And while she was happy to be by herself, with only the swooping seagulls for company and a tiny crab scuttling across the sand, she nervously kept one eye over her shoulder and was careful not to walk too far from the main street. She was more shaken from her encounter with Dumi than she liked to admit. She sat down for a while in the soft white sand, enjoying the hiss and pull of the water as it reached for the shore and then sank back into the sea. She dug in her camera bag for an energy bar but came up empty and decided it was time to head back into town.
Kate scoured the stores and found what she wanted: André’s Guns and Ammo. The sign hung above a bright yellow door; the store front was sandblasted red brick and barred windows were set high up near the roof. Kate looked up and noticed a security camera. She pressed the small white buzzer.
“Yes?” the voice did not sound particularly welcoming.
“I … uh,” Kate cleared her throat and spoke into the intercom. “I’d like to come in” A buzzing noise sounded and Kate pushed at the heavy reinforced steel door. She walked up to a glass counter filled with knives and gun accessories. The walls displayed all kinds of weaponry; antique rifles and spears, and ornamental antique jerry cans were stashed neatly in the corner.
A large muscular man was leaning on the counter filling in a crossword puzzle. His shaggy dark blonde hair was in need of a comb and his yellow Che Guevara T-shirt was wrinkled. He glanced up briefly and did a double-take. Kate assumed she was not his usual clientele.
She cleared her throat. “Um, hello. I’m traveling through Africa by myself and I need something to protect me, can you help me?”
“I’m sure I can be of assistance.” The man stood up and groaned as his back made a cracking noise. “What did you have in mind?”
He leaned forward, so close to her that she could see the blonde, brown and gray of his facial stubble. She looked into his deep-set blue eyes and thought that he smelled good, a combination of aftershave and gun oil.
“I’m not sure really,” she said, “having never been in this situation before.”
“And what situation would that be? I’m André by the way, owner of this fine establishment and purveyor of all manner of protective devices.”
“I’m Kate. I’m with a tour group and it’s just that there’s been some weird stuff going on and last night I walked home from the restaurant by myself…”
André scowled at her. “You walked home by yourself at night? I’m sorry but are you looking for trouble or what? I don’t get you tourists, always going on about the crime and then you do a stupid thing like that.”
Kate was defensive. “I wasn’t thinking. I was exhausted and I just wanted to be by myself. And then this young guy from the market suddenly appeared, Dumi, and he seemed to be friendly but I’ve got to admit I got a fright and it just made me think.”
“Ja, well jong, best you don’t do stupid things like that again, hey? Dumi? I’ll keep an eye out for him. Odds are, I hate to tell you, that he would have hurt you if he could have. How did you get away from him?”
“I talked like crazy until we got to the lodge which wasn’t too far, thank heavens. Then I ran into the pub. But now I really want something to help me feel safer, and I won’t ever go strolling around at night by myself.”
She sat down on a tall stool next to the counter. “I don’t know what I want,” she said. “What about a switchblade?”
André laughed, deep from his belly. “What do you think this is, the Gangs of New York? But, as a matter of fact, I do have one.” He ducked down and pulled open a drawer, brandishing a traditional switchblade, leaning towards her and pressing the switch. Kate shot backwards off her chair, her heart pounding in fright and her face turned bright red when she saw that all it released was a man’s hair comb.
“Very funny,” she said, feeling stung.
“Caught a skrik did you?” André replied, laughing. “It’s a 1980 classic I got off ebay. But in all seriousness bokkie, I don’t have any switchblades. What’s next on your shopping list? A gun? I can’t sell you that either because you need a license that you register with the police — it’s a whole song and dance, believe me.”
“I don’t want a gun,” Kate was horrified. “What about pepper spray?”
“Now you’re talking. I’ve got the perfect thing. It’s a very dynamic combo of pepper spray, tear gas and UV dye. Plus it comes in a nice little pouch so that you can keep it with you all the time. Here, I’ll show you.”
Kate examined it. “Yes,” she said, “this is more me.” She gave a sigh of relief. “Just looking at it makes me feel safer.”
She found she was in no hurry to leave the sanctuary of André’s store. Sunlight streamed in through the small barred windows and dust motes floated on stripes of warmth while township jazz played a pennywhistle jive. “This is nice,” she said dreamily and André grinned and his dimples cut deep into his cheeks.
“That will be a hundred and fifty dollars,” he said, leaning forward. “Namibian dollars, not U.S.”
“I can manage that,” she said, “it’s only about twenty dollars back home.” She dug in her wallet and handed him the money.
“So, jong,” he said, “are you free for lunch now, even if it’s a bit early?”
“Yes,” Kate said, astonishing herself with the speediness of her reply. She wondered what was going on with her; her attraction to Thaalu and now André but she pushed her analyzing thoughts aside.
“Good. I’ll take you somewhere nice.” He grabbed a knapsack from behind the counter and threw a few things into it. He locked his laptop away, turned off the radio, and set the security alarm for the store.
“Come on.” André put his hand on the small of her back and led her down the street. Kate felt a thrill of heat at his touch and she noticed that André appeared to be in no hurry to remove his hand either.
“Up these stairs,” he said, guiding her into a small courtyard. The whitewashed walls were covered in scarlet bougainvillea and the sounds of the busy town faded away.
“Le Bistro Afrique.” Kate read the restaurant’s name that was scrolled in gold script. “This looks very five-star. I’m not exactly dressed for it.” She looked down at her white shorts and yellow T-shirt and wished she’d known that her day was going to entail meeting a gorgeous man who’d take her out for some fine dining.
“You look fantastic,” André said with enthusiasm. Enthusiasm that was matched when the owner came over to greet them, giving André a complicated hand-shake and Kate an admiring glance.
He led them to a table out on the open balcony overlooking the ocean and Kate sank into her chair and smiled. She spread her linen napkin over her lap and admired the view. “Very nice,” she said, the breeze lifting her hair. “Very, very nice.”
André was studying the wine menu. “Like I said, it’s a bit early in the day but what the hell. Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc or Pinot Grigio? I recommend a lovely South African Sauvignon Blanc, if you’re game?”
“André, I know as much about wine as I do about switchblades, so you go ahead and order for me.”
She realized she was ravenous. “I feel as if I haven’t eaten properly in days,” she said. “although we did go to dinner last night but I just had pizza.” She opened the menu and read the quote embossed on the first page. “All glory comes from daring to begin. Kind of weird, to have a quote on a menu. It’s by Eugene F. Ware and I like it.”
“Well bokkie, let’s you and I begin,” André said, having ordered the wine. He leaned close to her and she immediately lost interest in food and wished they were lying on a blanket behind a dune on the beach and letting things develop as they may.
Lost in her daydream, she lost track of what he was saying and she blushed when she had to ask him to repeat his question.
“Where are you from?” he repeated. “Thought I’d start with the easy questions fi
rst although even that one seemed to baffle you.”
Kate, not used to being teased, turned plum. “I’m from Canada,” she said. “A town near Toronto. And you?”
“I was born here. Then my parents separated and I moved to Boston to live with my mom from when I was eight until I was sixteen. I got myself into a bit of trouble there, substance over-enthusiasm and all that. So my mom shipped me back to my Afrikaans dad who knocked some sense into me and I liked it better here, so I stayed. I still visit my mom, pretty much every year. If you think about it, Toronto and Boston aren’t that far away from each other.”
“Practically neighbours,” she said, smiling, wishing she could grab him and wondering how she was going to get through lunch without doing just that. She could feel his knee touching hers and just that slight touch had her feeling like a schoolgirl on a date with the quarterback hero. She gulped back some wine and reminded herself that alcohol was not going to help her curb her inhibitions. She reached for a crisp breadroll and broke it in half, scattering crumbs across the table and quickly brushing them off the pristine cloth.
André laughed and pushed the dish of butter towards her. “We’re going to make much more of a mess than that, trust me.”
She grinned at him and then a thought occurred to her and her face fell. “André, do you have a girlfriend, or a wife?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’d be here if I did? I’m a one-woman man, when I have a woman that is, which I currently do not. You’re single too, I presume?”
“Yes, single. But from what I gather, lots of men these days like to have a few women to choose from.”
“Not me, sweetheart. Now, as for food, unless you object, we’re having prawns.” He poured more wine into their glasses that were the size of jam jars. “And lobsters and langoustines and more prawns. With lemon butter and garlic butter and peri peri sauce. Is that okay? You do eat seafood?”
Kate nodded enthusiastically and took another generous sip of her wine. She giggled and then frowned. “I never giggle,” she said, “look what you’re doing to me.”
He laughed. “You’re on holiday. That means you’re even allowed to partake of a giggle or two.”
“André,” she said, serious for a moment, “you would not believe some of the things that have happened on my trip and I’m not going to go into them because it’s too perfect a day. But let’s just say that this is exactly what I needed.”
He pulled his chair even closer to her and brushed her hair away from her neck. “And you, sunshine, were a very nice surprise in my day too, believe me.”
Several hours later, they were still at the restaurant. The food had long since been cleared and they had nearly finished a second bottle of wine.
Kate looked at her watch with regret. “I have to get going soon,” she said. “We get back on the bus tomorrow and I’ve got a whole bunch of stuff I must get done at the lodge. Everything’s a mess, I need to pack.”
“Really?” André leaned in and cupped the back of her neck with his hand. “Or we could take this back to my place and…”
Kate burst out laughing. “A nice thought,” she said, “a very nice thought but hardly likely.”
André grinned. “I had to ask,” he said. “Where does your trip end?”
“Windhoek.”
“Then, I’ll come and see you there. I simply cannot not see you again, it’s as simple as that.”
“I think there might have been an easier way to say that,” Kate said, wishing she had agreed to go back to his place but knowing that she could not.
“At the very least, let me walk you back to your lodge,” André said. He bounded up out of his chair, looking way more sober than she felt.
Outside on the sidewalk, in the hot sun, André took hold of her hand and before she knew it, Kate grabbed him and pulled him towards her. Kate, whose sex life with Cam had been predicable at best, and whose sexual history before him had been pale and disinteresting, was kissing a man she hardly knew with passion she had no idea she possessed.
“You see, that’s why you should come home with me,” André said, when they finally pulled apart. He sounded out of breath.
“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t,” Kate countered. She grabbed his hand and started walking in the direction of the lodge, her thoughts spinning with desire and every nerve ending in her body aflame.
André pulled her to a stop for a moment and dug in his knapsack. He tore a piece of paper out of a notebook and fished for a pen.
“Here’s my home phone number, my cell number, my work number and my email address.” He smiled at her and handed her the list which she folded and tucked carefully into her money belt.
“Kate, wait, do you have a cellphone with you?” he asked.
“No, I don’t,” she said.
“Jirre, so how were you going to phone me? Trying to pull a fast one, were you?”
“I thought there must be payphones,” Kate said. She had no intention of seeing him again; he made her feel reckless and crazy, it was safer to avoid him entirely.
“We’re going to get you a pay-as-you-go phone,” he said, guiding her into a store. “My treat, okay?”
He bought her a phone and showed her how to use it, storing his numbers in the memory.
“One more thing,” he said. “A souvenir for you.” He handed her the fake switchblade comb and Kate pocketed it with delight.
They reached the lodge entrance and André walked her to her room. “Jirre,” he said, peering inside the doorway, “not exactly the lap of luxury, né?”
The tiny room looked as if a frat house had exploded and Kate nodded. “Close quarters,” she said, “and I need to tidy up my part.”
“Can I see you tonight?” He stepped inside the room with her, tempting her.
She looked up at him. “Not tonight,” she said, caressing his forearm, unable to resist touching him.
“I thought that’s what you’d say. Okay, Miss goody-two-shoes that’s fine by me. But I’ll tell you this much, this could be the start of a very nice friendship and it would be a pity to let it go to waste. It’s not every day that a gorgeous little meisie walks into my shop and gives me CPR. Because that’s how it felt, hey, like you gave me the kiss of life by showing up like that. Listen to me, talking too much, and saying stupid things but I’m scared you’re going to disappear and I’ll never see you again, so I’m saying anything I can think of.” He grinned at her. “But I’m going to shut up now for sure.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead.
“Come on, Kate,” he said, “please, tell me you won’t just disappear.”
“André, I promise I won’t just disappear,” she said, “I promise.”
She pulled his head down and kissed him. She took his hand and slid it up inside her T-shirt, inside her bra. She cupped his thick, strong fingers around her breast and she felt the breath catch in his throat and his body tense. He caressed her; her nipple was so taut it was nearly painful and his hand felt hot against her skin. She could feel his erection digging at her through his trousers and before she knew it, her hand was rubbing him and he was groaning with pleasure.
“What on earth’s going on?” A dislocated voice spoke from the depths of a bunk bed.
Kate and André shot apart, and Kate could not help smiling at the tent pole projection of his trousers.
It was Ellie waking up. She rubbed her face and looked around. “Oh, it’s you, Kate.” She hardly seemed to notice André. “I must have a shower.” She climbed down off the bed and ambled past André. “Hello,” she said vaguely and went into the washroom.
Kate and André looked at each other and doubled over laughing.
“A couple more seconds and we’d have been naked on the floor,” he whispered and Kate nodded.
André ran a hand through his hair and let out a whistle. “Okay bokkie, I’l
l respect your wishes and be on my way before we ignite our flame again. Not that it’s going to be easy to walk, if you get my meaning. But listen, I want to hear from you often, okay?”
“Constant updates,” she said and he grinned.
He walked away, down the driveway, stopping to look back. She waved and he smiled. Then he turned the corner and was gone.
Kate sank down on her bed and touched her lips with her fingertips. “What on earth was that about?” she asked herself. “Oh, my.”
While Kate was out having a fine adventure, the same could not be said for other members of the group. Helen, in particular, was not having a good day. She was sitting at the top of the stairs that led down to the market, feeling angry and resentful. She had had no idea it would be this hard to get what she wanted.
Helen’s revenge had fast become Helen’s frustration. No one was willing, or able, to help her. The only spells she could find were tourist potions for love which were useless to her, while all the really virulent stuff was apparently locked up in the vault of some secret society that would not let her in.
She had thought that Peter’s Antiques, self-proclaimed stockist of a wide range of fetishes, would be able to help her and she had marched in the minute the store opened. But all she found was a wide array of German antiquities, jewelry, statues, masks and calabashes; an amazing plethora of artistic African treasures as well as a few fearsome objects, but nothing of any use to her.
She was also facing the problem of postage. She could not send Robbie a godawful ugly fetish telling him he was cursed, because it would lead straight back to her. Besides, her goal was not to momentarily alarm him but to infect a virus of hurt into his life that would leave a permanent scar just as he had done to her. But she was coming up short and she was running out of time.
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