When Joelyn arrived at Samantha’s home and delivered the news of her impending divorce from her husband with a calm attitude, supercilious airs and a voice devoid of emotion, Samantha was compelled to remark, ‘How can you be so calm, Joe? It’s such a terrible thing to happen to you, honey. Oh God, I’m so sorry, Joe!’
‘Pull yourself together, Sam. You know very well that my marriage with Hudson’s always been tempestuous. It was nice at times, but we fought a lot. Perhaps it’s for the better.’
Miss Ashford, aware that her friend had a volatile temper, said softly, ‘I’m no expert, Joe, but every relationship hits a rough patch now and again. You guys should work things out.’
‘Hudson’s convinced our marriage is dead and buried.’
‘You want me to talk to him?’
‘I don’t see how that can help.’ Joelyn noticed the pained look that crossed her friend’s eyes and softened her voice. ‘I appreciate that you’re trying to help, and thanks for caring, but it’s over between me and Hudson. He’s packed some of his stuff and moved out of the apartment.’
‘Is he with someone else?’ Samantha asked guardedly.
‘No, I don’t think so, although it’d be comforting to know that I’ve been displaced by another woman. Let’s face it, Hudson never loved me. He chained himself to me to escape his father’s control. It’s a sad story, really. And I actually loved the bastard…’ She choked on her words all of a sudden and her eyes became watery, but she recovered quickly from that momentary display of emotion. ‘Now be a honey, Sam, and pour me another glass of brandy on the rocks. I am not going to cry over this; there’s more important things to do.’
Sam knew that the pain of heartache favors no one. Even the most hard-hearted amongst us know the feeling all too well. Some people are just better at withstanding it, but it is a nasty experience. It is said that whoever has never felt the cruel pain of heartache has never been in love. To illustrate how dangerous a condition heartache is to the mental faculties, one needs only to take a look at the annual figures worldwide of people who commit suicide due to lost love.
‘I’m here for you, Joe,’ said Sam. ‘Whenever you need me, don’t hesitate to call.’
‘I know,’ Joelyn forced a smile. ‘You’re a good friend.’
Sam placed four ice-cubes in a glass and poured some brandy over them, half-filling the glass. Joelyn grabbed the glass and drank the brandy greedily. It burned her throat like acid and she winced. Suppressing a laugh, Sam said, ‘This denial stage where you feel that you’re unbreakable will pass, and the pain will come charging at you like a raging bull. But don’t worry, I’ll be here to hold you and cry with you,’ she said sympathetically. ‘Do not be afraid.’
‘I don’t have time for kids’ play, Sam,’ Joelyn glared at her friend with eyes that were red from the burning liquor. ‘There won’t be any crying. Just sweet revenge.’ A smile crossed her lips. ‘Hudson Vermuelen has said he wants to divorce me. I know everything about him; his deepest secrets, his fears and his vices. I know that he loves money, and I’m going to hit him where it hurts the most. I want to take every cent I can get from him. The war has just begun.’
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Heavens be with Hudson Vermuelen. He was just about to find out the cruelest way that Joelyn was intending to empty his pockets in a most unforgiving way.
Chapter 8
You never truly realize how much you love someone until it’s too late to do anything about it.
Hudson Vermuelen was a self-confessed Audi man, and he wouldn’t be caught dead in a BMW or Mercedes Benz, even though the CLS had changed his mind. He drove himself around town in a 2010 Audi R8. He also had a Porsche Cayenne SUV for trips to Hartbeesport Dam, where he had a luxury mansion with breathtaking views of the scenic dam. Presently, he was sitting inside the Audi R8, driving to work, completely unaware that at that precise moment Joelyn was debating whether to call him or not.
For the past few days, she had been afflicted by a gradually intensifying longing for human intimacy, until it reached uncontrollable levels. Last night she had lain awake in bed, unable to sleep, thinking of nothing but Hudson’s body. Lately, she had been thinking a lot about him and what he meant to her life. It was during these moments of lucid cogitation that she realized that she and Hudson were meant for each other, regardless of their views on the ways of the world. She was at these moments of her mammoth anguish convinced that she would never love another human being like she loved Hudson.
A million times she had been tempted to call him, to tell him how much she missed him, and that they should stop this divorce nonsense…but each time pride triumphed over reason. Last night she had sat up in bed, switching TV channels endlessly and feeding her body with copious amounts of Swiss chocolate, which only helped to make her more miserable. This morning, tired from lack of sleep and incapable of coherent thought due to heartache, she called her producer and informed him that she had come down with the flu. It was the first time Joelyn would be absent from work for any reason at all.
While Joelyn languished in the misery of helplessness, Hudson found it hard to concentrate at work. He was filled with evil thoughts, and was only stopped by his intelligent mind from resorting to schemes common with uneducated fools. Ever since the discussions his team of lawyers had held with Joelyn’s team concerning the divorce, Hudson had flirted with the idea of plotting Joelyn’s death. The bitch wanted half his assets. Incredible! Again he cursed her.
The curse might have been heard by the Devil himself, because in the following moments Joelyn came within touching distance of death. Having inexplicably fallen into a high-fever as the day wore on, after 3PM she phoned her friend, Samantha, who said she was at home. Joelyn, looking distraught and more like a destitute than a hot-shot young TV presenter, dragged herself into her car and left the apartment on Helen Road. She drove to Sam’s place, and on arriving there requested her friend to make her a cup of coffee with a drop of brandy. She collapsed into chair and became hysterical, prompting Sam to comfort her.
‘I can’t stand it,’ she managed to say between sobs. ‘The apartment reminds me too much of him. Everywhere I go there’s memories…It’s too much…I had to get out of that place…’
Sam held her friend and did the best thing she could do for her under the circumstances: she offered a listening ear.
Later, as nightfall came, Joelyn expressed her desire to leave her friend’s townhouse, claiming that she was filling better.
‘Out of the question,’ protested Sam in an uncompromising tone. ‘I have more than adequate space for you to spend the night. You cannot be driving around this late in your condition.’
‘I’m fine, really, Sam,’ Joelyn tried. ‘Besides, I have to get up early for work.’
‘Fuck that. That job won’t do you any good if you’re dead. You’ve got your health to worry about.’
End of discussion. Joelyn spent the night at her friend’s place. Being in the company of one so close to her improved her spirits. For a while she forgot her worries, and she slept soundly that night. In the morning, looking and feeling a lot better, she kissed her friend goodbye, got into her car and left for her apartment. As it was still early in the morning, the neighborhood was still quiet, except for a jogger here and there and the odd car. Joelyn brought the Z4 to a stop at a T-junction, checking first to the right and then to the left of her car. Suddenly, a white Nissan sedan sped past her and blocked her way at the front of her car.
Joelyn panicked. A Black man jumped out of the Nissan’s passenger side and pointed a gun at her windscreen. He yelled something at her but she couldn’t hear him. Then he shot at her. Her mind didn’t register the gunshot until she saw the shattered glass in front of her. And then slowly the realization came to her that she was still alive. A self-preservation instinct made her fall from view and lie across the seats of the small BMW. The driver’s door was pulled open by an impatient strong hand. The hand groped at her and pulled
her out of the car. She raised her hands in surrender and pleaded with her assailant not to shoot her. He hit her with a fist in the head and she collapsed onto the tarmac. In a cloud of pain, she saw the Nissan speed off, followed in hot pursuit by her BMW, driven by her assailant. Joelyn tried to get up but slumped back down onto the tarmac, her body trembling all over with shock. She was picked a short while later by a good Samaritan, who rushed her to the nearby Morningside Medi-Clinic, a private medical facility.
After she was treated for shock, Joelyn was picked up by her best friend, Samantha, who then drove to Sandton Police Station. When the police had taken her report of her violent carjacking, Samantha took Joelyn to the townhouse in Morningside.
Two days later, Joelyn set a meeting appointment with her soon-to-be-ex-husband, Hudson Vermuelen, at his office on Fredman Drive in Sandton.
‘Look, Hudson,’ she started without exchanging any pleasantries with the man with whom she had shared a bed for two years. ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard the reports from the media, but I was hi-jacked two days ago and shot at; miraculously the bullet missed me. Maybe it was naïve of me to expect a call from you, but I thought it would be the decent thing to do after someone you once cared for survived a fatal attack.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Hudson offered politely.
She ignored him. ‘Anyway, I haven’t come here to fight you. I’ve come to offer you a peaceful solution to our dilemma. There is no need to go through the trouble of court battles. I don’t need shares in your wines, grocery store, mines, etcetera…I have asked my lawyer to discuss with your lawyers about a workable,’ she put a strong emphasis on the word, and it wasn’t missed by Hudson, ‘…financial settlement for me. You give me the money and I walk out of this marriage without a fight. And I’d appreciate it if you don’t take long. I would like to get out of this country as soon as possible, before I become yet another crime statistic. I’m scared of driving on the streets anymore. I need to go elsewhere and cool off.’
‘Where do you plan to go?’ Hudson asked, his eyes narrowed in genuine interest.
She got up. ‘It’s none of your concern. Just give me what I deserve and we dissolve this marriage.’
Eventually, she would get $109 million in a divorce settlement agreed upon by her lawyers and Hudson’s. The media and social networking sites went overboard with the story. Although the public used words such as “incredulous victory” and “outrageous wealth” to describe the $109 million she had got from Hudson, it was truly just a portion of his stupendous wealth. For Joelyn, it would suffice. As she remarked to her friend, ‘How many people do you know who make one hundred and nine million American dollars in two years? Not even the best cocksuckers in the business can dream of money this big. And I didn’t even had to suck no dick.’
2011: GLORY
AMERICA
Chapter 1
When she first arrived in Los Angles, California, in February of 2011, Joelyn Smit discovered that the definition of ordinary generally accepted elsewhere in the world did not apply in Los Angeles. It was a city where she found proof that Americans liked their things big; from their burgers to their cars to their homes. Los Angeles was a town to which young men and women flocked in droves each year in search of fame and fortune. Some found it and most did not. Those who didn’t held on to other jobs while their agents tried to find them an acting job.
As soon as Joelyn arrived in Los Angeles, she made her intentions known by finding herself an agent, who found her a speech coach to help her convert her English to American. Next the agent, a forty-something-year-old woman who had in her portfolio some of the current stars on TV and film, advised Joelyn to find a suitable address. The agent was particularly kind to Joelyn because the young South African had divulged that although she had no acting experience, she was a natural in front of the camera, and that she had vast financial reserves to persuade anyone who thought otherwise. As money makes the world go round, Joelyn found herself surrounded by people who wanted to help her become the next big thing in Hollywood since Angelina Jolie.
With the help of an estate agent, Joelyn bought herself a beautiful beachfront house in Malibu for $10 million. It was a big, modern place, with vast areas of space and various amenities to suit the lifestyle of a young millionairess. Then she bought a Porsche Carrera 4S to get herself around town, and enlisted the services of a dedicated limousine rental company, because her agent had informed her that the social norms in this town required that she arrive at important functions in a chauffeur-driven limo.
Most people who come to Hollywood seeking recognition already know that they are beautiful or at the very least attractive, but some lack the character and imagination to make it in this town of big dreams. Joelyn had the three vital ingredients to make this city work for her; she was extremely beautiful, she was intelligent, and she had loads of money. Most people who had known Joelyn during her youth wouldn’t have guessed that she was overly ambitious, but it was a trait that had always lurked beneath her exterior surface, buoyed by the embarrassment of growing up in a poor home. There are people who accept the conditions life has set in place for them, and then there are those who defy the odds and make it big in life. Joelyn belonged to the later. She arrived in Los Angeles going by the name of Smit, but her agent added an “H” at the end of her surname and from then on she was known as Joelyn Smith, by all intents and purposes soon to become the talk of America.
When all her best plans were laid in place, three weeks after arriving in America Joelyn discovered that she had a fierce longing for sexual gratification. It was a long time since she had last had sex with anyone – her ex-husband. She decided now that she would die if her sexual tension was not given an outlet for eruption. She resolved that the quickest way to remedy that problem would be to go to a nightclub to find a suitable bed partner; all other options would take too long for her mission to be accomplished. So she went to a popular nightclub that night, met a big number of suitable bed partners, and after reaching a critical stage of inebriation she was eventually driven home by one of those admirers.
In the morning, she woke up in her bedroom at the Malibu mansion to find herself on the bed, with no recollection whatsoever of the previous night, but used condoms on the floor-tiles told her the full story, and the smell of good cooking confirmed that whoever she had slept with was still in the house. She wrapped a silk morning gown around her naked body and went downstairs. She found a tall young man with short black hair preparing breakfast. He was wearing only his pants, and his chest and stomach muscles stood taut, inviting her to eat him…He was such a handsome sight to see in the morning, making breakfast for her…
‘Good morning,’ he said, jarring her from her private thoughts. He smiled, exhibiting a perfect set of white teeth. She decided then and there that this was one of the most gorgeously, handsomely, cutest man she had ever met. ‘You slept like a baby. I’ve made breakfast. Hope you enjoy it…My mom says I should be a chef,’ he added with a sly expression.
Joelyn smiled back. ‘I didn’t get your name.’
‘You’re Joe. I’m Andy. Sit down and have a cup of coffee. It’ll refresh you.’
Joelyn sat down and took a sip of the steaming beverage. It was the most delicious coffee she’d ever tasted. ‘I don’t recall any of last night,’ she said with an embarrassed look.
He sat opposite her and placed his hands on the counter. ‘Don’t worry, you were great.’ He pushed towards her a plate with a couple of fish-fingers, three slices of brown bread, a slice of bacon and a boiled egg. ‘Eat, Joe, and replenish your energies.’
She loved the way he smiled, the way he mentioned her name, and the sexy masculine scent of him…
After they had had a bath together and a bout of morning sex in the bathroom, he left her house in a cab. He promised to call her.
The first night came and went, and then the first day came and ushered in the second night since he’d left, and still no call from him. By the fifth day,
Joelyn was near hysteria, but she was not going to call him, because that would make her seem desperate. In the dating game, either party always wants to have the upper hand. Right now the gorgeous hunk called Andy whose last name she didn’t know definitely had the upper hand because he was driving her insane by holding out on calling her.
On that fifth day, the sixth night since she had last seen him, Joelyn stepped out of her depression and went out to nightclub, a different venue this time, to have some fun. Fate had it that she would bump into Andy Last-Name-Unknown at that particular nightclub. He smiled happily when he recognized her. But he was with another woman at his arm, an attractive blonde with heavy breasts and too much make-up on her face, so Joelyn’s spirits took a nosedive.
‘Hey, Joe,’ he said cheerfully, and Joelyn was really astounded that he actually remembered her name. ‘This is Melissa. She’s got a fabulous house in Bel Air…and oh! She’s bought me a Porsche like yours.’
Joelyn clapped him. Very hard. On the left cheek. ‘All those things…’ Joelyn fumed, her anger choking back the words. ‘You made me breakfast…the sex…we had a wonderful time together. And it meant nothing to you?’ she hissed, her face red with color.
Clutching his burning cheek in his left hand, Andy stared incredulously at her. ‘Don’t get sentimental on me, crazy bitch! Hey!’ He yelled to the dancing crowd. ‘Someone call 911! And tell the police this bitch’s harassing me.’ He returned his eyes back to Joelyn’s face. ‘I swear I’ll lay a charge against you.’
The big-chested woman came in between them and pulled Andy away. ‘Come one, baby, she’s not worth your time. Let’s go dance.’
The Brand Page 3
