by Paige Nick
Marco dropped his head and made for the door. He caught a glimpse of himself in Shaun’s hallway mirror. His shirt was torn and he was going to have a massive shiner in the morning, but those were the least of his problems.
THE CEO
Wednesday 3:03pm
‘Hi, it’s me calling again. I called a few times earlier and left a couple of messages about the thing. You’re still not answering your phone,
so I’m leaving another message.’ Trevor suddenly remembered the cockney accent and slipped into it for the rest of the message. ‘Maybe you’re restin’ up after a big night out . . . um, I know you were busy umm . . . doing your photography late last night, mate. I really ’ope you got all the “shots” you was after, innit. But call me as soon as you get this, guv’nor. I just want to check about the final payment, and make sure that everyfink went as planned, is in tip-top shape, wiv the you-know-what, orright? It woz you what did it, right?’ Trevor realised he was rambling again. ‘I ’ope you’ve still got the number for me pager. I keep it wiv me all the time, so gi’ us a tinkle when you get this please. Just in case you’ve lost it, it’s 539462. Any time is fine; I’m a night owl. Thanks, mate.’
Trevor put down the phone, and then worried about his accent. What if it was too good, and the hitman didn’t recognise his voice? What if he had no clue who this weird cockney guy who kept calling was, and that’s why he hadn’t answered any of his calls or paged him? Trevor considered saying his name next time he called, but what if someone was listening in? He wished he’d chosen a different accent. His Spanish wasn’t bad, and it somehow seemed to have more gravitas than cockney, in light
of the subject matter. ‘Uno cervesa, por favor,’ he tried out loud for nobody in particular. But it was too late, there was no going back: he couldn’t turn into a Spanish cockney guy at this stage. What was done was done, and he was going to have to live with the consequences,
in more ways than one.
Where was that damn hitman? Had he done it, or had someone else pipped him to the post? According to the internet, there were quite a few candidates for the job.
Trevor checked his pager for the millionth time, but there was still no word. Who carried a pager anyway? It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
THE FANS
Wednedsay 3:22pm
THE BANTING FOR LIFE FACEBOOK PAGE
Natasja Kleviansky
Hello Banting family. Bullet Proof Coffee is my new most favourite thing in the whole world. I <3 <3 <3 it. And I even heard that it’s supposed to make your brain work better, BONUS! One cup and I’m full till lunch time and sharp as anything.
Like 169
Fran Kaplan Please share your recipe. I’m new to Banting and I’ve never even heard of bullet proof coffee before, but it sounds great.
Like 25
Natasja Kleviansky Sure thing Fran Kaplan
Bullet Proof Coffee, Natasja style:
One cup of coffee
1 tsp butter
1 tsp coconut oil
1 tsp xylitol
1 raw egg
half a tsp vanilla essence
a pinch of cinnamon or hazlenut or cocco (depending what I’m in the mood for)
a little bit of cream
So I make my coffee, like normal. Then I put the coffee and butter and oil and the egg in the blender. Mix it till there’s a layer of foam on top like a cupuchino. Then sprinkle some grated hazelnut or cinnamon or cocco) and the sweetener and dollop of cream is the cherry on top . I like to sprinkle it on in the shape of a heart like they do in the Vida. Very professional. This is the perfect breakfast (sometimes if I’m late for work I can even take it in the MyCiti with me – see it travels too). This breakfast can last me till two o clock on some days, before I’m hungry again.
Like 12
Fran Kaplan Ugh, that sounds a bit yuck.
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Natasja Kleviansky I know, but it’s absolutely delicious. I promise. Try it you will love it.
Like 4
De Wet Barry How can you people swop recipes when the Prof is lying dead somewhere?
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Charte Nortje Ja it’s a travesty. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It’s not right.
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Natasja Kleviansky Oh please, I never even met him. Get a life. It’s sad that he’s gone, but it doesn’t mean we all have to stop what we’re doing. Life goes on. Haven’t you ever watched The Lion King? It’s the circle of life.
Like 10
Eldridge Pieterson How many cups of bulletproof coffee do you think I can have in a day? I currently have more than two cups. do you think it will affect my weight loss?
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Charissa Naidoo Don’t you get the shakes with so much coffee Eldridge Pieterson? And I don’t mean diet shakes har har har. For me it depends if I’m having it as a meal or over and above a meal. I find that if I have it over and above a meal, my weight loss is not as good. And I also think you negative moaners should get a life, we need to keep up with the Profs lifestyle in tribute to him.
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Maureen Ewehout Hello Natasja Kleviansky, Eldridge Pieterson, Fran Kaplan and Charissa Naidoo. As a purveyor of Tim Noakes ENDORSED Marvellous meal plans, I would suggest that you only go with one cup of BPC in the day. Perhaps you could include coffee in your dessert option, if you’re really missing the caffeine. I have a Banting coffee cheesecake recipe that is to die for, that I sell as part of my individually tailored Noakes ENDORSED Marvellous meal plans. (Direct message me if you’d like to find out more).
Like 17
Fran Kaplan you can eat cheesecake????? Cheesecake + coffee, two of my favourite things. I LOVE THIS LIFESTILE!
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Natasja Kleviansky Thank you so much Maureen Ewehout I will definately get in touch with you.
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Dot Swart is their a recipe for bullet proof tea? Or is tea a carb?
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THE CO-AUTHORS
Wednesday 3:47pm
Xolisa rolled onto her back and pulled the duvet up to cover herself, then silently clenched her buttocks for three reps of twenty. Her chin still hurt, and her leg was bruised and aching, but as a long-distance marathon runner, Iron Woman competitor and personal trainer to a number of celebrity clients, she knew better than anybody how important it was to push through the pain and keep her body moving.
‘Was that as good for you as it was for me?’ Shaun asked, sliding an arm across her waist.
Xolisa ignored him and did three reps of fifteen side-leg lifts. Any opportunity to work her quads.
‘Babe, did you try reiki yet, like I suggested?’ Shaun asked, as he massaged her shoulders. ‘I know we’ve talked about this before, but your second chakra is completely blocked. I really wish you’d come and see me at my practice. Why don’t you call Desray in the morning and set up an appointment? We can do some life coaching for you as well.’
Xolisa gritted her teeth, brushed his hands off her shoulders and did three reps of fifteen butterfly crunches.
‘We can spend some time figuring out your career goals. I’ve got a great new set of motivational cards. We can also look at your hopes, your driving forces, and where you see yourself in five years’ time. Nothing is impossible with a dream and a plan.’
‘I’ll tell you where I see myself in five years’ time,’ Xolisa growled. ‘Not a blurry smudge at the back of a group author photograph, that’s where. And not the token black woman in a team of egotistical neocolonising writers, that’s for sure.’
‘No babe, c’mon, you have to put positive thoughts out there. You’re one of the co-authors of the top-selling lifestyle book of our generation. And you’re not a token; you’re tougher than the lot of us, you’ve got a successful p
ersonal training business, and don’t forget your buns of
steel,’ said Shaun, squeezing her bottom. ‘I mean, you don’t have as much as an inch of cellulite anywhere on your body.’
Xolisa pulled one knee up to her chest in a stretch. ‘Please, I barely had anything to do with that book in the end, and you know it. Where’s my chapter on lunges? Hey? And what about the chapter I wrote on
the value of cardio, or the effect of weight-bearing exercise on osteo-
porosis and weight loss? Nowhere! Lying on the cutting-room floor, right next to the chunk they photoshopped off Marco’s body, that’s fucking where.’
‘You see, it’s this kind of negativity we can work on together when you come to my practice to clear your chakras. I can offer you some
real guidance and life coaching.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Shaun. Catch a fucking wake-up,’ Xolisa
snapped, getting up and taking the duvet with her into the bathroom, leaving Shaun naked and shrivelled on the bed.
THE EX-PUBLISHER
Wednesday 3:49pm
‘You know what happened to me yeshterday?’ Frank slurred, spilling his drink as he waved his glass at the man sitting two barstools down from him. ‘You’ll like thish one, it’s really fucking hilarioush,’ he said.
The man turned towards Frank and nodded him on cautiously, not willing to shift a seat closer in case there was another snub coming.
‘Sho I take shandwiches to work theshe days, you know? I haven’t alwaysh, I ushed to eat out for lunch every day and twice on Shundays. But theshe days I’m on a budget. So it’sh peanut butter and jam, shometimes cheese. But anyway, I had a shandwich left over, pb and jam, and I’m on my way home from work, sho I give it to this homelessh guy on the pavement jusht sitting there, being poor ash fuck.
‘There I am thinking I’m being the humani-fucking-tarian of the year, but you know what he did? Go on, take a guesh, guesh what
the fucker shaid?’ Frank noticed he was spilling his drink as he gesticulated, and licked at his arm, not wanting to miss a drop. Then he took another large gulp, drained his glass and yelled for the barman to pour him another.
The man shrugged.
‘Thish fucking begging guy took one look at the shandwich, and shaid, no thanksh, I’m trying to cut down on my carbsh.’
The man sitting two barstools down snorted, and even the barman smirked.
‘Yeah, laugh,’ Frank said, ‘but you shee, it’sh not actually funny. Where’sh my fucking drink?’ he bellowed at the barman again, who raised an eyebrow at him as he refilled his glass.
‘That fucker ruined my life,’ Frank moaned.
‘The homeless man?’ asked the man two barstools down.
‘No, you fucking moron, that dead Banting professhor, the sho-called guru that everyone ish praying to theshe daysh,’ said Frank, putting air quotation marks around the word ‘guru’ and spilling more of his drink in the process.
‘Oh you mean Tim Noakes? The guy who wrote that diet book?’
‘That’sh the one!’ Frank said. ‘Can I tell you a shecret?’ He glanced over each shoulder. ‘I could have published hish book. But it wash the one that got away. It’sh the shaddest story you’ll ever hear. I passhed on it.’
‘You passed on it?’ the man asked.
‘Yup! Guessh what’sh got two thumbs and passhed on the gooshe that laysh the golden fucking eggsh? Thish guy!’ Frank pointed his two thumbs at himself, almost swaying off his barstool in the process.
‘I’m a publisher,’ Frank slurred. ‘I mean I wash a publisher, before I let the big one get away. The professhor wanted me to publish it and I turned him down. I told him it was a fad. I shaid nobody would ever buy into eating pure fat. I shaid it was the dumbest idea I’d ever heard. I shaid doctors around the world would laugh him out of the room, and then shue him for malpractice. Ha ha ha, who’s the arshehole now? Two hundred thoushand copiesh shold, and counting, plus all the shpin-offs, and thish ish only the beginning, they predict it’ll shell millions. Thish ish the next big thing. And what did I do? I turned it down. Then I losht my job, and my wife left me and took the houshe and my car. She even kept the dog, and my kidsh won’t talk to me, they shay I’m a drunk, ha! All because of that shtupid professhor and his shtupid fucking diet book.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the man. ‘But we all make mistakes, I should know. . .’
Frank interrupted him, ‘This wash more than a fucking mishtake, buddy, it’s a tragedy, a cataclyshm, an apocalypshe. Genoshide.’ Frank’s tongue felt too fat for his mouth, and he was struggling to find the right words to explain himself. He prodded at his tongue with his finger to see if it was actually as large as it felt.
‘Well, it’s hardly genoci. . .’
‘Ish a fuck-up, that’sh what it ish,’ Frank interrupted him. ‘And who ended up publishing him? Some mom-and-pop team. It’ll be Lamborghinish and caviar for them forever, while I eat shandwiches not even a homelesh pershon wantsh. I’m glad I punched him, and I’m glad he’sh dead.’
Frank’s reluctant confidant stared him, and took another slow sip of his beer. ‘You can’t mean that. . .?’ he started.
‘I’m the arshehole who joined the ranksh of the record label that turned down The Beatlesh, or the company who told the guy who invented the pershonal computer that they’d never shell more than ten.’
‘But how could you have known this diet book was going to be such a big hit?’ asked the man two barstools down.
‘I should have known!’ Frank sighed. ‘It was my businessh to know. And now the bashtard is finally dead, the day I’ve been plotting and planning and dreaming of. I thought . . . I hoped now that he’sh gone I’d shtop being reminded of him everywhere. But it turnsh out the joke ish on me. I’d never conshidered how it would play out, but hish death ish going to make him even more popular, bigger shales, more fansh, more publishity, greater fame. I forgot the number one rule in publishing – after don’t let the big sheller get away – there’sh no shuch thing as bad publishity!’ Frank snorted. ‘Ha, shitty! Exactly, publishitty!’
The man looked at Frank pityingly.
‘Another drink, for fuck’sh shake, barman!’ Frank shouted, downing the dregs he’d managed not to spill. ‘And one for my friend here.’
‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ the barman asked. ‘And maybe you should get that hand looked at, it doesn’t look so good.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Frank slurred, wincing as he shoved his injured hand into his pocket. ‘Now do your fucking job and get me another drink.’
THE WIDOW
Wednesday 3:51pm
The Banting For Life page was exploding with news, views, suspicious comments, crazy conspiracy theories and opinions on Professor Noakes’s murder. There were thousands of new comments. Maureen scrolled through them, her heart pounding in her throat.
Fourie De Villiers
Whoever did it deserves to get the electric chair.
Like 102
Nonwabisa Cele I don’t think we have the electric chair in South Africa.
Like 23
Fourie De Villiers Well then, they should extradite that person to a country that does.
Like 97
Tania Southby I still just can’t believe the news, my heart is broken in two, this country is going to the dogs I tell you. Canada, here I come.
Like 17
Giselle Gaffrey What did I miss? What happened?
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Refilwe Jwara Didn’t you hear Giselle Gaffrey have you been under a rock or something? Tim Noakes was murdered this morning in his own home. They say it was someone with an axe.
Like 27
Celeste Olson-McCallister I heard it was the co-authors, they murdered him so they could get his royalties. I heard it was with a panga.
Like 67
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Chetna Pillay That’s not how it works at all, how stupid can you get? Now that he’s dead he still gets his royalties, they just go to his family or next of kin.
Like 47
Godfrey Mandikele Then maybe his family or next of kin did it?
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Theo Williams They should make a statue of him or something.
Like 68
Barend du Plessis I think it was the government who did it. He was becoming too powerful. They don’t like that.
Like 90
Maureen Ewehout Well, I’m of course devastated that he’s gone, I’ve been crying all day, he was my friend and mentor. But if you really think about it, he wasn’t a young man, he spent his life in service to runners and sports people, and now to all of us. He had a good innings (he was a great advocate of cricket too) and look at the legacy he’s left behind. Some people can spend their entire lives on this planet and never do a quarter as much good as he has. All I’m saying is he had a good run, he was in his sixties after all, not a young man. It’s a huge tragedy of course, but imagine if he had been in his twenties . . . we were lucky to have him as long as we did. And his legacy lives on in this phenomenal new eating lifestyle.
Like 41
