Love on the Menu. Lerato Matsaneng

would rather battle it out on her own than feel she was bothering someone.

      “That phone isn’t going to make the call by itself, you know,” Rumbi said, popping out of thin air and giving Lebo a bit of a fright. Her friend had a habit of surfacing out of nowhere, saying what was needed and returning to whatever she was doing. Lebo found her very odd at times, but loved the honesty with which she approached everything she did and said.

      Rumbi was the more serious and level-headed of her friends, but when she got up to mischief, you would never guess that she was the refined young lady everyone respected so much. She had ambitions of being an HR director for one of the top 40 JSE companies.

      Bongi, on the other hand, was light-hearted and whimsical. She enjoyed relaxing and having a great laugh, even if it was at other people’s expense. She loved life and dreamed of being a fashion magazine editor.

      Lebo was the youngest of the three friends, but the wisest. The other two trusted her always to give them the kind of advice that they could kick themselves for not thinking of. She was extremely honest, sometimes to a fault, and a very proud young woman. She would rather go without than beg.

      The three girls had met when they joined the Daily Mirror. They’d instantly hit it off and had been close ever since.

      “Well,” Bongi added, now also popping up from nowhere, “are you going to call the man? You need his help, so you may as well phone him, otherwise you’ll work in this newsroom for the rest of your life, like those subs.” Bongi pointed at the team of subeditors who were hard at work on the next day’s paper.

      “Come on, Lebo, call him, hle,” Rumbi urged.

      Lebo sighed, then picked up the phone and called Molemo’s office line. She wanted him to see that she was calling about a business matter; calling on his cellphone could make him think that it was private, especially since it was her first call.

      The phone rang twice and a well-modulated woman’s voice answered. “Good afternoon, you are through to Madumo Construction and Engineering. How may I help you?”

      “Hi, may I please speak to Molemo Tladi? It’s Lebo Mokoena calling.” Lebo put on her most refined, formal voice; she was not about to be outdone by the receptionist.

      “Unfortunately Mr Tladi is in a meeting, ma’am. May I have your contact details, then I will get him to return your call.”

      Lebo recited her name and details and ended the call.

      She felt irritated with herself. Maybe she should have called Molemo on his cell, or maybe she should have called later, or maybe not at all.

      Bongi saw Lebo deep in thought and tried to reassure her. “He’ll call, you’ll see. Don’t worry, you’ll be running your own business very soon.”

      Lebo spent the rest of the day working on her stories and waiting to hear from Molemo.

      * * *

      Later that evening Lebo was back at her flat after a hectic day at the office. She had compiled three stories for page three and done an interview for another article requested by the features editor, thankfully due only at the end of the week. After another of her usual one-woman dinners, she was sitting on her bed, going through a hefty document Rumbi had given her on how to compile a business plan. Judging by the thickness of the document, she had a long night of reading ahead of her.

      Her phone rang and she looked at the number, one she only vaguely recognised. Still, she answered, “Hello.”

      “Hi, Lebo, Molemo Tladi here. How are you?”

      She immediately sat up and made herself presentable, as if Molemo could see her through the phone.

      Not getting a reply, he continued, “My office gave me your message.”

      “Thanks for getting back to me,” she replied at last, trying not to seem too eager. “I called about your offer to be my mentor, when we met a few days ago. I wanted to know if you were still keen to help me.” Lebo got straight to the point. She had read somewhere that in business you must always be direct about what it is you want.

      “Oh, yes . . . Sure, we can still meet to talk about what you’re working towards.”

      Molemo sounded so serious and sophisticated. Very different from the laid-back guy she’d met at the Shisanyama.

      “At the moment, though, my company is very busy with plans for an important new infrastructure project, so my days are hectic. How about dinner instead,” Molemo stated rather than asked.

      He left Lebo with very little choice in the matter. She needed his help and would therefore have to do as he said.

      “Not a problem,” Lebo answered. She would do whatever it took to get her business off the ground.

      “Perfect. Tomorrow night at Katzy’s in Rosebank, 8pm. Can you get there on your own?”

      “Yes, I actually live in Rosebank, so that’s perfect for me.”

      “Great, see you then. Good night,” Molemo said and ended the call.

      Lebo couldn’t believe the arrogance he’d displayed in setting up the meeting – he hadn’t even asked if she was available! But maybe that was what was needed to survive in business: to be arrogant and aggressive.

      She vowed to work on her own arrogance, but chuckled at the idea of ever managing to be as arrogant as Molemo Tladi.

      * * *

      The next evening Lebo didn’t know what to wear. Eight o’clock was a bit late to look too formal, but it was a business meeting, so she couldn’t dress too casually either.

      At times like these she needed the help of her friends.

      Instead, she called her mother. She had told MaMokoena about Molemo’s offer to mentor her. Her mother was excited at the prospect of them starting their own business and cooking for dignitaries and presidents.

      “Mme, what must I wear to my meeting with Molemo?”

      “At this hour? What kind of meeting is that?” her inquisitive mother wondered.

      Lebo quickly brushed off her probing questions. “His company is working on some important new project, so he’s busy during the day.”

      “I see,” MaMokoena said, but she was clearly not convinced.

      She told Lebo to wear her skinny blue jeans, a pair of heels and her crisp white shirt – and not to forget her pearls. She also needed to take her black trench coat with her; it was a chilly night out and she had to keep warm.

      Lebo always trusted her mother’s advice. Even though she was in her fifties, MaMokoena still dressed well and always looked very elegant.

      * * *

      Lebo had been sitting at the restaurant for nearly twenty minutes and was about to call Molemo when he strolled in casually. He was wearing a fitted black suit with a dark blue shirt and a tapered blue silk handkerchief in the breast pocket of the jacket. Her grandfather had taught her that it was called a pocket square. He was the only other man she had seen wear one. She thought it was a very classic and gentlemanly touch.

      There was an aura about Molemo that commanded respect and made everyone within close proximity look up and take notice of him. He walked with pride, and you couldn’t help but feel impressed by his mere presence.

      “Troy, make sure the people from Public Works confirm that tender in writing before we organise anything from our end. Listen, I’ve got another meeting right now, so we’ll discuss this when I get to the office tomorrow,” Molemo said into his phone as he walked over to the table Lebo was sitting at.

      “Sorry I’m late, my last meeting ran over,” he apologised while settling into his chair. He put his two phones and car keys on the table.

      “It’s okay, I understand. I’ve ordered a drink,” Lebo replied, pointing at her daiquiri. “Would