A BRIDE FOR HIRE Novel Chapter 6

It’s buzzing in this place, girls are shaking their booty; boys are filling up the tables; the Dj is rocking by himself in his booth; the bodyguards keep bopping their heads; bartenders are sweating from twirling like ballerinas from one end of the bar to the other picking up orders. And here I am, moping aimlessly in my little corner, venting to Beauty of all people.

She has no room for complaining though, this was her idea. I was ready to be done for the day and go back home to try my clothes on and sit in my misery but she somehow managed to get my out the slumber and hit the club.

My phone has been ringing ever since we left Galleria, ‘my nanny’ was calling then an unknown number followed. A part of me wanted to believe it belonged to a certain someone, that thought immediately perished once I reminded myself that that man hasn’t even asked me how I am doing today.

Why would he care which one of the Makotis I’m hanging out with?

“Another shot, barman! Add a touch of ‘fusegi’ and ‘fok this life shit’ – I’ll be better after that.” I shout to the cartoon figure standing in front of me.

He kinda looks like the negro version of beast boy.

“Don’t mind her sir, give us a glass of ice please.” Beauty must not bore me by turning into the beast.

We were having a good time just now!

“Beauty, Beauty stop ruining my fun time. What am I going to do with ice? Ngimithi mina?” I want alcohol, a beverage with a sprinkle of heartbreak and some chaos.

I no dey want peace, I dey want chaos!

“You are drunk out of your mind, little girl, can’t you see yourself?” she yanks me by gripping my elbow.

My eyes take a trip around their sockets, “How am I supposed to see myself? I can’t even see my toes. Wait a minute, I can’t see my toes Beauty! I can’t see my toes.” My heart starts thudding and raving in my chest.

My skin heats up like pins and needles are poking through. It’s terrible.

“Shut up dammit, your toes are inside your shoes.”

Oh! Well, I couldn’t feel them so what did she expect.

The barman comes back after some minutes with a whole jug of ice and swings it to me. Nangu umhlola ung’hlolela!

Does he know who I am? I am Nqobile kayi-1, I’ll beat him upside down, he’ll join that absent father of his.

“I didn’t order ice, I said can I have a shot. What am I supposed to do with H20? Do you know that chemical compound or your corpus callosum was defeated in Grade 3?” I’m half leaned over the counter, glaring directly into his ugly soulless eyes just as he is boring into mine.

“Nxa.” He clicks his tongue and throws his towel over his shoulder.

“Yeah go off like that, your brain can’t even function on a cognitive reasoning level. Exercise before your brain rots irreversibly, Kitchen girl.” Free piece of advise!

He returns to us trying to look mean, little does he know I live with an angry human robot. Those emoji faces don’t phase me.

“Get your friend.” He’s talking to Beauty, I’m the friend I suppose.

I’m waiting for her to ‘get me’ but she doesn’t. Instead I see her getting pissed off too.

“You don’t talk to me like that, I’m not your buddy. Get us a shot.” That’s right!

He’s still standing, clenching his jaw and flexing a fist on the counter of the bar, where Beauty and I will see. Do we care? I think not.

“Or do I call Mlamuli Ximba perhaps?” she frowns upon him, a gesture to get a move on. And it works.

He returns with our shots a minute later and completely disappears afterwards.

“After these, we are leaving Nqobile.” She whispers lies in my ear.

I’m not going anywhere, utshwala is life!

“Sit here and don’t piss anyone off, I’m going to the restroom.” Beauty says.

I nod and gives a thumbs up. Once out of my sight, I pull out my phone and call my sister Olwemihla for a chat. It’s been such a long time since we spoke and really got to unpack things.

“Hello.”

“Hey my bitch!” I couldn’t contain the excitement. I wish she was here, I know had we been drinking together it would have been much more fun than this.

“Hhayi-bo, who is this?” uhh only her favorite sister in the world?

“It’s me, Nqobile. I called you to vent, mfazi. I’m so angry you know, I keep trying to bury my feelings and get over myself but each time I try to rise again I’m hit with a brick wall. Olwe, why would my father do this to me mara? After I’ve helped him with that depreciating congregation of wizards and hoes of his; it was my NSFAS money that helped him build those walls. And today he is thanking me with this? How could he do that?” I take the second shot and give my sister some time to respond, she’s been gasping and praying over the phone, which is odd. She even sounds like an old person.

“… in the mighty name of Je…” she’s very boring today.

“Remember when Dorrin’s husband found out she is busy with after nine prayers with Baba and he wanted to kill Baba for that? I saved him, Olwemihla. Baba would be dead by now, I used to be on guard whilst he exchanged holy spirits mouth-ically with MaNgobese. I would carry his secrets with me same way he carried his bible every Sunday. Today I’m his enemy? I refuse sisi!” I hate what is happening between my father and I because I don’t understand where it is coming from. With MaKhanyile I can almost understand because she always had a preference and I was never on the list. Baba on the other hand? Everything was rosy until one day, it wasn’t.

“Nqobile my child, come to church tomorrow for Wednesday prayers yezwa sisi?”

I chuckle, “I rather open a toll gate for birds than waste my time and energy with that. Look I have to go, we’ll talk sis. I love you.” Swiftly, I switch off my phone and drop it in my pocket before Beauty gets here.

At her age she still turns heads, some dude whistles for her to come join his table, an invite she responds to with a murderous look.

“That’s enough chaos, we are heading home Nqobile.” A couple of notes leave her purse, that guy from earlier is the one who collects our bill. He doesn’t seem angry anymore, or he’s just happy to see us leave his boss’s bar.

It’s pitch black outside and my legs keep rubbing together for heat because it’s so freaking cold. I should have bought a jacket or gown for that short nightie purchase. I guess I’ll freeze to the death, it’s not like my life is a big deal.

“Thank you mamezala, thank you for today.” I never knew I needed this so much.

“Whatever, I needed it more than you.” Awe, why is she pretending not to like me? I know she’s fond of me.

My index finger runs on the side of her face, down to her lips and my intrusive thoughts win, I’m already poking her lips to check if it’s filler or natural plums. I can’t tell.

“Will you stop being so vexing, god!” she swats away my hand.

I wanna see her nose next, this woman fascinates me. She has a beauty that only mankind can make, too much perfection and I want that for myself too.

“Tell me something, how do I become a desirable 50 cents?” I ask, my head half out the window and half in.

I’m trying to defeat the drowsiness.

“Why do you want to know? Doesn’t your Bakho love you just the way you are?”

My feelings dampen. I can’t hide this time, the way that nigga has been rejecting me is a little painful.

“No one desires me, Beauty. Somehow though, I’m always the available option.” I wipe my tears with the back of my hand.

“Because you allow yourself to be, you think doing good will get you positive outcomes? Look around you sleeping beauty, if that was the case then why does Satan rule the world?”

I snap my neck lifting my head up, “Satan doesn’t rule the world.”

“Have you seen what’s happening out there? You think God is still in charge here?” how did we reach this conversation again?

I return to my window and close my eyes slowly, letting the wind gush over my face and hair. It’s as if every bad experience I’ve had in life is blowing away with the wind and it’s such a relief.

>

>

The cream white walls and tar driveway currently full of cars strikes me half sober. I’m drunk, I’m drunk as in I’ve been drinking.

Yeses! This is not my house and yet I have the audacity to waltz in drunk? What brand of disrespectfulism is this?

I climb out the car and take deep breaths, fiddling with my cuticles. Beauty doesn’t come out of the car with me, tf!

“What are you doing?” I ask, looking back.

“Going home, take your luggage out the boot.” Cold as ice, she delivers her biggest F you of the night.

My flabbers are totally gasted. I thought we were in this rebellion together? Powerpuff girls gone bad, when did the memo shift?

“I can’t go inside there alone, come with me please.”

“You will be fine just say you have a sugar rush then go to bed.” I know she didn’t just say that!

I can barely walk to the boot without putting my life on the line, these legs are noodles. And to avoid coming back millions of times, I grab two handfuls of my shopping bags and tip toe carefully towards the house.

“What the heck are you doing?”

She must get out of my business, isn’t that’s what we do?

I can’t believe I fell for her games, what if this … I just have to make it past Mr X.

The front door opens but I’m not sure when exactly I held the door handle. Magic I guess. I step in the dark house and immediately crash against something. It’s breathing really heavy above my head.

I have to explain why I’m drunk? Yoh.

“Mr X. I bought you three belts.” I say and spread my lips wide in a smile, shoving the shopping bags in his face.

He doesn’t say anything, he just continues breathing extremely loudly. His chest is moving up and down on my forehead.

“Bungobakho, she was with me.” Her guilty conscience rose the dead I see.

“Go to your bedroom, Zimpambosi zomfula.” Huh, six words.

Impressive.

He looks down at me, “Nqobile.” He calls me by name.

I frown and still do as I was instructed none the less. I’m barely walking, in isiZulu we call it ukuchutha – that’s what I’m doing because I fear stumbling around and making a bigger fool of myself.

“Wenzani?” Mini pops up from the passage I’m heading to and asks me what am I doing.

I put my finger on my lips and say, “Sssshh.” Very softly.

He nods, still looking at me weird but he joins my sneaking. Walking by my side in my small steps. Once we reach the bedroom I take a deep breath and collapse on top of the bed.

“Uzosha iziqhomu utshwala.” He laughs, taking off my shoes for me.

That saying is a myth, I’ve never seen my neighbor with burnt cheeks but she drinks alcohol more than water.

“Am I in trouble?” I groan I to my pillow.

“I don’t know, but your boyfriend is angry at your mother in-law more than you.”

“Really?” I don’t believe it, he can’t not be angry with me, not after I disrespected his house.

“Eh I’m telling you, he came in the house guns blazing. He immediately took off his tie and loosened his buttons, ebaba I saw his hairline shift in real-time. After he called umfazi wephepha six times, he called Baba and told him to put his wife in her lane.” Shut up, there ain’t no way.

It’s hard but I manage to get myself up and sit upright instead because I need to hear all of this.

“What did baba say?” I whisper back.

“We didn’t hear what he said, but your boyfriend was ready to choke slam all of us. You could see the love burning inside his eyes.”

I scoff, “Now you are making things up.”

“I was checking if you’re still delusional. Usemasimbeni.” He confirms that indeed I am in deep shit.

I face palm myself, since when am I so careless?

“I didn’t mean to get drunk.” I groan, almost tear into tears while at it.

“Save them, you will need them later. Just don’t use whatever Beauty told you to fight him, that woman is dangerous.” Everyone keeps saying that and I don’t see it, sure she is evil but not in the way they portray her.

“I think she is a good person, somewhere deep, deep, deep down in her heart.” I protest.

“Ho ho ho, Merry father Christmas. Do you have more bags in the car?”

I nod and drive myself back on my pillow. It’s so soft and plush on the face, it’s the exact feeling I needed to fall asleep.

>

>

My bedroom feels heavy, like something is lurking in the shadows waiting for a chance to hit me with sleep paralysis. Then that cologne hits my nostrils, it’s very distinct in the layers it has. I decide to trust my eyes not to deceive me and open them wide to check the room.

I curl further up my headboard when I see Bungobakho sitting on a chair facing the bed, arms folded over his chest and head lowered with his eyes closed.

How long has he been sleeping there?

“Did I wake you?”

What the –

He’s not sleeping? I crunch up the duvet and hug myself with it.

“No.” I’m answering in a blur, brain fog is still very much a problem of mine.

“I’d like us to talk, Nqobile.” He’s still sitting with his head hanging low and eyes closed by the way, so now I’m not sure if this is truly him or maybe it’s a Ximba ancestor.

“About what?” I ask with precautions.

“I will wait for you in the living room, get dressed.” He says and gets up from the chair to walk out.

I think about what Mini said to me earlier, is this the shit he was talking about? I change into a pinafore real fast and make my way to the living room too.

The lights are off but there’s still some light. Mr X is seated on the one sitter couch facing the only other one sitter couch. He hasn’t changed into pajamas or anything, did he even get any sleep?

I sit opposite him and force my eyes not to look tipsy.

There’s a harsh silence between us, he’s not speaking nor is he looking at me. I feel like that is a gesture he is making for me to go first.

“Im…”

“Ask me.” He ousts first.

“What?” I whisper.

“Ask me what you have been wanting to know, Nqobile.” There’s something I’ve been wanting to know?

Sheesh! I barely remember who was president the year I was born, I don’t think I will be able to remember everything I’ve always wanted to ask Mr X since we met.

“What’s your name?” uh mara Kay?

Why did I just do that to myself?

Luckily he responds without throwing a bitch fit.

“Bungobakho Xolani Ximba. What’s yours?”

That gets me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting that really, I thought this was my mic.

“Nqobile Goqo.”

He bops his lowered head slowly, “Pleasure knowing you, Nqobile Goqo.” He says.

“How old are you?”

“34, I’m turning 35 in May. And yourself?”

“26 years old, I turned 26 in January.”

His head rises for the first time, blood shot eyes stare at me for only a hot minute then he faces down again.

“You are still young, Nqobile.” I don’t like him using my name, this is my fresh start, a new life. It needs a new name.

“Yeah, I am. Weren’t you aware prior the lobola?” I’m not even asking in a rude manner but the way his body tensed up and he stopped swaying, you’d think he felt offended.

“I had no prior knowledge of you.” Oh, it’s worse.

“Why did you approach my sister with this marriage proposal?”

“My answer may vary from my reasoning then to the reasoning I have now. Are you still interested to hear it?” what could have changed in such a short span of time?

“Yes.” I nod.

“My father and I haven’t been in the best shape for a couple of years, there has been a strain in our relationship that I can never trace. I made my blunders in the past, I’d like to assume he made me pay for them. The present proves me wrong, he’s still distant. His obsession with family made me assume if I bring him a daughter in-law, his walls will soften enough to accommodate my truth. That was the plan with your sister.” Awe, I just want to hug him and tell him it’s not his job to make his father see him.

I choose peace over chaos this time and shut my mouth.

“Do you still think that can work?” I ask.

He shrugs, “I am not certain to be honest with you, Nqobile.” My name just doesn’t feel right coming from his mouth.

“Are you angry with me?”

His head lifts again, the space between his eyes folds in layers of skin as he frowns. “Context?”

“I mean, ‘Go to your bedroom, Nqobile’ didn’t really sound cute to me.” I mimic his barking earlier.

“I wasn’t angry at you, I am angry at your carelessness and my failure to prevent any harm coming to you. I bought you here, you are my responsibility and I didn’t protect that enough.” This is the first time he has had any facial expression besides anger.

“I wouldn’t say you failed…”

“I did, I’m not pained to admit my shortcomings. I’ll do better, however in order to achieve that I need you to help me too and start listening Zimpambosi zomfula.” His anger has subsided. Good.

We’re having a normal conversation now, looking one another in the eye without coiling.

“Is this about Beauty?” how I wish to roll my eyes at this conversation. He could have done without the dictatorship.

“No, it’s regarding your safety – Beauty is an extension of the problem and I won’t be addressing that because I’d like to believe you’re more than capable of deciphering what’s good or bad for you. My only word is that you remain sober minded throughout your interactions with anyone in this family…”

I’ve only been drunk once!

“I won’t drink again, Xolani.”

“Please do not do that, ngicela ungang’ngeni emlomeni. What I meant by sober mind is your influence, do not have interactions with people solely based on your emotional influence. Be wary of everything, if you feel unsafe you call me immediately.” Yeah I get that and all but c’mon, aren’t they stretching this a little too far?

She brought me back today without a single scratch.

“I don’t think Beauty would hurt me.” Wait, okay so maybe I am a bit bias at the moment. I guess that’s why he didn’t say anything afterwards just to let it sink in for me till the kak has been filtered.

“I see what you mean.” There’s no shame in admitting that I flopped because I did, big time.

“Im glad you see it, Zimpambosi zomfula.” His lips soften, I wouldn’t call it a smile but it’s definitely a win for me.

“By the way, who came up with?”

He chuckles, “Don’t tell me it’s an ick.”

“No, not at all. It’s very different I like it. I’ve just always wondered why you know? You could have called me Sobahle or Mwelase, something of that nature. I also hope me calling you Mr X is not an issue.” Please don’t tell me I’m jumping the gun, I just started enjoying the conversation for the first time.

His scruffy beard shakes as a quick laugh rumbles from his chest, “Why Mr X again?” he asks me frowning.

“I think it’s captivating, it leaves somethings to the imagination and I like it better than calling you Msuthu – that one is too serious. So do I have your permission?” I can finally sit more relaxingly.

You know tuck my feet under my butt and all.

“Yes, Zimpambosi zomfula, I don’t mind.”

“Were all those men your brothers?” I’ve been to dive into that and what exactly is it they were doing in the AMs that required knives to be wiped.

“Yes, some are from my father’s brothers and others from uBaba directly. They wanted to greet you properly, I’m the one who refused.”

My eyes do the judging, because why would you do that Mr X!?

“No, not because I’m a psycho. As I said before, I’m the one who brought you to this family Sobahle, therefore I’m the one who needs to assume the responsibility. I’ll execute a plan soon for you to meet the people who are real family to me and those I’d trust with your life as well. Just give me some time please.” He says.

Whatever he says, I’m on board.

I nod, getting a little drowsy. How could I forget the most important thing? His daily routine?

“What time do you wake up? So I can fix your clothes and your lunch.” It’s my job and I don’t really mind doing it for him, especially now that I’ve seen he’s not such a tight butthole.

“I wake up around 4:00 AM to steam and purge first before getting for work mkami.” His exhale is mockery.

Mr X has time for jokes!

“I can fix the water for you, or your Nyanga said no woman must go anywhere near your muthi?” I yawn, incidentally but he took it as me being sassy I guess because he’s chuckling at it.

“He didn’t say it, nevertheless, I still prefer it that way. My clothes haven’t been ironed though, on the second door to your right, is where the laundry room is. My closet is there.” That wasn’t so bad now was it?

“Okay, I’ll get your clothes ready by 6AM.”

“Thank you, Zimpambosi zomfula. I’m off to bed, peace chommie-ke.” Bakho gets up from the couch laughing.

I’m flushed and embarrassed!

Why did I have to say that mara?

>

>

BACK AT THE GOQO HOUSEHOLD

Goqo just woke up and his wife is already nowhere to be seen in the bedroom. He was hoping for a round or two to chase away the cold of the morning man. Damn.

“MaKhanyile! MaKhanyile where are you shukela wami? Ubaba udinga ikhofonoza yakhe phela sthandwa sami.” He searches the whole house and finds her at last in the kitchen standing beside the stove.

His lips grow wider. She’s wearing her fancy dresses not her usual pinafores with holes under the arms.

He sneaks up behind her, sliding his hands around her belly and going up to grab her glorious boobs.

They plush like jelly babies!

“Get away from me, Satan!” MaKhanyile thrusts him off aggressively.

“What’s the problem now, MaKhanyile? Why are you denying me my cake?” this is a first as well, his wife has never turned him down.

Whenever he’s needy for her, she’ll spread her legs like the frog to pleasure him.

“Makhanyile, I’m talking to you phela, what’s your issue?” he taps her shoulder until she turns around and glares a sword from her eyes.

“Go talk to your cheap whores, Mandla!” her cheeks glisten from the tears falling from her eyes.

His calms himself down and decides to find out what the matter is here, his wife isn’t a crier.

“My nunus, come on talk to me kahle. What did I do to you?”

“How can you ask me that when you know your disgusting ways, Goqo? I’m busying praying for your health and you’re other there vandalizing it by baptizing the whole community with your 2 centimeters dick!.”

He freezes for a long second, catching his breath and his lies all at the same time. No, he isn’t admitting to any of this! Mandla jabs behind her at the three pots of boiling water, and all of a sudden they make sense. He starts stepping away from the stove.

“Where did you get the rhetoric, Thulisile? I would never do such a thing!” and he’ll refuse even if there is evidence!

Even God Himself will never get this confession out of him.

“Ohhhh, so you finally agree with me that that little skinny brat of yours is a liar?” she advances towards him with a wooden spoon in her hand.

“What does Nqobile have to do with this?”

“She is the one who called MaDorrini and dished out all the news of your shenanigans last night! You see you, once I’m done with you, you’ll know why they called Mtrapeni in High School!” her feet move faster, she grabs him by the ball sack and squeezes.

“Whose cock is this?” she screams in his face, feral than before.

“Yours shukela wami, it’s all yours.”

“Good, so don’t make me boil it in your sleep, sfebe sendoda!” she tugs him stronger and releases.

When did this one get so strong!?

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