Wish upon a Star. Fezi Cokile

      He introduced himself as Siso Masilela. He was thirty-five years old and of course a magazine editor. Siso joked that he was going to Google her, so Lathoya told him about her rise as a model. How she started in the industry after Red Cherry Modelling had given her a chance.

      She was impressed by how he had conquered the magazine industry. They exchanged work stories and ended up clinking champagne glasses and toasting to new beginnings.

      By the time the plane landed in Cape Town, they knew quite a lot about each other’s careers. The two made their way outside and to the terminal to retrieve their luggage. Lathoya’s consisted of two rather large suitcases, her handbag and many shopping bags. She had spoilt herself rotten by visiting the top designer boutiques in Milan.

      “Here, let me help you,” Siso offered.

      “Thanks, you’re such a gentleman,” said the struggling Lathoya, breathing a sigh of relief as he put her luggage on a trolley. “How come you don’t have as much clothes as me?” she asked, seeing that he had only his laptop and an overnight bag.

      He smiled. Already, his smile seemed to be her favourite feature.

      “Firstly, I’m not a supermodel. And secondly, I was in Italy for two nights only, for the launch of a new product range,” he explained.

      When they were outside the terminal building, Lathoya spotted her best friend and agent waiting for her. She waved at Kelly and led Siso to her red sports car, parked on a yellow line as always. For a moment Kelly’s questioning eyes moved from the man she didn’t know to her friend.

      Seeing this, Lathoya quickly bridged the silence. “Kelly, this is Siso Masilela. Siso, meet Kelly, the kind of friend every woman should have.”

      Kelly looked flattered.

      “How do you do?” said Siso and took her hand.

      “Nice to meet you,” replied Kelly. She was in her forties, and in Lathoya’s opinion she was the best agent in the cut-throat modelling industry. Kelly knew what it took to get to the top and stay there: a lot of hard work, loads of determination and also a bit of luck.

      “I have to go back inside,” Siso announced. “I’m meeting someone in the lounge. It was wonderful to meet you both.” He bade them goodbye and Lathoya watched him walking away. His bag over his shoulder, he strode confidently until he disappeared into the crowd leaving the building.

      “Who the heck’s that?” Kelly asked in a dramatic whisper, her face suddenly glowing. That always happened when she was marvelling at something . . . especially when it involved Lathoya’s life.

      “I told you, his name is Siso Masilela,” replied Lathoya while trying to keep a straight face. She knew exactly where her friend was going.

      They opened the boot of the car to put in the luggage.

      “That’s only the beginning. Who is he? Is he a model too?” asked Kelly, helping with the bags.

      “Fortunately not.” If Siso had been a model, no matter how attractive he was, it would have been a huge turn-off to Lathoya. On her nine-year journey as a model she had had her share of the frustration of dating a colleague. They sure knew how to break a girl’s heart with their arrogance and oversized egos!

      “He’s a magazine editor,” Lathoya explained as she closed the boot and the two friends got into the car.

      “Well, he’s quite a catch!” said Kelly, stating the obvious. “What magazine does he head?”

      Lathoya couldn’t believe it, but she had not asked Siso that question. How could she have been so foolish? Probably because she was so taken with his charm and looks. A vivid image of him appeared in her mind’s eye, haunting her.

      “Aren’t you going to answer me?” asked Kelly moments later when the car was in motion, weaving its way through the traffic.

      Lathoya snapped Siso’s image out of her head and returned to the present. “Ironically, I never asked him.” She told herself that it didn’t actually matter. It wasn’t as if the lust she had felt for him was love . . . Or was it? How do you separate the two? It was a simple attraction, even though it felt more powerful than anything she had ever encountered before. But she was sure this fascination would blow over in the next few hours.

      Lathoya didn’t care much for relationships. Her choice of career had forced her to take this attitude. Being a model, travelling and doing photo shoots, she hardly had time to go on a date. At least, that was her justification for not going out. However, Kelly kept pointing out that she needed more balance in her life. She had been so preoccupied with making it big in the modelling business that she had neglected the other part of her life. But for now Lathoya was satisfied with her choice. She had graced the catwalks of New York, Paris and now Milan.

      “I want to hear all about Milan,” said Kelly.

      “Oh, it’s a wonderful city! So exciting and enchanting, and so rich in architecture. Truly the world’s fashion and design capital,” replied Lathoya, dreamily reliving her memories of Milan.

      They approached Cape Town’s city bowl and a magnificent apartment block with spectacular ocean views. The building was also an amazing piece of architecture, contemporary and elegant. They drove into the large basement, where Kelly parked her car.

      “Now I seriously need a warm bubble bath,” said Lathoya, taking her luggage out of the boot.

      “Let me help you with that. You must be worn out after the flight.”

      The friends dragged the luggage into the lift before the doors closed behind them.

      “I love your dress,” said Kelly. “I’ve always said blue was your best colour.” Lathoya was wearing a simple, knee-revealing dress. She had of course bought it at one of those elegant boutiques in Milan, in the Victor Emmanuel II Gallery shopping mall. The velvet boots she was wearing also came from there.

      “I got you something as well, like I promised,” Lathoya said.

      “Really? You shouldn’t have!” answered Kelly excitedly. “So what is it?”

      “I’ll show you once we’re in my apartment.”

      The doors of the lift opened at the top floor. They stepped into the corridor. Lathoya’s luxury New York-style apartment was at the far end of it.

      “Anything happened while I was away?” Lathoya asked, unlocking the door and then pushing it open.

      “Nothing much except that you missed five episodes of Desperate Housewives,” Kelly responded, coming inside with the luggage.

      “I’ll have to watch the reruns then.”

      The moment Lathoya entered her sanctuary, the familiar citrus scent she loved so much filled her nose. “Thank God, I’m home at last,” she sighed. “Oh, I’ve missed this place,” she said, leaving the luggage just there and moving through her living room to the balcony.

      The view was spectacular.

      In front of her was the ocean and to the right one of the wonders of the world was spread out in front of her: Table Mountain. It was as massive as ever. A huge chunk of land and wonderment. She had really missed standing here, admiring the ocean and the mountain. And also the cars passing by down in the street, hooting and competing with impatient taxi drivers to get to their destination. The Cape Town sunshine brushed Lathoya’s face. She closed her eyes, feeling its gentle warmth.

      “You haven’t told me anything about Milan,” said Kelly, stepping out onto the balcony. She was carrying two cans of diet soda, straight from the fridge.

      “It was like I said, magical. Oh, the food: panettone and risotto, all their famous dishes. Simply delicious. Let me show you what I got you.”

      Kelly followed Lathoya to the living room and sank into the white leather couch. Lathoya reached for the shopping bags, all with gleaming brand names on