Cherry Marbles. Shukie Nkosana

hard on her initial proposal and her presentation the next day would determine if Buthelezi Events landed the contract. She forwarded a few adjustments to the presentation to Zandile, her head event coordinator who would be presenting it with her before calling Naledi, her best friend.

      “Hey, mngani,” Naledi said into the phone when she answered. In the background Langa could hear jazz playing.

      “Hello there, girl,” she said. “Nenzani noThabo? I know you’re up to something when you play ijazz.”

      Langa and Naledi had been friends ever since they were eleven. They’d gone to the same primary and high school in Durban, and finally moved to Joburg together for university. Langa had been sceptical when Naledi started dating Thabo at varsity. The couple had however stuck it out through those years and the ones that followed, so it was no surprise when they recently tied the knot.

      Langa had always admired their commitment to each other and she had grown to love and respect Thabo. It seemed that the two grew more in love with each other each time she saw them. Langa remembered with longing how easy it had been to fall in love with Richard and how he had swept her off her feet.

      Naledi laughed before saying, “Kahle, you got me. I’ve been cooking for him and we were about to settle down to a meal and a bottle of wine.”

      “At least you have a life. I’m stuck at home working on the Sasol Wax presentation, and uRichard is in Namibia this week,” Langa replied into the phone as she shut her laptop and made her way to the fridge. “I can’t even talk to him because there’s no reception in the bush where he is filming.”

      “You two are always working,” Naledi complained. “We didn’t even get to celebrate your thirtieth birthday last month because you were slaving away. The last time we got together you were either both on your phones, or arguing about one thing or another. I know I’ve asked before, but are you sure you guys are alright?”

      “Of course I’m sure.” Langa sighed, her head buried deep in the fridge, undecided between yoghurt and cake. Eventually she took out both and settled comfortably on her couch, grabbing the TV remote from its caddy.

      “Can we not talk about this right now?” Langa mumbled into the phone. “I know how you feel about Richard.”

      “It’s never been about race for me, you know that. I mean, Richard could be a Red Indian for all I care. I just want you to be happy,” Naledi said. “The way you two carry on makes it uncomfortable for everyone around. You never settle down in company.”

      “Can we not talk about this right now?” Langa repeated. “I’m trying to keep my mind focused on tomorrow’s presentation.”

      “Alright,” her friend huffed. “On that note, I’m happy Buthelezi Events has grown from organising small parties to Sasol functions. Your mom would be so proud of you.”

      Langa smiled at the memory of her mother, grateful they had stopped talking about Richard.

      “Well, I haven’t landed the contract yet, so don’t start popping any champagne!” she warned. “I take it you two didn’t make it to church this morning? I looked out for you.”

      Naledi chuckled guiltily. “You know me too well, and I guess I don’t need to ask if you attended.”

      “I did actually but I hardly lasted to see the end of the service. The devil sent a sudden case of thrush my way!”

      Langa told Naledi about her grand prix-style driving to the pharmacy and cringed at how rude she’d been to the Ndebele man. By the time she was done with her story, Naledi was laughing so hard that Langa had to laugh at herself too.

      The next day Langa drove to Melrose Arch with knots in her stomach. Their presentation would take place in one of the boardrooms at Melrose Arch Hotel. Carrying her laptop more calmly than she felt, with Zandile in tow, she met Mr Zanier at the entrance of the hotel. He was greeting a few other board members who stood undecidedly at the entrance of the innovatively decorated hotel, some of them spilling out into the square.

      Mr Zanier was the junior MD of Sasol Wax and worked from their head office in Germany. He’d flown to South Africa to attend presentations by all the potential events companies. His disarming character now saw him the unofficial chairperson of the meeting, a position he seemed to take in his energetic stride. He introduced Langa to the group, impressively taking a few moments to colour the role of each person he introduced.

      “Finally, Miss Buthelezi, I’d like you to meet Mr Mabhena, the owner of Mabhena Oil Limited, South Africa’s largest privately owned producer and marketer of synthetic and petroleum waxes,” Mr Zanier announced. “His corporation is currently merging with Sasol Wax and you will work closely with him, should you secure this contract.”

      Langa stood rooted to the spot, as if her Phindi Ks had suddenly been nailed into the wooden floor of the lobby and opened her mouth, willing a sound, any sound to come out of it, but failed. She felt the thrush return instantly.

      “Erm, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she stammered, unsure what Mr Mabhena’s response might be.

      “Likewise, I’m sure,” he replied, seeming unruffled. His firm handshake made her feel fragile and increasingly uncomfortable. Holding the same chilling gaze he had given her the day before, his handsome face broke into a boyish grin as her pounding heart threatened to rip out of her chest.

      “Well, ladies and gentlemen, we’d better settle down and start this presentation,” Mr Zanier said to the small group as they followed an usher to a boardroom at the back of the hotel. Langa felt more like a lamb being led to slaughter than a self-motivated, hard-working woman whose events company stood a chance to get the contract of a lifetime.

      Zandile sensed her boss’s discomfort and threw her a quizzical glance as they sat at the long table. Langa puckered her lips before they curved into a tepid smile. Mr Mabhena sat across from her, his effortless smile revealing a brilliant set of white teeth, his hazel eyes on her.

      “Please call me Regile,” he said, his voice silky as before.

      Chapter 2

      2

      Standing in front of the board members, Langa tried to suppress the memory of her wrenching the tubes of thrush cream from the hands of the owner of Mabhena Oil Limited. Avoiding any eye contact with him, she settled for his arched eyebrows as she pitched her company to Sasol Wax.

      Adrenaline rushing in her blood, she carried her head with poise, assertively making it clear that Buthelezi Events had thus far not organised anything like the annual Innovation Cosmetics Exhibition, though she was certain they could deliver a creative showcase that would reaffirm Sasol Wax as the world’s leading producer and marketer of synthetic and petroleum derived waxes.

      Langa emphasised that her company would implement an African theme, making the exhibition proudly South African. After a brief address on her proposed financial breakdown, she sat down and let Zandile outline their anticipated venue, catering companies and entertainment. Langa kept her eyes on her event coordinator, breathing steadily and ignoring the impulse to look at the reactions around the boardroom.

      When Zandile sat down, Langa squeezed her hand under the table and they both drew deep breaths. Mr Zanier stood up, thanked Buthelezi Events for their presentation and told them they would know whether they’d secured the contract or not in a few days.

      With the meeting over, Langa surveyed the room for Regile Mabhena and saw him engrossed in a conversation with one of the other board members. Regile’s eyes met hers and briefly held the stare. Langa felt herself blush. She packed her laptop in its bag and made a final check that Zandile hadn’t left anything behind. When she looked up again, Regile was gone and she felt relief wash over her, but also an unsettling disappointment.

      “Well done, Zandile, that was a great presentation. Even in the unlikely event of us not landing the contract, that was great practice for many more presentations to come,” Langa said confidently. She wasn’t sure what to think, especially