruction of property, she says in a snappy voice.
Your lawyer presented your case and She shrugs.
I hold my head with both hands and blink rapidly. This is weird. One hundred thousand? Thats
pretty steep for ...
Well, its because of your ties to the US. Hes probably afraid youll skip the country.
Skip the country because of vandalism charges? Thats crazy. And I look up at the cop,
how come youre discussing all this with me? Shouldnt my lawyer ?
Oh, your lawyer is on his way and Ill be taking you to him.
Just then another female cop appears. Attorney for Tanin Gordhan!
The two officers lead me into an interview room, where a Woody Allen look-alike, but with
dark curly hair, sits amidst a lot of papers. Next to him is a tall, muscular woman, with the broadest
shoulders I have ever seen on a female, a tiny brown bun on her head and a set jaw.
He puts out his hand. Miss Gordhan, I am Avraham Stransky, your attorney and this is my
partner and wife, Hettie Stransky.
Hi, I say. Who appointed you, Mr Stransky? Im worried about your fees. Im a university
student.
Before he can answer, the door opens and Tarago Jakobus saunters in.
My head jerks to look at Avraham Stransky. What the hell is he doing here?
Eh, Miss Gordhan, Mr Jakobus appointed me as your lawyer and he will take care of my fees
as well.
He did? Why?
I glare at Tarago as he takes a seat next to Mr Stransky.
I didnt ask you to sit. I say in an icy voice.
He will also put up your bail.
Tarago ignores me and lowers himself into a chair thats too small for his bulk. The guards leave
the room and shut the door behind them.
My eyes shift between Tarago and Mr Stransky. Oh yeah? Whats the catch?
There is no catch, Miss Gordhan.
That doesnt sound right, Mr Stransky. There has to be one a catch, that is.
He shrugs.
Really? No catch. Hes just gonna pay your fees and pay my bail because I glare at Tarago,
hes got a big heart? My voice is laden with sarcasm.
Mr Stransky is poker-faced. In an even tone of voice, he says, Well, he has a proposition for
you, thats why hes here.
Aaahhh!? I sit up in my chair and look at Stransky, my eyebrows almost touching my hairline,
my fingers drumming on the metal table.
Kindly let me finish before you ask questions.
Mff. I stop drumming.
He reads from the papers in front of him. Mr Jakobus will post your bail of one hundred
thousand rands. You will be released after we speak, if you agree to be his woman.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words dont come out. When I do speak, I have to ask, Is he
nuts?
Stransky puts his finger to his lips. He understands that you are helping support your brothers
who are attending university and your sisters who are at school, and that your mother is in need of

medical treatment, so in addition to your bail, he will pay you a monthly allowance of twenty
thousand rands a month.
My jaw drops. Twenty thousand rands a month in spite of my surroundings, in spite of my
situation, my mind sells me out and races I can pay all school fees, all university fees, I can take
care of my mothers outstanding hospital bills so that she can have her dialysis, I can fix up our
Toyota
I can even get a deposit on the house we need to rent, I can keep my gran in the nursing home ...
Mr Jakobus will also ensure that your family gets to live in the house he now owns for the
duration of your relationship
They dont have to move! My family can stay where they are! This is too good to be true.
Stransky sits back and looks at me.
Wow! Thats sure is generous of Mr Jakobus. But Mr Stransky, I wouldnt need his generosity if
he hadnt targeted me. I mean, I was working, I was managing bills and we were fine. He messed up
everything because of his obsession with me, his need to win. He dragged me down to his his
pathetic level and now that Im at rock bottom, he appears to be my savior? Any fool can see right
through him. I know all about Stockholm syndrome Im not his average bimbo, you know. Im
intelligent, educated and Ive lived abroad.
I pause to throw Tarago a hateful glare.
Tarago leans in and whispers into Stanskys ear.
Eh, Mr Jakobus wants to know if you can insult him in Afrikaans, please. He has a problem
with English.
I fold my arm across my chest. Mr Stransky, Im sorry, but I do not speak Afrikaans.
Mr Jakobus would like to know why not?
Because because I consider it an oppressors language and I will not speak it. He needs to
learn English. Its 1993 for crying out loud everybody speaks English.
Each time Tarago Jakobus leans in, Stransky interprets.
Mr Jakobus hears your sentiment, but he says the oppressor is really the black man, not the
innocent white man. The white man is being unfairly vilified because of the colour of his skin. This
needs to change if South Africa is to progress.
My jaw drops. Is your client retarded?
Mr Jakobus requests that you use words that consist of not more than six characters as he is a
simple man who doesnt appreciate big words.
What? Is your client does your ? I shut my eyes, then open them, does your client think
all of this is a joke? I mean, Im in jail, my freedom has been compromised because he is a stalker
and an imbecile, and hes finding all of this amusing?
Tarago starts counting on his fingers, then leans in for more whispering.
Stransky clears his throat. Eh, Mr Jakobus says hes pretty sure that two of the words you have
used have more than six characters. Hes not very sure, as he is not as learned as you appear to be.
With a groan, I close my eyes and count to ten.
Finally, I open them, take a deep breath for control and say, Look, heres what I suggest he
pays my bail and just leaves me alone. He also changes my reference or Im taking this matter up with
industrial court.
As we talk a cop brings in three cups of coffee which he places in front of Tarago Jakobus,
Avraham and Hettie.
Tarago whispers in the cops ear. The cops nods and leaves the room.

Sorry, it doesnt work that way, Stransky says. Its all or nothing with Mr Jakobus.
I cup my eyes with my hands, then hold my head with both my hands and finally hang my head.
After a while I look at Avraham Stransky.
Look, first of all, I wont live with someone before I marry them, as my family, my mother,
shes old-fashioned and shes ill and I dont want to break her heart. So I shrug.
The cop returns with a cup of coffee and places it in front of me. Im too surprised to thank the
cop.
Mr Jakobus wants to know what exactly are you saying. Mr Stransky says the moment the cop
leaves the room.
Okay, time to pull out my scare tactic. If he wants me as his woman, he has to marry me. I sit
back with my arms folded across my chest, a mixture of defiance and amusement on my face.
For the first time, I hear a sound from big-shoulders Hettie Stransky Mff!
My last statement should have him high-tailing it out of here in less than ten seconds. Out of the
police station and maybe out of Cape Town.
More whispering between them.
Then Avraham turns his whole body to look at Tarago.
Tarago nods.
Avraham takes of his glasses, wipes his eyes and shakes his head. Finally he speaks. Mr
Jakobus says that you drive a hard bargain, but okay, he will marry you
My jaw falls to my ankles.
Waaaaat? for the first time, Hettie has spoken.
however, the condition is that nobody finds out about your marriage. It is to be kept a secret
and if the secret is discovered, the deal is over.
Im at a loss for words. Hed actually marry me? This man is a lunatic. Wait hang on, maybe Im
handling this all wrong. Maybe he likes my feistiness. So.lets change it around. Become more
understanding, boring.
Mr Stransky, I say in a voice used by bank managers on clients just before they decline the loan,
your client is not bad looking. Why doesnt he get himself an Afrikaner girl, a former Miss World or
someone like Sonja shes really pretty? Im really not his type and not for him. Im moody, I speak
my mind mind, I actually enjoy studying and
Mr Jakobus thanks you for the compliment, but its you he wants. Says if he had a rand for every
time someone called him not bad looking, hed have a rand.
I slam back into my chair. Im not physically attracted to him! I snap. Look at him hes
circus tall and looks like a goddamn gorilla.
Mr Jakobus says that he knows he should exercise more and eat healthy, but he really likes his
whisky and braai (barbeque). That means he will never wear a medium-shirt, ever. He also says that
youre not the type of girl he usually goes after, fair enough. You only rate five on his grading scale...
What?
and his criteria is usually nine out of ten and above. But in your case he would make an
exception, because you look sad all the time.
I let out a long exasperated sigh then lean forward. Five?
Avraham nods.
I groan. Anyway, I dont care about his rating. I have a boyfriend and hes really good looking.
Im totally in love with him. We plan to marry and start a family together and there is no way hell let
go of me. And I wag my finger at Tarago, Im not sad.

Says your boyfriend, who is a medium-shirt for sure, would be more understanding than you
think.
His words stir my curiosity. What does he mean?
Mr Jakobus would like to get back to the issue in question, as he would like to have breakfast
soon.
I look at Tarago Jakobus with eyes like slits. Im curious, why is it that nobody must know that
he and I are married? Is it because hes already married? Is promised to someone? Will lose his
fortune if he married beneath him? What is the reason?
More whispering.
Mr Jakobus says its none of the above he just doesnt want anyone to know that he married a
black girl because its bad for his business, his family and friends. Certain people will stop doing
business with him if they found out about his marriage to you.
My jaw has been dropping a lot today and right now, its on the floor. Hes such a racist! Oh my
God! And hes so blatant about it. Has he no shame?
The duration for the marriage will be for two years or before, if he tires of you. After two years
you keep the house, two million rand and all gifts given to you. You will sign a prenup of course. And
no, he says that he has no shame and apologizes for his lack of shame, thereof.
Wait if he tires of me?
If you leave before two years is over, or if anyone finds out about the marriage, your family
will have twenty-eight days to vacate the property they live in, and you will immediately leave Mr
Jakobuss house. Also, you will pay back fifty per cent of all the monthly allowances that has been
paid to you breach of contract.
Contract
If he tires of you before that, he will send you home with all of the above, since it will be him
whos breaching the contract.
I look at the floor as I think about his indecent proposal. How do I walk away from all of this?
Hes like the devil offering me gold and silver for my soul.
What about my studies?
I sip on my coffee as they put their heads together and whisper some more.
Unisa or by correspondence. When you become a wife, things change and he is not happy with
you leaving the house every day.
That is totally out of the question. A wife? Me?
As his words, the situation and the craziness of it all deluge over me, I close my eyes and lean
my head back against the wall. A prostitute, I murmur, he wants me to become a prostitute.
Mr Jakobus says a prostitute doesnt get two million rand after two years. Unless youre Pretty
Woman. He says he saw the movie and kept wishing it was in Afrikaans. Says that he was certain that
Julia Roberts had Afrikaans blood in her. But overall
You serious?
Says thats seven characters. Says he missing out on his bacon and eggs for breakfast so he
would like an answer asap.
I stare at the table as I think about his proposal. If I say no, Im in jail. There is no way my
family could come up with one hundred thousand rand.
Why is bail so high for vandalism?
Whispering.
Mr Jakobus says he bribed a judge ten thousand rands to find a reason to set bail at that price.

You WHAT? I jump out of my chair and lunge at him.


Hettie Stransky, as big as she is, leaps out of her chair, grabs me around the waist and keeps me
from hitting Tarago.
You arsehole! How could you do that?! You maniac! You bloody bloodybearded you
you
He sits with arms folded, an amused look on his face.
Man, what a loathsome creature you are! Id like to kill you.

Chapter Four
I wear jeans, an unflattering blue and white striped top, heels and a snarl at my quickie wedding.
He wears an off-white striped shirt, black pants and a Rolex. His hair is neat and secured into a
ponytail and hes clean-shaven. For the first time since I met him, I can see his face.
Yet, I dont look at him, dont smile, mumble my vows, and when the judge declares that we are
now husband and wife and that he can kiss the bride, I offer my cheek. He gives me a peck that lands
somewhere between my jawline and lips.
To my surprise he drives. As far as I know, he has a driver all the time. Must really want to keep
our marriage a secret.
We drive to his home in Clifton in silence. After a while he turns on the radio and Janet
Jacksons Thats the Way Love Goes, plays.
I quickly change the radio station.
Im All Out of Love by Air Supply plays.
Quickly, I reach to hit the tune button.
Wat maakeer (whats going on?)?
No need for romantic music, I mutter.
He chuckles.
I fling him a dirty look, then continue seeking a song devoid of any reference to love.
I welcome all advertisements, especially ones about funerals and servicing of motor vehicle.
When the adverts finish, Ace of Bases All That She Wants plays.
I listen carefully to the lyrics, ready to pounce should one word about love is mentioned. Dont
hear any. Okay, better. No mention of the word love I exhale and sit back.
The knot in my stomach that Ive had for the last seven days since I was released from jail
tightens. I have no idea where I am going. All I have is his word that he is wealthy and a contract that
could turn out to be bogus. Fair enough were are driving in a silver Jag with a white interior, but
still
My mind drifts to my family. They were so thrilled to know that I landed a job as a Personal
Assistant to some wealthy guy and that my salary would cover all monthly expenses.
Sure they were sore about me having to live in and having to study part-time, but I tried to get
them to look on the bright side of things and they did.
Two years.
I feel like Im driving to prison to do a stint. But I nurse a tiny flicker of hope hell tire of me
before the two year period, and then I will be on my way. The thought of that brings a smile to my
face.
We drive up a high winding road in Clifton to get to his house. A scary road hate to think of
myself driving down this when Im drunk. When anybodys drunk.
He brings the car to a standstill outside a property.
A plaque on the wall says Clifton Manor. Next to that plaque is another plaque which says,
Party Manor.
High wrought-iron gates and a security guard named Sipho, keeps out strangers.
Tarago drives in and parks outside the entrance to a huge house. He gets out. An old colored man
he calls Chester, hurries to open the door for me.

We have the room ready, Meneer Jakobus, the man says.


Goed, Tarago says and gestures for me to walk ahead.
Chester takes my suitcases from the trunk of the car. I just brought two banking on him to tire of
me and send me home soon. I plan to be uninteresting and downright boring.
I walk into the house and gasp. It is a house you seen in Amazing Homes or Lifestyle of the Rich
and Famous. Large marbled entrance hall the size of the downstairs of my house, pillars all around, a
huge water feature with a Zen garden that you walk through, low subdued lighting all around and
classical music plays softly in the background. Classical! This cant be the oafs house if classical
music lives here.
A few maids cleaning the pillars and dusting the huge paintings pause to greet Tarago.
He nods at them and keeps walking while I try to keep up.
They eye me curiously, before resuming their duties.
Tarago stops to answer the phone, ignoring me. I take a moment to check out the views the
house has uninterrupted views of Clifton Beach.
Please follow me, Mejuffrou (Miss), Chester says.
As I follow Chester up some stairs, Tarago takes his phone and walks in the opposite direction.
The room Chester takes to me to is massive three times the size of my bedroom at home with a
180 degree view of Clifton beach, as well as views of a spectacular entertainment area on the
property. Its carpet is white, fluffy and I immediate remove my shoes.
It has a spacious and bright walk-in closet, which leads to a marbled white and cream ensuite.
The ensuite is half the size of the bedroom.
A large semi-enclosed balcony with mounted heaters allow for day and night, summer and
winter use.
If I wasnt feeling so nauseous with trepidation, I might actually enjoy this amazing dwelling the
jerk calls home.
The room is decorated in white and varying hues of browns, minimalistic and modern, but cold
and almost hotel-like. There is no warmth of a home.
I open another door and gasp when I see a shirtless Tarago in it. We have inter-leading rooms!
Even though I should have expected it, the thought scares the crap out of me. He can so easily stroll
into my room.
Sorry, I mutter and quickly shut the door. I stand in front of the closed door and fight to keep
my breath even.
A knock at my room door its Hettie Stransky. Welcome to Clifton Manor, Tanin, she says.
Thank you.
A quick meeting?
Sure.
As she talks Im thinking she really would look better in mens clothing. But shes married to
Avraham. Today, she wears a grey suit and very sensible shoes. She moves to the table and chair in
my room, sits down and pulls out a sheaf of papers.
Ground rules etc she says as she hands me a credit card.
Oh. As if the credit card is a stick of dynamite, I stare at it.
Unlimited.
I look at her. Unlimited?
She nods.
Really?

Like whats the catch? Who gives someone an unlimited credit card? Unless hes kinky or
perverted or plain crazy. Okay, so far, we know that he is plain crazy.
No catch, Tanin, she says as she ticks off stuff on a page. He wants you to be comfortable.
Sides its a way of tracking your spending, your whereaboutsif you know what I mean. Dont
do anything stupid with it like book into a hotel or something, understand?
Yeah, sure. Booking into a hotel? The thought never crossed my mind.
I stare at the gold card in my hand. Unlimited. Wow! I thrill at the thought of the damage I could
do with this.
Okay, some rules no seeing your ex-boyfriend or any man whatsoever, or
I nod.
You see him or any man, and you have breached the contract.
Okay.
You will have no car, but a driver is at your disposal. Plenty cars around too.
Oh.
You are at Tarago disposal twenty-four-seven, when he travels, wherever he goes. At the drop
of a hat. Twenty-four-seven. Clear?
I nod.
Your wifely duties you cant say no. Not ever.
I nod slowly. This is the part that makes me want to run to the beautiful marbled bathroom and
throw up.
At all. That sexual maintenance part is a vital part of your contract.
Sexual main?
Tarago is heavy into monogamy. Both ways. Hes old-fashioned about that. Got it?
Again, I nod, feeling ashamed that I could stoop so low as to negotiate sexual maintenance and
accept a credit card from a stranger in exchange for being his sex slave, basically.
Now, Im not going to overload you with stuff, but you are a clever girl so can read your
contract. Any questions she hands me her card, call me anytime. She gathers her papers and
gets up.
Wait! I cry. Are you leaving?
Yes. Have to get back to my office.
Oh. I look at the floor as I play with my fingers.
Youll be okay, she says in a reassuring voice.
I nod slowly and chew on my bottom lip as I follow her to the door, my mouth dry.
She stops at the door and turns around to look at me. Tanin, dont blow it. Tarago Jakobus is
offering you an opportunity of a lifetime. Many women have wanted him, many women have chased
him, but she waves her hand in front of her face, a baffled look in her eyes, he wants
you.
That baffles me too. Like, I dont know what to think.
She looks at the ground and nods slowly. Then she looks up at me. Jakobus is bored of all that
hes got. He got it too quickly and now hes totally bored. Nothing excites him anymore. When Tarago
gets a bee in his bonnet, the only thing we can do, is kill the bee. Or kill Jakobus. As you can see,
Jakobus is six-four, which makes it difficult to kill the bastard.
Neither of us smile.
Ive looked at your file, Tanin youre too young to shoulder so much responsibility your
mother, your brothers your sisters way too young. Now all that is being taken care of by Tarago.

Just sit back and relax for once.


Sit back and relax?
I know your history, your fathers history about his political struggles with law how he died
in prison and I understand your feelings towards Wit mense (white people) but, that is the past. You
have to look ahead. At least for two years.
My eyes drop to the floor at the mention of my father.
Okay? This is home for a while until Tarago grows tired of you.
I look at her, an earnest expression on my face. How long does he usually take to grow tired of
a woman?
For the first time since Ive met her, she smiles. Seven days is usually a record.
Hope sparks inside of me and I smile. Wow!
Take care! she says and leaves.
I look at my suitcases and smile. No need to unpack. Seven days will fly.
Seven days sure I can do that.
I lie on my king-size bed and stare at the ceiling. So much has happened in the last month. Its
almost surreal. Maybe its all just a dream?
With a sigh, I turn and look out the window. From my bed I have a clear view of the sea and I
hear the lull of it. Wow! What a house. Didnt know real people lived in places like this.
Wonder how wealthy Tarago Jakobus really is?
My eyelids get really heavy. Havent slept well since I lost my job, so Im really exhausted.
I doze.

Chapter Five
Someone is shaking me.
Hey! a woman says to me. Wake up! Shes light-skinned, around fifty, plump and short. A
slight limp makes her waddle. Her frizzy hair escapes from under the black-and-white scarf around
her head. She wears a black and white maids uniform, flesh-toned stockings and white sneakers.
Hi! I croak, even though she only spoke Afrikaans.
She doesnt bother to introduce herself, so I dont either.
Behind her is a younger woman also coloured (a mixture between black and white South
Africans), thirtyish, tall and thin.
I get out of bed and rub my eyes, while they openly check me out. Meneer wants you to join him
at the party.
Oh.
In the background, I hear music, laughter and the tinkling of glasses. I look at the clock on the
wall 7 PM. Crap! I slept for so long.
I get out of bed and look out of my window at the pool below. At least thirty men and women are
dancing and swimming. My eyes scan the place for Tarago. I spot him with a blonde on his lap, both
of them are laughing.
Put on your bikini and go join the party, the plump woman who they call Charlene says,
unzipping my suitcase and rummaging through it.
I glance at the party again. I barely drink and I dont wear bikinis, just one-piece bathers. As for
dancing, Id only do it when Im happy. Right now Im miserable as hell.
Okay, I say. Is there any way I can get a cup of coffee? I really could do with some
perking up.
The older maid Charlene, moves her head slowly to look at me.
Did I say the wrong thing, perhaps?
The kitchen is that way, she says, pointing all her fingers to the ground.
Oh, okay, I say, not knowing what else to say. Somehow, since I am Taragos guest, I expected
them to bring me coffee. But, I guess thats not the case here, and I feel like an idiot.
Can jy Afrikaans praat (Can you speak Afrikaans?)?
I can with difficulty. I can also understand the language if they dont speak too fast. Most
importantly, I know a heap of swear words.
English, I mutter. Its safer to say that instead of giving them a long explanation.
She looks at the younger woman, who has her hands in my vanity case. I wish they wouldnt
touch my stuff. Its all so personal.
Hear that, Julia? She does not speak Afrikaans. Only English.
Only English? Reeeeally? Julia pauses with her riffling to drop her jaw. A lanie coolie ne!
(Rich Indian, huh)?
They exchange amused smiles and simultaneously resume their rummaging.
Where you from? Charlene asks as she lifts up a cashmere sweater of mine and inspects it.
Rondebosch. And you?
Rondebosch? A puzzled look flits across her face.
Born in Durban, raised in Cape Town.

I seeee. How long you staying for? she asks, ignoring my question and picking up my dressing
gown.
I shrug. Not sure.
She nods slowly. So if you are from Rondebosch, why do you have such a weeeeird accent?
I lived in the States for five years, I say.
The States?!
Yes, the US. America. Atlanta.
She gasps and holds her chest. Hear that, Julia? She lived in the States for five years.
Ameeerika noggal.
Waaaat? Taragos got his latest whore all the way from America? Julia asks in Afrikaans, her
hands on her hips.
Charlene nods. Maybe we should treat this whore with some respect then?
Julia looks at the ceiling and appears to think about it. Then she shakes her head from side-toside.
Both of them cackle, hold their sides and mock me.
Anger rips through me. I want to tell these bitches that I understand what they are saying and that
they can to hell. But theyre half right I am Taragos whore, so what can I say? Im intimidated by
them enough to say nothing.
Im certain of one thing, though I dont like these two women and I wish theyd take their nasty
arses out of my room and leave my clothes alone.
You need to empty these suitcases, Julia says.
Ignoring her, I grab some clothes and head into my bathroom to change. Why bother to unpack
when I might be out of here within days?
As Im changing, Charlene barges into the bathroom without knocking. Kom, kom, kom! Meneer
doesnt like to be kept waiting. He is a very impatient man.
A closed door does not mean a thing to her, obviously.
Okay, I say holding up my top in front of me.
After her eyes drag over my semi-nakedness, she leaves.
As I dress, I try to wrap my head around the situation Im in its Friday, the day I got married to
a stranger. The day I became a wife to a pig I do not know. Im now living in a beautiful mansion in
Clifton and am currently being bullied by two nasty colored maids.
I walk back into the bedroom, rummage through my suitcases and find my make-up. Under the
watchful and critical eyes of the two bitches in my room, I run a brush through my hair, put on some
light make-up and slip on a pair of heels.
When I finally look in the mirror, Im not sure if I am over-dressed in pair of white shorts and a
mustard, strappy top.
Wheres your bikini? Charlene asks.
Dont wear bikinis, I say.
She jerks back. Why not?
I shrug. Just dont. No need to mention that I have body issues and that Im a lights off girl.
Mff.
I ignore their synchronized eye-rolling.
I leave them and run down to the kitchen where I try to find stuff to make coffee.
As I do, the evil twins appear.
Hope you are not messing up my kitchen, Charlene says as she takes a seat on a chair and puts

her feet up.


Without answering, I help myself to coffee from the machine, spoon in two sugars and add milk
to it.
I hurriedly down the lukewarm coffee then leave the kitchen.
By the time I get to the party, Tarago is dancing with his hands in his air to Dance Sum More by
Mango Groove. His face is red, his shirt is opened to reveal a hairy chest and his eyes are bloodshot.
He looks a mess to me.
Im taken aback when I see some of the girls swimming topless. To see so many boobs out in the
open is a little confrontational to me. Nobody seems to mind or even take notice of them.
A couple in the pool are kissing and openly fondling each other. Nobody gives them a second
look either.
The pool meanders around the property, offering privacy and uninterrupted views of the ocean.
In the distance I see more people swimming. Topless.
A mini version of the Playboy mansion. What have I let myself in for?
Nou daars vyf (now theres five!) Tarago says when he spots me.
Everyone stops to stare at me. I turn crimson under their stares.
Vyf! Vyf! Vyf! Tarago sings with his hands in the air, like the moron he is.
Jooste, the guy with the crew cut and tattoos, the one who wagered with Tarago, claps his hands.
Boet (brother) I owe you a rand.
He runs off to his jeans, rifles through his pocket, fetches a rand and gives it to Tarago. Like a
trophy, Tarago kisses the rand and holds it up for all to see.
All the sheep clap.
How did you do it? Jooste asks.
Tarago shrugs. I have my ways. He looks at me. Kom dance met my, vyf.
Irritated, I ignore his request to dance and take my surly face to the bar. An orange juice,
please. I feel so out of place that I look longingly up at my room.
When I turn around again, Tarago is being dragged into the pool by the three blondes.
In the water, I watch him pick up the girls and toss them back into the water like beach balls.
They shriek and get on his back and try to drown him. Unsuccessfully he appears to be a really
strong swimmer.
He looks at me and flexes his fingers. Kom hier vyf!
Vyf? Why vyf, Tarago? Jooste, who now takes off his shirt to reveal a tattoo of a snake that
extends from navel to neck, asks.
Cos, Jooste, Tarago rated her five out of ten, one of the blonde answers.
I recognize her she was one of the blondes who dined with Tarago at the restaurant. They call
her Hanlie.
Jooste laughs. Aw, cmon, vyf? Shes a seve, at least, man. His eyes sweep slowly over me.
Maybe even nine.
Tarago shakes his head and flexes the fingers on one hand. Vyf.
Now all eyes are on me once again. My face burns and I have the urge to throw my glass of
orange juice at the Tarago the oaf.
I get so annoyed, I get up from my chair and storm out. Behind me, I hear obnoxious Tarago
guffawing.
In my room, I sit on my bed and fume. How could he humiliate me like that?
Two years? Two goddamn years in this place with that moron?

Charlene bursts into my room. Miss America, Meneer, he say you must put on a bikini and
come back to the party.
Im not wearing a bikini. Not for him or anyone else. Tell him to piss off.
She jerks back and looks at me with big eyes. You sure you want me to say that to Meneer?
Yes, I do, I say in a defiant voice.
With a knowing smirk, she saunters off.
I stand in front of my window and look out at everyone. I cant see Tarago anywhere. Good.
Hope the bastard drowned.
Suddenly Tarago grabs me from behind, throws me over his shoulder and runs down the stairs to
the pool with me as if Im a rag doll.
Tarago, stop! I cry. Just stop this childish
He ignores my protests and continues running. You are going into the pool, vyf!
When he enters the poolside, there is great cheering and clapping when they see Tarago carrying
me.
Put me down, Tarago! I hiss. I cannot swim. I have a fear of water. Put me
With a Tarzan howl, he throws me into the pool, complete with shoes, watch, earrings. Into the
deep end.
When I finally surface from my near-drowning experience, I splutter and cough and fight to get to
the side of the pool. I have a serious phobia of water and to be dumped like this is terrifying. I may
hate the water and wont swim, but I do have basic knowledge of swimming, so I manage to kick my
way to the edge of the pool, where I grab onto the rail and continue spluttering.
When I look up, everyone is laughing. Holding their sides and falling around with laughter.
Furious, I get out of the pool and storm over to Tarago to do God know what. He runs and hides
behind two blondes.
You dog, you you imbecile!
He starts counting on his fingers.
Do that again and I will kiiiill you! I say in what I hope is a snarl.
He cowers lower, eliciting thunderous laughter.
Uuurrrggghhh! is all I can manage before I storm off to my room and into the shower.
I could kill the barbarian. Honestly and without hesitation, I could just kill him.
After taking a shower, I call Rheema and complain. To my utter astonishment, she laughs. I get so
mad, I slam the phone down on her. I dont hang up, I slam it down and hope her ear hurts.

Chapter Six
I awake at 6 AM. Probably because of the unfamiliarity of things.
On tiptoe, I steal down to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. As I do, I notice the telltale signs of last nights party. Some major cleaning up is needed. But everyone else in the house
appears to be asleep.
I take my coffee and head back to my bedroom.
At 11 AM, Julia barges into my room without knocking. Meneer wants you to join him for
breakfast.
I nod. Since I was expecting that, I already dressed in a denim skirt, a white halter top and
wedges.
After brushing my hair and putting on some lip gloss, I make my way to Tarago and breakfast.
Trying hard to pretend that getting dumped into the pool last night has not humiliated me, I take a
deep breath, square my shoulders and walk to the brunch table with my head held high.
To my surprise, most of the people from the party are seated at the table. Their amused looks
dont escape me and the sniggering starts immediately.
Mor My greeting dies on my lips when I see the amused look on Taragos face.
I throw him an annoyed glare before I look away.
The sniggers float around me. Its hard to pretend like it doesnt bother me, but I try.
The sunny and airy dining room overlooks the pool, the entertainment area and the water. It is
ultra-modern, with white, leather high-back chairs and a ten-seater glass, dining table. Off white
porcelain floor tiles gives the place a beach house feel, an upmarket one, which is what it is. Way
more than a holiday house.
Three pearly, pendant lights descend from the ceiling and hover over the dining table. The dcor
is so modern and hi-tech, that it confuses me as to how an oaf like Tarago could have such great taste.
It looks like a page out of the home dcor magazine. I have to assume that he had an interior
decorator. No way could a moron like him have such amazing taste.
At the table are the three blondes Hanlie, Anneline and Erika. Pretty girls in their twenties.
Also at the table is Jooste, (who I later learn is Taragos half-brother) and another guy they call
Vermuelen.
Praat jy Afrikaans? (Do you speak Afrikaans?) Jooste asks.
No, she say its the oppressors language! Tarago answers.
Jooste jerks back in his chair.
Man, I feel like shooting Tarago.
Waaaat? Erika shrieks. Is not foking true! She looks to her other blondes for backup.
Is not, Hanlie confirms after thinking about it for a moment.
Mff, Anneline spits in Afrikaans, Who does she think she is?
All eyes are now on me and I colour under their scrutiny.
Foking stuck up bitch, Anneline mutters.
Is that a fact now? Jooste asks, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes sweep over me.
Oppressor, hey?
I dont answer.
Charlene and Julia quietly serve brunch.

Can I get coffee? Anneline asks, rattling her knife against her glass.
Seker Mejuffro (sure miss), Julia says, while Charlene runs to fetch the pot of coffee.
Can I also get some too, please? I say to Julia.
With her lips pressed together, Julia pours coffee into a cup and places it so hard on the table; it
spills onto the saucer, the tablecloth and my white top. There you go, she says in a saccharine
voice.
I look up the mess around me, the spills of coffee on my white top, then at her.
In a bar, the look she gives me would precipitate a brawl.
With an inward groan of frustration, I silently empty the coffee from my saucer into my coffee
cup and sip on it while they continue discussing me in Afrikaans.
Andand Tarago lifts up a finger, she doesnt swear, wear a bikini, smoke or drink
much.
Everybody looks at him, then burst out laughing.
I look at the steak knife Im holding and indulge in a brief but satisfying fantasy of me stabbing
Tarago. It would be messy but oh, so satisfying.
You dont swear? Erika asks, eyeing me with disbelief.
I shake my head.
Why not?
Because, I dont need to. I have a fairly good command of the English language and I dont need
to resort to profanity.
Stick up her arse, someone mutters, while the others look at me as if I grew a beard on the
spot. Maybe I asked for that.
So, do you know how to make a drie-hooke, coolie cookie? Jooste asks. A he snaps his
fingers, samoosa, thats it. Do you know how to make a samoosa?
Ooooh boy!
Do you know all the positions in the Karma Sutra? Jooste continues.
I glare at Jooste. Stop, will you?
He laughs.
Hey, can you Bollywood? Erika yells from across the table, then touches each elbow and bobs
in her chair. The other two blondes and Tarago all join her and burst out laughing.
More questions fly. Stupid questions.
Do you speak Indian?
Where is your sari?
Does any of your family members wear big diapers like Ghandi did?
Where is your dot? Points at forehead.
Does your dot light up when you get angry?
It is a tattoo?
Where is it?
Lemmee answer! Tarago shouts. Lemmee answer!
All eyes are on him. She had two dots...
Oh really?
but you know, over time, with age, everything sags
Oh yeah? Go on
and they too sagged and now theyre called nipples.
Screams of laughter drowns Sonja Herolds Umfaan playing in the background.

Show us, man! Jooste yells.


Ja, come on, show us! the other man, called Vermeulen yells.
Then chanting. Show us! Show us! Show us!
Erika yanks up her top to show off her boobs, but nobody takes notice of her.
I glare at Tarago. Are you retarded?
His response is to circle a fist in the air and chant. Retarded! Retarded! Retarded!
Of course the sheep join in. Retarded! Retarded! Retarded!
Once again, I get up and storm off.
This time when I see Charlene, I snap, Dont ask me to go back!
She raises both palms in a surrendering motion.
In my room, I pace as I try to simmer down. What a pig. Such a loathsome, despicable, boorish
pig. Him and his obnoxious friends. Buffoons. All of them.
Two years. A quick calculation seven hundred and thirty days. How do I do this?
Well, take away two days thats seven hundred and twenty eight days. Will I go mental with
him and his weirdos?
Please let him tire of me soon. Please! Please! Please!
Or please let him die. Of something anything. Just let him die.
****
Meneer wants you to dance with him, Charlene says.
I look out of my window of my bedroom at the party below. Another boozy party with so many
drunks. Wasnt last night enough? How the hell does his liver handle it?
And, he has so many girls to dance with, why does he want me to dance with him?
Tell him that I dont wanna dance, I say to Charlene.
Charlene gives me a sure-you-want-to-say-that-to-Meneer? look.
I nod.
With a small shrug, she leaves.
From my window, I watch her relay my message.
She returns a short while later. Meneer say you must dance with him or he will throw you in the
pool.
After the other night, I dont want to chance that. Fuming, I reluctantly walk out of my room and
down to him.
When he sees me heading towards him, he claps his hands. Round of applause for our nonsmoking, non-drinking, non-swearing, non everything vyf.
Everyone claps.
Knock it off, will you? I hiss.
The music plays some Afrikaans song.
What? All I want is for you to dance to a few oppressors songs, Tarago says. Thats all.
Mff. With my lips pressed tightly together, I stand in front of him and reluctantly move a hip
slightly to the left. Then I move it slightly to the right.
Under his watchful eyes and everybodys watchful eyes, I feel like my feet are encased in
cement.
Thats not dancing, Tarago says folding his arms and pouting like a two-year-old.
It is dancing, I argue. And Im sorry that I am not dancing like a monkey and going like

this I put my hands over my head and push at the skies like he does, a crazy look on my face.
See, now thats dancing! he says. You got it, vyf.
I fold my arms tightly across my chest. Well, thats not how I dance, so I refuse to dance like
that. You just have to be happy with my style of dancing to this this oppressors music.
He looks at me, then shouts out, Vyf wants black music! Can we put on Ladysmith Black
Mambuza or something for vyf?
Oh please!
We dont have any, someone says. No black music.
Satisfied, that I told him off, I slightly shift around and stifle a yawn.
Suddenly, Tarago picks me up and walks towards the pool.
Tarago, stop! I hiss. I have a very expensive outfit on. Stop!
He continues walking.
Tarago, stop this shit! I cant swim. You know that.
He carries on walking.
Tarago! I cant FUCKING SWIM!
He walks to the deep end of the pool and just tosses me into it in front of everyone.
Once again, I fight and splash and cough and somehow manage to surface. When I get to the side
of the pool, I look at him laughing at me.
I lose it Jou bliksem (You bastard)! Ek sal jou doodmaak (I will kill you!)! The profanity, in
Afrikaans too, just oozes from my mouth without me even thinking. Maybe I swallowed too much
chlorinated water or something to be cursing? To be cursing in Afrikaans?
A hush filled the place. All eyes now on Tarago.
Have I gone too far?
Vyf, he says in surprised, but humble voice, you just spoke Afrikaans, vyf.
I glare at him, my eyes bulging, my breath coming out in spurts.
You just spoke the oppressors language, vyf.
People start to laugh.
Aaarrrggghhh! I scream and get out of the pool. You better sleep with your eyes opened you
son-of-a-bitch!
He just laughs.
Motherfucking arsehole! I will knife you. I promise I will.
His guffawing progresses to some table slapping.
Now we can see your tits! Erika says.
Im wearing a white summer top and a flowing white skirt. Right now, through my top you can
see my breasts and my hardened nipples.
Quickly, I cross my hands over my chest and storm out of the party, Taragos laughter ringing in
my ears. I pause at the entrance to flash him my middle finger.
As I walk to my room, I think about the melt-down I just had what the hell am I turning into?
Im swearing and cussing in Afrikaans, Im making threats I think Tarago is turning me into a mental
case already.
I really need to get my shit together.
No, no, no I need to get out of here.
Now.
Or someones going to die soon.

Chapter Seven
With my room light off, I stand at the window and look at the moonlight bouncing off the water in
the distance. Some other time, I would have found it beautiful, even magical. Not tonight. Tonight Im
furious with everyone in this house. Especially with Tarago.
How dare he let people treat me like that? How dare he call me vyf and allow others to call me
that? Demean me. I am his wife, for crying out loud!
So deep in thought I am, I do not hear him enter my room until he is behind me. He moves aside
my hair and plants a kiss on my neck.
I tense up.
What?
I turn around, almost into him. Dont you dare talk to me like that again, I hiss.
I will talk to you any way I like, he says in an arrogant voice. You are my woman. I paid for
you. I will talk to you any way I want to. He grabs me by the waist to kiss me.
Fuck you! I hiss and shove him away.
He grabs me by the shoulders. I react by sinking my teeth deep into his arm.
Aaarrrggghhh! he screams.
I use the opportunity to dart out of reach. He lunges after me, grabs me by the waist and throws
me onto the bed.
I turn around and lash out my nails raking his face. That doesnt deter him. He doesnt miss a
beat. With a laugh, he moves aside his head.
Hes simply too strong for me to fight him, but that doesnt stop me. As he climbs over me, I try
to knee him in the groin. He simply relaxes into me, using his 64, one hundred or so kilos of body
weight as a strait-jacket.
You fucking asshole, Im not your monkey!
With a chuckle, he simply raises both my hands over my head and puts his face in mine.
With my chest heaving, I glare at him.
Thats what I like about you you dont come easy, vyf. You make me work for it. I like that.
With a snarl, I try to wriggle from under him.
He just laughs. Thats it, vyf? Thats all you have?
I dont answer.
Dont stop now. Youre turning me on. No woman has ever made me fight for her.
I freeze. I dont want to turn him on at all.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I let my head drop to the side.
He holds both my hands with one of his, and uses his other hand to grab my chin and turn my face
to his.
Kyk na my, vyf (Look at me, five).
A tiny headshake from me.
Kyk na my.
Slowly, I open my eyes to look into his which are inches away.
Youre a racist, politically incorrect, inconsiderate, uneducated, offensive arsehole.
He appears to think about it, then says, True. But I like you. He kisses me. I keep my lips
tightly closed.

He uses his tongue to force them apart and kisses me longer and deeper. Youre so sexy when
youre flaming mad, he whispers.
And youre a raving lunatic.
Another short laugh as his lips trail my neck and move towards my breasts. He pulls down the
strap of my nightdress to expose a breast. What turns you on? he whispers as his mouth hovers over
a nipple.
Just just do what you have to do and fuck off, okay?
He sucks on a breast, at the same time, parting my thighs with his knee.
By now, I just want him to finish what he came for and to just leave me the hell alone.
He raises his head to look at me. You know what your problem is? Youve never been
Shaddup! Shaddup! Shaddup! Just shaddup, okay?
foked by a real man. Youve just had boys.
I close my eyes as he tugs off his pants.
He slips his fingers through my hair and kisses me again, his tongue probing my mouth, his hardon trailing my thighs. He pauses to roll down my panties, then tosses it behind him.
Slowly, he runs his hands over my bare hips. So pragtig (So pretty), he whispers.
I gasp, then close my eyes when his hands slips between my thighs.
Look at me.
No, I whisper and keep my eyes shut.
His touch becomes slower, deeper and more invasive. Look at me, vyf.
N no
Okay, time for me to think about Ashwin. Its a way to cope in this situation.
Ashwin, Ashwin, Ashwin
Then suddenly Im almost airborne he flips me onto my stomach and shoves apart my thighs.
He climbs over me and kisses me neck, my shoulders, my back, before he jerks my up hips and
plunges into me, doggy style. I hear his guttural groans of pleasure as he thrusts deep into me.
He reaches over to turn my neck for a deep kiss then slams into me.
It goes on for hours (thats what it feels like) until he explodes inside me. I fall back onto the
bed, with him over me. Gently he lifts up my hair to kiss my neck.
You are amazing, he says.
Get out! I say, my face to the bed.
With a chuckle, he leaves.
****
Blue eyed Suzette is 577, blonde and fortyish. Shes heavy into nautical navy blazer, white
pants, striped navy and white top. Her eyes are heavily lined with bright blue eyeliner, her eye
shadow is shimmering blue, her apricot blush and coral lips are bright and a bit dated. She wears a
lot of chunky gold jewelry and her shoulder-length hair is coiffured.
Good morning, I murmur.
More, she says, a curious look on her face.
When she sees me take a seat at the breakfast table, she pauses with her rooibos tea and her
curious look morphs in to a startled expression. En wat is dit (And what is this?)?
Its Taragos PA, Jooste says with a chuckle. Hes moved her in and she eats with us.
Whaaat?! A look of horror appears on Suzettes face. Nee, nee, nee! That cant happen.

She puts down her Rooibos tea, scrapes back her chair and with a ramrod-straight back,
flounces off in search of Tarago.
I look at Jooste with eyebrows raised.
He grins. Big para (fight) now, I tell you. Suzette wont share her dishes with black people.
Wont even sit at the table with them.
Really now?
And shes got that condition where she has to clean everything ? He snaps his fingers.
Like OCD?
Ja, thats it. Shes like, bang vir (terrified of) germs.
Even though I should be mad at what I just learnt, at her blatant racism, my mind races if
Suzette is unhappy with me being here, and she successfully works on Tarago about that, maybe he
will cave and send me away! And, since he would be the one to breach our agreement, I will leave
with two million rands and be home free. The thought is so deliriously appealing.
Oh, and talking about home free, my house will also be free and paid up. Ha!
Why you smiling?
I put down my cup of coffee and wave dismissively at Jooste.
When we hear loud voices Tarago and Suzettes, my grin widens. Any moment now, I expect
him to burst through that door and tell me to take my things and get lost. At the thought of that, I tingle
with excitement.
Jooste nods, his eyes like slits. I know you want them to fight so you can go home, right?
Wha what do you mean? Im wondering just how much he knows. Ive never discussed
anything with him, but maybe Tarago has. I force a casual shrug and change the subject. Just who is
Suzette?
Shes my sister, Taragos half-sister. Same father, different mothers.
Oh.
My mother was the mistress and we were the loooove-children. He makes a kissing sound.
Really? And you all get on?
Well, our father, he was a bastard. He never cared about us. Paid for us, but never wanted us.
But when he died, Tarago met with us and we became family.
Wow, really?! When did this happen?
Bout ten years ago.
So Tarago is not such a bad asshole after all, I say.
He laughs and shakes his head.
We are interrupted by a stone-faced Suzette storming back into the dining room. She glares at me,
then take her tea, her nautical attire, her blue eye shadow and storms out again, muttering something
about not wanting to dine at the same table as a coolie slut.
Hanlie and Erika enter the dining room at that moment and almost collide with the furious
Suzette.
Erikas bottom lip is dragging and Hanlie has her arm over her shoulder.
Wat maakeer? Jooste asks.
Erika sniffs hard and amps up the injured look on her face.
Hanlie explains that Anneline called Erika dumb and Erika is furious.
Whaaaat? Thats not good, Jooste says. He gets up, goes over to Erika and gives her a hug.
Just before he disentangles himself from her, he gives her breast a quick squeeze. She doesnt seem to
mind.

Im foking smart, Erika says with an air of indignation. I know when to say vagina and when
to say pussy.
I almost choke on my coffee.
Erika has hair the colour of straw and eyes the colour of honey. Her hair is spiraled into curls,
and she has about four earrings per ear. She also has a pieced belly button and a nose ring.
Yes, you are, Hanlie soothes. You have looks and brains. Look at you a rare combination.
Dankie, Hanlie, Erika murmurs. You are a true friend. Then she sits up and sniffs. I am
going to fok up Anneline one of these days. She slams her fist into her palm.
Hanlie nods.
A short while later, Tarago stumbles into the dining room looking disheveled and bleary-eyed.
To my horror, I see scratches on his face and I cringe. Last night shit!
He grunts a greeting to everyone at the table.
What happened to your face? Erika asks.
He touches his face and frowns.
Hanlie thrusts a metal tea pot at him. He peers at his reflection in the teapot, frowns, then slowly
turns his head to look at me. He looks at the teapot again, then at me.
I flame from toe to scalp.
Cut myself while shaving, he says, pushing away the teapot, his eyes still on me.
I dont think anyone at the table buys what hes saying. Not even smart Erika who knows when to
say vagina and when to say pussy.
We all sit in strained silence and I suspect its more to do with nautical-loving Suzettes
unhappiness over having to break bread with black people.
Silently I feel bad that I am the reason for it. I look at Tarago spooning sugar into his coffee. He
pauses and looks at me. What?
Just wondering if youd like me to take me breakfast in my room?
He peers at me with a frown on his face. Why?
Toto avoid upsetting your to avoid upsetting some people with my you know, colour.
With hooded eyes, he glares at me. Hoe jou beck and sit vas. (Shut your mouth and stay put.)
Fine, I mutter. Rude arsehole.
What?
I said, Ja baaaaas.
He glares at my insolence then takes a sip on his coffee.
I ignore him and sit back.
The silence around us remains thick.
Say it again, he says, his eyes on his coffee.
What?
Say Ja baas.
I glare at him. Go fuck yourself, you racist bastard.
A collective gasp can be heard at the table.
He bursts out laughing and slaps the table. After that, the tension at the table is broken and
everyone laughs.
Including myself.
From the corner of my eye, the two witches of Clifton in black and white head-scarves, exchange
a combination of knowing and sneering smiles.

Chapter Eight
Ericka stands in front of the screen and belts away to P.J.Powers Feel so Strong. She has an
okay voice nothing worth giving up her day job for. But from all the karaoke she sings, its evident
she wants to be a pop star. With her good looks, and since she dresses like Madonna, complete with
multiple earrings and a dozen or so of neck chains and pearls, I cant help thinking her battles halfwon. Maybe a good voice coach. A very good one.
Hanlie, who sits next to me at the pool area, doesnt appear to share my sentiment.
Haai, Erika, you sound fantastic, meisie (girl) you are going to be a big star soon.
Erika beams. Dankie, Hanlie.
You are welcome, Hanlie says. I am your number one fan. Maybe I should take your
autograph before you get famous, hey?
Erika darts over to give Hanlie a quick hug.
Now isnt Erika lucky to have a friend like Hanlie? So supportive and with such a generous
spirit. Makes me think of Rheema. I miss her so much. Maybe I should ask Tarago if Rheema can
visit.
Erika tackles another song Substitute by girl band Clout.
Anneline saunters into the pool area, wearing a tangerine string-bikini and large sunshades. She
looks striking and svelte and I cant take my eyes off her.
Oh no! Does this girl ever stop? she asks in an irritable voice.
Nee, Hanlie chuckles and drops her voice. She sounds like a shes chewing gravel, doesnt
she? I dont know how much more I can take of this.
I look at Hanlie with wide eyes.
Strike everything I said about her. Shes a back-stabbing bitch.
Then Tarago dances his way toward Erika. He takes Erikas hand and twirls her around.
When he catches my eye, he puts his hand out to me.
I shake my head.
He jerks back and frowns at me. Then he the glances at the pool.
I point my index finger at him with a dont-you-dare look on my face.
Anneline walks up to him and dances with him. Hanlie joins in and to me it looks like they are
all silently vying for his attention. But the one who wants it most appears to be Anneline.
Thank God for that. At least the heats off me.
Then Jooste arrives and dives into the pool and pretty soon they all in into the pool. I watch him
grab Erikas ass and boobs, then cozy up to Anneline.
But not Hanlie for some reason.
When they sunbathe, they all remove their tops which makes me a little uncomfortable.
But its fascinating to watch Jooste lotion the girls. Especially when he squeezes their boobs.
He looks up and catches me watching him. Do you want me to lotion you? he asks as he
lotions Erikas breasts.
Eh, no thanks, I say.
You sure? he asks, his eyes dropping to my breasts and staying there as he kneads her breasts.
Resisting the urge to cross my hands over my breasts, I shake my head.
We are saved by the entrance of Julia and Charlene bearing different fruit juices and snacks.

They pass drinks to everyone in the pool, then set the rest on the table.
Everyone except me they totally ignore me.
Even though I tell myself it doesnt matter, that they are just maids, and that I dont care what
they think of me and how they treat me, my eyes fill with tears at their meanness.
The irony is that the whites in this looney house are a bit thick and racist for sure I expect it
from them.
However, the black staff or coloured staff are the ones who hurt me most with their blatant
racism and their spitefulness. Their desire to bring me down a peg or three for no reason.
Its so hurtful, I could cry.
While they swim, the sweet and lovely Hanlie gets out of the pool and walks over to me.
Blue-eyed, blonde haired, two-faced Hanlie is not only a sweet bitch, but she is also nosey and
drops secrets at the drop of a hat. Even without a hat dropping, she will sing like a Kookaburra whos
imbibed on fallen fruit.
She probes, wanting to know everything about me. Of course, I am selective in what I say,
mainly because of the confidentially clause I signed with my a-hole of a husband, who is carrying
Erika and Anneline and throwing them behind him into the water as if they are beach balls. When is
he going to grow up? At thirty three, he should have had a wife and kids by now, not living like an
eighteen-year-old.
But I take the opportunity to ask about Tarago, his wealth, his girlfriends, his relationship with
Suzette and Jooste.
See Tarago, he likes guns and he invents a device on gun that he sold to the government and he
makes a lot of geld (money) that way. Then he sells it all over the world, to all the countries and
every month he makes good money from it.
Oh, really now? I thought he inherited his money.
Nee, he was just a arme (poor) farm boy. But he had this She sticks her index finger to her
temple.
I nod.
She drops her voice and leans towards me. I heard that hes doing some big business with the
AWB and he stands to make a lot of money from them too.
I gasp. The AWB in South Africa, is the equivalent of the Klu Klux Klan, and they openly rally
against the lifting of the apartheid law.
My lips turn down with contempt for him. Its 1993 how could he possibly in this day and age
have dealings with people like that?
No wonder he doesnt want anyone to know that were married. Theyd drop him like a hot
potato. What a dirtbag!
Even more disturbing later that afternoon, Tarago sends word with Charlene that hes
entertaining some people and that I dont need to be there.
Im really surprised. Why would he send such a message? Its the first time ever. As I think about
it, I sense that Tarago doesnt want the people hes entertaining to see me.
When the men show up six beefy rednecks speaking loudly in Afrikaans, I pull my
anchorwoman aside. Hanlie who are those men?
AWB manne (men), she whispers. The ones I told you about.
AWBreally?
She nods. Verkrampt. You must not come out here tonight. Unless you put on a maids outfit.
She says it with a short laugh.

Mff.
A verkrampte Afrikaner is a person who fights against any change in liberal trends in
government policy. Especially racial changes which will lift apartheid laws.
I stand at my window and look at him. What a jerk.
Sounds like a great party though. Tarago has invited more girls this evening probably to entertain
his guests.
At that moment, he looks up and sees me. I hold his gaze. He quickly looks away.
After a moment, he looks up again. For a moment I swear he looks flustered and embarrassed.
As I look at him, my lips curl with disgust. Fucking two-faced jerk. Piss-poor morally.
****
About two weeks after my conversation with Hanlie and the party that I was asked to stay out of,
Tarago takes the blondes and me to a business meeting. To my surprise, we meet with an ANC
politician, whose party is in political opposition to the AWB.
The politician, Jaya Singh, cordially welcomes Tarago and the rest of us.
The meeting takes place in English, and Im staggered as to how good Taragos English is.
Fluent. That crap about not-more-than-six-characters and how he prefers to speak Afrikaans as it is
easier a load of rubbish. He was just fucking with my brain, I can tell now.
Then to my utter astonishment, Tarago brings out his cheque book and makes out a cheque to the
ANC.
Entertaining the AWB on one hand, and donating to the ANC on the other two-faced bastard?
You could call him that. In fact, I insist that you do.
Im quiet in the car on the way back home, but the blondes gaggle non-stop. Tarago keeps
looking at me, but I dont look at him or say anything.
The moment we get home, I go to my room and look out the window.
Almost immediately, hes behind me. What?
I turn around to look at him. Window dressing, right?
He cocks his head and looks at me.
You took me there for just for show, right?
He looks up at the ceiling as if hes thinking about his answer. Ja.
Yes! I spit. Speak English. I know you can. I heard you today.
Yeeees! he says. And?
And youre so two-faced giving money to the ANC after entertaining the AWB here?
I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. Have you no scruples?
Scruples? Thats a big word. How any characters? He starts to count on his fingers.
Stop that!
He keeps counting.
I grab both his hands.
He looks at me and tries to suppress a grin.
You a bastard, you know that?
Ja, eh, yes! Yes.
I drop his hands as if it has scabies or something and take a step back.
And do you know what your problem is? You are too hot. You need to go into the pool.
I back away. Dont you dare! I turn around and run out of the room. He chases after me. I had

my hair done today, Tarago!


I run through the kitchen, into the living room, outside the house, around the pool, but he chases
until he catches me then throws me into the pool. This time he jumps into the pool with me.
It took me an hour to do my hair you motherfucker! And my watch this is third fucking watch
you have destroyed! And my shoesaaaarrrggghhh! I get out of the water and storm off once again.
One of these days, you will die and it will be me who kills you.
He grabs his throat with both hands and sticks out his tongue.
I give him the finger. He continues laughing. I give him two fingers.
He laughs harder.

Chapter Nine
My personal chauffeur is Bogas, a pleasant, black man in his fifties. Hes been hired especially
to drive me around in a silver, convertible Merc SLK, similar to the one I made a piata out off.
The sensors on the automatic gates to the entrance of the property allow us to exit without
assistance.
However when we want to enter the property, the security guard, Sipho, a huge, fat, meanlooking, Xhosa-speaking black guy, has to inspect our vehicle before he lets us in. Basic security
checks, which we understand.
Whenever I arrive with Tarago, we are immediately let in amid fanfare.
Whenever I arrive with Bogas, Sipho keeps us waiting.
At first, I assumed that he was busy on the phone or on the walkie-talkie, but after a while, it
becomes clear that he keeps us waiting simply because he just wants to.
Why is he doing this? I ask after waiting for more than five minutes to be let in.
Bogas shakes his head. A power-show, Mejuffro (miss).
Really?
Ja, Mejuffro. He just wants to pull rank, show us that he is in charge.
This goes on for a while, until one day we wait for seven minutes before he lets us in.
Sorry, he says with an insincere smile. Was very busy with some papers. Very important
papers. Veeeery important.
Mff.
Even though Im tight-lipped and fuming, I say nothing, while Bogas nods his thanks.
How I wish I could tell these assholes Julia, Charlene and Sipho who I really am Taragos
wife.
Somethings got to change. I cant take much more of this anymore.
I dont want to.
****
Suzette definitely suffers from OCD. Before she uses any crockery or cutlery, she rinses them out
in boiling water. Then, one-by-one, she inspects all the serving dishes and spoons. Finally, she
inspects her chair before she sits, wipes it down, puts a napkin over it and finally sits down.
Oh, and she only uses the bathroom in her bedroom. Never the ones scattered around the house.
She has a phobia for germs and anyone who doesnt have a white skin. She refuses to swim in the
pool or use the hot tub.
So, its no surprise that she will not break bread with me, a coolie. Shell be seated at the table,
but the moment I walk in, shell take her plate and walk off, muttering something to Julia and Charlene
about giving me a different set of crockery and cutlery to use. Which I notice, they do.
At first I dont give a crap, because its just dishes mainly, but after while, I have to admit that it
sears.
I try really hard to dress my hurt in a coat of arrogance by muttering words like, She needs to
get with the times, but behavior like hers can be soul-destroying.
The blondes seem annoyed with me and jabber away in Afrikaans. Sometimes they speak so fast
that I have difficulty following.

So, vyf, you dont drink, you dont smoke, you dont do drugs, you dont swear were you a
nun in your past life or something? Erika asks in an amused voice.
She swore the other day, someone points out.
I glance at Hanlie. So what?
Weird, she mutters.
And you dont speak Afrikaans Anneline sneers. Shes got liquid green eyes, straight blonde
hair, boobs that dont move when she walks and she is tall and leggy. Thats not on, you know.
Again, I shrug and move food around my plate. Why cant they just leave me alone?
I glance up at Tarago hes got an amused look on his face.
What kind of a PA you picked, Tarago? Erika asks. Fuck, that stick up her arse
She has, she has, Tarago says.
I ignore them all.
But shes got nice tits, Jooste says, his eyes fixed to my chest.
Resisting the urge to hold a dinner plate in front of me and hide my breasts from Jooste and his
fixation with my breasts, I glare at him. Do you mind? Youre being rude.
Anneline jerks back. Do you mind? Where did you learn to speak like that? Do you mind?
Definitely not in Durban. Thats not how the currymunchers speak there.
For sure, for sure, vermuelen says. Those coolies they dont speak so good. Vermuelen is
in his late twenties, brown eyes, sandy hair and bulging muscles. Hes never wears a shirt and hes
only around when there is a party or immediately after a party.
She was educated in the States, I heard, Hanlie says in a scoffing voice. She jerks her thumb
towards the maids, they call her Miss America.
Hey, you said my name there, Erika says. Almost.
Hanlie appears to think about it. Then she nods. You are right. Clever girl.
Oooh, La de da then! Jooste says. He looks at Tarago. Boet (Bro), what was going through
your mind when you chose Mini Ha Ha over here?
Tarago appears to think about his answer. I didnt choose her, he finally says. I lost a game of
cards. Punishment was...I had to take vyf.
Laughter (among some table-slapping) reverberates around the room.
Well, its a good things vyfs not pretty. We dont need any more competition, Erika says and
runs her hand over Taragos thigh.
Tarago smiles. She leans in for a kiss. He obliges.
She is dressed in shorts and a bra with a fishnet top over her bra. In fact, thats the way all the
girls dress around here.
Me, I wear a short denim skirt and a white tank-top. I have little make-up on, but I wear heels.
Mainly because I usually do.
I have to wonder if there is anything going on between the blondes and Tarago. What about the
nights he doesnt visit me? Does he visit them? Take turns?
When I look up, I look into Taragos blue questioning eyes.
Quickly, I look away.
Enough of this crap. I stand up.
Where you going to, vyf? Tarago asks.
I look at him.
He flicks his fingers, motioning me to sit.
Bastard.

Slowly, with my lips a thin line, I sit down. Can you guys not call me vyf, please? I hiss.
You guys heard what vyf said? Tarago asks. From now on, dont call vyf vyf.
A burst of laughter again.
I get so mad, I get up and storm off. He can throw me in the pool, I no longer care.
****
As I lie on my bed, my mind drifts to Ashwin and the last time we spoke.
Before I could tell him about Tarago, my stint in jail and the ridiculous proposal I had received,
Ashwin had exciting news of his own.
Guess what? Got offered a job in London!
London?
Plus twice the amount Im being offered here. Double pay.
Wow! That is fantastic, Ashwin. Double pay, wow! From by whom?
Tarago Jakobus he made me an offer. Isnt that something?
I felt like I was jabbed with a cattle prod. Tarag
And I get two plane tickets every month to fly anyone over to London. I cant leave so they
will have to come over to me!
Tarago?! Him?
Hes is like cool.
Just how do you know Tarago, Ashwin?
Ran into him a couple times when I was waiting to pick you up from work. We talked and he
made me the offer.
Ran into him? That was no coinci
Hows the perks, huh? Flights every month? And my flight is tomorrow. He picked me up and
spun around with me.
Stop! Stop! I cried. Ashwin, what about us?
Its just for a year, Tanin. You can visit me every month, so ?
Wait, wait, wait! Just back up a bit, Ashwin, Tarago Jakobus is just doing this so that he can get
you out of the way so he can get to me. Cant you see it?
He stiffened. Youre saying that I have no merit whatsoever and that its all about you? Not
because he saw my potential? Not because of my hey just when did you develop such a giant- size
ego?
I sighed. Nobody believed me when I told them about Tarago Jakobus and his vendetta against
me.
No, no, no. Its just that look Tarago Jakobus offered me a job twenty grand a month.
Twenty grand? His lips curled in an admixture of disgust and envy. I dont believe you.
Its true. As a PA.
He laughed. A PA? Twenty grand? Thats cant be true, Tanin. Cmon.
Slowly, I rubbed my eyes. I felt like I was losing Ashwin. Id lost so much recently that I no
longer knew which way was up. Obviously Tarago targeted Ashwin.
I put my hand on my boyfriends cheek. Dont take this job, Ashwin, please.
With an annoyed look on his face, he moved back and out of reach.
My heart felt heavy. If I take the job, I cannot be in contact with you for for six months.
Lying was easier. Two years I couldnt bring myself to tell the truth.

What? Why?
Security reasons. I gave a couple of small shrugs.
Tanin, your behavior is attention-seeking and frankly, Im fed-up with you. You really expect me
to believe that Tarago Jakobus wont allow us to talk for six months? His look was sneering.
He was so thrilled with his job offer that he saw nothing else, not even that something was
drastically wrong with me.
I shook my head, then wiped away my tears with the back of my hands. He didnt believe
anything I said, so why bother?
Tanin, Ashwin said, his voice softening at the sight of my tears, six months will fly. After a
year, I will have saved enough money to buy a house and well be really comfortable. I have such an
opportunity right now and like, I have to stay focused. Do what he asks of you and bite the bullet,
baby. He put his arms around me. We can do this, Tan. We can. He kissed my forehead. We have
our whole future ahead. Think of this year as a course that were both doing, and that once we have
done it, well be set for the future have everything weve ever wanted.
I nodded my miserable head.
Look, I know that people say Tarago Jakobus is a racist asshole and that when he wants
something he goes after it, but I only see him doing good things. Hes giving you a great opportunity
too. Grab it, Tanin and do what it takes.
I expected Ashwin to protest about the fact that we werent going to be able to talk to each other,
but he didnt. That hurt more than anything else.
After my conversation with Ashwin, I called Rheema and cried. Rheema was the only one who
knew that I was marrying Tarago and the circumstances surrounding my clandestine wedding. I told
her everything as I needed to tell someone. She could be trusted.
Look, hes probably envious that you are making the same as he will be making, Rheema said.
Men are like that. Give him time.
But its so disappointing to know how little our love means. It should be top priority. How do I
live without him? I expected him to fight for me, to ask me to not to take the job, to refuse his, but I
dunno I just feel like somehow, Im no longer a priority.
Tanin, just think in a short while, Tarago will tire of you and send you home, by then Ashwin
would have saved for your big day and your life will be perfect. Everything will fall into place so
beautifully.
You think? I really needed to believe her. I really needed hope in my hopeless life.
Yes. In the meantime, think about your mother and her treatment, your brothers being able to
study without the stress of fees, your sisters getting a proper education look at how much youre
achieving! Maybe Tarago Jakobus is a bastard, but his silver lining is exactly what you need right
now.
I feel like a prostitute.
Listen, arranged marriages, marriages of convenience take place all the time. For less. Thats
all it is a marriage of convenience.
Mm. But its scary. I dont know if this guy is kinky or what. I hope he doesnt ask me to call
him daddy or want me to tie him up.
She laughed. Or wants to wear your underwear.
I laughed at the thought of Tarago in womens underwear.
When I hung up with Rheema, I was feeling a little lighter.
I never even got to say goodbye to Ashwin and for that I feel cheated. But what surprises me is

that Ashwin never really tried to make contact with me. I was afraid that wed have to duck and dive
to see each other behind Tarago Jakobuss back, but that wasnt necessary Ashwin appeared to be
very happy and content with his new life. My bitterness with Ashwins behavior, was overshadowed
only by my hatred for Tarago.
As I lie in the dark and look at the patterns of light on the ceiling, I think about Ashwins smile,
his naked body over mine, his tongue in my mouth, the way he calls my name and I ache for him.

Chapter Ten
I jerk back at the sight of so many guns in one room.
Tarago and Jooste are surrounded by about twenty guns that they appear to be cleaning. To see so
many 9 mm, shotguns and revolvers makes me nervous.
Are you an arms dealer or something? I ask, taking a step back.
No, just legs and thighs, Tarago says with a straight face. And tits.
He doesnt laugh, neither do I.
And arse, Jooste adds with a small laugh.
The blondes enter.
Oh, can we clean too? Erika asks as if theyre playing a game of cards. Please, please,
please!
Sure, Tarago says.
Were going to the rifle range, Tarago says to me. I want you to come with.
No, thank you.
Why not?
I dont like guns, dont believe that they are useful in any way.
Everyone looks at me, then pack up laughing.
Youve never fired before? Tarago asks an incredulous look on his face.
No.
If you live with me, you have to know how to use a weapon.
Mff.
Or you can be dumped into the pool. You choose.
He stands up and starts moving his feet like a bull does before it charges.
Tarago, stop! I say.
He puts his fingers to his head to form horns and continues working his feet like bull.
I look at the pool, then look at him.
Okay fine! I snap.
He stops and returns to gun cleaning.
Grudgingly, I have to admit, I have fun at the gun range. Tarago stands behind me, helps me aim,
corrects my stance and makes me fire. I feel powerful as I hit the target what a rush.
He gets me to fire a 9mm, a shotgun and a revolver. Teaches me how to cock to, about recoil and
firing stance, about gun safety...
You dont have to be afraid of a gun, he explains. Be afraid of the person holding it.
Like you?
With a short laugh, he kisses the back of my neck and presses his hips into my butt. Ja, he
whispers, running his hand around me and squeezing my boobs, always be afraid of me. Im a
bastard.
Oh, I could tell you that, I say, pushing him off me. Careful, someone might see you trying to
fuck a chick thats not white.
To my disappointment, he actually looks around and drops his arms.
What a bastard. What a racist bastard.
But in the end, I wont forget the rush I got when I fired those weapons.

****
I see my family every Sunday afternoon from 10 AM till 9 PM. I take my mother shopping, pick
up my gran from her nursing home to spend the day with us, have dinner with the family, then drop off
my gran again at the nursing home and head back to my tormentors home in Clifton.
I look forward to my mothers home cooked meals of curry and rice and pickles and all things
Indian. I miss all of it so much, that I dive into her pots the moment I arrive home.
My mother, for the first time in months looks healthy courtesy of the regular treatment she is
getting. Her face is not puffy and she has energy. That makes me believe that all that I go through at
Clifton Manor is worth it.
Ralph my brother studying criminal law and Sergie my brother studying telecommunications
technology, are doing well with their studies and are thrilled to see me.
My sisters are getting good grades so I cant complain about much, even their short skirts.
When I see how happy and relaxed they all are, I feel that I did the right thing by accepting my
tormentors fucked up proposal.
My uncle Anand, who is my fathers brother, and his wife, Aunt Saras, who is my mothers
younger sister, usually visit every Sunday afternoon mainly to see me.
Uncle Anand became a father-figure when my father was thrown in prison. He and Aunt Saras
has been our familys mainstay and we do very little without consulting them first.
Uncle Anand hates Whites with a passion and is very vocal about it.
Today, at the dinner table, he scoffs at the fact that the Nobel Peace Prize was given to both de
Klerk and Mandela. Then he scoffs at the fact that my employer is white. Then he scoffs at, well
everything concerning the white man. His bitterness knows no bounds.
As he speaks, my brothers and sisters hang on to his every word.
Enough politics, Aunt Saras says with a smile and turns to me. How are things going at
work?
Not bad, I say.
They go on to ask questions about my life and my boss. My answers are short and vague.
I dont tell them about obnoxious Tarago who visits almost every night and about his voracious
sexual appetite.
I dont tell them that when Tarago fucks me at night, I pretend its Ashwin grunting on top of me.
I dont tell them about how I am the butt of all jokes all the times by the whites.
I dont tell them that the people who treat me with utter disrespect because of my colour, are
actually black, not white which is by far, the most confusing thing to me.
I dont tell them that Im confused that Tarago has not tired of me yet considering that his record
is seven days.
Im not going to allow him inside the house, my gran says. He hasnt come home in three days
and now he thinks he can just walk in like nothing happened? Thats not going to happen.
We roll our eyes and nod. Grans talking about my grandpa. Gran has schizophrenia and a touch
of Alzheimers. A lethal combination. We are used to her paranoia and ramblings, so we just nod in
agreement.
After all, grandpa died fifteen years ago.
She turns her eighty-nine-year-old neck to glare at Lucky, our maid of five years. Lucky is a Zulu
speaking maid who hails from Durban. She lives in with us and is very much part of the family.

Why is the girl sitting at our table? Gran whispers in a harsh voice.
Gran, stop! I say, shocked and embarrassed at her behavior. Its like deja vu Suzette and me
at Clifton Manor. Funny, Ive never really noticed my grans behavior before must be something to
do with my new-found sensitivity to racism.
I look at Lucky. She looks really embarrassed and a little pissed off, even though shes used to
my grans eccentric behavior.
And shes using the same dishes as us!
Gran stop! I say.
She looks at me. They must know their place, she says. You are spoiling them.
I whirl to look at my mother. Ma, do something!
What? my mother says. Lucky knows not to take notice of her.
Thats it? Thats my mothers response to my grans horrible behavior? Im appalled.
Ma! Thats not good enough.
Everyone turns to look at me as if Im crazy, as if Im making too big a deal about nothing.
Suddenly, I feel helpless and tears threaten. I think Im more mad at myself that I never saw this
before, never realized how hurtful this behavior was.
How could I have been that way?
I turn to my gran. Stop it.
Gran pushes back her chair, gets up and walks into the kitchen. She returns with a plastic plate
and cup and gives it to my mother. She must eat in this, not our dishes.
My mother takes the plates, puts it aside and continues as normal.
MA! I hiss.
My mother gives me a what-do-you-want-me-to-do look.
I sigh.
Two days ago, money was missing from my purse, Gran whispers loudly. I know it was the
girl. Nobody else was around, only the girl.
There is a collective groan at the table.
Ma, two days ago, you were in the nursing home, my mother says. She wasnt My mother
sits back and looks at Lucky, an apologetic look on her face. Dont pay any attention to her, Lucky.
Lucky nods, but I see the hurt in her eyes. More importantly, I feel her hurt been there, done
that, got the wound, all courtesy of Suzette.
I reach over and touch Luckys hand. You are part of our family, Lucky. My gran doesnt
understand this. Shes ill. So dont worry, okay?
Yes, she says attempting a smile.
And thats my gran. Sadly, we simply cannot wait to send her back to the nursing home. Eat up,
Gran, I say. I have to take you back soon.
As she eats, she throws angry glares at Lucky.
And that ruins dinner at my mothers house.
How can I be angry at Suzette when bigotry is rife among my own family members?
****
While at my mothers house, I think about the credit card in my wallet which I have never used.
I remove it from my purse and inspect it. Wonder what would happen if I tried to use it.
Using my mothers Toyota, I drive down to the shops in Cavendish Square. With sweaty palms I

walk into a boutique, pick out two dresses and hand them to the teller with Taragos credit card.
Then, as if the card is stolen or something, I hold my breath and brace myself for their reaction
when the card doesnt work. Brace myself for being an idiot to believe that Tarago will give me
unlimited access to his bank account.
I dont even bother to try on the dresses.
A few moments later, the teller smiles as she places the dresses in the bag. Enjoy your
purchases, she says in a mechanical voice.
It worked! Still not believing it, I hurry out of the store, clutching the bag with the dresses.
The dresses are beautiful and they would look lovely on Lima and Shyna. Were the same size so
I know what fits.
With a smile, I walk in a mens boutique and pick out some spiffy threads for my brothers. They
really need clothes.
I hand the card to the teller and hold my breath. Again, to my absolute delight, it works.
Thrilled, I buy a cardigan for my mother, a shawl for my gran and a pair of sneakers for Lucky.
All stuff they need.
Then clutching my bags, I race back home and present each person with their stuff. They are
thrilled and I am so excited. It feel like its Christmas.
What did you buy yourself? Shyna asks.
I look at her and suddenly, it dawns on me that I didnt buy myself anything.
Why? Lima asks.
I shrug. My happiness comes from seeing the happiness on my familys face.
I wait all week for Avraham or Hettie to confront me about the money I spent. But nothing. I can
hardly wait for next Sunday.
The following Sunday, I head to the shops before I go home. This time I double my purchases
fancy underwear for my sisters, nightwear for my mother, a fluffy gown and slippers for my gran,
jeans for my brother, some new towels for Lucky and a smart new hat for Bogas, my driver.
But this time, I buy myself a thick, gold chain. My plan is to acquire jewelry which I figure I can
sell in times of need, like when I need money for my mothers treatment.
****
When Hettie arrives to talk to me, I think about the credit card and tense up.
I have been having fun with the card. Pity all good things
Hettie and I sit across each other at the pool area.
The reason for this informal meeting, tannin, is that I just wanted to touch base and see how
youre doing.
Im doing okay, Hettie. Under the circumstances.
Tarago treating you well?
Yeah, hes given all that he said he would, and I have been cooperative too. Im sure he told
you that.
Except for the scratches on his face?
I crimson under her gaze. I I Damn Tarago for mentioning it.
She laughs. I think you are just what Tarago needs. A woman who isnt afraid to kick his arse.
He showed those scratches to me with so much pride as if they were tattoos or bullet wounds.
Did he now?

How is everyone else treating you?


I fall silent for a few moments as I think about Julia and Charlene and how mean they are too me.
In fact, as I think about it, tears fill my eyes.
What is it? Suzette?
I shake my head. Suzette is a bitch, but I can handle her, but the servants, they are so mean to
me.
What? The servants? The coloured people? You must be joking.
I look at her. What do you ?
You are lady of the manor, Tanin. Fire their arses if you need to. Tarago wont care. He just
wants you to be happy and keep scratching him.
Fire them? You mean I can do that?
Sure. You are his Two fingers of both hands in the air, PA. You can do anything around
here. Even tell Suzette to voetsak (get lost).
Really?
She nods and stands up. Youre a big girl now, Tanin. Youre a married woman act like one.
She taps my shoulder. The only person you need to worry about is Tarago. Keep him happy and all is
well.
When she leaves, I remain where I am and ponder her words.
I smile when I think of how I can wield the power I have been given.
Suddenly, my day is brighter.
Then I remember that she never brought up the credit card.
My day is even brighter. Time to go shopping!
This time Im taking my family with. Even my gran, pain in the butt that she is.

Chapter Eleven
I pace as I think about what exactly I will say to Tarago. Hes not going to be happy to know that
Ashwin wants to visit me, but I have to do this.
Ashwin said to Rheema that it was important he see me. Rheemas presence would be a sort of
decoy so that Tarago wouldnt get mad about Ashwin visiting.
To soften up Tarago I am nice to him. I smile and laugh at his dumb jokes and I dont yell at him
once.
I put on a really tight white top that strains across my breasts and shows the imprint of my
nipples, long skirt with a thigh-high slit and heels.
Finally, I knock at his room door and saunter in.
He appears surprised to see me. Yes, what do you want? His voice is abrupt yet he has a glint
in his eyes.
Tilting my head and with a seductive smile, I say, Ek verlang na jou (I miss you).
To see Ashwin, I will speak to the oppressors language.
Oh, really now?
As I walk, I realize that he has never once invited me into his bed. He always comes to mine but
hes never asked me to his.
I walk over and sit on his bed.
He follows my every move and watches me in silence.
I pat the bed next to me.
He ambles over and sits next to me, then pushes me onto my back and climbs over me.
I allow him a deep kiss before I gently push him away. Trying to push him away is like trying to
push away an eighteen-wheeler.
I have something to ask you. I say as I gently wipe away lipstick from his lips with my thumbs.
What is it?
I wipe some more lipstick. Rheema, my friend wants to visit.
Thats fine, he says and sticks his hand between my thighs.
With Ashwin.
He stiffens and looks at me. When he tries to remove his hand from between my thighs, I clamp
my thighs together, preventing him from doing so.
Please?
He looks at me, his eyes hardening a bit.
I part my thighs slightly. He removes his hand, hops to his feet and walks away to the other end
of the room. I prop myself up on my elbow and keeping my thighs apart, I look at him.
Please?
Is that why youre being so nice to me? He sounds hurt, disappointed.
No, I say in a voice unconvincing even to me. But I really would like to see them and I
promise I will not touch him, and I will meet him outside the pool area so you can watch. I promise.
Silence.
I get to my feet, walk over to him and stand right in front of him. Ive asked you for nothing so
far, so please.
He rubs his chin as his eyes fall to my breasts.

I nibble on my lower lip.


Fine, but I want them out of here before the party starts.
Thank you! I cry. Theyll be out before the party, I
He grabs me, pushes me against the wall and kisses me hard. He literally tears off my skirt,
before he pulls down my panties and fights off his belt buckle.
Im still on my feet when he shoves his erection into me.
I own you, he says between thrusts.
Today, I will do nothing to make him mad or he may change his mind about Ashwins visit.
Oh yeah?
He winds the fingers of both hands through my hair, as his thrusts increase in intensity. Unusually
harsh and even rough, territorial.
With a smile, I close my eyes and picture Ashwin inside of me, twitching and pulsating.
He pushes up my top to free my breasts and takes a nipple in his mouth.
Finally he grabs my hips and thrusts hard until he explodes.
You didnt have to rip my skirt, I say as I straighten my clothes.
He shrugs, defiant look on his face.
****
I rush into my room and start to prepare for their visit. My biggest challenge how the hell do I
kiss Ashwin without Tarago seeing?
The thought of kissing Ashwin makes me shiver with anticipation.
I style my hair, put on make-up, dress in a sexy black number that will be suitable for the party
tonight, freshen my breath and smile at the mirror.
What are you smiling at?
I spin around to look at Tarago. He leans against the entrance of the doorway, arms folded across
his chest, a sullen look on his face.
I frown. Nothing.
Because of medium shirt? That idiot?
I dont answer.
His eyes sweep over me. Why you dressed like that?
I look at my dress then at him. Like how?
The doorbells goes.
My eyes grow large with excitement. Theyre here. I hold up my index finger. You behave,
okay? No racial jokes?
Mff. He has a look of distaste on his face.
No time to handle his childish behavior I run down the stairs to Ashwin and Rheema.
Hey, you guys! I give Rheema a hug and a kiss, but I say hi to Ashwin, resisting the urge to
throw my arms around him and kiss him. He may be medium shirt, but hey, he looks so good, Id give
anything for a hug.
This place is beautiful, Ashwin says as I usher them to the pool area. So cool.
Rheema says nothing. She seems intimidated by the surrounding and when I follow her eyes, I
see Tarago on his balcony smoking and checking us out. Damn him for putting a damper on my
evening!

Ignore him, I whisper as I hand them champagne.


Rheema declines, but Ashwin accepts. She even refuses the platters of cheese and other snacks I
had specially prepared for them.
You look good, I whisper to Ashwin. Handsome.
To my surprise, he shifts around and runs the tip of his tongue over his lower lip several times.
As if hes nervous.
An awkward silence follows. Come to think of it, we have had a few since they arrived. Maybe
meeting here was not such a good idea after all.
Tanin, theres something I have to tell you, Ashwin says.
When I see the frown lines on his face, I cock my head and look at him. What is it, Ashwin?
I I got He vigorously rubs his forehead. Tanin, I got married yesterday.
Whaaaa?!
I look at him and frown. What ?
He blows out his cheeks and runs his fingers through his hair. It is then that I see the wedding
band.
I gasp.
He nods. Im sorry, Tanin.
A short silence follows.
Can this be a joke? Like is it April Fools day or something?
Ashwin, to whom?
He slowly rubs the back of his neck.
Ashwin, I repeat, to fucking whom?
When he wont answer, I look at Rheema. Her eyes are filled with tears.
Im pregnant, Rheema says.
What?! I seem to be saying a lot of this today. Suddenly, reality the bitch, she bites. He
married YOU?
Nobody answers. I leap out of my chair and look at them, as things crystalize.
Are you fucking SERIOUS?!
Tanin, stop! Ashwin says.
Stop? Me? Are you out of your fucking minds?
Do you have to use such language? he asks. Its so unladylike?
Youre worried about me being unladylike?
I jab all my fingers into my hair and turn around several times as I try to get my mind around this.
I cant.
None of this makes sense. My best friend is pregnant with my boyfriends child. Bet it will
spook even the sanest of persons.
When did this happen? I ask, my eyes darting between the two of them.
Rheema looks at the ground, while Ashwin glances up at me, then quickly looks away.
Look at me, Rheema! I say. I deserve the truth! Im so upset and angry that I dont care that
everyone can hear.
She lifts her gaze to meet mine. I see pain her eyes. I know my friend well enough to know that
she feels bad about this. Butshe stole from me. Ex-friend, now.
Around the time you hooked up with Tarago, Tan.
Hooked up? Hooked up, Rheema? How the hell can you use those words? Dont you remember
my anguish at his ...his obsession?

She doesnt answer, just nibbles on her lower trembling lip.


Did you two get married? Ashwin asks.
No, I lie.
Ashwins head jerks to look at Rheema.
Thats a lie! Rheema says. She is married.
I flash my ring finger. Can you see a ring on it?
Ashwin suddenly has a confused look on his face.
I look at Ashwin, the man I love with all my heart. You you Ashwin, you promised to wait
for me. You told me that you said that we both you said, you promised and I believed
I start to cry.
He jumps to his feet and tries to put his arms around me. I shrug him off and take a giant step
away from him. Shes carrying your child, Ashwin.
My hands start to shake. That was supposed to be my baby, Ashwin. One boy and one girl. The
third can be a girl, remember? Thats what we discussed.
I look up and see Tarago, watching me, drink in hand. Hes probably seen everything, but I no
longer care.
Get out of here! I say in a low, hoarse voice.
Tanin, please! Ashwin says, reaching out for me. Im not sure, but I think he has tears in his
eyes.
I take another step back and look at the ground. Ill see you guys out, I mutter.
They exchange what-can-we-do looks and follow me to the door.
Ashwin tries one last time to talk to me. Tanin
I hold up my hand. Save it. Nothing you can say will change how my heart feels, Ashwin.
I shut the door behind them and remain where I am. I dont even try to wipe away my tears they
flow down my cheeks and collect under my chin.
When I do turn around, I look up into Taragos face. The way he looks at me tells me that hes
aware of everything probably heard my conversation.
I brush past him and his glass of whisky and run up to my room, where I stand in front of the
window in the dark and look out at the lights on the water.
I want to die.
Life without Ashwin. What hope is there? I want to curl into a ball and die.
I lie on the bed and let the hot tears soak my pillow. Why didnt I see this? How could I not
have? Where is Rheemas loyalty?
How could Ashwin have destroyed all our dreams? Is that why he wasnt fazed about taking the
position in London? So he could fuck around without me knowing? I have so many questions. Without
undressing I climb under the covers.
After tossing and turning for hours, I finally fall asleep.
When I open my eyes, I look at the clock on the wall 03:42.
Tarago didnt call last night.
Then the memories of betrayal deluge over me and my tears return with a vengeance.
What do I tell my family about Ashwin and I?
What do I tell my family about my sister from another mother, Rheema? We are related second
cousins who meet at family functions how do I handle the shame of being dumped? Everybody knew
that Ashwin and I were going to get married.
We were Tanin and Ashwin, not just Tanin. Our names went together like Bonnie and Clyde.

I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling as tears snake down the sides of my face and collect in my
ears and soak my hair. Im a mess. Inside and outside.
At around nine, there is a light knock at the door. Before I can answer, Tarago walks in with a
breakfast tray. How the hell does he always know when Im awake? Its eerie. And its the first time
hes ever entered my room in the morning.
In a childish gesture, I quickly pull the covers over my tear-stained and mascara-streaked face.
He sits on the bed and slowly rolls down the covers to look at me. Hes not smiling for once.
I avert my eyes.
He tilts my chin to look at him.
They are not worth it, he says in Afrikaans.
I say nothing. Hes the reason all this happened and now hes trying to comfort me?
I should be angry at him, but Im not at the anger stage as yet. Im still at shock and disbelief.
Knowing me, anger will appear in all her finery pretty soon, but not just yet.
I want to go home to visit my family, I say in a hoarse voice.
He nods. When?
Later on this evening.
And you will be back tonight?
I nod. I know that hes worried I will try to make contact with Ashwin.
Bogas will drive you there and back. He will wait for you, okay?
I nod.
Now have some breakfast.
Just coffee, I say.
He hands me a cup of coffee and watches me drink it. Watches my tears slide down my cheeks
and into my cup of coffee.
Around five that afternoon, I get dressed and try to handle my messed up hair. I place ice-packs
over my swollen eyelids and swallow a few headache pills.
At around 6 PM, Im dressed and ready to leave.
But I dont leave.
I lie in my bed fully clothed and stare at the wall. I dont want to leave my room. I dont want to
talk to anyone, I dont want to pretend to be okay, because Im not.
Rheema and Ashwin plan to marry in three months time. Ashwins the only child, so his
wedding will be huge.
My bitterness mushrooms.
Tanin? Wat maakeer? (Whats going on?)
I was so deep in thought, I didnt hear Tarago enter.
Quickly I wipe my eyes and turn to look at him.
Bogas wag vir jou (Bogas waits for you).
Yes, I know, but, Tarago, I cant make it. I I just dont have the energy to go. Can you tell him
that? Tell him Im sorry for messing him around.
He stares at me for a few moments before he walks to the door and shouts out to Bogas. Then he
returns and sits on my bed.
He strokes my hair. I let him.
I need to be alone, I whisper.
He nods and reluctantly leaves.
The next day he returns with a gift box.

A little present for you, he says.


I eye the prettily wrapped box.
Go on, open it.
Reluctantly, I open it and find a chunky gold bracelet with rubies, sapphires and diamonds. Its
not something I would ever buy for myself. More Suzettes style.
But he takes it and slips it around my wrist.
Thank you, I say wondering how much its worth. Ive been buying jewelry for myself on a
regular basis for the future. My nest egg, so to speak.

Chapter Twelve
Its three days later when I finally visit my family. Bogas hangs around and waits for me as
instructed by Tarago.
So youre okay with it, then? my mother asks, her eyes scanning my face.
Yeah, sure! I say in what I hope is a spritely voice. Reaching for a biscuit prevents me from
meeting her eyes. I take a bite of the biscuit then put it down.
I cant eat.
My mother always said that a mother knows her children, and I fear that she sees my hurt and
stresses quietly over it. I really dont want that because of her health.
My sisters and brothers sit quietly and say little. I can tell Im not fooling them.
They loved Ashwin too, so they too are experiencing a sense of loss and betrayal.
Theyve invited us to their wedding, my sister Lima says.
Wha what do you ?
She leaves the room and returns with a wedding invitation.
With my heart beating like a bongo drum, I accept the invitation.
Its white with gold printing, simple, but classy.
As I read the tears fall. I can do little to stop my heart from breaking. It just splinters in front of
my family.
My mother takes me in her arms where I bawl unabashedly. Everyone cries with me.
No man is worth it, Tanin, my mother says. You get up, dust yourself and be happy and if you
cant, just fake it till you make it.
I nod slowly.
Because you will. Trust me, you will. You are Tanin. You will rise above this in record time.
I dont know if I can say that I feel better after that display of emotion in front of my family, if it
was cathartic as such, but I can tell that my shock and disbelief has finally morphed into anger.
As Bogas drives me back to my gilded cage, I am seething. I will be expected to join all
Taragos boozy mates once again tonight and it pisses me off.
How dare Tarago put me through all this because of his obsession of me? Doesnt he realize that
I lost the man I loved because of him?
My hatred of him soars as I think about all my hopes and dreams being crushed because of some
moronic, racist bastard.
When I arrive at the house, the party is on again. I walk straight up to the bar. Tequila please.
I down it without bothering with the salt.
Another please.
Six shots in less than an hour and Im not even drunk.
I know that Tarago is watching me, but I dont even look at him or bother to talk to anyone.
If looks could kill, Tarago would be dead by now, a guy Ive never met before says.
And that would make me very happy, I say, as I sip on I dont know, some drink that was
placed in front of me.
You really dont like him, do you?
I look at the guy next to me. Come to think of it he looks familiar. He has short, sandy brown
hair and grey-blue eyes. Hes tanned and muscular with an eyebrow piercing and a scar above his

right eyebrow. Ive seen him around but Ive never spoken to him before.
I shake my head from side to side. Hes a vark (pig).
Scar laughs. You sound funny when you speak Afrikaans.
Mff. If I had a rand for every time someone said that to me, Id have a lot more money than vark
(pig).
Actually, talking about money, youd be a very rich lady if he died.
I look at him. What do you ?
You will inherit everything since you are his widow.
I blink rapidly. How does he know that we are married? Maybe Tarago told him.
I know someone who can help you, he says.
Oh?
All your problems will be gone for twenty grand upfront.
Thats it? All my problems vanish for just twenty grand? I make that a month with the
allowance Tarago gives me.
He nods. Twenty grand upfront, and ten million rands when you inherit. Want me to arrange it?
I laugh my butt off. Ten million rands? Are you fucking nuts? Do you really think I will have that
much money if the motherfucker dies? I knock back my drink.
Youll have a hundred million and more. He gets royalties from governments around the world
when any of his devices are sold.
Get the fuck out of here, I say with a laugh. One hundred million. Youre nuts.
And if Im not? I get ten million?
I squint at him. Suuuuure, I finally say. Ill double it if I get one hundred million. I will give
you tweny mill.
Okay, but twenty grand down. Now.
I turn to face him. You know what, I more than anyone else would love to see that imbecile
dead. But I dont have twenty grand right now so unfortunately, he gets to live. So sorry.
That will do, he says. I follow his eyes to the gold and diamond bracelet given to me by
Tarago a week ago.
I run my fingers slowly over it. A very expensive monitoring device.
I have no idea what its worth.
About ten grand, he says. And its insured. Tarago can replace it like that! He snaps his
fingers.
I look at him, then open the clasp and slide it over to him.
He surreptitiously pockets it and disappears.
I get up and to my surprise Im stumbling around. I make it to my bedroom where I pass out fully
clothed.
****
Its been two weeks since I was dumped by my ex and betrayed by my best friend. The hurt
lingers. To clear my mind, I go to the edge of the cliff, sit on a huge boulder and stare at the water.
The tears dont come as often these days and sometimes a whole minute goes by when I dont
think of my boyfriend and my best friends upcoming nuptials.
When I dont think about the surprise on peoples faces when they see Rheemas name where
mine should have been.

When I dont think about the questions my mother would have to answer from needling relatives.
When I dont think about the looks of sympathy I would get from people who think Ashwin is a
great catch.
Unfortunately bitterness is like new Velcro it fastens around my heart and wont let go.
Tarago appears next to me, whisky glass in one hand, wine glass in the other. Without a word, he
offers me the wine glass.
I accept it, without looking at him, then give the water my attention.
He sits beside me. Why you so mad at me?
Other than that youre a pig? I take a sip of my wine and bestow him a generic smile.
Of course, he doesnt smile back.
Maybe its because you caused me to lose my boyfriend whom I loved very much. And in the
process I lost my best friend too. You engineered it so, that I lost them like that. I snap my fingers.
How can I not be mad at you and want to kill you, huh?
Mff. I did you a favor, Tanin. He was cheating on you with two of your friends.
My head jerks to look at him. What?! Two? Which other friend? And how do you know all
this?
The girl with the spikey He touches his hair.
I cock my head and look at him. The girl with the Alison? Thin ?
Ja, thats the one.
You serious?
He nods. When you were not working, hed pick her up. I watched him all the time.
I stare at my drink for a few moments as I digest his words. Then I look up at him. You are such
a liar, Tarago Jakoooobus. Ashwin loved me. He didnt cheat on me. I scramble to my feet and look
at him, eyes blazing. You are such a goddamn liar. Youre just a trouble maker. You saw how much
we were in love and you decided that you wanted that too. Jealousy thats what it was. Pure
jealousy. And you didnt care who you hurt in the process.
He shrugs. Okay. He takes a sip of his whisky.
He did not cheat with Alison. He missed me and hehe well, my absence, it drove him into
the next best me Rheema, my friend.
If you say so.
I say so. For a few moments I glare at him, before I turn around and stomp off.
Okay! he calls out to me. You should pay her a visit sometimes. If you can handle the truth.
I pause, spin around to glare one more time at him, before I walk away.
If I can handle the truth. Mff!
****
Been waiting for more than an hour for her.
I am prepared to wait all day if I have to. I need to know. No matter how much it hurts, Im the
type that has to know.
I time it such that I bump really hard into her.
Sorry! I cry. So sorry. Then I look into the face of the woman I bumped and gasp. Alison!
Oh my God, its you! I smile. How are you? Lovely to see you again.
Hey, Tanin, good to see you again. Howve you been?
Im good, Im good, I say. Its been a while, right?

Yeah. Months.
I touch her arm. Hey, you wanna grab a coffee? Ive got about ten minutes. My treat.
Before she can protest, I lead her into a nearby coffee house.
We make some small talk, before I bring up Ashwin. Hes getting married in less than three
months, I say. Lucky me, I escaped the noose. Big laugh.
She laughs too and I notice her shoulders relax.
He was such a cheat! I say as I spoon sugar into my coffee. But then, I know that you too were
a victim here, so I pause to throw out my hands.
Ja, thats true. He lied to me. Told me that you and him were in an open relationship, and thats
why I bothered with him. Told me all the things I wanted to hear and I trusted him.
Tarago was right after all. Fuck!
I feel like I just swallowed a roll of sandpaper.
I spoon more sugar into my coffee and nod my head as she talks.
I really like him, you know. Made me feel special. Talked about me meeting his family. He even
sent me a ticket to visit him in London not long ago.
He sent you a ticket toto London?
Ja, and it was a wonderful long weekend. Hey, thats a lot of sugar you take in your coffee.
I quickly put down my spoon.
It was cold in London, so we spent most of the day in bed.
I feel my hackles rise and I struggle to get my facial muscles to resemble a smile.
We got wasted on champagne and
As she talks I zone out. Who the hell was Ashwin?
Why didnt I take the time to look at him and see him for who he really was?
How could I have missed this about him?
How many other girls were laughing behind my back?
When I leave Alison, I give her a hug and promise to stay in touch.
I would love to walk over to Ashwin and take a baseball bat to his face. And his car. And his
nuts. Really I would.
Bastard!
****
Seeing Alison is not enough -- I need answers from Ashwin. I need to see him and confront him.
I feel like I didnt do and say and ask enough the last time I saw him and Rheema. I need to see him.
But how?
Tarago wont let me, I know that for sure.
Deciding that its worth a try asking, I go in search of my tormentor and find him at the pool area,
shirtless and engrossed in the sports section of the newspaper.
With folded arms, I lean against the door and watch him for a while.
He must have seen Ashwin from his throne at the restaurant and realized that this guy was
messing me around. I must have looked like a total fool. When I think of how I used to run down to
Ashwin and how he used to scoop me up and swing me around and tell me how I was worth sitting in
the dark waiting for me
What a goddamn fool I was.
Tarago probably senses me looking at him, because he looks up from his paper at me.

Slowly he lowers the paper.


I walk over and flop into a chair across him.
His gaze is questioning.
I went to see Alison.
His eyebrows shoot up.
I nod. She confirmed what you said.
He turns out his palms in a there-you-go gesture.
I look away, uncomfortable with the knowledge that he was right and I was wrong.
En toe? (And now?)
I shrug. Id like answers.
From?
Ashwin.
His jaw sets. And what would that achieve?
I shrug. Closure? To a degree maybe?
Forget it, he says and lifts up the paper again, blocking out my face.
I hop out of my seat, grab a patio chair, place it in front of Tarago and straddle it.
After a moment he lowers his paper and looks at me, then at my crotch. Im wearing a skirt, of
course you can see my panties.
His eyes travel up to my face. Holding his gaze, I inch my thighs apart. His eyes flit between my
crotch and my face.
If I see him anywhere near you, I will shoot him and you, he says in English.
I roll my eyes. When I look at him again, his eyes are serious.
Fine! I say and get up from my chair. Obviously sex didnt cut it this time.
He buries his head in his paper again.
I help myself to a glass of orange juice from a nearby table.
As I sip on it, an evil thought enters my mind. I remove my shoes, creep behind Tarago and
empty the glass of orange juice and ice on his head and all over his newspaper.
Then I run and hide inside the broom cupboard. I hear his loud footsteps and him asking
for me. My smile is genuine. My first smile since I got dumped by Ashwin.

Chapter Thirteen
My disbelief over Ashwin and Rheemas betrayal, Ashwins cheating on me with so many other
women has morphed into full blown anger. Im sullen, snappy and I no longer care. About anything.
It shows, so Im hassled at the lunch table.
So are you still crying over that nice Indian chappie? Hanlie asks, peering at my face.
Great, everybody knows now. Wonderful.
I once went on a date with a nice Indian chappie, Anneline says. He was sweet. Spent money
like crazy on me.
Erika nods. I wouldnt mind a nice Indian chappie
My head jerks up to look at them. Why the hell do you have to use the words Indian and
chappie in the same goddamn SENTENCE ?
Everyone stops to look at me.
My voice sounds shrill and strange like it belongs to someone else.
I think Ashwins upcoming marriage, his multiple counts of infidelity and the betrayal by Rheema
has left me on a precipice.
Through my fog of disappointment, I can tell that my mental stability right now is questionable.
Surprised looks are exchanged.
And nice? Really? Is that how you see him? Nice? Cos hes not nice at all! Hes a fucking
jerk!
Some of them look to Tarago for fuck knows what.
As for crying over him why are you guys so fucking nosey? Its my private life.
Suzette rushes into the dining-room to see what the commotion is all about.
Hey! she snarls. Hoe jou bek (shut your mouth)!
I give her the finger.
Her jaw drops. She spins her head to look at Tarago in a did-you-see-that? look.
He grins and sits back ready to be entertained.
I think its the curry powder shes eating, Anneline mutters. Gives you a temper.
Everyone laughs.
Shaddup! All of you, just shaddup!
Anneline holds up her hands in a surrendering motion while everybody quiets down.
I turn to Julia. Can I please have some coffee?
With her usual contemptuous look, she pours me a cup of coffee, then slaps it on the table in front
of me, spilling it all over the table cloth and some of it on the white top that Im wearing.
Bad move.
Without thinking, I grab the cup and fling the contents into her face.
She gasps and looks at me.
Oops! I say with my hand on my mouth.
With a snarl, she takes a step towards me.
Dont! I say, jumping to my feet and kicking back my chair. I will kick the shit out of you, no
matter what your size, bitch!
She glances at Tarago hes laughing like the jackass he is.
Vyf, you cant take her on, Jooste says, also laughing.

Ignoring him, I keep my eye on her.


Furious at my insolence and unable to help herself, she lunges at me and tries to slap me. I duck
and she grabs a handful of my hair. But Im ready for her I twist around, grab the wine bottle on the
table and slam it into her ribs.
She gasps but doesnt release my hair.
Ive dropped the wine bottle so I whirl around in her grasp, and slam my elbow into her ribs
the same part I hit her a moment ago. When she buckles in pain, I stamp her foot hard with my heel
and smash the back of my wrist into her nose. Finally, I deliver a karate kick to her stomach one my
sensei would be proud off.
In spite of all that, she lands a solid blow to my face, then releases my hair.
But with a snarl, Charlene flys at me.
As I move backwards, I reach for two wine bottles on the table. Theyre half-finished, not
empty, but theyll have to do.
Closing my eyes, I clap the bottles in front of her. Glass and wine rains downs on all of us.
Everybody at the dining table gets up and moves away from the fight. Except Tarago, he watches, a
smile on his face.
Charlene looks at me, her eyes wide with shock and fright.
I assume my fighting stance feet apart and slightly behind each other, knees bent, hands in front
of my face proffering the jagged ends of two wine bottles.
Charlene gauges, her eyes darting between the broken bottles Im wielding and my face, her
breath in spurts.
I glance at the bottles in my hand, then at her. Shiraz or Merlot, bitch?
Appearing mesmerized by the bottles in my hands, she slowly backs away towards her niece
who lies on the floor groaning.
Jy is a mullertjie (you are nuts), she says, wagging her index finger at me, her nostrils large
enough to see her brain.
She backs away, picks up Julia and leads her out of the room.
And knock before you enter my fucking ROOM! I yell behind them.
When I look around the room, I see frightened faces. My eyes fall on Suzette.
I am Tanin. You remember my name and you use it, understand? Call me coolie again, mess
with me again and I will kick the shit out of you. As for me sitting at your dining table get used to it
cos I plan to stay.
Her jaw falls as she looks at me in disbelief. Then she whirls to look at her brother. Tarago,
you going to let her speak to me like that?
I look at Tarago. His eyes are fixed on my face, an amused smile on his face.
He opens his mouth to speak.
Shut up! I say, pointing the jagged bottle at him. Dont say a fucking word!
He jumps to his feet and I think to myself Im going to get it now. Im out of control, even I can
tell that. But, to my surprise, he raises his palms in a motion of surrender.
Suzette cocks her head and looks at him, her jaw dragging.
He shrugs.
She looks at me again, opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it.
My eye is throbbing, my lip is split, my scalp burns and Im covered in glass and alcohol, but I
take a deep breath, hold my head up and stride out of the dining room.
Where did you learn to fight like that, vyf? Hanlie asks as I walk away.

I give a dismissive wave. No use telling them that I trained for five years in Taikodokaie and that
I was a star pupil. Months before I could obtain my black belt, we had to leave the US and return to
South Africa as my mother was diagnosed with renal failure.
It meant that I had to say goodbye to my black belt. None of the other Martial arts school around
me wanted to grade me for my black belt, so I just dropped it.
I get to my room and quickly lock my door and the inter-leading door.
Almost immediately, Tarago knocks at the inter-leading door. Open the door vyf.
No, go away!
I just want to see if youre okay.
Im fine, just go away. I shouldnt be saying this it tantamounts to no but right now, Im
shaking and feeling really vulnerable.
Please understand, Tarago. Please.
Okay, sure. He goes away.
I strip off my clothes, get into the shower to wash off all the wine and broken glass out of my
body and hair. As I shower, I burst into tears.
I slide down onto the shower floor and sob my heart out. Ive changed Ive become aggressive,
brash, vulgar and Im not the same person I was before I entered Taragos world. I no longer know
who I am anymore.
Right now, I want my mom. I want Ashwin. I want my sisters kind words.
I dont want to be here at all.
Im so tired of pretending to be strong. I simply hate this place. I hate Tarago.
I wish he was dead.
****
When the adrenalin wears off, once again, reality kicks in how the hell could I have done what
I did? They could have kicked my butt from here to Timbuktu.
Both of them together could have really taken me apart. And Tarago I was so disrespectful
towards him? In his own house?
What was I thinking? Who am I these days?
Now I am afraid of the maids, afraid that they will seek revenge. At night, I lock my door. During
the day, I serve my own food and coffee for fear that they may tamper with it.
For a day or two people tiptoe around me. Sure, I should be happy that they are, but I feel
isolated and shunned by everyone.
Then some changes take place. Some peculiar ones.
When I enter the dining room, Suzette stays put. Does not take her food and high-tail her OCD
arse out of the room like the bitch usually does.
Once or twice I catch her looking at me with pursed lips. It is a stare that tells me that she has
not forgotten what I did to her and that I should watch my back.
As for Julia and Charlene overnight they become polite, helpful and absolutely respectful. No
more throwing coffee at me, they call me Mejuffro, not Miss America, and they knock before they
enter my room. Knock!
Baffling.
Now they appear curious about me and try to make conversation with me. I do keep them at a
distance because Im not sure if I can trust them as yet.

When I see Julia with Plaster of Paris over her nose, I feel really bad. I march up to Tarago.
At the sight of me, he pretends to cower.
Stop that! I say and sit next to him.
His looks at me.
I, eh I want to pay for Julias medical expenses. I point at my nose. I feel bad. To my
horror my eyes fill with tears.
Vyf? Taragos voice is confused, but tender, which causes more tears. They just slide down my
cheeks.
Its not in my nnature to ffight, I stammer, to hurt someone. To hurt a wwoman. I wipe
away tears with the back of my hand. I want to pay for all her expenses and give her some time off.
He smiles and nods as if hes happy with my display of conscious. Dont worry about all that. I
paid for it all and doubled her pay for this month. Thats why your arse is not in jail for assaulting a
staff member right now.
Oh. Thanks.
We sit in silence for a few moments.
You want to wrestle me?
Fuck off! I say with a smile on my face.
He laughs. I didnt know you could fight like that.
I look at the floor.
I could arrange mud-wrestling
Shaddup, Tarago.
He grabs me into a playful headlock. Seriously, youre really turning me on these days.
I shrug him off, but smile.
Since Im taking care of things, I decide to tackle Sipho at the front gate.
First I prep Bogas, my driver. As I do, his face lights up. I can most certainly do that,
Mejuffro, he says. Yeees!
When we get to the front gate, he honks for Sipho.
Sipho bursts from his booth looking pissed.
Why are you hooting (honking)? Sipho says, his nostrils as large as the stop sign in front of us,
his eyes as red as the stop sign in front of us. This is a residentiaaaal area. You cannot hoot here.
What is your probleeeem?
Sipho, there is a man coming in for an interview as front security guard, Bogas says in Xhosa,
ignoring his chastising. A black man. Big, buff guy. Send him in when he does. Miss Tanin and I will
be expecting him, okay?
Siphos beady black eyes shift from Bogas to me, then to Bogas again. After blinking rapidly, he
says, Whaaat do you mean? I am the front security guard and Leso is the night guard. So ?
Bogas nods. Ja, but I am fed up with the waiting to be let in, so Miss Tanin and I want to maybe
bring in some fresh blood to help with that. To ease the delays we face at the gate. We have authority
from Meneer Jakobus, so we are interviewing new staff.
A pregnant pause.
Sipho looks so confused that I have to put my hand in front of my mouth to suppress a giggle.
Meneer is not heppy? Sipho asks.
No, no, no, we are not heppy. Thats the problem.
You are not heppy?
Bogas shakes his head.

Another pregnant pause.


Okay, Sipho finally says. Okay. Okay. I will let him in. Okay.
Thank you, Bogas says. Now you have a nice day. He drives off leaving Sipho standing and
staring at us.
The moment were out of earshot, we both burst out laughing. Roar with laughter for the duration
of our trip to Cavendish Square where I plan to shop for a gift for my Aunt Saras and Uncle Anands
anniversary.
When we return that evening, the gates open the moment our car is visible to Sipho. He even
throws in a Good evening! and a smile. Without showing his teeth though.
Priceless.

Chapter Fourteen
You should learn how to swim.
I look up at the source of the voice. Its Charlene. Nearby, Julia lingers, avoiding eye-contact
with me. Then Meneer wont throw you into the pool.
I was thinking about it, I say, accepting the olive branch they have been extending all week.
You should take lessons from Pixie, Julia pipes up, in a nervous voice.
I turn to look at her. Pixie? Whos she?
She walks over to me. She used to be a Springbok swimming champ. Now she takes care of the
pool and her man, he takes care of the gardens. But she can swim like a fish, Mejuffro.
Mejuffro. Not Miss America.
Oh, really?
Julia puts out her hand. Come, we take you to her. Shes lives in the granny-flat.
Ja, kom, Charlene says.
Okay. I slip on my shoes and follow them around the manor to Pixie, the former Springbok
Swimming champ.
When we reach the ground-floor flat on the side of the manor, hidden from the rest of the manor,
Charlene knocks loudly on it.
No answer.
Charlene looks at her watch and shakes her head. Get up, Pixie! she yells.
No answer.
Pixie jou fokin teef, maak die deur oop!( Pixie you slut, open the fucking door!)
Hey! I whisper at Charlene, stunned that she could talk to Pixie like that.
Charlene waves me off.
Then, we hear Pixie. Hey, voetsack (get lost)!
Julia and Charlene exchange knowing smiles.
Open the door! We have a visitor for you, Julia says.
Fok jou!
Its 2 PM how can you sleep during the day?
Jou ma se foking moor, Charlene (Your mothers cunt!)!
Oh crap! I take a couple steps back, worried that there is going to be a fight or shes going to hurl
something at us.
Charlene rolls her eyes. Shes got whisky!
Immediately the door is thrown open and we are greeted by a waft of cheap wine. Upon closer
examination, we see a short, thin, bird-like woman with no front teeth and who looks absolutely
pissed with us for waking her up. She looks at our hands, sees no whisky and snarls. Jou foking
Calm down, calm down! Charlene says and pushes past her into the flat which comprises of a
kitchenette, a lounge, a bedroom and a bathroom and toilet. On a wall unit, sits a number of trophies
and medals for swimming and rugby.
We all enter and sit on the bed. Even though there is a lounge, there are no chairs in the sparsely
furnished place.
I look at Pixie. She looks familiar, but I know that Ive never met her before.
Her blue eyes are large and dominate her skinny face. Her skin is badly wrinkled and pleated

around her neck, her cropped hair appears to be sun-bleached and sticking out in all direction. She
wears a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. I just cannot tell her age because of her jockey-like build.
Waars die foking whisky? she demands, bony arms on equally bony hips.
Later, Charlene says.
Jou ou naai (You old whore).
This is Tanin, Charlene says, ignoring her rudeness. She is Taragos PA and he throws her in
the pool all the time because she cant swim.
What? Pixie looks at me with narrow eyes. Blixsem (bastard)!
Ja. Can you teach her to swim? Private lessons?
Pixie glares at Charlene.
She needs help, you poophole (arsehole)!
Waaaat? Ek gee nee a fok nee (I dont give a fuck)!
She will give you a bottle of whisky after every two lessons.
Pixie swivels to look at me, her frown gone, her eyes glowing. Whisky, hey? Her eyes sweep
slowly over me as she nods.
Julia and Charlene smile. Goed.
Not sure what Im signing up for, I am naturally hesitant. I have a phobia for water because
when I was seven
I dont care about your abc, meisie (girl), Pixie, who stands just below my breasts snaps.
Lets go teach you to swim. She reaches into a glass of water on the sink, removes her false teeth
from it, slaps it into her mouth, grabs my arm and marches me toward the pool.
Wait, maybe
You wake me up at this ungodly hour, you will get a lesson, she says in a no-nonsense voice.
Its 2 PM, I meekly point out.
Its ungodly!
And thats how my swimming lessons with a former Springbok swimming champ begins. We
keep it on the low so that nobody in the house, other than Charlene, Chester and Julia know about my
swimming lessons.
The moment the house is empty, we begin our lessons. Every single day, and as my coach, Pixie
is rather dedicated to the lessons.
Strike that as my coach Pixie is rather dedicated to her whisky that I provide after each lesson.
Any doubts I have about Pixie and her ability to swim or teach, is erased the moment I see her
swim she becomes one with the water and that in itself is lyrical to me.
She never fails to mesmerize me when she swims. And she is a great teacher. When she is sober
enough to teach.
Whenever I head for my lessons, clutching my bottle of whisky that I pinched from Taragos bar,
I have to wonder if she will be awake. After all, if she is sleeping, the hour, no matter if its day or
night, is ungodly.
If she is asleep and I wake her up, I have to brace myself for the abuse she hurls at me.
Sometimes, even though she is drunk, she is okay to teach me. I get really worried for her when I
see her on the diving board. She lets out an ear-splitting scream before she executes a majestic dive.
But she is clearly a functioning alcoholic as she keeps the pool spotless.
I meet her husband Naas who is responsible for the beautifully manicured garden.
He too can be found fast asleep during the day sometimes with an empty bottle of whisky lying
close by.

But they both are caring and have a lot of heart, so I am fond of both of them. I think they are fond
of me too as Naas brings me flowers from the garden every second day, and Pixie well, she offers
me beer shandies and martinis and shots and Irish coffee every morning.
Which I decline as I the last thing I need in my life is to drown while drunk.
Imagine what my family would think if I did?
After a month of daily swimming lessons, my body feels toned and my water confidence is at the
highest its ever been.
We will have a big reveal one day soon, Julia tells Pixie.
Oooohhh! Everybody will be really surprised, Charlene says.
Pixies face lights up and she claps her hands. I love it. I love it. I love it!
I am really happy to know that my former enemies are thrilled for me.
And that day, I want to wear a bikini, I hear myself saying. Did I just utter those words?
Evidently I did, judging by the nodding from the three women in front of me.
Well, too late to retract now. They hold me to it.
****
Pixie takes me running. God, do I suffer.
She is so light, I cant keep up with her.
Pixie, you are like a fucking Frisbee! I complain.
She shrieks with laughter and runs fast. Move your fat arse, you foking currymuncher!
Finally, forty days later, Im ready for my reveal.
I bundle Charlene, Julia and a reluctant Pixie into my car and take them shopping with me to find
a bikini.
Where you going? Tarago asks when he sees us all dressed up.
Im taking them shopping, I say. My treat. Or should I say, your treat. I smile.
He looks at them again, a look of confusion on his face.
We kissed and made up, I whisper.
He nods slowly, a wary look in his eyes.
Chester will be here to take care of you, I say before we hurry to Bogas whos waiting for us
in the Mercedes.
I buy them a pub lunch which includes, as you can imagine, booze. A lot of booze. A ton of
expensive cocktails and shots. They are not shy and they take full advantage of me, but I dont mind.
I like cleaning the pool, Pixie says. It relaxes me.
I thought alcohol did that, Julia says.
Hoe jou bek (shut your mouth)! Pixie hisses. You act like I am an alcoholic!
What are you a bookaholic? Julia asks with a laugh.
Pixie swirls her Jack Daniels as she appears to give it some thought. Nee, fok daai shit, I am an
alcoholic. Youre right.
But she can swim like a fish, I point out.
And she can drink like one too, Bogas points out.
As I catch myself laughing, I realize just how happy I am to have new friends. In fact, Im
amazed at the how my mood is altered with all the exercise Im doing. Im not crying anymore over
Ashwin (even though I still feel sad sometimes) and the other day I caught myself humming to Jon Bon
Jovis Blaze of Glory. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I now have friends at the

Mansion, or at my place of work, I think sadly.


Sadly because I realize just how important friends are in life they can make your life fun and
bearable, or without them, life can be so empty and lonely. Like mine was.
If only I could get the three blondes to like me, I think to myself.
Finally, its time to try on the bikinis. Feeling really nervous about how its going to look on me,
I enter the change room and try it on.
I smile at the mirror when I see myself. Have to admit, the colours looks great against my tanned
skin.
Next, the opinion of my raucous and inebriated friends.
Wow!
You look great!
Wow!
Two wows? Ill take it.
I believe my friends, because all three of them are the type to tell me straight out if I look like
crap.
With their help, I choose two bikinis. Both similar to the ones Anneline wears a russet one
with gold metal hoops and some sparkly gold details on the fabric and bronze halter one that ties on
the sides. (Anneline is by far the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in a bikini, so Im pinching
her style.)
When I go home, I start to prepare for the nights reveal. Charlene and Julia are preparing for a
party that night, so thats when I plan to stage my reveal.
At 8 PM and in my room are Charlene, Julia, Pixie and Naas. I sit in my russet bikini feeling sick
with nerves.
I dont know if I can do this, I say to Pixie as I hold my head in my hands.
Oh yes, you can, she says in a motherly voice. Dont strive for a ten, strive for a six.
But what if I mean ? I shake my head. Maybe I shouldnt wear the bikini tonight...
Charlene grabs my hand. Kom.
And thats how I make my way to the pool area. The secret is to act nonchalant. Okay, this I got
to fake cos I really am anything but nonchalant right now.
The party is in full swing when I make my way to it, my heart in my mouth. Nearby Charlene,
Julia, Naas, Pixie and Chester hover like anxious parents.

Chapter Fifteen
When I enter the party, to my glee and to my discomfort, conversation stops.
Pretending that Im not noticing and praying that I dont trip on my heels that Im wearing, I
sashay to the bar and order a Cosmopolitan.
After taking a huge gulp of my drink, I look around into Taragos face. Unfortunately, hes pokerfaced. No Wow! emanating from his mouth, no raised eyebrows, no jaw on the floor.
My confidence wanes.
After all, hes the one person whose opinion matters the most.
But since hes staring at me, I raise my glass to him.
He flexes his index finger at me.
Usually, when he does that, I ignore him and give him a Dont-you-flex-your-finger-at-me look.
Today, I saunter over to him. Hi.
Even though he doesnt compliment me, I see appreciation in his eyes and a deep thrill shoots
through me.
You gonna dance with me?
I shake my head. Nope. My look screams bring-it-on.
He nods and looks at the pool, then at me.
Wait! I say.
He waits.
With a smile, I kick off my heels, put down my drink and walk towards the pool. I glance around
and see Julia and Charlene. They give me the thumbs-up.
I nod and look around for Pixie. I spot her behind a shrub, looking like a garden gnome. She has
a clump of hair in her hands that she furiously twists and that makes me really nervous.
But she nods.
I walk to the deep end of the pool and look at the water. About ten people are swimming. Then I
look up and see Tarago watching me with eyebrows raised. Actually everyone is watching me now. I
now know how a seasoned Olympic athlete feels when all eyes are on her just before she tries for
gold.
After taking a deep breath, I run and execute a dive.
To me it went smoothly, but I will know when I emerge.
When I surface and look at Tarago, his jaw has finally dropped.
I giggle to myself. Mission accomplished and victory feels awesome.
I look around for my partners in crime. Pixie gives me two thumbs up, a huge grin on her face,
while Julia, Charlene and Chester are clapping softly.
Thrilled, I glide gracefully through the water (I hope its graceful) and show off a bit. Tarago
stands at the edge of the pool and proffers a towel. He says not a word, but the amazed look on his
face speaks for itself.
Hanlie and Erika walk over and stand next to Tarago.
You look nice, Erika says. I thought you couldnt swim.
Hey, Tanin, Hanlie says, you look really nice and the way you swam Im so proud of you.
Where did you learn to swim like that?
Thank you, I say, treading water, ignoring her question and beaming inside.

I will not swim in the same pool as a coolie!


My eyes fly to the source of those horrible words. Suzette I hadnt realized that she was in the
pool.
With fury written all over her face, she wades out of the pool, grabs her towel and glares at me.
All eyes flit between Suzette and me.
Some of her friends who are in the pool, also leave.
Thats okay, fuck them and their backward, racists arses.
Then, to my utter astonishment, slowly, one by one, everybody leaves the pool and Im the only
one in the water.
I cant believe it. Its almost like a dream, nightmare Im a little girl entering the sandpit and
all the kids leave the sandpit the moment I enter because Im not good enough to play with them.
(Later on I would learn that it was Suzettes party which comprised of mainly her racists friends.
I couldnt have chosen a better party to gatecrash what a terrible mistake on my part.)
Furious at their behavior, I am torn between the desire to adopt a to-hell-with-them-attitude and
stay put, or run into my room and burst into tears.
My mother always says, Ask your heart how does it feels.
I look down at my chest as I question my heart.
The answer I get from my heart, who knows me the best, is hurt, embarrassed and humiliated.
I look up and scan the eyes watching me. Sympathy in some, glee in others. I prefer the glee, not
the sympathy.
What I really should do is ignore them all and just continue swimming. But I just cant. Im too
crushed.
Slowly, I wade out of the pool, accept the towel from Tarago, wrap it around me and walk to my
bedroom.
Tanin! Charlene calls.
Tanin! Pixie hisses.
I refuse to look at any of my cheerleaders right now.
I hurry to my bedroom, lock the door and get into the shower. I strip of the bikini and throw it
into the rubbish bin. How can I ever wear it again after the awful memories it holds?
The inter-leading door bursts open and Tarago enters the bathroom.
Im a little taken aback by his presence and the fact that hes seeing me naked under bright lights.
After all, I always ensure the lights are turned down really low when he has sex with me.
Her opinion doesnt matter, he says in a low voice.
Why didnt you tell her that, Tarago? I demand through my tears. Why did you let her
humiliate me like that? In front of everybody too?
Its Suzette, Tanin. Why do you care?
Because it hurts, Tarago, I say, pointing to my chest. You have no idea how soul-destroying
this can of behavior is to people like me.
But why cant you just tell her to fok off? I would do that.
You dont get it, Tarago. I turn my back on him.
He opens the shower door and steps inside.
Ignoring the fact that his shirt and jeans are getting soaked, he takes me in his arms. Ek is
jammer (I am sorry).
I push him away. Its not enough, Tarago.
I will talk to Suzette, he says bear-hugging me.

Its too late. Ive been publically humiliated. Its the worst experience Ive had in my life and it
hurts so much.
Im sorry.
Im glad Im not really your wife, you know that?
What?
When I think of a husband, I think of a knight in shining armour. Someone who protects you and
your heart from anyone who wants to hurt you. Its a good thing youre not married, Tarago. Youd
make a lousy husband.
I turn off the taps and step out of the shower, leaving him dripping in it.
Tanin, cmon
Your wife would be very disappointed in you, Tarago, I say in a bitter voice as I drape a
towel around my body.
He steps out of the shower and strips off his wet clothes.
My desire to hurt, after being hurt, peaks.
That is what I liked about Ashwin in spite of his cheating ways, he protected me, cared for
me, put me first.
With his eyes on me, Tarago wraps a towel around his waist, his jaws now set.
He knew how to be a man. He knew how to be a man to his woman. It came naturally to him.
That is why I will always love him.
He runs his fingers slowly through his hair, his eyes getting darker by the moment.
My look is defiant and Im no longer crying. I want to maim right now destroy and hurt as much
as I am hurting, so I hurtle ahead.
Even though he belongs to someone else, I still want him, and I will always want him. Anyone
else
He wags his finger at me, his face darkening.
will be my second choice in life.
Tanin!
His hurt and anger energizes me. Any opportunity I get, I would want to fuck him.
With a snarl, his hand flies at my throat. He pushes me against the wall and puts his face in mine.
You watch what you say, you foking foking
Cheap whore? My voice is taunting.
He shakes his head slowly. Youre not a cheap whore, I paid a lot of money for you.
You didnt pay for me. I take his free hand and slide it between my thighs. You paid for this.
Thats all. Me is here, I slide his hand up to my heart, Thats where I am, Tarago. You could never
buy me, you hear? Never! Tears run down my cheeks again.
Breathing like hes just run a marathon, he shoves me away. With a snarl, he turns around and
slams his fist into a huge, gilded wall mirror, shattering it.
I watch stony-faced as he storms out of the room with blood dripping down his hand.
Im happy I struck a chord. He must hurt like I am hurting, then only will I be happy.
God, I hurt so much these days.
****
I dont go down to breakfast. Its Saturday so everyone would be there and I really dont fancy a
post-mortem over hangover food.

By 11 AM, Julia, Charlene and Pixie are in my room, sporting worried looks.
Foking teef (bitch!) Pixie says. She needs a peel (dick) then shell be okay.
The other two ladies nod morosely.
Do you want me to have a word with her?
I smile and shake my head. Pixie sits at Suzettes hips. If there is a fistfight, guess whod win?
But it is the thought that counts, so I give my real-life pixie a hug.
This apartheid shit must stop, now, Pixie says as she paces.
See, not all whites are racist pigs.
I mean, its not like youre a Kaffir or anything. You are a decent, educated, good looking,
young, Indian woman.
I stare at Pixie, dumbfounded, while Charlene and Julia murmur their agreement. A Kaffir is a
derogatory term for a black.
Strike what I just said everyone around me, including members of my own family are fucking
racists and racism stinks.
Tarago had to have stiches to his hand, Julia says.
Oh?
Six.
Crap, I didnt know that. Where where is he now?
They point to his room. Didnt return to the party last night.
Oh? Now thats news to me.
Was very angry last night. That Suzette I think she make him so angry.
Mm. That makes two of us.
I can tell that they are dying to know what my real relationship with Tarago is. See, Tarago never
shows any affection towards me in public. He just fights with me, teases me and goads me. But I sleep
in his inter-leading room and since Tarago works form home, they never see me do any PA work as
such. Hence the curiosity and suspiciousness.
Tarago stops talking to me and his visits cease. Im on tenterhooks is he going to give me the
axe for all the mean things I said?
When Sunday arrives, I dont wait till lunch time to leave the mansion I leave the moment I
awake.
As Bogas drives me to Rondebosch, I think about Tarago. I have to admit that Im now
disconcerted at Taragos anger or disappointment in me. Hes such a happy-go-lucky person that for
him to be like this is almost wrong.
We stop to pick up my gran.
Shes happy to see me and gives me a hug and a kiss.
But when she sees Bogas, she stiffens and clutches her bag.
Gran, stop! I whisper.
Her reaction is to grab my purse as well and hold it close to her.
I groan inwardly, then mutter, Shes ill, Bogas. Please dont take notice of her.
He gives a dismissive wave.
I turn to her. Gran, behave! These are my friends.
Friends with those kind of people?
Graaaaan!
Suddenly, shes fumbling for her shoes.
Whats wrong? I whisper.

My shoes. One of them is missing. She points to the Bogas, then at her feet.
Man, I feel like duct-taping her mouth and blindfolding her for the ride home.
As Bogas pulls into the driveway, I see my neighbor Botha, watering his garden. Hes a middleaged white Afrikaner whos been renting his property for seven years. He was furious when we
moved next door. Gave us that there-goes-the-neighbourhood look.
Even though, to keep the peace, my mother instructed us to be polite to him and we all greet him,
he ignores us.
But when Im not looking, according to Bogas he stares at the Merc, his envy undisguised.
I think, next time, you must arrive in the limo, Mejuffro, Bogas says with a chuckle before he
drives off.
You shouldnt be driving around with him, Gran says.
Im scared to ask but I do anyway. Why not?
People will think you married a She waves in his direction.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
Taking a deep breath and bracing myself for my grans upcoming melee with Lucky our maid,
which takes place every Sunday, I enter the house.
Gran doesnt disappoint. Today she has a list of complaints the soaps are missing, the toilet
paper is finishing really rapidly, Lucky was watching TV all day yesterday and that is why the place
is such a mess .
As usual, we beg Lucky not to take notice of her.
Are you going to his wedding? my mother asks.
I shake my head slowly.
She scans my face.
I cant face everybody. Its so embarrassing.
Take a hot guy with you, Lima says.
Yeah, take a really hot guy and that will make him eat his heart out, Shyna says.
Mm. As if Tarago will allow me to do that. Anyway, I didnt get an invite.
But the invite is for all of us, my mother points out.
I lift and drop my shoulders.
I dont tell my mother that when I think about Ashwins upcoming wedding, a million hornets
dance around my head.
Listen, I say, trying to change the subject, Im taking you all out to dinner. Lets go.
My mother protests.
You need a break, Ma.
The truth is, I dont know when my gravy train comes to an end, so I might as well a little fun
with Taragos credit card. After all, I earned it!
The steakhouse we visit is our familys favorite and we all dive for the menu.
Im not eating here, my gran says.
Why, Gran? Its my treat.
She jerks her hand towards the kitchen which is bustling with chefs.
What do you ...?
Ma! my mother cries. Stop it. Tanin is trying so hard to please us all.
With a frown, I look at my gran, then back at the kitchen. Shes not happy with the fact that the
chefs are black. Cmon, gran, I snap.
Suzette follows me all around!

She folds her arms across her chest and purses her lips.
There is a collective groan from all my family members.
Look, my mother says, just order and eat. Dont worry about things.
Too bad the mood is ruined.
I drop my gran off an hour earlier and head back to Clifton Manor.
As I drive, I think about Tarago he probably faces the same difficulties I face with my gran, yet
I am so hard on him.

Chapter Sixteen
Its been a week since my fight with Tarago and Im in the kitchen pouring over one of my
mothers recipe books with Julia, Charlene, Chester, Pixie and Naas.
Tarago enters the house with his bimbos in tow.
What is that smell? I hear them ask.
Somebodys ordered take out.
In the kitchen, we all exchange amused glances, while Naas and Pixie look a little nervous.
Hanlie pops her head into the kitchen and sees me. Its cooits Tanin! she calls to the others.
Shes cooking.
They all rush into the kitchen. What are you doing? Erika asks a surprised look on her face.
Im cooking a curry, I say. My mothers recipe.
Why? Hanlie asks.
I shrug. I felt like some home-cooked food so I decided to cook for My hands sweeps over
my friends in the kitchen.
Tarago stands at the entrance to the kitchen and leans against the door. His eyes shift around
before they land on me.
What? I say. Dont any of you cook?
They all shake their heads.
Slicing and dicing is for people who dont have cars, Erika says.
Or people who dont need to tan, Anneline mutters.
Well, I say stirring the pot on the stove and ignoring her dig, I dont have a car and I dont
need to tan.
Tarago sits at the table.
All eyes fly to him.
What?! he asks.
Just never saw you sit here before, Hanlie says and takes a seat next to him.
Soon all four of them are sitting at the table watching me cook.
Am I gonna get some of this currymuncher food? Tarago asks.
If you ask nicely, I say from under my lashes.
I smile inwardly hes talking to me again?
Mff.
I smile.
He narrows his eyes at me. You know when you smile, you dont look vyf. You look a lot
more.
I chuckle. Oh yeah? How much more?
He twists his lips around as he thinks. At least five and a half.
I javelin the wooden spoon at him. He laughs and fends it off with his hands.
You lucky that wasnt a knife, Tarago, Hanlie says.
Yeah, Id have aimed lower, I say. Turned you into a meisie (girl).
He just laughs.
I must say its really nice to hear him laugh again. I actually missed that. How fucked up is that?
I want some curry too, Erika says in a demanding voice.

Me too, the other girls chorus.


I look at Charlene. She rolls her eyes.
We gonna need more meat and potatoes, Charlene, I say. Please.
She nods.
When we finally eat that night, we sit around the kitchen table with bottles of wine and dig in.
Included at the table are Charlene, Chester Julia, Pixie and Naas.
Waars Suzette nou? (Wheres Suzette now?) Erika asks with a laugh.
Her skin would peel on the spot if she saw these three sitting here, Hanlie says.
For sure, Anneline says.
Everyone at the table is laughing and happy, which warms my heart.
This is one of the best nights Ive had had in a long time, Erika slurs.
Everyone agrees.
Tarago doesnt say much, he just looks at me, his face red and sweaty.
I maintain his eye-contact while I slowly lick the curry off my fingers.
When I walk onto the balcony to cool off, hes behind me. He places his hands on either side of
me on the balcony rails and presses himself against me.
Slowly, I turn around. He holds my face with his uninjured arm and steals a kiss. We smile at
each other then hug. I can tell hes as happy as I am to make his peace with me. When the others enter
the balcony, he quickly moves away.
With all my finger-licking, he doesnt visit.
Okay.
****
Vyf!
My eyelids flutter open.
Vyf! Taragos voice.
I look at the clock on the wall. 03:27 AM. What the hell? I mutter.
Vyf!
With a groan, I throw on a gown over my sleep shorts and shirt and run down the stairs.
I see Tarago standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a half-finished whisky bottle with his
uninjured hand and swaying like hes on a ship.
Tarago? Are you drunk?
No. Not at all.
Yeah, right.
Come make me some currie.
I walk down the stairs. Tarago, its 3 AM are you crazy?
I want you to make me curry! he says. With the gunpowder you put into it.
Shhh! I whisper and take his arm. Youre gonna wake up everybody.
You going to make me some curry? If not, Im going to turn on the hi-fi.
No, no, no! Ill make you some curry. Come with me. I lead him to the kitchen and sit him on a
chair.
Do you want a glass?
He gives me a dismissive wave and swigs from the bottle.
As he watches, I quickly assemble stuff for a curry and start cooking.

I like your food, he says.


Really? Im glad. I smile at him.
He flexes his finger at me. I walk over to him. What?
He motions me closer. I lean in. He plants a light kiss on my lips, then puts down his whisky
bottle to stroke my face.
At 4:29 AM, I dish out a plate of food for Tarago. But he seems too wasted to feed himself.
Do you want me to feed you?
He nods.
With a sigh, I feed my husband curry and rice. As I do, he smiles at me. Nege (nine).
I smile. Not good enough. I need to be a ten.
When you are a ten, I will let you know.
Okay, I say, now lets get your butt to bed, Mister.
I want to sleep with you, he says.
With a sigh, I take him to my bed. Youd better not snore. I say as I take off his shoes and his
jacket.
We spoon as we fall asleep.
Vyf?
Yes, Tarago?
I need you, he whispers.
I turn around.
Ive never needed anyone before.
With a smile, I stroke his face, then plant a light kiss on his forehead.
Im sorry, he says, his eyelids closing. I know that hes talking about the fight we had over nine
days ago.
Im sorry too, I say as I bury my face in his chest.
Lying in his arms is not unpleasant.
Having his arms around me is not unpleasant.
Feeling his body moulding around me is not unpleasant.
His kisses on my back are not unpleasant.
His tender kisses on my hair are not unpleasant.
Feeling the warmth of his breath on my neck is not unpleasant.
As the sun rises and I drift off to sleep in my tormentors arms, I ask myself the question: what is
happening to me?
I think Im missing Ashwin.
Yes, thats probably it.
When I wake around 2 PM, slowly the events of last night seep into my mind. With a smile, I turn
to Tarago. His side of the bed is empty.
For the next two days he appears to be really busy so I hardly see him.
When I do, he makes no mention of that night, so I dont either.
Disappointment snakes through me. Maybe I read too much into it.
Maybe Im getting soft in my old age.
****
I walk into the pool area to find Erika and Anneline tanning. Erika has on headphones and is

bopping to a beat, while Anneline reads a magazine.


Hi, I say.
Erika waves, while Anneline just stares at me.
Since I dont tan, I walk up to the table to help myself to some iced fruit.
Erika continues her bopping while Annelines hard eyes follow me around. I glance up and lock
eyes with her.
What? she snaps. You keep looking at me?
You keep looking at me, Anneline, I say. Why you so mad at me? What have I done to you?
She swivels her whole body to glare at me, her green eyes dancing with fury. What have you
done to me? Besides she walks two fingers in the air, creeping your way into Taragos bed?
But that not
Acting all posh and sophisticated Oh, I dont want to speak Afrikaans, oh, I dont swear, oh, I
dont smoke, oh, I dont drink, oh, I dont do wear a bikini
She looks at me with eyebrows raised. Then you show up swimming like a fish. And in a
bikini. Then you start cooking and acting all domesticated for Tarago, your boss? Disgusting and a
fake. Thats what you are, a phony. You are nothing but a well-disguised tramp under that long dark
hair and those those ... she throws me a look of contempt, shapeless and sensible dresses.
I look down at my dress. Its red, a sensible knee-length, with a sensible neckline and short
sleeves. There is nothing to it, but it isnt that bad, really.
And suddenly, I burst into tears.
She smiles as I howl away my hurt.
Erika slowly removes her headphones to look at me, surprise on her face at my tears.
You are mean for a woman, I say. You dont understand how
Oh, please! Both her hands are on her hips. You are fooling nobody. Everyone here is onto
you and they all hate you. The moment you leave the room, they talk about you. Laugh at you.
Why? I whine. What have I done to them?
You and your prudish ways.
Im not a prude, I protest through my tears.
She rolls her eyes.
Maybe its that time of the month or something, but I am so emotional that I run off to my room
and sob on my bed. Ive got to toughen up, I know. Avraham said the only opinion that mattered was
Taragos, but still
After a while, I sit up in bed and think. Anneline is so angry with me all the time I have to
wonder if there was something going on between her and Tarago. If there is something going on
between her and Tarago. I mean, Tarago doesnt want anyone to know about us being married because
of, as he puts it, racial reasons. But what if there is something going on with him and Anneline and its
her that he doesnt want finding out?
The only person who can give me that answer is Tarago.
That evening, after dinner, I walk over to the edge of the cliff and watch the molasses sky.
The blondes are never going to accept me into their group. It reminds me of school all the
groups are formed and nobody will let me in. Except the misfits. Even here the misfits only accepted
me into their group because they got scared of me. That feeling of loneliness creeps back in.
Tarago, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses, walks over and sits next to me. Luckily, I have
stopped crying. But I am morose right now and I really dont feel like being questioned as to my
mood.

I have an offensive joke for you, he says to my surprise.


I glance at him. I like jokes and he knows that.
A white man walks into a store in Boksburg and inspects the largest kaffir pot there is. How
much for this kaffir pot? he asks.
You cant call it a kaffir pot anymore, the owner of the shop says. Its the new Suid Afrika
now and that is a politically incorrect word to use. Derogatory. You must say cast iron, not Kaffir.
The customer looks at him and shakes his head. Derogatory, huh? Okay, I want this cast iron
pot, and, he points to two black guys in the shop, can you please ask those two cast irons there to
pick it up and load it onto my truck.
I smile as his eyes search my face. That is a very offensive joke.
With a smile, he hands me both glasses, then pours us a glass of wine each.
He takes a sip, his eyes on me.
My first instinct is to refuse the wine, but after Annelines words earlier on, I wonder if I should
loosen up a bit.
I take a huge gulp of it the only way I can stand its bitterness.
Tarago smiles and shakes his head.
He pours me another glass and we sit in silence for a while.
After two glasses of wine, Im a little relaxed. Can I ask you a question?
No. He does not look at me.
Why not?
Because your questions they are not questions, they are discussions. And, I dont want to
enter into any discussions with you, vyf, cos I will lose the discussion. He sounds serious but there
is a twinkle in his eyes.
Im sorry, but youre using words that have more than six characters, I say.
He laughs.
I smile, then plough ahead. Whats with you and Anneline?
The smile vanishes. Slowly, he runs his hand over his face as he appears to think about his
answer, or in his case, his next lie.
He shrugs.
The look on my face is expectant.
No answer from him.
Tarago, we have a deal about monogamy, so if there is anything going on between you and
Anneline, then in all fairness to me, you should tell me.
He lets out a long sigh before he speaks. There used to be something. It died a long time ago.
Ha, I thought as much. Me and my intuition.
So, why is she here? And why does she have a wounded look on her face, Tarago?
His turn to frown. What do you mean?
Tarago, I dont want to hurt another woman. I mean, I know how it feels like to hurt because
someone a man let you down. I dont want to be a source of her pain. I feel bad for her.
But vyf, we have a brief thing, and after it ended, I had about six other girls. She knows the
score and she didnt seem to mind.
Why does she live here?
She doesnt have a place to go to. She stays here rent free while shes trying to make it big as
an actress. Im doing something good here for her, vyf. Dont you see it?
Mm. Hes right, but he obviously doesnt know women.

You want me to tell her to go?


NO! If this is her home, of course I dont want you to put her out, Tarago. But I sigh, look,
I think Anneline was just giving you space to mess around and she, I dont know maybe she hoped
that one day youd want to settle down and you both would resume your relationship. And make lots
of racist Afrikaner babies.
He laughs. I think you are right.
Mm. You dont think she knows that you married me, do you?
He shakes his head. Only Avraham knows and he wouldnt tell. His eyes narrow at me. You
wouldnt either.
I press my lips together and look at him. Or I will lose all my hooker money.
He chuckles and takes me into a playful headlock. Or you will lose all your hooker money.
My wine spills over my face and neck.
He licks the wine off my face. Im tipsy now, so I get a fit of giggles.
He pushes me down on my back and licks off wine from my neck, sending me into spasms of
drunken laughter.
We smile at each other.
Lets go back, he whispers. I want to fok you.
Im too drunk to walk.
He nods, then stands up. With great ease, he scoops me up and carries me back inside the house.
I laugh some more as he tickles my chest with his nose. As we walk into the house, we literally bump
into Anneline.
Her face contorts with anger at the sight of us.
Tarago and I say nothing as he carries me back to my room and strips me.
Am I stuck up?
For sure.
What?! I smack him lightly on his face.
He shrugs.
Tomorrow I will change things, I think to myself as he climbs on top of me. Change my outlook
on life, change out of my sensible dresses and sensible shoes. Anneline is right I am plain as.

Chapter Seventeen
When next I visit the hairdresser, I decide to be a little adventurous. Try something new and
something less sensible.
Make me a dark blonde, I say. No sooner I utter those words, do I regret it.
Wonderful! Cleo, my hairdresser claps his hands with glee. It will take a while though.
Oh, thats alright. I dont have any plans for the day.
It takes five grueling hours, and by the end of the day, Im exhausted and nauseous with the smell
of all the chemicals.
But when my hairs done, I look in the mirror and gasp I no longer look like Tanin I look chic
and worldly and dare I say, striking.
Now this hair needs a new dress. I dart into a couple of boutiques and search for a dress. A hot
dress, not a sensible dress. Something Anneline would choose. God, I love her effortless style.
After trying on a few, I finally choose a brown and white striped dress that clings to me and
shows off curves I never knew I had, a butt I didnt know I had.
Its a dress I would never have worn before. It shows way too much cleavage and thigh.
I like it so much, I pay for it and slip it on right away.
I race back home just in time for dinner and wait for all the compliments, like Wow! and Who
are you? and You look great! Or even A great change, Tanin. Ones like that.
As soon as the blondes see me, Erika and Hanlie cluster around me.
You look great, Hanlie says. Is your hair real?
I nod, thrilled with both her compliments and her questions.
Wow! Erika says. Not bad at all.
Now Tarago has four blondes, Anneline says, looking peeved. Thats all we need now.
Then Tarago walk into the pool area. When he looks at me, his smile disappears.
I brace myself for his compliments.
What the hell have you done to yourself? he demands, in an almost-angry voice.
I I I touch my hair, confused by his reaction.
He walks over to me, a huge frown on his face. Get rid that blonde hair, he says.
Hurt and annoyed with his reaction, I stare at him, trying hard to still my bottom lip from
trembling.
No, I finally mouth. Its my hair. I want to be blonde and I will be blonde.
Change it, he says, ignoring my obstinacy.
No! I fold my arms across my chest and glare at him.
He drops his voice. If I wanted blondes, I would have blondes.
I drop my voice to a whisper. Too bad. Its my hair and
Tanin, he says in a clear, controlled voice, Change your hair back to its original colour.
Two things happened here: he used my name, which he seldom does, and he spoke with such
authority, Im at a loss for words. And terribly confused. I thought he liked blondes.
Without another word, he walks away. For the rest of the evening, he doesnt look at me.
But I refuse to change it. Fuck him!
****

Its morning. With a defiant look, I head into the dining room. Good morning! I say in my
brightest of voices.
Tarago nods and eyes my hair. But he says nothing, so I dont either.
By late evening, he says, Are you going to change your hair colour?
No, I say as I examine my manicure. I dont tell you how to wear your hair, so I dont expect
you to tell me how to wear mine. I give him a mirthless smile.
He shrugs.
My look is one of triumph.
Later in the evening, he creeps up behind me and throws me into the pool.
Like I care, Tarago. I can swim remember? With a smile, I swim out of the pool, then flash him
my middle finger.
My smile is still one of triumph.
The next morning, I look in the mirror and stifle a scream. My hair is green! I look like a swamp
monster.
Aghast, I stare at the weird looking woman in the mirror. Chlorine. Ive been warned.
Fuck! Taragos going to laugh at me. Cant have that.
I reach for a silk scarf and drape it around my head. Doesnt work I have too much hair to be
contained.
Shit!
Having no choice, I lift up my chin and stride into the dining room, a defiant look on my face.
As expected, everyone gasps at the sight of me.
Tarago looks at me with his mouth open.
I smile and graciously accept a cup of coffee. Inside I am not smiling.
Your hair is green, Tanin, Hanlie says.
I like it! I snap and reach for the milk.
Hanlie jerks back.
Its the chlorine, Anneline says her voice dripping with glee.
Yeah, well I attempt a nonchalant shrug. Its good to be adventurous sometimes. Next is
purple.
I hear a chuckle. I spin around to glare at Tarago.
Shut up, you moron!
He laughs harder. Slaps the table and guffaws.
Of course everyone in the room joins him.
Uuurrrgghhh! I give up. I kick back my chair and make my way back to the salon to change my
hair back to my original brown.
Hours later when I return to the mansion, Im still mad with everyone. I sulk in my room and
even have my dinner there.
Im sitting in bed reading, when Tarago enters my room, an amused grin on his face.
Funny? I snap.
He walks over to me and pushes me onto my back. Then he shoves his fingers through my hair
and plays with it for a few moments.
Brunette again, I say in a surly voice. Happy now, baas (boss)?
He nods. One of the reasons I chose you. Your hair was beautiful. I liked it.
Oh yeah? Thats strange considering you are surrounded by blondes.
I wanted Tanin, not anybody else. He kisses me, then looks into my eyes. Verstaan

(understand)?
Mff.
One day you will kiss me back, he whispers as he pulls down my top and takes a breast into
his mouth.
In this lifetime? Keep dreaming.
****
I lie in bed and mull over my thoughts now that things are over between Ashwin and I, its
almost as if Im thawing towards Tarago. That cant be right Im angry at him. Or I should be. Hes
a moron, a barbarian, remember? He makes fun of me, calls me vyf and doesnt defend me from
insults.
Im his entertainment, his circus monkey. He just wants me because he cant have me. He doesnt
love me or anything. Furthermore, hes never invited me to his bed. He still visits me at night but
always goes back to his bed. As if hes keeping me out.
Well, I will just bide my time and hopefully he will tire of me and then Im home two million
rands richer.
****
Were at another one of those dreaded parties and Tarago is being his obnoxious self again.
Vyf ! he calls, be a good little girl, take your arse over there and fetch me a drink.
Meneer, the barman says, I am happy to get you a drink.
Tarago shakes his head. No, I want vyf to fetch me a drink.
Everyone around him laughs at his antics.
Get your own goddamn drink! I hiss. Im not your barmaid. And stop calling me vyf.
Vyf! he yells. Bring me my whisky now!
Fuck off! I mutter and walk away.
Vyf! Do you want me to come for you?
I pause and turn around. What you gonna do? Throw me into the pool? I can swim. Havent you
noticed?
He looks at me with narrow eyes, then gets up and runs after me. Since its late and I dont want
to go into the pool, I race up to my room. He chases after me, but I manage to get into my bathroom
and lock the door.
I sit on the edge of the bath tub with the door shut. I doubt he is going to be able to kick this door
down. Its a solid, heavy door and right now, hes pretty drunk.
Vyf, open the door!
No! You are a baboon. Im not coming out of here.
Silence.
You have to kick it down and Ill bet you a cent, you cant do it, so fuck off, Tarago!
I hear laughter around him, so obviously everyone has come to see him tame me. Mff.
Ay yay yay yay! he says.
Then theres silence.
Outside I hear murmuring. What now? I get on the ground and peep under the door. Lots of shoes.
I back away and resume my seat on the edge of the bathtub. What the hells the nutcase up to now?

About ten minutes later, I hear a strange sound. Like a buzzing. The sound suddenly gets loud and
the door starts to shake. What the hell? Fear snakes through me. Then I see the blade the nut job is
using a chainsaw to cut through my bathroom door!
Stunned, I paste my hands over my mouth and watch the door almost disappear before my
shocked eyes. When the hole is big, Tarago looks at me through goggles and grins.
Tarago, you are mad, I whisper. Truly, youre a fucking psycho.
After a slight bow, he hands the chain saw to someone, puts his hand through and opens the door
from the inside.
I shrink back.
He walks over, scoops me up and walks towards the party.
Not the pool, Tarago! Not the pool! Its midnight.
He keeps walking.
Okay, fine, I will get you a drink, okay? OKAY?
The bastard throws me in, then pummels his chest.
I am so angry I can barely speak.
One of these days, I will kill you in your sleep, you bastard! I say as I wade out of the
bathroom. I will murder you, Tarago. I promise you, I will do it.
He, together with everyone else, just laughs their arses off.
****
Im at the pool area, reading a book when Tarago walks up to me and hands me a letter.
For me?
He nods. Fan mail.
Mff. I look at the envelope. Its addressed to me and was delivered yesterday. But its been
opened.
I look up at him. Did you open it?
No.
Mm. Could Julia or Charlene have opened my mail? I look towards the kitchen.
What is it?
I look at Tarago, then remove the contents of the envelope. Oh my!
Its an invite Ashwin and Rheemas wedding reception.
And? Are you going?
Huh? I look up Tarago and shrug. I I gosh, I didnt expect this.
Do you want to go?
I take a deep breath. I dunno. No, I think. I mean, I dunno. Maybe. Yes.
Yes? Why?
Again, I shrug. To show that I dont care. Anymore.
But you do.
His questions prevent me from thinking. I wish hed leave me alone with my thoughts.
Yes, Tarago, I say in a weary voice, I do care. This was the man I planned to marry and start
a family with. We named our children, we talked about grandchildren, we talked about where wed
spend our fiftieth anniversary I bite my lower lip and fall silent.
His eyes remain on my face.
This invitation has such an air of finality about it Im publicly losing Ashwin forever and they

expect me to celebrate this day with them. I swallow the bubble in my throat, shut my book, get up and
walk away from Tarago.
He doesnt stop me.
When I enter the house, I run into Charlene.
Charlene, who opened this letter? I ask waving the envelope at her.
Meneer, she says.
I look back at Tarago. Hes watching me. I hold up the letter at him, my eyebrows raised. He
holds my gaze. Big fat liar!
Alone in my room, I think about the wedding. Should I turn down the invite? Should I go?
If I turn down the invite, it will seem like Im mad at them (which I am), and if I go, all eyes will
be on me. Most of them will look at me with pity. I cant stand that.
What if, as suggested by Lima, I took someone hot with me? I smile at the thought Ashwin will
be so jealous. I know that for a fact.
Well?
I turn around and look into Taragos face.
I dont know. I explain my dilemma.
I see. He rubs his chin.
Will you go with me?
No. What the fok for?
Mm. Okay, maybe you can fix me a date, then? Somebody hot? Somebody with big muscles and
blue eyes?
His face darkens. No!
I smile at his jealousy. Tarago, I need to go with a date. If you dont want me going with
someone, then you come with me.
Fine, Ill go with you but we cant stay for more than one foking hour.
I smile. Deal. But you have to look sharp. Drop dead gorgeous. I want him to die with envy.
So you want to use me?
I think about it. Yes. I smile. You might as well make yourself useful.
He shakes his head at me. Ive never met a girl with such foking attitude, he mutters.
You just shut up and look drop-dead gorgeous, so that I am the envy of every girl there...
I will not be used like that, hey.
and I want you to arrange a really great car for us that will blow the wedding cars out of the
picture
No.
and I need you to give me a kiss in case theyre watching.
No!
and I need you to go shopping with me to help choose a gown
No! Not a foking chan...
tomorrow. I walk up to him and place both my hands on his chest. Please?
If you let me fok you in the change room.
I sigh. Fine, Ill let you fok me in the change room.
Okay! Tomorrow we go shopping for you.
We go shopping the following day and he helps me pick out a gown.
He does get to play with me in the change cubicle so its a win-win situation.
As the days go by, my excitement about the wedding peaks and Im pretty sure I can ace this.

Chapter Eighteen
The day of the wedding finally arrives. Ive bought myself a floor-length off-white and silver
dress. Ive had my hair, my nails, my face, my .everything done and Im ready to dazzle.
Yet, I wake up vomiting and a bundle of nerves.
After throwing up for the third time, I crawl back into bed and try to quell the uneasiness in my
stomach.
What the hell was I thinking? How could I possibly think of attending their wedding, facing
Ashwin dressed like a groom, but marrying someone else?
After our dreams we dreamed out loud, all our promises about loving each other forever and
how wed take a grenade for each other, and where well celebrate our fiftieth anniversary, all the
playful but poignant wows we made during countless mock weddings we held during our courtship?
Ashwin was not only my first, he was my only boyfriend. When I met him, I thought I was the
luckiest girl in the world, as he was exactly what I wanted in a guy. Now Im losing him to many
girls, not just one. Dream after dream is being shattered with all that Ive learned and discovered and
it seems like Im feeling the harsh effects of it all right now.
As for Rheema shes probably going to be dressed in all her bridal finery, probably how I
imagined I would look.
I cringe when I imagine the looks shell give me a look of pity when she stands next to her new
husband. A look that says, Why are you doing this to yourself, Tanin? You should have spared
yourself all of this.
What would she say to my face? So glad you could make, it, Tanin. It means so much to us. Us.
Shed be speaking in twos. Maybe take both my hand in hers in a gesture of No hard feelings.
What about everyone else at the wedding?
Would their bejeweled and coiffured heads be grouped together, whispering about me and what
a terrible thing to happen to someone as nice as me? People always use the words nice in this
context.
Tarago storms into my room, as usual without knocking. Vyf? He cocks his head and squints at
me.
I give a dismissive wave.
Vyf? What the fok?
I dont want to go to the wedding anymore, Tarago. Im sorry to have wasted your time and
you know stuff. I pull the covers up to my nose.
Are you foking serious? He sits on the bed and looks at me.
I nod my miserable head.
Why? Tell me why?
Cos cos, Tarago I drop my covers and babble away, spill everything. watching the
two of them publicly become one? And like, watch them give loving speeches and shit to each other?
What if I cry and ruin my make-up? I jerk the covers up to my nose again.
He pulls down the covers and looks into my eyes.
Everybody cries at weddings, dont they? Fok, I know I do.
I smile and give a low grunt.
This is your closure, remember? It tells you that its done. Remember your words?

I say nothing.
Just because something is hard to do, doesnt mean you shouldnt do it. People are going to
look at you, but not for the reasons you think. They are going to admire you and think that you are over
him or you wouldnt be there.
Really? What do you mean?
You have to trust me. Get your black arse out of bed, put on that nice white dress that shows off
your tits and thighs and lets go.
I give a small chuckle. How come youre so eager to go?
I I just want you to foking move on.
To you?
He pulls off the covers scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom. Get your arse showered
and changed.
****
Vyf! Tarago calls.
Coming, Tarago! I hope hes looking good and wearing the suit I asked him to.
Vyyyyf!
I grab my purse and make my way down stairs. When I see Tarago, I gasp he looks great
charcoal suite, lavender shirt, striped grey tie, hair slicked back into a ponytail hot.
Wow! he exclaims when he sees me. You look ugly.
Too late, I head your Wow! mister, I say and knock him on the butt with my purse. And you
look hot, I say in a shy voice.
Really? Good enough to want to fok me right now?
Tarago!
Itll only take a few minutes.
With a smile, I smack him again with my purse. Did you arrange a nice ride for us?
He gestures outside. I walk to the door and my jaw drops at the sight of the helicopter parked
close to the cliff. Oh my God, Tarago! I laugh. I cant believe you did this.
I believe this will knock their wedding cars right out of the foking picture, he says wriggling
his eyebrows.
I was kidding about that, Tarago. But yeah, of course! Wow! This is cooool!
With a pleased smile, he sticks out his elbow. I take it and we enter the waiting helicopter.
Ive never been in a helicopter before, I whisper as take a seat.
You nervous?
I nod.
Dont be, he says and takes my hand in his. If anything happens ... just scream and the
problem will go away.
Mff! Funny.
Throughout the flight, I hold onto him, even though I have a huge smile on my face.
When we arrive at the wedding venue in Pinelands, the road is temporarily blocked off by four
police cars to allow the helicopter to land on the road close to the hall!
My neck jerks to look at Tarago. You did all this?
Ja. Im foking rich, I can do any shit I want. He gives me naughty smile.
You are laanie (rich) for sure.

Unfortunately for Rheema and Ashwin, we arrive at the same time, which means that not only do
they have to wait for us to land and alight from the helicopter, but it also means that we have
successful upstaged their entrance.
All eyes are on us and people stare with their jaw hanging. Talk about a grand entrance. I dont
think anything can top this. Im giggling like crazy as we enter the hall.
I see there are no whites here, Tarago whispers as we sit next to strangers. I dont like this
segregation shit.
I smile. Only charros (Indians). You feeling out of place?
For sure. Tarago finds a lot of things funny at the wedding and I get caught up in his giggling.
By the way, were leaving for Paris tomorrow morning, he says.
Paris? I cock my head and look at him. France?
He nods. A business trip and Im gonna need my PA to come with.
Gosh, Ive never been to Paris before! I whisper, excitement coursing through me. Wow! For
how long?
He holds up seven fingers.
I squeeze his hand. Wow! This day is getting better by the minute.
We smile at each other.
Somehow, I suspect Tarago threw in the trip to Paris to distract me so that I dont get too hung up
on this wedding. It works, my mind wanders I need to pack. What the hell do I take? A bikini or
two? My mother gotta tell her. My passport please dont let it have expired.
Im soooo excited, Tarago. Its like a honeymoon.
Honeymoon?
Yes, we got married, remember? And this will be like a make-believe honeymoon!
He smiles as I ramble on. Shall I give you a kiss in case they are watching?
Actually Ashwin and Rheema take turns to turn and look at us. Strangely I havent felt too bad
about them being together. It helps that they married in court and this is just a wedding reception. A
grand one at that.
Yes, I say, feeling shy.
He cups my cheek with his huge hand and plants a light but lingering kiss on my lips. I close my
eyes and press my lips to his. Its nice and strangely, I want more.
When I open my eyes, I smile and kiss him again. In case theyre watching, I say as I wipe off
lipstick from his lips with my thumbs.
He holds my hand with both of his.
Finally, its time to wish the bridal couple so we make our way to them and stand in the long line
of well-wishers.
Tarago stands behind me, his hands on my hips, tickling me at times and sending me into fits of
giggles.
Behave! I whisper.
When we get to Ashwin and Rheema, I give Rheema a hug first. All the best.
I mean it. She doesnt make a very good looking bride shes hugely pregnant, her face is puffy,
her eyes are red as if shes been crying, she looks tired and morose. I have trouble recognizing my
friend under all the garish make-up, flowers and that hideous red sari thats badly draped.
Thank you, she says. Im really glad you could make it. It means a lot to me.
Funny, I knew shed say that, but it doesnt feel bad when she says it.
Then I give Ashwin a hug.

Whats he doing here? Ashwin whispers.


Huh?
And why the hell are you cozying up to him?
Relax and enjoy your hanging, I say as I grab my neck with both hands and stick out my tongue.
I laugh, but he doesnt. In fact he seems pissed off.
After Tarago shakes his hand, he says, Sorry, we cant stay long. We have to be up early. Going
to Paris tomorrow morning.
Oh, really? Paris? Tomorrow? Rheemas envy is visible. Her eyes drop to Taragos hand
which is now around my waist.
Ja, Tarago says in a casual voice. Seven days. He squeezes me to him.
As we walk away, Tarago slides his hand from my hip over my butt, purely for Ashwins sake,
Im sure.
Tarago, stop! I whisper.
He responds by pinching my butt and making me jump.
When we dance, Tarago twirls me around, drops me, then kisses me, this time a long, lengthy
kiss. When we surface for air, he says, Just in case they are looking.
I nod and grin. I cant believe that Im not pushing him away and I cant believe that I am
enjoying his kisses. Guess Im caught up in the moment.
When we leave the reception, the helicopter is waiting for us.
Once again most people rush out of their seats when they hear the helicopter outside.
As we fly towards his home in Clifton, Tarago leans over and kisses me long and hard. In case
someone is watching. he says.
I giggle and slip my arms around his neck as he kisses me again.
What a great day its been.
When I call my mother to tell her that Im going to Paris, she has a lot to say about the wedding
reception, which she chose not to attend.
So many people called me and asked about you and your boss, Tanin, she says. They were
very impressed. They couldnt get over the helicopter. They wanted to know if he was your
boyfriend.
What did you say?
She hesitates before she answers. I said that I wasnt sure and that you are now a big girl who
leads her own life. I said that I support you with everything you do.
Okay
Silence.
Is he, Tanin?
I look at Tarago. Imagine if I told her that he was my husband. Nah, Ma, he just helped put on a
show for everybody. I saved face, thats all. You know how it goes.
She does luckily.

Chapter Nineteen
Paris, a business trip? What was I thinking believing Tarago?
Its absolutely wonderful and Im in awe from the moment I arrive.
Seven days with just Tarago and me. For the first time since Ive known him, hes lost his posse,
lost the party spirit, the childishness, the need to be obnoxious and I get a glimpse of the real Tarago.
And I like who I see.
Hes relaxed and openly affectionate towards me holds my hands, hugs me all the time, kisses
my lips in public and seems happy to be with me. Its quite a change from when were with his
family and friends hell make fun of me and goad me, but he does keep me, his dark secret under
wraps.
To my surprise, I find myself luxuriating in the warmth of his affection.
In a way, it makes me a little angry that he is so concerned about what others think. So
concerned about losing money and making deals with people who wont conduct business with him
because he is dating or married to someone other than a blue-eye, white skin woman. Shallow, amoral
people.
On the other hand, Im thinking that maybe after this trip, he will tire of me and send me packing.
For now, I live in the moment, surrender to Tarago and enjoy France and all its culture. I cant
wait to tell my sisters about my wonderful trip and give them the presents I bought them.
Tarago charters a yacht, complete with a skipper and staff. We travel around and visit quite a
few places like Le Havre, St Malo and St Tropez.
We enjoy a champagne cruise where wait staff proffer and fuss over us and before I know it, Im
tipsy and giggling at Taragos antics.
When the sun disappears, we sit in the dark in each others arms and enjoy the dazzling night
lights. To afford us the privacy, the staff place a bell is placed next to us, which we are to ring for
service. This gives us time alone without interference, which we both enjoy.
Im having such a good time with him that I dont mind when he slips his hand up my dress and
cups my butt. I dont mind when he presses his hard-on against me. I find myself moulding my body
against his and angling my neck for his urgent kisses.
I do mind when I realize that were out in the open and that someone might see us getting frisky.
Not to mention that the skipper and wait staff who are only feet away.
But he doesnt seem to care and forces off the straps off my dress.
No, not here, I whisper and try to stop him from.
With an impatient growl, he yanks down my straps, freeing my breasts. With the night air on my
bare chest, my nipples immediately harden.
I moan when he sucks on my breast, at the same time, slipping his fingers deep inside of me.
Youre wet, he says with glee.
Yes, well, Im Im at sea, I give an embarrassed laugh, what do you expect?
He laughs and pushes me on the deck. With his tongue in my mouth, he shoves up my dress, rolls
down my panties and spreads my thighs.
Im nervous about being seen, but I also dont want him to stop. I find this recklessness a bit of a
turn-on. He strokes, gently at first, then faster, eliciting all sorts of cries from me.
When I raise my bare hips towards his, he drives his erection into me. As he moves inside of

me, I reach up and bring his lips down to mine for a lusty kiss.
He thrust harder and in varying rhythm, burying himself deep inside of me. In spite of my
nervousness, I feel myself on the brink of a shudder. Then it happens with a long moan, I implode,
feeling like the millions of stars above me have just dipped down to earth to graze my wanton body.
My first orgasm with Tarago. Amazing.
With a pleased smile, he pauses and sucks on my bottom lip. As he does, I feel him twitch inside
of me.
Then he raises himself up, drapes my thighs around his hips and thrusts vigorously, rocking me
and the yacht until he bursts inside of me.
When he is done, he falls breathless onto the deck. I raise myself up to look at him. We smile at
each other. I lean down and kiss him.
I dont even like you, I say, holding his face with both my hands. You are boorish, arrogant, a
liar and yet, I like what you just did to me.
But I like you, he says as he strokes my hair. You turn me on like no other women.
We exchange a tender kiss before we retire to bed.
When I awake, I realize that its the first time Ive woken up with Tarago and its not a bad
feeling. We cuddle in bed and chat for a while.
Hes not obnoxious or flippant and we have a glorious morning with breakfast in bed. I didnt
know that life could be as sweet as this and I must say, Im really enjoying it. And Tarago. Whod
have taught Id say something like that?
When its time for us to say goodbye to Paris, the epitome of recklessness, sensuality and
freedom, to our wonderful honeymoon and head back to Cape Town, a weird feeling creeps over me.
Tarago is now going to become the obnoxious oaf he was before we left for France and thats going to
make me sad. No, no, no its going to piss me off, not make me sad.
I mean, why should it make me sad? It is after all, a sham marriage. Its not real. It isnt like
Tarago is in love with me and wants me to have and to hold.
Whats wrong? Tarago asks.
I shake my head. Nothing. Just sad to see this end.
We lock eyes.
I reach over and gently kiss his lips.
We smile at each other.
You are kissing me, he points out. Like I predicated you would.
With a short laugh, I grab his face and kiss him deep and long.
Then we share a tender hug for a long time.

Chapter Twenty
What do you want to talk to me about? I ask, surprised to receive a call from my ex-boyfriend
two weeks after he got married.
I just need to to apologize face-to-face, Tanin, Ashwin says. All I ask is five minutes. After
seeing you at my wedding reception, I realized that there are so many things I want to say to you. That
I need to say to you.
Its not necessary, I say.
It is necessary. I want to hear everything he has to say.
But it is, he argues. The last we met, you were so angry and you never gave me a chance to
tell you what went wrong He goes on to make a compelling argument as to why we should meet.
Curious to know what the man who dumped me and married my best friend has to say, and
without thinking, I find myself agreeing to meet him the following day at a restaurant.
Tarago wont know. I mean, he didnt know about the swimming lessons, so how would he know
if I met with Ashwin?
We meet in a secluded restaurant in Hout Bay. Ashwin says that hes certain Tarago has no ties
with this upmarket and exclusive restaurant. I hope to God he is right about that.
Nervous, with sweaty palms, I walk into the restaurant. When I mention Ashwins name, I am
shown into a private booth towards the end of the restaurant, away from prying eyes.
The booth is cordoned off from the rest of the patrons with flimsy, but sparkly, white, net-like
curtains. Most of all the walls of the restaurant are made of glass, so the views of the water are
absolutely breathtaking.
Tanin! he says when he sees me and hops to his feet. He hurries over to give me a big hug then
sits me down.
After we order, he talks and I listen.
I just wanna tell you how sorry I am about everything. What happened between Rheema and me
it was so so dumb of me, and now I have to pay the price. I mean, last night, I felt like I was
doing time for a crime I committed a misdemeanor life in the slammer. He shakes his head, a
melancholy expression on his face. I dont I dont love her, Tanin. I made such a mistake.
Okay, this is interesting.
The moment I agreed to marry her, I realized that I was making a big mistake.
You agreed to marry her?
He nods slowly, his lips turning downwards. I had no choice but to do the right thing.
Wow. That is huge, I say. Does she realize this?
I told her the night before we got married.
Wow!
I told her that I will do my duty and marry her, give our baby my name, but my heart belongs to
Tanin.
What? You told her that?
He nods and continues. And when I saw you at my wedding with that white bastard he blows
out his cheeks and shakes his head, I wanted to punch him in his smug face.
Mission accomplished then. I allow myself an inward smirk. A number of inward smirks. Big
ones.

He lets out a long breath and looks directly at me. I guess Im not over you, Tanin.
Mm. Funny enough, all his declaration of love means zilch to me today.
What about Alison? I ask.
His eyes grow wide. I how did you?
She told me.
Tanin, it was nothing. He shakes his head. You were the one. They were there and . He
waves dismissively. Now, Im thinking in a years time, you will be free and I will leave Rheema,
and we can still take off where we left.
He reaches out and takes my hand. You and mehow do we deny ourselves?
I smile. You mean I must become a home wrecker, Ashwin. I cant do that.
No, no, I will leave her. I will marry you. Well go legit.
Even though I havent eaten, I stand up.
What?
You expect to leave your wife with your little baby and marry another woman? Wheres your
heart?
Hey, I take care of my responsibility. I wont just ditch her like that. I mean He jumps to his
feet.
I hold up my hand. Sorry, Ashwin, but Im no longer how do I say this in a kind way,
interested in you.
Oh yeah? His voice is cocky, as he doesnt believe me.
I nod. Sorry.
His eyes narrow. That white prick? Is that why?
I nod again. As I do, I realize that I no longer find Ashwin appealing, I no longer love him. I
think right now, Im more in love with the memories of us, than I am with him.
Hes so history right now.
I think its more Tarago on my mind these days. Ever since Paris.
Youre lying! he snaps. Youre still hankering over me, Tanin. Youre here today, arent you,
huh? Huh? Before I can respond, he rushes at me, grabs me, bends me over a chair and kisses me.
Im too stunned to react. His kiss is awful cold, clumsy and wet. Yuuuuck! Not at all like I
remember. This confuses me even more. Eventually, he surfaces for breath and smiles at me.
Remember that? Huh? Huh?
Im not listening to him. Im looking past him into Taragos puce face.
Tara! My voice dies at the sight of the 9 mm in his hand.
His eyes are hooded, his jaw is grinding, his nostrils are flaring. I cower when he flies at me. He
grabs a fistful of my hair, lifts up my face and sticks the gun under my chin. You foking with ME?
You foking with MEEEE?
No, no, no!! I gurgle, mesmerized by a weapon under my face, my legs threatening to give.
Im sorry, I say. Im sorry.
How long have you been seeing him?
For a long time, Ashwin says before I can answer, a smug look on his face. She cant live
without me.
Without taking his eyes of me, with the gun in his hand, Tarago lashes out and backhands Ashwin
in the face.
Ashwin holds his face and sinks to his knees.
Stop Tarago! I cry, terrified that Tarago is going to hit Ashwin again. This is the first time. Put

that gun away, Tarago!


I could kill you right now and get away with it, he whispers in my ear, his face on top of mine.
I will buy my way out of it, you know that? He grips tighter on my hair and I feel like my hair is
being pulled off my scalp.
Shaking, I squeeze my eyes shut, then open it again. Fighting for calm, I say, Tarago, its not
what you think. Put the gun away, lets talk.
Slowly and to my relief, he releases my hair and slips the gun into the back of his pants.
Relieved, I exhale and say, Tarago, I
You fucking broke my nose! Im going to press charges for assault, Ashwin says, nursing his
bloody nose.
With a snarl, Tarago grabs Ashwin and slams his fist into Ashwin in the stomach three times.
Ashwin buckles like a bean bag.
Stop! I scream, horrified to see Ashwin getting such a beating.
Shes mine! Tarago says, before dropping him and stepping back. And you are foking
married.
With his breath in spurts and his teeth gnashing, he spins to look at me.
When I see the naked fury in his eyes, I shrink back.
With a snarl, he grabs my arm, pulls me out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. When he
gets to his Jag, he opens the back door, shoves me into the back seat, gets in next to me and shuts the
door.
Im shaking so much, I can barely fasten my seat belt.
Tuis (home)! he snaps at the driver.
Tarago
He swivels to look at me. Shut your foking mouth before I hit you! he hisses.
I close my eyes and clam up.
We drive, shrouded in menacing silence. I keep my eyes averted and try to steady my breathing.
How the hell did he know where I was? Somebody tipped him off. But who?
When we arrive at the mansion, ignoring staff and his friends, he grabs my elbow and almost
drags me into my bedroom. There he opens my closet and shoves me into it. Pack your things. You
are going home.
But but, Tarago
NOOOOW!
I jerk back, terrified at his wrath.
He starts to pace. That is a deal breaker, he says in Afrikaans. I warned you never to see him.
Did I not?
I run my hands slowly across my face. If only hed let me talk.
As he paces, he play with his fingers. I decide to let him cool down before I can talk to him. I
had no idea Tarago could go so crazy. This is so unlike the man Ive known for almost ten months.
Suddenly, he stops and drops his arms. Why? After all he did to you? Why? His eyes are
glassy, his voice his thick. You are married to me doesnt that mean anything to you? Hes married
and youre kissing him? Youre meeting him in private behind curtains and kissing him? How could
you do this to me, Tanin? Why would you do this to me? How long has this been going on? Pack your
stuff and get out of her now. Now! I never want to see your face again.
Tarago, please
I thought you cared about me, Tanin, he says, his Adams apple bobbing up and down. I asked

nothing of you and and I did everything you wanted. Anything you wanted to keep you happy.
Why?
I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand. I dont want to hear your lies. Pack your
stuff and get the fok out of here. Leave today, now. Just go!
I nod and with a heavy heart, I grab a bag and throw stuff into it.
He watches me for a while in silence, then turns and walks into his room where he stays.
I pack as much as I can, then walk towards the door where Bogas awaits to take my cases to the
car.
Waar gaan ons, Mejuffo? Bogas whispers.
My mothers house, asseblief (please).
Ja Mejuffro.
With shaking hands, I pick up my bag and walk over to Taragos room. I find him standing at his
window, looking out at the water, one hand on his hip, the other on the window.
Tarago?
He doesnt turn around.
I just wanna say
He turns around and brushes past me, out of the room.
With a heavy heart, I walk out of the mansion without saying goodbye to anyone.
As we drive, I shut my weary eyes and lean back in my seat.
Just how do I explain all of this to my mother?
That I cannot pay her medical bills anymore?
That I cannot pay my brothers and sisters school and university fees anymore?
That I can no longer help out with my grans nursing home fees?
That we have twenty-eight days to vacate the property we live in?
Damn!
Feeling overwhelmed, I cover my face with my hands as I try to digest the enormity of the
situation.
I messed up so badly. All for what? Some asshole who wants to have his cake and eat it? Some
jerk who betrayed me with my best friend?
Tarago did everything to please me made me look good at Ashwin and Rheemas wedding with
his helicopter and his trip to Paris. What did he ask of me? Nothing really, just my attention and my
body.
Images of his hurt face flit through my mind and tears prick the back of my eyes. That is the worst
part the hurt I caused him. I didnt mean to. God, I didnt.
So deep in thought am I, that I dont realize that we have pulled over to the side of the road.
What is it, Bogas?
Kerels (cops) Mejuffro.
Did you do anything ?
No. Nothing.
Must be some kind of traffic violation or random breath test.
Two cops walk over to us, one to Bogas side and one to my side.
The cop on my side raps on my window.
I open it. Yes, officer?
Tanin Gordhan?
Yyes. How does he know my name?

Step out of the vehicle, please.


I look at Bogas. He shrugs.
What seems to be the prob?
Step out of the vehicle!
Intimidated, I get out of the car.
The cop points to my handbag on the floor. Bring it.
Dread washes over me. I pick up my bag and face the police officer.
Come with us.
I would like to know why, officer.
All in due time, he says and gestures towards his cop car.
Am I being arrested?
His response is to open the back door of the police vehicle and jerks his head towards the car.
I look at the back seat of the cop car, then at him.
He deadpans.
Scared and having no choice, I get into the car. At least they arent handcuffing me like they did
the last time.
Both cops get into the car and drive.
Am I under arrest, sir?
Yes, for the theft.
Theft? Are you serious? What did I steal, officer?
You will know soon, he says in a voice that does not encourage discussion.
Tarago is having me arrested!
Theft. Ohmygod! Deep breaths, deep breaths, take it easy, relax, relax, relax.
Tarago is really that big on revenge?
Of course he is. If he cant have me, he will destroy me.
Damn you Tanin for making such a huge mistake.
I close my eyes and hang my head as images of me in prison flood my mind.
The last time he paid a judge to inflate my bail. What will he do now?
All because of Ashwin the dog, who I didnt even want to see.
I hold my head in my hands. What a mess.
Now, I have lost the most important thing my freedom.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

The End of Book One

Where to find Eve Rabi online


Website: http://everabi.wordpress.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/eve.rabi
Blog: http://everabi.wordpress.com/
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/everabiauthor
Books by Eve Rabi
Royal Deception - A Palace Full of Liars - Book 1
Royal Deception - A Palace Full of Liars - Book 2
Burn's World - Book 1
Burn's World - Book 2
Burn's World - Book 3
Burn's World - Book 4
CAPTURED - My Sworn Enemy, My Secret Lover - Book 1
CAPTURED - My Sworn Enemy, My Secret Lover - Book 2
Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug-Lord - Book 1
Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug-Lord - Book 2
Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug-Lord - Book 3
Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug-Lord - Book 4
THE CHEAT - A Tale of Lies and Infidelity - Book 1
THE CHEAT - A Tale of Lies and Infidelity - Book 2
YOU WILL PAY She Left Her Abusive Husband, He Took Revenge.
Obsessed with me When She Rejected Him, He Set Out to Destroy Her Book 1
Obsessed with me When She Rejected Him, He Set Out to Destroy Her Book 2

Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Where to find Eve Rabi online

Anda mungkin juga menyukai