Gleektales

💋Chapter Ten💋 (Grand Finale😵)   It was a bad déjà vu moment. She could’ve been replaying the same scene in his Cape Town apartment five years ago; hearing the same words, like a terrifying echo of the past. Mandi choked back a sob as she felt that sharp, invisible knife drive itself deeper into her heart. It thrust the pain into her throat. It clenched her stomach so tightly she feared she might throw up. He talked about torture, but he didn’t know what torture was.This was torture. ‘Simply because I wore a wedding dress at a fashion show, you think I’m trying to force you to get married?’ Even to her own ears, the words sounded hollow and ridiculous. ‘I can’t change who I am, Mandisa.’ Themba spoke slowly. ‘I would only disappoint you if you thought otherwise.’ Mandi dropped her head, then raised it slowly. She looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. It was as if she was seeing his every demon. And it scared her. ‘You’re right. I would be disappointed,’ she said....

💋Chapter Nine💋 Chaos. Controlled chaos. That was the only description that fit the scene backstage at the dance studio the night of the fashion show. Models ran around in their underwear, clutching Styrofoam cups of coffee. Andrew Morena trailed after them in full Miss Morena mode, complete with a tiara he’d acquired for the occasion. With a clipboard, pen and a spritz bottle of his homemade concoction of witch-hazel and mineral water, he was playing the role to the hilt. ‘Come on girls!’ he trilled. ‘We have to get you dressed and looking fabulous.’ Spritz! Spritz! His flustered face glowed with moisture. ‘I need a drink, an aspirin,’ he complained to Mandi. ‘I’m having a nervous breakdown here!’ She smiled. ‘As long as I’m invited.’ ‘So not funny.’ She had to admit the studio was a cacophony of noise. It didn’t help that the Isiduko musicians were rehearsing a medley of tunes nearby; Cole was running through a final sound check for the night’s event. Andrew had taken one look a...

💋Chapter Eight💋 ‘Shall we have coffee on the balcony?’ ‘That sounds nice.’ She tried to quell the nervous flutter in her stomach with a smile. ‘It’s more private and there’s a lot more sun.’ Mandi followed Nosiswe Dlane through the elegant Hyde Park apartment towards the French doors opening up to an enclosed balcony. She’d worn a smart pair of black fitted trousers and a crisp white blouse for the meeting. Nosiswe was far more relaxed in a pair of expensive blue jeans and a caramel- coloured turtleneck sweater. The clothes made her look younger. Mandi looked around the huge balcony. The creamy white of the wicker patio furniture was broken with bright multi-patterned cushions. It was an airy, inviting and casual sitting area. ‘Please take a seat. I’d forgotten how lovely the sunny late winter afternoons can be in Johannesburg,’ Nosiswe said, as a housekeeper in a starched duchess uniform poured coffee from a silver pot. Mandi had a slight trace of a hangover – all that alcohol a...

💋Chapter Seven💋 ‘Nombi! ’ Shocked, Mandi stared at her sister. ‘You’re only supposed to arrive tomorrow!’ This night was just full of surprises, Mandi thought glumly. She hadn’t expected to find her younger sister in her house tonight. Nombi was looking gorgeous, as always. Even in a pair of flared yoga pants and a fleecy hooded top, she managed to look like a top model. ‘I arrived a day early.’ Nombi eyes were not on her, she noticed, but fixed on Themba. ‘I found your spare key under the pot plant. Not a safe place to leave it.’ She pouted. ‘You must be more careful, Mandisa!’ Mandi flushed, ignoring her sister’s chiding remark. ‘Nombi, you remember Themba.’ Nombi’s greeting was cool as ice. ‘Of course.’ ‘Nombi.’ Themba nodded. ‘You’re looking well.’ Her sister arched her brows. ‘I get paid to look well.’ Themba showed his perfect white teeth. ‘Of course, I forgot; you’re a model now.’ Nombi turned to Mandi. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything?’ ‘No,’ Mandi lied. ‘We’ve just ...

💋Chapter Six💋 The next day, Themba contacted her. He didn’t call, as promised, but sent her an email. It was the first thing she saw when she fired up her laptop at the studio in the morning. The message contained contacts for a great tax consultant, a highly rated accountant, web developers and event organisers, covering all the points they’d touched on the night before. The fact that he’d sent an electronic correspondence stung, but she sent a cool, professional response, thanking him for his time and effort. She wasn’t going to let him get to her. She was simply going to put him out of her mind. In the next week, Mandi threw herself whole-heartedly into rectifying the errors and oversights Themba had picked up in his ruthlessly analytical audit. As the days progressed, things were starting to look up. She might have lost Themba for a second time, but she’d managed to salvage her boutique from the ashes of disaster. She found comfort in her strict business routine, in working o...