By Any Means

by Kurt Ellis

  Kyle and Jimmy joined Captain’s circle. Kyle shook hands with every person there, many of whom had been his friends from primary school. Long before they’d made their allegiance to the Godfathers.

  “Now please explain to me, Kyle, how did young Jimmy here convince you to come to Carmen’s party?” asked Lester.

  “Ja,” agreed German. “When we choon you to pull in, you always duck and dive.”

  Kyle smiled, a polite smile. “What can I say? The guy made me a promise I couldn’t refuse.”

  “A promise? A promise on top of … ?” Captain raised a questioning eyebrow.

  With a smile and a wink, Kyle replied, “On top of talking to … you know who.”

  Captain’s forehead furrowed with confusion for a second, then his eyes sparked with understanding and he laughed. “No jokes? About fucking time.”

  The three cousins revelled in their private joke until Kyle saw the smile on Captain’s face slowly slip away. Captain was staring at something over Kyle’s right shoulder. Kyle followed his glare and saw a handsome guy talking to a beautiful girl with striking red hair. Nazneen, Captain’s girlfriend. And it was Wesley talking to her.

  Spider too had followed Captain’s eyes. “Whoa, Cap,” he said. “Take it easy. They’re just talking.”

  Wesley’s hair was neatly trimmed and gelled away from his face. A gold earring twinkled in his left ear-lobe and his smile radiated confidence. He looked as if he’d stepped straight out of the pages of a GQ magazine, and he was known to have a silver tongue that could make girls weak at the knees.

  Kyle knew that Wesley embodied everything Captain hated in a person. His family was wealthy and he’d had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He was good-looking and he was arrogant. He was what they’d call a “glamour boy” or a “pretty boy”. The type of guy who would apply deodorant three to four times a day. The type of guy who’d flee from a soccer ball for fear of scuffing his shoes.

  Kyle frowned. Captain had been getting particularly annoyed with Wesley of late because he and his punk friends had begun calling themselves the Sydenham Mafia.

  But worst of all, Wesley was Nazneen’s ex-boyfriend.

  “Relax, Captain,” Kyle said. “They’re just talking. It’s innocent. I’m sure it is.”

  But Captain did not seem to hear his cousin’s words. His eyes swelled with anger and his knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists at his side.

  Spider tried to say something, but it was too late. Captain was off, moving with purpose and aggression.

  Kyle and Jimmy hurried after him. “Cap,” Kyle said, softly so as not to cause a scene. “Relax. Don’t do this.”

  Captain ignored his words. His feet thundered on the cement path. His lips moved as he spoke to himself, cursed to himself.

  Wesley looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of the impending doom and pain. To Kyle’s relief he turned and hurried off.

  Nazneen turned around, confused. “Anthony? What’s going on?”

  “You tell me!” he said in a harsh whisper and with a glare.

  “What are you on about?” Nazneen glared back. Her fair skin had turned even whiter, which made the freckles that peppered her nose and cheeks stand out even more.

  Kyle saw Captain’s fists unclench and the tension leave his shoulders. “We need to talk,” he said in an uneven voice. Nazneen nodded and the two of them disappeared up the stairs and into a Grade 9 prefab classroom.

  Kyle sighed with relief. He patted Jimmy on the shoulder and the two of them returned to the group.

  “Bru, was it really necessary for Captain to get so pissed off?” Kyle looked at the others.

  Spider shook his head slowly. “Actually, Kyle, the answer is yes, outie. Captain has a reputation he must maintain. Especially now that Tyson is around again. We all do. Everyone knows Wesley is a ladies’ man. For him to be seen talking to Nazneen in front of everyone, in front of Cap, is a bit of an insult. Everyone knows they were an item.”

  “Come on, man, that’s bullshit,” Kyle said. “They broke up years ago.”

  “True,” Spider agreed, slowly. “I know she wouldn’t do anything like that … But Captain cannot be seen as weak. If he is seen as weak, then the whole crew is seen as weak. Ripe to be picked off by Tyson and the NBKs. It’s a fucked-up time now, bru. We need to make sure we keep our strength.”

  Kyle looked at Spider. Maybe this made sense to the Godfathers, but it made absolutely none to him. Still, he wasn’t going to pursue the matter. He just let the talk of the others flow around him.

  After about ten minutes, Captain and Nazneen came out of the classroom. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, but the look on his face was grave. He was as white as a sheet. And it looked as if Nazneen had been crying. Captain kissed her on the forehead and gave her a hug before she hurried away and he came back to the group.

  Kyle could see he was worried – he rubbed his forehead the way he always did when he was stressed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Captain appeared not to have heard him, so Kyle tried again. “Cap, what happened?”

  Captain’s eyes snapped wider with the surprise of someone who had been shaken from a daydream. He stared at Kyle.

  “Nothing. Nothing,” he finally replied softly.

  But Kyle knew he was lying. He could see the concern floating just beneath the surface on Captain’s face, but he didn’t pry. Captain would tell him when he wanted him to know. When he was ready.

  9

  “Sparksport!” Kyle called out the name of his stop to the taxi driver, who somehow managed to hear him over the rib-vibrating bass. The sound system of the minibus was making its tinted windows shudder and its panels rattle. Kyle exited the kombi outside the large pharmacy, a landmark in Sydenham, its blue-and-green neon sign flickering to a rhythm of its own. Like every Friday evening, Sydenham was abuzz with activity. The pavements were crowded with devotees of Islam leaving the nearby mosque. Across the road, a group of young men stood and plotted their activities for the evening. Last-minute supplies of brandy, whiskey and beer were being bought from the liquor stores before they closed for the evening and people had to resort to the shebeens with their inflated prices. The night was alive with the sounds of cars speeding by with thumping music and pedestrians chattering loudly. The hubbub annoyed Kyle. He felt as if his night was being invaded by these intruders. Their laughing and monkey chatter was robbing him of his seclusion.

  He gritted his teeth, rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and began walking up Sparks Road to Carmen’s house. As he did so, he unbuttoned the shirt and let it flow open. Underneath it he was wearing a crisp white T-shirt. This was his waiter’s uniform – white shirt and blue jeans. Nothing flashy. Simple – like he was. Normal – like he hoped he could one day be.

  He glanced at his watch and saw that it was just after ten. He crossed over Barnes Road and turned up into Jarvis Road. Had he been a gambler, he would have confidently placed a bet on what the scene would be like at the party. And as he approached Carmen’s house, he knew he would have had a winner. The music was making the windows of the house pulsate. On the street, small groups of people were milling about, some swaying rhythmically to the music. Others were passing around quarts of Black Label beer. Kyle saw Captain’s blue Toyota Conquest parked on the street.

  This was not the type of scene he liked, and he was tempted to turn tail. But he resisted the urge. He had promised Jimmy that he would come by, even if he stayed for only five minutes. So he made his way down the concrete stairs to the front door, greeting a few people he knew by sight with a flick of his head. He could feel the eyes of those who did not know him burn into his back and knew what they must be thinking. Who is this cake here? What does he want? Is he an outie or a skybird? He walked into the lounge and squinted slightly as his eyes tried to adjust to the glaringly bright light. The lounge alone could have accommodated Aunt May’s entire house. It was huge. Carmen’s father wa
s a minister, and Kyle guessed Jesus was a pretty good boss to have: he clearly paid well.

  His eyes swept across the room, searching for familiar faces, and he spotted Jimmy and Captain standing in the open-plan kitchen with the other Godfathers. He made his way through the sea of gyrating bodies on the dance floor and past the counter that separated the lounge from the silver-and-black kitchen.

  “Damn, bru!” Captain exclaimed, grabbing his cousin’s hand in a half handshake, half hug. “I honestly didn’t think you were coming.”

  “I guess I’m just full of surprises,” Kyle smiled back.

  Captain was marginally drunk, and he offered Kyle a choice of brandy or beer. Kyle declined both. He did not drink, as liquor would only hinder him from achieving his goal of being a professional footballer. And he would achieve this goal by any means. If that meant being anti-social and not drinking, then so be it.

  After a few minutes of light banter and greetings with the other Godfathers, he drifted away from the main circle of conversation to lean against the kitchen counter next to Jimmy. His eyes danced over the name brands on display and he smiled wryly. Nikes, Levis, Fubu, even Ray-Ban – jeez, sunglasses at night. People were willing to spend all the money they had in order to buy a pair of tackies just to hang out in, instead of a loaf of bread for the family. As far as he was concerned, a shoe was a shoe. To his mind, whether your tackies cost R100 or R500, they did the same damn job. He leaned closer to Jimmy.

  “The girl’s going to think you’re a stalker!”

  Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut. “I know, but I just can’t help it, Kyle. She’s so damn gorgeous.” He lisped.

  Kyle had to agree with him. Sarah was beautiful, especially that evening. She was elegantly tall, with long black hair that came down to the small of her back. Her eyes were golden brown and had a glint of innocence. Her front teeth were a little big and she had a slight overbite, but somehow that small imperfection only added to her beauty.

  Captain forced himself into the conversation by draping himself across the shoulders of his cousins. “You’re wasting your time, Kyle. I’ve been trying to get him to talk to her the entire evening, but he’s too scared.”

  Jimmy’s shoulders slumped forward and he hung his head in embarrassment. “I know I promised I would talk to her tonight, but …” he whispered towards Kyle.

  “It’s fine, Jimmy. Forget about it,” Kyle said reassuringly. “Maybe next time, hey?”

  And just then, she walked in and Kyle felt the room fade into a blur.

  10

  To Kyle it seemed as if the music and voices had dissolved into silence. She walked with regal confidence. Back straight and shoulders back. She glided over to a girl who was sitting in the far corner of the room with somebody Kyle presumed was her boyfriend. Leaning forward, the new girl whispered something into her friend’s ear.

  Captain followed Kyle’s gaze and sniggered. “Her name is Amia.”

  Amia. A unique name for a unique beauty, Kyle thought.

  “Bru,” laughed Captain. “Pick your jaw up off the floor. What, do you smaak her?”

  Kyle felt almost insulted. The crude term seemed completely out of place. Mark Antony did not smaak Cleopatra. Romeo did not think Juliet was a lukka-looking stekkie. He felt something in his chest that was incommunicable. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating. She wore all white. Her clothing caressed her body just like he craved to do. As she leant over to whisper in the other girl’s ear, Kyle followed every movement her lips made and he desired to taste them. She tucked a lock of curly black hair behind her ear and away from her face, and for a second, he caught her eyes. He stopped breathing. The second seemed to last for an hour, and yet the instant the eye contact was lost, it seemed it had been all too fleeting.

  “Why don’t you go talk to her?” Captain placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Kyle laughed at this absurd suggestion. Him? Talk? To her?

  “Yeah, Kyle,” Jimmy echoed, his voice mocking but gentle. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

  “I’m not here to prove anything to you bastards,” Kyle countered. The truth was, he actually felt nauseous with panic at the thought of having to go talk to her. What the hell would he say to her?

  She finished what she had to say to her friend and stood straight, and for the second time their eyes met. And … Was it possible? Had she … just … smiled at him? Kyle could swear that she had. His lungs failed him and he had to force them to take in oxygen.

  “You need to act quickly, my man.” Captain was no longer smiling. “She looks like she’s leaving. And it looks like that cake Wesley is also plotting.”

  Kyle saw that this was true. He hardly knew Wesley, but he despised him just as Captain did. The creep must have been lurking in a dark corner. Now he slithered out of the door after her, and Kyle felt his heart sink.

  “Bru,” Captain urged, “what the fuck are you waiting for? Don’t let that knob get into the game. Go throw her up.”

  “Look, Tony Robbins, we’re not all like you. It’s not that easy.”

  Captain looked out of the door, then back at Kyle. “It can be, outie.”

  “Yeah,” echoed Jimmy. “What did you tell me on Monday? You said you miss a hundred per cent of the shots you don’t take.”

  “That’s right.” Captain and Jimmy were double-teaming him. “Go take a shot there, bru. If not for yourself, then just to piss that cake Wesley off.”

  It was true, he had said that. And he also had to admit that pissing off Wesley would be good. Possibly second only to getting a date with Amia. Amia.

  Kyle made up his mind. “Okay. I’ll waai.”

  He rushed over to the front door. Amia and Wesley were at the top of the cement stairs, standing on the pavement. Wesley was flashing his best smile. “I’m getting it next week,” he said. “Convertible as well.”

  “That’s nice,” Amia said dismissively. She turned her head to look away from him and down the street.

  Kyle was struck by a bolt of genius. He turned and hurried back to Captain.

  “Don’t tell me you’re chicken –”

  “Quick, give me your phone!” Kyle interrupted.

  Captain obliged and fished it out of his pocket. Kyle dashed back to the door. He felt his heart thrash about in his chest like a wild bird in a cage, fighting for freedom. And with each step, that bird became more frantic. More desperate. He hoped his plan would work. He hoped that she would think it was charming, and not pathetic or creepy.

  He dialled Captain’s number from his own Nokia 3210, and answered the vibrating Nokia 3310 on the first ring. With a deep breath, hoping to inhale some courage, he bounded up the stairs.

  He caught the end of Wesley’s sentence. “ … so sexy, young one. Why don’t you just gaai me your number and I’ll call you sometime.”

  “I’m just not interested,” she replied, politely yet firmly.

  Before Wesley could answer, Kyle called out, “Amia!” Her name got wedged in his throat and he almost gagged.

  She turned and raised a curious eyebrow. Kyle held out Captain’s phone towards her. “It’s for you. It’s your boyfriend.”

  Amia’s forehead furrowed with bewilderment. Kyle prayed that she would take the cellphone from him. Please, Lord, let her take the phone.

  She took the cellphone from his hand and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

  Kyle gave Wesley a curt flick of the head before he moved away a few steps and put his phone to his ear. “Hello?” he heard her repeat into the mobile phone.

  “Hi.” Again, Kyle almost choked on his words. “Don’t be alarmed. I just thought you needed an escape. I hope I’m not wrong.”

  She laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It was like a choir of angels in perfect harmony. “I did. Thank you.”

  “So …” Kyle searched for another charming thing to say and came up with nothing but a chuckle. “I actually don’t know what else to say.” He stole a peek over his s
houlder and saw her beautiful smile. She, too, snuck a glance at him as Wesley stood next to her, waiting for her to end her conversation.

  “Make something up, sweetie,” she said in that beautiful voice of hers.

  “Sweetie!” he repeated, with a grin so fierce that it hurt his cheekbones. “I like that. I just hope I wasn’t being too forward.”

  “Not at all.”

  Wesley cursed, not too softly, and Kyle watched him as he slunk back into the house, probably insulted by Amia’s lack of interest.

  Kyle walked back over to her. She ended the call and handed the phone back to him.

  “I hope you didn’t waste too much airtime,” she smiled.

  “Not at all. I’m Kyle, by the way.” He reached out his hand and fought to keep it steady.

  She took it. “Amia. Mind if I ask, why did you say ‘my boyfriend’?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you could have said anything. You could have said mother, brother, sister, friend. But you chose to say boyfriend. Why was that?”

  Kyle smiled and shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to say at the time.”

  She smiled back, and cocked her head to the side. “I see.”

  “So, where are you from?” Kyle’s voice sounded shaky in his own ears.

  “From Sydenham,” she replied, with a smile. “And you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

  Kyle returned her smile. “I’m from here. Moved away for a bit to Greenwood Park, but came back a few months ago.”

  At that point, the friend she had been talking to earlier came trotting up the stairs. “Amia, I’m sorry, but Bradley doesn’t want to leave right now.”

  “Paula, I have an exam on Monday. I need to wake up early tomorrow and do some revision. I told you I had to leave early before we even came out tonight.” Amia was not smiling any more.

  “I know, I’m sorry, but what else can we do? You can’t walk home alone.”