Читать книгу Banking on Love - Sibusiswe Dhuwe - Страница 6

3

Dumisani wasn’t answering his phone. In a way Lulu was relieved. She had not called him on the Saturday after The Event, as it was now referred to by The Coven. Precious, of course, had not been able to keep quiet about it when she returned next door to her housemates.

Lulu had not expected otherwise; she knew Precious was incapable of keeping a secret, no matter how hard she tried. She’d probably only managed to keep mum for a few minutes after she got back and then hadn’t been able to contain herself any more.

After getting back to her flat, tidying up and running a few errands at the local shopping centre, Lulu had finally made it next door in time for sundowners. She was greeted by three openly curious friends. They didn’t even try to act as if they hadn’t heard.

Lulu walked into the spacious double-storey and was handed a glass of sparkling wine and made to sit down on the throne, as the intricately carved, well-cushioned chair was called. It was reserved only for big news, according to Cristobel. And there, in a series of hot flushes and little aftershocks at the memory of the night before, Lulu was made to recount step by step what had happened.

“I knew he had a thing for you!” Gita exclaimed, tossing her long, dark ponytail behind her. Gita was a beauty therapist at a nearby spa and louder than even Precious at her most gregarious. When her husband passed away in a train crash while visiting relatives in southern India, she had decided not to remain in the custody of her in-laws.

“Don’t lie,” Precious reprimanded Gita. “You agreed with me that he was gay.”

“Whaaaat?! I never. You’re the one who said he was gay and I said, never! Didn’t I, Crissie?”

Cristobel stood up to pour more drinks for everyone. “If I recall correctly, I was the one who said never, and I told you guys you were both blind and foolish to even think that.” A former ballerina, she was dainty and moved around as if there was no need to actually step on the ground. She always wore flowing pastel-coloured clothes that, along with her blonde curls, made her look like a fairy queen.

Cristobel was in her early forties, but could well pass for someone in the same age group as Lulu, Precious and Gita. All her friends were much younger than her, probably due to the fact that she didn’t believe in age defining how people should live and what they were expected by society to be and have achieved. Her philosophy was: Live the life you want, and don’t depend on the good opinion of others.

Now, sitting at her desk during her lunch break instead of joining her colleagues as she often did, Lulu sighed. It was exactly a week to the day, and she had long expected Dumisani to have tried to reach her. Initially she had been dreading the call, but she’d also found herself reluctant to leave her phone unattended for a moment.

She jumped every time it rang, with her heart racing into her mouth, only to feel dizzy with relief when it wasn’t Dumisani, and a bit deflated at the same time. After day three of no calls from him, she had begun to question herself and had become convinced that the experience had been terrible for him and that he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Never! I’m awesome in bed,” she whispered as the thought assailed her again.

“What was that?” One of the junior buyers had returned from lunch and was looking at Lulu curiously.

Lulu shook her head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it, just talking to myself.” She pasted a smile on her face and turned to her computer screen to dismiss the younger woman. As assistant to the senior international buyer for a big department store, Lulu shared an open-plan office with three junior buyers. She loved her job, especially seeing as she had fought hard to end up in the coveted women’s wear section. The perks included occasional travel to fashion shows and conventions abroad – very occasional for an assistant, but definitely better than the juniors, who never got to go anywhere and didn’t get paid nearly as well.

From the time she first started as a junior buyer, Lulu had focused all her energy on being charming, cheerful, having a can-do attitude and showing that she had initiative. She stayed well on top of fashion trends, often spending hours on the internet and watching Fashion tv and the Style Network. She never missed an opportunity to be noticed, and soon all her hard work paid off. She had even started her own online project called The Green Room, essentially a stylists’ directory featuring a fashion blog and links to other fashion blogs, interviews, merchandise, latest fashions, designers, fashion innovators, stockists, price guides, online shopping and information on the best sales.

If anyone even dreamt of a new fashion concept, Lulu was on it, and her networking had so far landed her almost a hundred dedicated online clients. The hits were nearing half a million and occasional clients were increasing. The commission she was making for sales was put aside, strictly for the Independence Plan.

Initially she had spent almost all her free time working on the site, but now she could afford to hire an assistant – well, three: Precious, Gita and Cristobel, who worked on a rotating basis, dealing with queries to the site and any client issues that arose. For their efforts, they were given fabulous discounts on the site and dibs on any freebies.

* * *

Late that afternoon Lulu’s cellphone rang. She jumped and looked around the office, startled to realise she was the last one there and that the day had disappeared into the monthly stock reconciliations she had been working on.

Heart pounding, she saw the contact icon showing Dumisani’s smiling face. With shaking hands she swiped the pad of her thumb over the screen to answer and affected a nonchalant tone. Best to act as if nothing had happened and first see the lie of the land. “Hey!”

“I’m outside. Come down.” He hung up.

Mouth open, Lulu stared at the dark screen. “Ru-ude!”

For a moment she just stared at the flashing “Diva” screensaver of her Samsung Galaxy without seeing it. Dumisani was outside and being quite imperious all of a sudden. For someone who had kissed and then bedded her without much advance warning and subsequently disappeared without a word for a week, he was being very cocky.

Lulu thought she might play a little hard to get, but she also knew that wouldn’t wash with Dumisani. He hated game-playing in relationships. Nkosi yami! Were they in a relationship? Was Dumi now her man? What was going on? Could she let it happen? Was this actually happening?

Shaking all the way down to her Manolos – a present from one of her more extravagant suitors – she left her office.

A few minutes later the doors swung her out of the air-conditioned reception area of her workplace into the late-afternoon sun, and there was Dumisani. He was leaning against his smart black S3, looking delicious in crisp grey slacks and his signature tailored shirt, a pair of Ray-Bans hiding his eyes from her.

Taking a deep breath, Lulu decided to brazen it out. She would act as if nothing had happened and that this was any other day she would have met up with him. She went down the entry pathway and somehow made it to the small car park without tripping or melting down into a dead faint.

Her heart was beating like crazy, her palms were sweating and she kept having to remind herself to breathe. Beyond the low wall and the iron railings the day’s traffic hooted and bleated its way past them, becoming slower and slower as it started to hit peak hour. All the noise and movement faded as Lulu reached the car and stopped as close as she dared to the heat that was radiating from Dumisani.

She debated over giving him the customary peck on the cheek followed by a hug, then decided against it and just stood there with a sort of smile on her face. “Hey.” It came out all wrong: croaky and nowhere near breezy.

“Hey.” Dumisani took off his sunglasses and peered into her eyes. Unable to hold his gaze, Lulu looked away, crossing her arms around her middle. It was too much. She hadn’t had enough time to prepare herself for this moment. She felt as if she needed some kind of protective gear.

Dumisani straightened from where he had been leaning against the boot of his car. “I didn’t want the first time we talked after . . .” He cleared his throat and Lulu was somewhat comforted to know he wasn’t one hundred per cent in control. He was the kind of speaker who never said “um” or “er”, he always said the things that needed to be said with the smoothest delivery. “I wanted to see you, to talk face to face. But I had a trip planned for the very next day and . . . well, you left so abruptly.”

Lulu didn’t remember him trying to stop her. In fact, she had left with the distinct impression that he was a bit relieved, but that could possibly have been her own interpretation of events. It was possible Dumisani had been just as dazed and confused as she had been. She opened her mouth to speak, and he did it again . . .

One hand reached out and pulled her to him, and the other cupped the side of her face and brought her mouth up to meet his. Like a silk fan, Lulu folded into him with a soft sigh, arms reaching around him and sliding down to meet around his trim waist. He smelt divine as always, fresh and deeply luxurious. Dumisani always smelt like luxury.

As he pulled her closer and the kiss deepened, Lulu became aware of the fact that she was right outside her workplace. This was not the image she wanted her workmates to have of her, and her concern was confirmed when she pulled away and the uniformed guard at the gate smirked. She took a deep breath, determined to compose herself.

“Sorry,” Dumisani said with a huge smile on his face. “All week, that’s been the only thing I could think of.”

“You can’t just do things like this.” Lulu was quite indignant, but the trouble was that she sounded shaky and unconvincing. “You can’t just come and kiss me in the car park at my workplace. What will they think of me?”

“Actually,” Dumisani replied, putting his sunglasses back on, “I’m not sorry. And I’d do it again if I were sure I could control myself, but I think your boss is looking out of the window and wondering why you’re not at your desk.”

Lulu gasped in horror, turning around to look up at the windows on her floor before she remembered that their suite was on the other side of the building and that it was now officially after hours.

Dumisani laughed and Lulu slapped his arm lightly. “Not funny.”

“Sorry, babes. You know I can’t resist teasing you. You always fall for it.” He reached out for her hand and brought it to his mouth. Then he flashed his dashing smile and said, “Get your things and let me take you out for the evening.”

Lulu shook her head. Why weren’t things settling into her brain at their usual speed?

“Uh, I have my car and I’m not done at work yet.”

But Dumisani wouldn’t relent. “It’s almost five-thirty, so I know you were done thirty minutes ago. And you can leave your car here, it’ll be safe. I want to drive you.”

How could the words “I want to drive you” sound so sexy? They were a practical and welcome selection of words, considering the Joburg rush-hour traffic, but right then and there, Lulu would have stripped and jumped back into bed with him.

Feeling suddenly shy and somewhat exposed, all she could manage was a soft “Okay”. Light-headed, Lulu turned and floated into the building to collect her things.