Chapter 4
“I can do nothing on my own. As I hear, I judge and my judgement is just, because I seek not my own will but the will of him who sent me” – John 5:30
You can be the toughest cookie in the world but HIV tests are the scariest ever. Even virgins sweat before they test. Mercy had this habit of pausing now and then when talking and I hated it. She was like a bad CD with a scratch. Sometimes she would pause for over 1 minute and instead of continuing she’d just cry. Pregnancy is another matter that we guys are allergic to. We shag without using condoms and when the girl cries “I’m pregnant” we wear dumb shock on our faces”. “Mercy, stop beating about the bush and tell me what you wanna tell me. I have a lot to do and don’t have the whole day. Talk or get the hell out of my car”. She got furious and went on a guilt trip. She was like “I tell you I’m pregnant and instead of being supportive you scream at me? I hate you Rhu. I regret giving you my virginity”. She opened the door and left me sitting in the car alone. What the hell, I didn’t even know she was still ‘new underground’ if I may borrow Shaz’s terminology. Ag she was lying, there was nothing ‘virgin’ about her when we had sex for the first time. The things she did to me had no signs of virginity in them. What kinda virgin gets on top of a guy an go all porn star on him? She didn’t even bleed like most virgins I've deflowered before. Like I told you before, I am a Shangaan guy. When we break virginity, we break it literally (it's not called a third leg for nothing). I sat in my car for over 20 minutes not knowing what to do next. Part of me felt bad for the way I spoke to Mercy. I know we had unsafe sex but if she was pregnant I wasn’t the father. I know girls from Rustenburg have a tendency of sleeping with more than one guy and when she falls pregnant she chooses the one with better chances of taking care of the baby as the baby daddy. I liked Mercy but I wasn’t going to fall for her tricks. My only worry was what she wanted to say about HIV.
I went back to the office but I couldn’t concentrate. Mercy managed to spoil my day. While I was thinking of the next step Maureen called me. When Maureen called it was either because she was horny or bored. Basically, my role was to unhornify and unbore her. She treated me like a boring machine to bore her borehole. I went “what can I do for you my beautiful sugar mama”. She laughed and said “I’m too young to be a sugar mama. Rather call me a sweet mama because I’m sweet and you are my witness”. That’s Maureen for you, she was very good with words. You’d swear she was Mac Maharaj’s black daughter. She said “I’m horny. I actually locked myself in the office right now. You don’t wanna know what I’m doing?”. I could hear her office phone ringing in the background and she asked me to hold on. She went “Palesa, please hold all my calls till further notice. I’m busy with a very urgent query right now”. Shit, what a pervert. She told her PA to hold all her calls just to touch her nanana. She went “I’m craving something Shangaan….if you know what I mean”. Normally I’d get all sexually worked up when she said that but that day was different. My Mrenge was in a mourning mood. Mercy messed up my day. I didn’t know how to tell Maureen I was not in a mood for games. She was my cash cow, so I had to choose my words wisely. Of all my sugar mamas she was the one with a fat bank account and I was like a ‘SlimFast Pill’ on it. I introduced a new topic and she stupidly bought it. I told her about how stressful my work was blah blah blah. She told me that I needed a holiday. I told her I had financial problems, a lie obvious. She was like “actually, I was planning to fly to Cape Town this weekend. Why don’t you join me? I can do with some ‘sex on the beach’ ha ha ha ha. You know the cock…”. Lol she was trying to be funny. Maureen was that woman who went wherever she wanted whenever she wanted, she had money like dust. Maybe she cashed her late husband’s life cover. I was like “mmmmmh I’d love to go with you but I don’t have clothes….”. I lied again, I wanted her to refresh my wardrobe. My closet didn’t have space for clothes but I wanted more. And I’m not talking about clothes from Truworths and Markham, that’s for R2000 – R12 000 earners. She went “don’t worry about that, I’ll sort you out babe”. Case closed… my name is Rhulani Chauke.
After the call I emailed Mercy to tell her I wanted to meet. I wanted to sort the pregnancy issue once and for all. I could see she opened my email but she didn’t respond. I wanted to go to her floor but I thought it wasn’t a good idea because she was probably still hurting. Girls are like a hot water bottle, they take time to cool down. Around 5pm I knocked off. I took some work home because I wanted something to keep myself busy with. I passed by a Liquor Store at Jean Avenue to buy 12 Heinekens. I had some Cognac at my place but I wanted to be ‘beer drunk’. Only rich white people get stress relief from Cognac and Whiskey, blacks drink beer. I kept myself busy with work until my 5th beer when I started getting tipsy. Working with people’s money is risky, so working drunk wasn’t a good idea. I’m not a sex addict… but at the same time, I’m not suffering from diabetes. I had sex at least 5 days a week. Mostly with different women. Sometimes it was not by choice. I’m a what clever women call a hunk, I drive a nice car and my wardrobe has some of the best labels in the world. Girls threw themselves at me and saying no would appear rude. I only said no to those who failed to meet the ‘Rhu Standards’. I’m not a pig that eats everything. I was horny but didn’t wanna invite anyone to my place. I thought of going to get a prostitute but my heart said no. Well, I did what most guys do…lol. I passed out on the couch and only woke up when my irritating alarm rang. My head was pounding and my mouth stank like ass. That’s a disadvantage of drinking Heineken. You wake up feeling like a zombie the following morning. No wonder most guys are running to Castle Lite these days. I think Castle Lite is for sissies who are afraid of booze. That shit is water with a bad beer taste. Real men drink real beer. I took a long shower and put on my black suit. I had a meeting with a client at 10am, so I wanted to look the part. I hate meeting conservative white clients, they want everything done professionally. From the way you talk to the way you walk. While driving to work I thought of ways to get rid of my ‘Mercy Problems’. My ancestors gave me a great idea.
I worked and worked and worked and my 10am meeting went well despite the fact that I smelled of booze. I generally made sure that I sat far from white people. I sat next to my black boss who was an alcoholic. Booze probably smelled like water to him. After the meeting I drove to the mall to buy a bouquet of flowers. I almost bought a teddy bear but thought it would send a wrong impression. On the card I wrote “to the most gorgeous woman on earth. Can I cook for you tonight?”. I drove back to the office. I commanded one of the interns to go give Mercy the flowers. I showed her the picture of Mercy to make sure she delivered the flowers to the right recipient. I got the picture on Facebook of course. The only female pictures I had in my phone were those of my female relatives and naked pictures I got from my fellow perverts on Facebook. I didn’t have ‘memory’ to waste in my phone. The reason I didn’t deliver the flowers myself was I didn’t want her fellow call centre agents to think I was Mercy’s main man. Also there were a lot of yellow bones there, I didn’t wanna mess my chances catching prey in future. I went back to the office and before I could even unlock my computer my Samsung S6 Edge received 6 WhatsApp texts. The first one was a ‘wow’, the second one was an ‘in love emoticon’, the third one was ‘thanks for the flowers love, they are beautiful’, the fourth one was ‘I am sorry I overreacted yesterday’, the fifth one was ‘yesterday I wanted to tell you our HIV results came back negative’ and the last one was ‘I will go to your place on condition you buy me clothes to wear to work tomorrow. I can’t wear same clothes to work for 2 consecutive days. Love you Rhu Jnr’s father’. Nxa trust women to give an embryo a name. After few minutes I received a Facebook notification. The bitch tagged me with a picture of the flowers I bought with the caption “that moment when bae flabbergasts me with flowers”. S#it, any girl that tags a guy she met few weeks ago is a high risk and she should be dumped asap. I had to act cool in order for my plan to work. I liked her picture and she responded to my ‘like’ with a comment. She went ‘@bae, thanks for liking my post’. Thank God I wasn’t the only one who liked it. One of her friends commented with ‘I knew from day one that you and Lwazi were made for each other”. The comment disappeared within a minute. You see why I didn’t believe the baby was mine? #LwaziMustExplain. My phone vibrated and it was an sms from FNB. Maureen sent me couple of thousands to buy clothes. After work we went to Centurion Mall to buy clothes (for Mercy). I used the money Maureen sent me. Luckily she opted for Mr Price. She was like “now that we are expecting we must save money. We can’t afford to buy expensive clothes”. Mxm only if she knew what I had in mind. After our shopping we drove to my place. I’m not a very good cook but that night I surprised myself. She took a picture of the food and uploaded it on Facebook with the caption “#BaeCooked #Future Is Looking Colourful Like My Food”. After eating we took a shower together and for the first time in my life I shared a shower with a woman without getting horny. We went to bed together and I could see she wanted to make love. She was like “tonight I wanna make you the happiest man on earth my baby’s father”. She was getting on top of me as she said that”.
I held her hands and went “we need to talk before we do anything. I want you to …
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