Banga arrives a short while later. He escorts me to the main building, but holds me back before we get to the deck.
“Ian has visitors,” he says.
The way in which he says it, with a guilty look in his eyes, makes me tense. His words are a warning, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight on the deck.
Ian sits at the table, flanked by two topless women. A man with a gold hoop earring sits next to one of the semi-naked women. Leon and Ruben are on the opposite side, their backs to me. A breakfast spread is laid out in front of them.
My step falters. Ian looks up, but doesn’t acknowledge me. If anything, he regards me with disinterest. The women, who are sipping juice, give me curious looks. They have the same auburn hair and amber eyes. Their faces are similar, but not identical. They could be sisters or twins. Their curls are piled on their heads in fancy updos, and their lips are painted red. They have perfect breasts, big and firm, decorated with nipple tassels.
I’ve never shied away from a difficult situation or a fight. Squaring my shoulders, I climb the steps to the deck. Like Ian, Leon and Ruben ignore me. The male visitor, however, sits up straighter.
“Who’s this delightful package?” he asks, trailing his gaze over me.
“Nobody,” Ian says, regarding me with disdain.
My heart jerks. I’m not stupid. The man wearing a fur coat on a summer’s day and black varnish on his long pinky nails is dangerous. I don’t need the AK-47 propped up against the side of his chair to tell me that. My gutfeel is enough.
By pretending I mean nothing to him, Ian is trying to keep me safe. Still, I won’t be degraded and kicked to the dirt. If Ian wants to keep me safe in his world, he can’t pretend I’m disposable. Admitting I mean something to him may be a risk, but he’d just have to man up and trust in his ability to protect me.
“A gift?” the man asks, flashing me with a row of gold-capped teeth. “How considerate of you.”
“She’s not a gift,” Ian grits out.
“Aw, Ian.” The man waves at the women. “But I brought you two.”
“Much appreciated,” Ian says, “but unwanted.”
The man steeples his fingers. “Maybe your partners disagree, yes?”
Ruben gets up and walks around the table. Taking the breast of the woman on the right in his hand, he measures the weight. “I’ll gladly take you up on the offer.”
The woman tilts back her head to look at him, purring like a cat.
“A woman for a woman, no?” The man looks at Ian. “My whore for yours. It only seems fair.”
Ian’s knuckles turn white around his mug, but his face betrays nothing. “She’s not a whore. I value your business, but if you insult her again, I’ll throw you out of my house.”
“Touché.” The man grins. “Careful, Ian. You’ll make me think she’s not so much of a nobody like you claim.”
Ian regards me with a cold gaze. “As I said, she’s no one you need to concern yourself over.”
“Prove it,” the man says slyly. “Fuck my whore, and I’ll believe you.”
“Told you,” Ian says with narrowed eyes, “I’m not interested.”
Ruben is kneading the woman’s breast. He’s slipped a hand down the front of her body, all but fingering her in front of us. I can’t watch this. I turn back for the path, but the man’s words still me.
“Not so fast, sweetheart. You stay and watch.”
There’s something in his voice that stops me. This isn’t a man anyone disobeys. I’ve seen his kind both in rural settlements and big city cesspools. They torture people for fun. They’ll first chop off your hand and then ask if you’ve stolen from them.
“She’s not your sweetheart,” Ian says in a harsh tone.
The man smirks. “If you don’t want me to call her the sweet thing she is, tell me her name.”
“Are you fucking deaf?” Ian asks. “She’s nobo—”
“Cas,” I say, lifting my chin as I hold Ian’s gaze.
Leon pushes to his feet. “Like my brother said, she’s not part of the deal. Let’s take this to the casino. The party is getting boring here.”
“No drugs?” the woman on Ian’s left says. “I say it’s boring.”
The man watches me. Refusing to cower, I hold his shrewd gaze.
“All right,” he says after a moment. “Seeing that we showed up uninvited.” He flashes me with another golden smile. “My mother taught me manners.”
I doubt that very much.
Ruben reluctantly retracts his hand from the woman’s panties when the others get to their feet. The man takes his gun and saunters over to me. My throat closes up as he drags the barrel over my temple.
“If you belong to no one, ask Ian where to find me. I’ll give you more luxury than you can dream of. I’ll even throw in a nice sportscar.”
I feel like spitting in his face, but Ian’s frosty stare keeps me quiet. The man salutes and disappears into the reception hall. Ruben slaps the woman’s ass and pushes her ahead of him. The other woman hooks her arm around Leon’s. They follow the entourage to a Land Rover limo parked in front of the entrance.
When the others are out of earshot, Ian grips my arm and bites out, “I told you to stay in the room.”
Sarcasm masks my hurt. “Grounded again?”
“As a matter of fact…” His smile turns wicked. “Yes.”
“Fuck you.”
Angers washes over his features. “I was going to be nice and come home early, maybe take you out to lunch, but for that remark you can stay here and think about what comes out of your mouth.”
I jerk free from his hold. “You can’t pretend I’m everything when you fuck me and nothing the morning after. It doesn’t work like that.”
He gets into my personal space. “It’ll work any way I see fit.”
“It’s not going to keep me safe.” I step up, matching his stance. “You dragged me into your life, now deal with it.”
His nostrils flare. “This discussion is over. Go back to the room and stay there like you were told.”
Bossing me around really rubs me the wrong way. “I’m going to the fields to work.”
He lowers his head, putting our faces close, and says in a dark voice, “Do you have any idea what I went through when you walked out on that deck? Why must you be so hardheaded? Why couldn’t you listen for once?”
“I can’t hide in your room forever. What kind of life is that?”
“Fine,” he growls, dragging both hands over his head. “Go to the damn fields. Go wherever you like. But if you’re not back in my room by the time the sun sets, I’ll spank your ass so hard you won’t sit for a day.”
I glare at him, fury coiling around my insides. “Don’t you dare threaten me. If you lift your hands to me like that you’ll never touch me again.”
His smile comes slowly. “We’ll see about that.”
Bastard.
Without sparing me another glance, he walks off.
I’m shaking with anger. I want to pick up a rock and hurl it at the tinted windows of the limo as it slowly passes by, but I can only stand there in incredulous helplessness.
“That’s Oliver,” Shona says behind me. “He runs the casino on the Zambian side. Ian uses him to launder money.”
I’m surprised she knows this much. “It would’ve been nice if Ian had told me this,” I say with a huff.
Coming to stand next to me, we follow the progress of the car. “Ian is letting you in, but how deep are you willing to go?”
I look at her. “Why did you tell Banga to bring me here? You wanted me to see that.” I motion with my head toward the car that turns left and vanishes behind the trees.
She folds her hands in front of her. “You need to know what you’re in for.”
“Do I have a choice?”
She studies me for a few beats. “There’s always a choice.”
“What are you saying?”
“If you can’t accept who Ian is, and I mean a
ll of it, it’s best you set him free. Don’t tie him to you more that you already have. Unrequited love is a miserable thing.”
I clench my hands. “I didn’t ask—”
“Stop making excuses. Accept what it is or leave.”
Or leave. I gape at her back as she turns for the kitchen. She makes it sound so easy.
On second thought, I charge after her. “Or leave? What’s that’s supposed to mean? That you’ll help me escape?”
She gives me an annoyed look from over her shoulder when Banga sticks his head around the doorframe of the office.
“Shona.” I stretch my steps to keep up. “Ian will never let me leave. He’ll come after me. Leaving is like betrayal, and you know what happens to traitors.”
She spins around. “I thought maybe you could be the woman he deserves,” she says, looking me up and down, “but if you let two little whores and a few obstacles win, you’re not strong enough for him.”
“What was I supposed to do?” I throw my hands in the air. “Beg him not to go?”
“You could’ve asked nicely. He won’t say no to you.”
I doubt that very much.
“Have some breakfast,” she says, waving at the table as she continues back to the kitchen. “It’s anyway wasted.”
I don’t think so. I’m not putting my mouth on the food she prepared for those women. It’s childish, but my pride won’t surrender to eating their leftovers.
Not wanting to bother Banga more than I already have, I ask Wataida to accompany me to the fields. The women always bring black coffee, milk, and maize bread. I have a slice of bread with a cup of coffee for breakfast and lose myself in work.
The cabbages we transplanted are coming along nicely. They’re not splitting any longer. The majority of the crop has been saved.
“Why are you working so hard on the crops?” I ask Keeya when we take a break in the shade of a tree for lunch. “I know Ian supports the whole village.”
She hands me a maize bread sandwich spread with margarine. “We like to keep independent. What if Ian dies?”
I give an internal start at the notion. The bread gets stuck in my throat. I inhale deeply, dragging the dusty air into my lungs. From a practical point of view, that makes sense, but I don’t want to think of him as being dead.
“Men like him don’t live long,” she says gently, reminding me of Shona’s words.
I get up and dust off my clothes. Is that why Shona is pushing me so hard to look the truth in the eyes? They love and respect Ian. That much is obvious. Shona wants me to make Ian happy, but she wants me to go into our relationship with my eyes wide open so that a few nasty surprises don’t catch me off guard later on. The thing is, I’ve always known what he is. I’ve known from the moment he tapped on Mint’s window with the barrel of a gun. I just don’t know what to do with all these emotions warring in my chest.
Letting the work distract me, I help the women transplant the cabbage until my back aches and my head swims. When the sun starts to dip, I go back to the village with the others to feed the chickens and milk the cows. I help for a bit, but it’s really just an excuse to see Lesedi. I like her. She’s sweet and warm-hearted, and on a day like today, I can do with a little kind female company.
After greeting the women, I make my way over to Lesedi’s hut.
She stops sweeping the yard when she sees me. “Cas, how nice of you to drop by. I’ve just made coffee.”
We sit down at the table where we had lunch while she calls for Vimbo to bring mugs and sugar.
He comes out with a tray and gives me a toothy grin. “You can tell Ian I’m ready to be tested. I finished the first book, but it took me forever.”
I help set out the mugs. “Which one did you read?”
He pouts. “Othello.”
“Didn’t you like it?”
“The language is so old. People don’t talk like that. It doesn’t make sense.”
“If you look past the language, the story is really cool.”
“Yeah?”
“If you want, I can come over some afternoons and we can go through the parts you don’t understand before Ian tests you.”
His eyes grow large. “Really? You’d do that?”
“Of course.”
Lesedi smiles. “That’s so kind of you, Cas.”
“Want to know what the other books are?” he asks, hopping from his seat.
“I’d love to.”
“You sure?” Lesedi asks. “I don’t want him to bore you.”
I wink at Vimbo. “Curiosity is my weakness.”
While he darts back to the hut, Lesedi pours me coffee and spoons in two sugars. “I’m grateful. My husband will be too. Neither of us finished school, but we have high aspirations for Vimbo. We’re hoping he’ll finish matric and go to college.”
Vimbo comes running back with a paper bag that sports a big chain bookstore logo. He empties the bag on the table, almost knocking over the coffee.
“Careful,” Lesedi says, chastising him in a soft voice. “You don’t want coffee all over these expensive books.”
A piece of paper falls from the bag and drifts to the ground. I bend to pick it up. It’s the receipt from the bookstore. The Rustenburg address that’s printed in bold letters at the top catches my eye. Ian must’ve bought the books while he was in town to see me. Imagining him walking into the bookstore in the middle of the main street with the cops looking for him makes me shiver. When did he dare such a dangerous stunt? I knew he had been stalking me, but I don’t know for exactly how long or since when he’s been hanging around my apartment.
Curiosity makes me look at the date and time stamp. It’s the morning after the night we spent at the Kloof, the morning the bank was robbed and Nick was shot. The time states six minutes after nine.
I go still. The robbery took place between nine and nine-fifteen, half an hour before the bank opened. Ian hadn’t lied. It hadn’t been his gang. This proves he’s innocent.
Folding the receipt, I slip it with a shaking hand into my pocket. I down the scalding hot coffee, burning my mouth. “Um, I have to go.”
“Is everything all right?” Lesedi asks, giving me a concerned look.
“Yes,” I push through dry lips. “It’s getting late, and I want to get back before dark.”
“Of course.” She gets up. “We’ll walk you back to your ride.” Looking around, she asks, “Where’s Banga anyway? He’s the one driving you, right?”
“It’s Wataida today.” I stand on wooden legs. “I’m driving him around, but he comes along to protect me.” I force a smile. “Ian’s instructions.”
“That’s wise.” She hooks her arm around mine as we walk toward the road. “There’s a rogue baboon on the loose. The men spotted him by the river. He’s been rejected by his troop. Probably an old male. Now he’s trying to steal vegetables from the fields. Since they’ve scared him off with their guns, he’s been skulking around.” She hugs me when we get to the Jeep. “Take care, will you?”
“You too.” I ruffle Vimbo’s hair. “I’ll be back for a chat about those books.”
They wave as I get into the Jeep. I don’t call Ian during the noisy ride. I wait until we’re at the main lodge and I’ve closed the door behind me in the dining room before I dial his number.
He picks up on the first ring. “Cas?” He still sounds pissed off. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I just—”
“In that case, it can wait. I’m in the middle of something.”
Why does he have to be so damn rude? “What’s so important?” I add with sarcasm, “Oliver?”
His tone is clipped. “Business. Don’t wait to have dinner. We’ll be home late.”
The line goes dead.
Baffled, I stare at my phone.
A knock falls on the door.
Banga pushes it open. “Everything okay?”
Biting my nail, I frown at the dark screen of my phone. “Uh, yeah.”
“I’m
knocking off early unless you want me to hang around here before walking you to the room.”
“That’s fine.” I’m still trying to wrap my mind around Ian’s brusqueness. The way he treated me hurt my heart. “Give me a minute to grab some fruit from the kitchen.”
“Shona can bring you dinner later.”
“It seems Ian and the guys are eating out. It’s not necessary to cook just for me.”
His smile is kind. “She cooks for us anyway.”
“There’s no need to walk up and down to the bungalow.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’ll meet you out front.”
I go to the kitchen to tell Shona she doesn’t have to bother with dinner. While I’m there, I throw an apple, a banana, a corkscrew, and a bottle of wine into a paper bag. Armed with my dinner, I meet Banga on the deck.
I need a long bath and a big glass of wine. I was so upset this morning about my fight with Ian I forgot to put on sunblock. My shoulders have burned. I’m covered in dust, and my back is killing me from being bent over for most of the day. I have blisters on my palms from overturning soil and a splinter under my skin. The worst, however, is the piece of paper that’s burning a hole in my pocket as I follow Banga down the path.
The mossy smell of the riverbed drifts to my nose. An odor of rain hangs in the air. I look up. Thick clouds are rolling in, obscuring the horizon. The glow of the setting sun shines golden above the blanket of gray-purple clouds, creating a beautiful dusk. Drumming sounds in the far distance. It’s an echo that flows in tandem with the river. The villagers must be having a party. Except for that, everything is quiet. Too quiet. There’s no chirping of crickets or croaks of bullfrogs.
I stop. “Banga, wait.”
He pauses.
“Listen.”
He looks around. “What?”
“No insects. It’s too quiet.”
The trees farther down the path rustle. All of a sudden, a chorus of monkey screams tears through the sky. Like a swarm of bees, they flee from the branches, shrieking as they catch the overhanging branches to swing themselves across the stream that forks from the river. Some climb down the trunks and scatter while others go higher. Birds join the pandemonium, making a raucous noise and lifting like a cloud of flapping wings into the sky.
Stolen Life Page 13
