Beauty and the Broker. Cheryl Ntumy S.

but surely the flat was taking shape. Over the years, Melody had managed to amass countless artefacts and pieces of furniture that corresponded to her black-beige-silver theme, and now she had weeded out the ill-fitting junk of her youth to make room for newer, more sophisticated pieces. The living room was her favourite: beige sofas, a black coffee table and wall unit, and silver items here and there – the elliptical clock, the photo frames, the vases. All the large pieces were in place, except the massive metal sculpture of a woman pouring water, which had taken up residence near the kitchen until Melody could decide where to put it.

      She felt weak at the mere thought of Thabiso. “I wouldn’t say I met somebody,” she said cautiously. “He just bought me pizza.”

      “The way to a woman’s heart, Mel, the way to a woman’s heart.” Buhle turned her attention back to the DVD, then whipped her head around again and gave her friend a knowing look. “Was he hot?”

      Melody laughed. “Is that all you care about?”

      “Yes,” said Buhle and Sophie in unison.

      “Sies, you’re shallow,” teased Melody. “You should’ve come to church with me this morning, so you can learn about the things that really matter.”

      “Right now the only thing that matters is that you’re betraying the sisterhood,” said Sophie. “What happened to being single and independent?”

      “Hawu, come on!” laughed Melody. “It’s not like I went and eloped! I just said it was nice to flirt a little, that’s all. It was harmless.”

      The other two exchanged glances.

      “Did you get a name?” asked Sophie.

      “Thabiso.” Melody felt a little tingle at the sound of his name.

      “Look at that smile!” Sophie tossed a kernel of popcorn at her. “I can’t believe it. All it takes to win you over is a small pizza!”

      “Ja, she’s not worth much, is she?” Buhle inched closer to Melody on the sofa and peered into her face. “Seriously, though, do you like him?”

      “I barely know the man!” Melody protested.

      “But do you want to see him again?” prodded Sophie.

      Melody hesitated. “Well . . . I mean . . . I wouldn’t mind . . . Not that it means anything,” she added hastily.

      But it was too late. The expressions on her friends’ faces told her they thought she had protested too much. And if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that seeing Thabiso again would be the highlight of her week. If only he would call.