by Javi Reddy
“What did your heart tell you?”
“My heart told me to go see Amritha. Without any hesitation, whatsoever.”
14 July 2013. The next product
Amritha thoughtfully brought Jay back to where she thought he’d be at ease.
The events of the last few days had been unleashed and spurted about quicker than liquid mercury. Jay barely had time to process what had just happened. McArthur had not only done everything to make sure that he wouldn’t have to set foot in court, he also ensured that Jay’s record would never be tarnished with the authorities. He thought about the Rosebank shirt. A few days ago, he would have killed to be in this position. To be wanted so badly again. Yet, now it felt anticlimactic and unfulfilling. He’d be back on the team because of his headmaster’s guilt.
In his search for the fire within, it was Vinny De Silva who kept him motivated. He yearned to be part of something special. To help the kids who could not be helped. He thought back to that day in Soweto and the Fork Up campaign. Amritha and he stood in the hollowness of the ballroom once more.
“Don’t play for Vinny. You can’t play for him. You just can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I know you have no reason to trust me. Especially, not after last week’s party. But you don’t know him. Not like I do.”
“And how do you know him?”
“He’s not like your beautiful game. That’s all you need to know.”
She looked at him as if she were searching for a time when they first met; when he looked back at her and saw someone he wanted to see.
“Do you remember Thishen from the party? The guy who…who kissed me?”
“The guy who belonged on the cover of a steroid bottle? Yes, your boyfriend was quite the treat.”
“There are two things you need to know about him. Firstly, he’s one of Vinny’s products.”
“Products? What on earth does that even mean? Look, if you brought me here to talk in riddles, then you’re wasting my time. I should be in the gym tonight, trying to get my fitness up if I’m gonna be playing again.”
She gripped his hand. He could feel how resolute she was whenever she clasped him.
“He breeds these types of kids. I don’t know how, but he gives them a sort of power that they crave.”
She was poker-faced so that her story could be heard.
“I knew Thishen before he met Vinny. He was nothing like he is now. He was kind and selfless. He was like…like you.”
She didn’t look at him when she said the last part.
"But he was also not confident. He couldn’t assert himself in life, which bothered him. That’s when Vinny told him that he could help. Thishen always wanted to be a football player, but he wasn’t good enough or big enough. Then, he started bulking up, and I noticed that he started moving in darker circles. With kids who had bad reputations. The thing is that these kids never got caught. They always got away with whatever they did.
"Once, on a school trip to Cape Town, I followed Thishen. He and a group of kids—both girls and boys headed to the Iziko Museum on Victoria Street. I didn’t know how, at the time, but they were pretty heavily armed. They broke into the building easily and everything seemed to be going to plan for them. Then, a guard showed up outside and Thishen panicked. He shot him in the head. I somehow managed to stifle my scream. They left him there to die. I had no proof, but I was determined to go to the police.
“What I didn’t know was that Vinny was watching me watch them. When we got back to Joburg, he locked me in the girls’ bathroom at my school and told me that if I mentioned to anyone about that night, he would pay a visit to my grandmother in Germiston and make sure that her old age ‘caught up to her’. He knew everything about my family and friends. He knew my daily schedule—when I had dance practice or when I went for pizza with my friends. He knew it all. And it made me shiver, how quick he was on to me. I kept quiet because I couldn’t be the one to put my family or anyone else I cared for at risk.”
“And Thishen?”
“We were together back then. We’re not anymore. That’s the second thing I wanted to tell you. Thishen always likes to remind people that who’s in charge, especially, when I’m with another guy. He’s power hungry. And that’s all down to your beloved Vinny.”
Jay did not say anything.
“He’s after you. He wants you as his next product.”
“How do you know that?”
She moved the top right of her blouse aside to reveal a continent of bruises shrouding her shoulder.
“My job is to tell you to play for him. And not to go back to Rosebank. Otherwise, he sends Thishen to make my life miserable.”
On the few times that he could, he’d gaze at Amritha’s olive skin and it put him at rest. He now felt a wave of different emotions pour over him as he dug his teeth into his lower lip to quell any rage.
“Why did you keep quiet about this for so long? I can’t believe you’re going through this because of me. We need to go to the police.”
“He knows too many people in the authorities. Police. Judges. His filthy hands are everywhere.” She turned away from him before continuing:
“I won’t let him ruin your life the way he ruined Thishen’s. Vinny De Silva’s time will come. I know it. I believe it.”
“But to suffer like this is so…”
She turned back to him and placed her cool hand over his mouth.
“Don’t let your anger for a team, you once loved, drive you into the arms of another that will ruin your life. After all that has happened, Rosebank may not be perfect but whose family is? Deep down, they love you. They’re just scared how much they do. Make it right. Play for them.”
Jay held her hand and used his other one to graze over her forehead lightly.
“Am I really worth all this trouble?” he asked her.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Jay held her as close as he’d ever held another. He thought of little Katie Clifford and that day, under the stands, seemed so insignificant at last. And then the ballroom was brought to life once more, by a moment that its withering chambers so desperately sought out. Jay moved even closer into Amritha, so close that only one thing could happen. Their lips met. He could feel the relief in her body as she released her shoulders and her hands locked into his. They stayed at the ballroom for as long as he could remember and held each other as they sat against a dusty old wall.
“You’re stronger than he is.”
“Vinny?”
“Thishen.”
“We’ll see.”
Jay was sure that he could find a way to better Thishen, even with his Trojan physique waiting to crush him. He did not fear physical pain. But Amritha didn’t say that he was stronger than Vinny De Silva. It scared him because who knew what darkness was coming. He held Amritha tighter, just thinking about it.
Chapter 19
2 October 2013. 9:08 AM
Much like a gentle wind, Layla and James were slowly drifting towards each other and towards being a couple. He did not utter a word on the matter, for fear that he’d curse his sprouting luck. He didn’t need a girlfriend. He never needed one. But Layla was Layla and it didn’t help that Jay kept going on about Amritha.
James had never heard so much about a girl whom he’d not even met. Jay would tell him how he held Amritha when she was gleeful or unsettled. How he waited for the cute and adoring expression of shock on her face when something unexpected happened. How he kissed her, time and time again, as if they’d never kissed before, or would ever kiss again.
Their youthful romance fuelled his pining for Layla. He thought about her as she worked away in the kitchen of the flat. Her flat. No, their flat. He smelt the pancakes all the way from the couch. He salivated, waiting for them to be served with cinnamon and butter. She brought them over with a red rose on the top.
“Morning Sunshine,” she whispered into his ear
“If I didn’t know any better, I’
d say that you were looking to take up the position of a steady girlfriend?” He could no longer hold back.
“Would that be so unthinkable?”
She dug a little gold fork into a fat piece of her breakfast delight before feeding James. He bit on it and then moved his tongue onto her finger. She closed her eyes and breathed out faintly. He hoisted her t-shirt off and nimbly removed her bra. They sunk into each other’s lips; she bit into his. He hoisted her off the couch and moved her into the kitchen. He lifted her onto the sink and his grateful tongue ran over her left breast. Her breathing quickened as his firm hands grazed down her right breast, onto her pelvis and then, further down. He took her in the kitchen. And then on the couch, that had become contoured to their bodies.
After breakfast, James helped Layla with the dishes and thought of how Jay had felt at the sink when he couldn’t finish all the washing without breaking something. Layla moved so gracefully. Her milky white hands smoothly travelled over the white porcelain, as the water splashed onto her naked body, making her skin lucent. As her black hair hung down her bare back, he gazed upon his goddess and felt his dogged heart beat rapidly.
Soon after, Layla ran off to a charity event, whilst James decided to take a break from Jay. He spent the day sleeping, seeing that he didn’t do much of that when Layla was around. When nightfall came, he made his way back to the Ice-Cream Parlour, where he had a go at his latest Kaleidoscope. Layla arrived soon, and he bounced around like a high school boy, waiting for his girl to join him at the booth.
“You really like those, don’t you?” she pointed with her eyes as she entered.
“They’ve grown on me. Like someone else.”
He pulled her towards him and kissed her like he knew Jay would kiss Amritha. “It’s good to see you too!”
She told the waiter to bring her a Vanilla Vodka. James hoisted up his drink to hers. She beamed at him and raised her glass to clink his.
“So, Jay rejoined Rosebank’s team after everything that had happened. What was it like then?”
“Well, with him involved, of course, it was a spectacle,” She brushed her hair back across her forehead. He loved the little things about her that he, like every other man, was so easily seduced by.
“Let me tell you about his first game back…”
20 July 2013. 9:08 AM. A new world
In the Rosebank dressing room, there was a tradition which the team would act out before each home game. The players would huddle around their captain, Thabo Shabangu, and he’d ask three different team members why they were going to win today. The trick was, no one could repeat what anyone else had said over the course of the season. Everyone had to come up with a new answer, as each game went on.
That was over 10 games and over 30 reasons as to why they were better than the opposition. It was a chance to be creative. And more importantly, a chance to remind everyone in the huddle of the world they had created for themselves. The answers varied from, “Because Bryanston defend like girls on crutches” to “Because we’re better than Houghton and their useless strikers” to “Because we’re Rosebank, that’s all”.
Layla peeped through the ajar dressing room door and they were at it again. All, but one of them. The number seven idled around outside the change rooms until the team took to the field. Jay didn’t know how to return to such a tradition. He let his teammates talk up their own winning formula as he looked towards the crowd. He felt their eyes weighing down heavily on him, much like a wretched solo circus act. The rest of the players eventually led out, most of them afforded him wry smiles when they saw him. It made him emptier, feeling their sympathy and not their compassion. He knew that this was a new world. There was no time for a Zondi team-talk.
The kick-off had been brought forward for fear of a typical Highveld storm that threatened to hit Rosebank later that day. The whistle blew and Rosebank’s opposition for the day, Melville, kicked off. They were quicker to the ball than their hosts and Jay was feeling it the most. He was off the pace and he knew that it would take a little time before he got back into it.
Players whizzed past and he felt his sluggishness. This meant Rosebank weren’t defending from the front, which meant the midfield was being overrun. Layla was surprised at how much she’d come to analyse games after taking an interest in the sport; thanks to Jay. Although, she didn’t want to get started on the offside rule, she thought that she’d be able to learn Mandarin before she grasped it.
“Come on, Chetts, track back!”
“Pick up the man earlier!”
“Wake up, you’re no longer on holiday. Get to it!”
Everyone had something to say. Jay was having a shocker. Luckily, Rosebank’s defence was as strong as ever, with their captain looking like the colossal figure they needed right now. Keith was looking like Rosebank’s best bet for a goal. He’d run the Melville defence ragged on several occasions, but in the last third, he was coming up short because Jay lacked the cutting-edge.
Just before half-time, Keith burst into the box once more and played a lovely ball into Jay. Keith continued his run and expected Jay to return a pass to him. Instead, Jay took it on and fired a thunderous shot towards goal. It missed. By a country mile. “What the hell man?” Keith let loose. “I was free! Why does it always have to be me setting you up? The scouts are also here to see the rest of us.”
“I’m trying my best, okay. It’s hard coming back like this.”
“Yeah, but you just come back like that. Just walk back into the team like that.”
“Some kind of mate you are. This is the kind of support you give me?”
“Well, I keep giving you support in front of goal and you’re not taking it!”
The two of them had squared off in the middle of the centre circle and their foreheads were almost touching.
“What’s wrong? You can’t finish? You need Headmaster McArthur to help you with that too?”
Without thinking twice about it, Jay threw a punch at his teammate. At his best friend. He hit him fairly square too. Keith was more startled than anything else, but he did not hold back. He swiftly returned the favour by giving Jay a few solid knuckles to his right cheekbone. They wrestled to the ground and their teammates tried to separate them as a mass of boys tangled in the centre.
Whilst this was going on, Melville continued to play. The ref had not blown the whistle. It was five Melville players against two Rosebank defenders and it looked ominous. The Melville attackers passed expertly around the defence and now it was two strikers in on goal against the hapless keeper, Warren Harris.
Warren raced out boldly, the only option that seemed feasible to him. One of the Melville strikers tried to round him, and Warren caught his ankle as he went to the ground to try and smother the ball. Penalty. There had not been a more stonewall penalty. The ref raced towards the Rosebank keeper and pulled out a card. When it was yellow, a unanimous sigh of relief was felt around the grounds. It could easily have been red. The Rosebank players ran to the ref to protest, but he had every right to continue play when Melville had the advantage.
“This is football, not Fight Club,” was how he waved their protests away. If anything, Rosebank were lucky that Jay and Keith weren’t sent off. Up stepped the Melville striker who had been brought down. He coolly placed the ball on the spot and stepped back to take his run up. He crashed the ball into the top right corner of the net, sending Warren the wrong way. The Rosebank players felt the bitterness of the goal.
At halftime, the home crowd echoed boos around the ground. Whether it was for Melville’s unsporting behaviour or for Rosebank’s own misdemeanour was questionable. Either way, the Rosebank players were rattled. Zondi’s eyes pierced them as they huddled together in their change room once more.
“Never in my 20 years in this sport as a coach have I been disgraced like this. Lose the game for all I care. But never, ever, ever, lose like this. Disrespecting each other. Disrespecting the school. You’re bickering like petty fools!”
“You know how lucky you are to be out there? To play a game you love, at this level? And if you want to play at the next level, you think this is the way to do it?”
Keith and Jay both bowed their heads whilst the rest of the team looked at Zondi, absolutely forlorn.
“And I’m not just talking about Foreman and Ali over here. This is for everyone. There is no chemistry out there.”
No one in the room dared to respond.
“You want to make the quarter finals? You want to go on the greatest run this school has had in the modern era? Then, get it together! Because I can’t do that for you. Only you can. I can tell you about tactics, formations and any other game plan I can come up with. But what you do out there, with the time given to you, is up to you. Make the decisions you want to live with.”
Still, nobody spoke. All this while, they had been flawless in their season’s dance. Then, in a single half, they had tripped over their own feet. The fragile nature that was layered in this sport, hit the room hard. Its potential to combust at any moment made football at once glorious but harrowing.
“Remember, if we win this game, we secure a home quarterfinal. You decide. If you choose to win this game, you’ll win the next. And the people of Rosebank will want to come watch us and not wonder if we’re wasting their weekend. You decide.”
Keith stepped into the middle of the circle.
“Coach is right. We started this season together. Let’s finish it that way. All of us.” He put his hand around Jay who smiled and nodded back.
