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 I’m not even drunk.
I know that Tarago is watching me, but I don’t even look at him or bother to talk to anyone.
“If looks could kill, Tarago would be dead by now,” a guy I’ve never met before says.
“And that would make me very happy,” I say, as I sip on …I don’t know, some drink that was placed in front of me.
“You really don’t 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. He’s tanned and muscular with an eyebrow piercing and a scar above his right eyebrow. I’ve seen him around but I’ve never spoken to him before.
I shake my head from side to side. “He’s 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, I’d have a lot more money than vark (pig).”
“Actually, talking about money, you’d 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.”
“That’s 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.
“You’ll 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. You’re nuts.”
“And if I’m not? I get ten million?”
I squint at him. “Suuuuure,” I finally say. “I’ll double it if I get one hundred million. I will give you twen’y 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 don’t 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 it’s worth.”
“About ten grand,” he says. “And it’s 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 I’m stumbling around. I make it to my bedroom where I pass out fully clothed.
****
It’s 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 don’t come as often these days and sometimes a whole minute goes by when I don’t think of my boyfriend and my best friend’s upcoming nuptials.
When I don’t think about the surprise on people’s faces when they see Rheema’s name where mine should have been.
When I don’t think about the questions my mother would have to answer from needling relatives.
When I don’t 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 won’t 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
I down it without bothering with the salt.
“Another please.”
Six shots in less than an hour and I’m not even drunk.
I know that Tarago is watching me, but I don’t even look at him or bother to talk to anyone.
“If looks could kill, Tarago would be dead by now,” a guy I’ve never met before says.
“And that would make me very happy,” I say, as I sip on …I don’t know, some drink that was placed in front of me.
“You really don’t 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. He’s tanned and muscular with an eyebrow piercing and a scar above his right eyebrow. I’ve seen him around but I’ve never spoken to him before.
I shake my head from side to side. “He’s 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, I’d have a lot more money than vark (pig).”
“Actually, talking about money, you’d 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.”
“That’s 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.
“You’ll 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. You’re nuts.”
“And if I’m not? I get ten million?”
I squint at him. “Suuuuure,” I finally say. “I’ll double it if I get one hundred million. I will give you twen’y 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 don’t 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 it’s worth.”
“About ten grand,” he says. “And it’s 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 I’m stumbling around. I make it to my bedroom where I pass out fully clothed.
****
It’s 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 don’t come as often these days and sometimes a whole minute goes by when I don’t think of my boyfriend and my best friend’s upcoming nuptials.
When I don’t think about the surprise on people’s faces when they see Rheema’s name where mine should have been.
When I don’t think about the questions my mother would have to answer from needling relatives.
When I don’t 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 won’t 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
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