Love's Courage Page 3

Ao, you don’t have to explain. That’s what you get for going out with an anorexic. The starvation affects their reasoning abilities.

  Kenneth bursts out laughing where he is lying on his couch, facing the garden with his large glass doors open, the Saturday paper in his lap, listening to Marvin Gaye. He types:

  Lol. I told you I’m not seeing her. When can I see you though? Find you fascinating.

  Lesego answers:

  I’m a bit hectic at the mo and haven’t had enough time to assess whether you’re a serial killer. So you’ll have to prove you’re worthy of my trust before I agree to see you.

  Ahhh! The lady’s been burned. Okay, what would convince you?’

  If I told you, you would do it, but you may still be a serial killer. You’ll have to find a way yourself.

  Fair enough. What you up to?

  She replies:

  Reading the book that introduced us. What serendipity. It’s like our ancestors conspired to introduce us to each other, using our culture as the connector.

  Interesting thought. What would that mean then? That we are fated to be together? Are you hitting on me?

  He smiles while adding a devil emoticon at the end of the message.

  No, I’m not trying to say we were fated to meet. But maybe we’ll learn things from each other before we part ways. Like I said, I’m not looking for a long-term commitment.

  So what? You only want me for my hot body?

  She grins and writes:

  And if I was?

  You can have it. I know I want you for your hot body.

  Is that all then? Just sex?

  Wow, you’re blunt. No, I find you fascinating, and hot as well. Maybe you’re the full package I’ve been looking for.

  This time he adds a smiling emoticon.

  She feels a little flattered but quickly suppresses that and writes back:

  Whoa, cowboy! Watch yourself before you promise things you can’t deliver on. I didn’t think you were impulsive. You seem so calculated.

  Some opportunities only come once, so you have to strike while the iron’s hot. And you’re one red-hot iron. And I hate regrets. I’d regret never knowing.

  Sweet, but I bet you say this to all the girls. I’m going now before you make me melt and break all my rules. Don’t SMS me, I’m off. Later.

  The sudden ring of her phone makes Lesego start. The screen says Kenneth and she laughs, tickled by his persistence. She lets it ring a few times more before she answers and says, “I said I was going now.”

  “Yes, you said I shouldn’t SMS you; you didn’t say I shouldn’t call. Plus I wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Ijoo, you’re dangerous! I have to watch myself. So, what did you want to say?” she asks, trying to sound blunt.

  “Well – nothing, really . . . I wanted to see what effect your voice would have on me, and whether your being would touch my soul,” he says seriously.

  “What? Are you gay? You must be . . . What heterosexual male says such things?”

  “One who knows who he is and isn’t afraid to express himself.”

  “Okaaayyy . . . Uhm . . .”

  “Are you speechless?”

  “Yes, frankly,” she says, stunned. “So, tell me . . . Did my being touch your soul?”

  “Uhm . . . Your voice went straight to the centre of my being. There’s something about you that I can’t put my finger on, and I’m determined to find out what it is. When can I see you? Let’s have dinner together.”

  “It doesn’t seem like a good idea for me to have dinner with you. You may make me fall in love with you, and a guy as hot as you never sticks around for long. So I don’t think I can agree to seeing you.”

  “Bathong! Lesego! How can you decide just like that?”

  “I’m sorry, I tend to think ahead, to weigh the pros and cons and possible outcomes of all situations that I get into. And unfortunately this doesn’t bode well for me.”

  “But you’re the one who isn’t looking for a long-term thing. Anyway, it’s just dinner in good company.”

  “Why dinner? So you can seduce me? Why not lunch? Or even breakfast?”

  “What? You think I won’t try and seduce you over breakfast or lunch?”

  Lesego sighs, then laughs. “This conversation is getting out of hand. Can I go now, please?”

  “Have lunch with me tomorrow and you can go,” he insists.

  She quickly goes through her budget in her mind. This is a long week and payday is only on Friday . . . And he is a perfect stranger . . . And she never lets a strange man pay for her food because she doesn’t like the strings attached.

  “Hello . . . Lesego? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I am thinking.”

  “Ah, at least you’re considering it. That’s a good sign.”

  “Listen, how about this . . . We keep talking throughout this week, and if you still find me interesting by Friday, we can meet for lunch on Saturday. By the way, I like meat. You’re not vegetarian, are you?” she asks.

  “No, I also enjoy meat. Okay, your proposal seems fair. We’ll chat during the week, but I’ll still want to go out with you by Friday.”

  “We’ll see. A week is a long time. You could just decide rather to go with Thandi.”

  “Oh Lord, no!”

  Lesego laughingly says goodbye and ends the call. Then she lies back on her lounging chair, stares at the blue sky and suddenly gets the urge to throw her hands up over her head and kick her legs in the air like an excited child.

  Chapter 3

  3

  Sunday morning. Lesego sits at her kitchen counter, eating her habitual muesli, when her message tone goes off. She reads:

  It’s lonely here without you. Come over and have breakfast with me.

  She is amused, but also a bit shocked, and responds:

  Ijoo! Kenneth, have you no shame, trying to tempt a good girl on the Lord’s day?

  Oh, so you’re a church-going girl then?

  Not really, only at special times – Easter, Christmas. Was there no one to entertain you last night?

  He smirks and writes:

  No, where were you? You’re the only one I want to entertain me.

  You’re becoming dangerous again. I may have to run away.

  Be warned. I’m unstoppable when I get going. Do I really have to wait a whole week?

  She reconsiders for a moment, then replies:

  Yes. I think we may be underestimating our attraction, and I want to know exactly what I’m getting myself into before I leap.

  He SMSes an emoticon of a sad face. Lesego feels quite pleased and asks:

  So what are your plans for today?

  To putter around this lonely house. You could rescue me . . .

  Why don’t you go to the movies? There are some great ones showing.

  I always go by myself. I want to go with someone for a change.

  She chuckles under her breath and responds:

  I’m sure Thandi’s available.

  Man! Are you sure YOU aren’t gay? You seem obsessed with her.

  Sorry!

  she responds and adds a cheeky emoticon.

  FCP!

  he zaps back at her, followed by three fuming emoticons.

  Let’s stop this before you really get angry. For some strange reason I enjoy talking to you and I’d like to go on doing that. Shall we say bye?

  He replies curtly:

  Yes. Later.

  She sits at her counter, cradling her cup of coffee with a silly grin on her face.

  * * *

  Tuesday morning arrives, and Lesego dresses with care: white linen suit with a frilly black blouse, black spike heels, black handbag, hair tied back, minimal make-up. She goes through her presentation once more, killing the nerves before she leaves for the Sefalana offices.

  The traffic is atrocious, and when she finally arrives at the funder’s offices, she races inside and gets directions to the boardroom from the security guard. She checks her watch; sh
e has about twenty minutes, so she’ll be at least fifteen minutes early. What a relief!

  She comes out of the lift and walks right into a well-muscled chest. Strong arms reach out to catch her before she falls . . . Her entire body begins to tremble . . . For a moment she worries that she is becoming a bit of a slut, but then she looks up into a familiar face.

  “Kenneth?” she says, incredulous.

  “Lesego . . .” he gasps. “Wow, your ancestors must love me; they keep throwing you in my arms.” He stares at her with a pleased look that quickly changes to desire when she bites into her lower lip. He is compelled to bend over and get a taste. Their lips meet, and he is shocked by the longing he feels for her. It’s like coming home, like no sensation he has ever felt. If there were things like singing angels in real life, there would be some singing right now.

  Kenneth can’t stop himself; he wants another taste. He bends over again and plunders her mouth. She reaches up her arms and folds them around his neck, pulling his head lower, tighter against hers.

  Just as his hands reach for the small of her back to bring her right up against him, the reminder on her watch goes off and she breaks away. “I have to go, I have to go! I’m going to be late!”

  “Okay . . . all right . . .” he says with a frustrated sigh. “But this isn’t over. I’ll be calling you later.”

  She flashes him a cheeky and blisteringly hot look as she hurries down the passage. He leans against the wall, takes a deep breath to calm himself and then rushes down the hallway after her.

  Jane, the team assistant, shows Lesego to a waiting room.

  “The review panel is running slightly late, but they should be done in about ten minutes,” she says. “Please take a seat and get your bearings. We’ll call you in as soon as we’re ready for you.”

  “Thanks.” Lesego places her folder on the coffee table in front of her. She digs into her handbag for her mirror, looks at her face and sees that her lip gloss has been completely kissed off. She gives herself an embarrassed grin and digs into her handbag again. Luckily she doesn’t wear lipstick, otherwise it would have been smudged. She fans herself at the memory of the passionate kiss. Cheap hussy! she chides herself. You’ve only known the guy for two days and you’re already playing tonsil hockey.

  She applies her lip gloss, takes a deep, calming breath and gets her bearings . . .

  As she walks into the boardroom, Kenneth experiences intense confusion. Lesego takes a seat across from the review panel, distributes her hand-outs, smooths down her jacket and waits for the proceedings to begin.

  Kenneth looks at the proposal he has received, then checks the contact name on both the hand-out and the proposal – Lesego Khumoetsile. The Lesego he has fallen for is the same person who has submitted the Batshweneng cultural village proposal, the one he has been advocating! How cruel can fate be?

  Should I declare my interests and excuse myself, or just give up on her? he asks himself. He thinks back to the power of their kiss and to how he has been feeling since he met her. How can he give that up?

  When his turn comes to introduce himself, his voice sounds hoarse. “My name is Kenneth Tumaole; I am a fund manager and supervisor . . .” He takes a breath, looks into her face, suddenly feeling unsure about what to say next, but his colleagues look at him questioningly and he shocks himself by stating, “And I have no vested interest.”

  Lesego stares at him. Kenny is Kenneth Tumaole . . . a fund manager for Sefalana . . . Kenny is out of bounds . . . God! She should have had lunch with him when she had the chance.

  She sighs sadly and gives him a wan smile. She looks across the boardroom and sees Thandi looking at her smugly and wonders if this woman could threaten her chances to land funding for the project . . .

  The panel hands over to her. Lesego takes a minute to gather herself, then moves forward to do what she must.

  The presentation goes well. Lesego is articulate and makes her points clearly and concisely. She talks only about what she knows for sure, and on areas where she lacks confidence, she brings up their assistance programme and how she intends to utilise it. She comes across as calm and sure of herself. However, her breath catches every time she gets a glimpse of Kenny; their eyes cling to each other and she blushes slightly, struggling to compose herself.

  Kenneth fidgets throughout the presentation, his eyes roaming over what he can see. The little frilly black shirt that dips into that luscious cleavage, those full, glistening lips . . . He remembers how they tasted and keeps releasing tense breaths until Jane casts him a concerned look; he gives a taut smile to assure her that he is okay. Meeting Thandi’s deeply annoyed gaze, he frowns. She has no right to be upset; they only went for lunch and then to the bookshop, that was all. There and then he decides that she is definitely a stalker.

  By the end of the presentation, both Lesego and Kenneth are exhausted from keeping it together and not letting their emotional turmoil show on their faces. The project team leader thanks Lesego and promises to let her know within two weeks whether she has been successful. She leaves and as she reaches the door, she looks at Kenneth, silently letting go of the possibility of anything developing between them.

  * * *

  Like most people in the South African film and television industry, Lesego does extra work on the side. And since Tuesday was a complete bust, she agrees when her agent calls her for a voice-over. So she heads off to the recording studio, knowing that the extra cash will go a long way towards securing her some peace of mind. Maybe she will invite Joy to that movie they never went to so that she can tell her all about Mr Almost.

  Lesego sighs and repeats the same words over and over to herself: Why? Why? Why? He was perfect . . .

  She wonders whether her presentation went as well as she had thought and hopes Thandi won’t jeopardise her chances, chewing on her bottom lip as she starts agonising about Kenneth again.

  When she gets back to work, the atmosphere is frantic.

  “Lesego, thank God you’re here. As if we don’t have enough problems, one of the leads was involved in an accident and isn’t available for the next few weeks. We have to rewrite all the scenes that feature her super fast. Please, be a doll!” Lesley pleads, all in one breath.

  “Sure, it’s my job after all,” Lesego replies. “I’ll call a meeting to brainstorm some ideas.”

  “Great,” Lesley says as she rushes away, relieved to have some of the pressure off her shoulders. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  * * *

  That evening Kenneth is having dinner with his friend Richard, who wants to coax him into becoming a financier of his independent film. He hopes he won’t have to say no, because Richard has a tendency to overreact and take things personally. The problem is, his taste is often over the top and not really commercial. As a venture capitalist Kenneth needs to be sure there is a possibility of profit, and as it is, film is a risky business to invest in.

  After the disappointment of the day, he was feeling a bit low and tried to get out of the dinner, but Richard impressed on him the importance of securing financing as soon as possible. So now Kenneth is sitting at the restaurant, waiting and scrolling through Lesego’s messages, wishing he could SMS her. He has in fact typed a few messages, but then deleted them again.

  In her small house Lesego is thinking of him as well. She is waiting for a message tone to show that it wasn’t all a dream, that the last few days meant something and that their kiss was almost the start of something wonderful.

  But after a while she decides to call Joy. “I have to get out. I can’t stay alone in this house another moment. I need company and some good restaurant food. It’s your duty as my friend to oblige me. Someday I’ll return the favour.”

  “Whoa, what bee crawled up your bonnet? As it happens, I was thinking of going to that new grill in Parktown; I’ve been craving a large steak. Shall I pick you up?” Joy asks.

  “I don’t know. You’re very impulsive and you have a tendency not to go home, or t
o go home with an unsuitable ex or a new beau . . . I’m not sure,” Lesego says hesitantly.

  Joy sighs. “Come on, I’m not that bad . . . Okay, maybe there’s an element of truth in what you said, but I can’t believe that you don’t trust me. Now tell me, do you have petrol?”

  “That’s one thing I do have,” Lesego answers gratefully. “And money for a tip. So, can we meet at the place?”

  “Sure. You know where it is?” Joy asks.

  “Yes, see you there.”

  They ring off. Lesego decides to make sure that she looks hot. Tonight she desperately needs some admiring glances from men to boost her ego.

  When Richard arrives at the restaurant, he takes one look at Kenneth’s face and exclaims, “Monna! What’s up with you? You look like someone’s stolen your sunshine. Should I even pitch to you in this state?”

  Kenneth sighs. “I’m fine . . . I’ll try and be objective, but I’m not staying for long.”

  “You have to, man! You obviously need a friend. What happened?”

  “This weekend I met a girl who could’ve been the woman of my dreams, and today she came and pitched to a panel I was on.”

  “Okay . . . I’m not going to touch that one until after I’ve pitched my project to you. Then we can discuss that, or drink it away, deal?”

  “Deal,” Kenneth nods.

  Richard starts rattling off the pitch. “This movie is a science fiction story based on African spirituality. It’s about a tribe of supernatural beings who’re in a battle for owning the land. It has international as well as local appeal. The film’s going to cost fifteen million and I’ve secured twelve. I need the rest from you, so here’s the finance plan for your perusal, as well as a breakdown of what rights are still left and your possible return.”