Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch. Eva Mazza

to you, Mrs Robinson,” said Pete’s friend, Max, a boy of twenty-two! Lecherous Larry began to chant, “Cougar! Cougar!” Jen looked at her girlfriends for some help, but they too had joined in. Everyone, except Pete, who knew his mom only too well, had become participants of Larry’s ridiculous chant.

      My pants look shinier in this light! They seem to be tighter too.

      “Kudos to you, Jen. Your husband’s a lucky man.” Thank God that silenced everyone. Jen craned her neck to see who her saviour was.

       Patty!

      The farm’s sexy wine rep.

      A rush of gratitude towards her. “Thank you!” Jen mouthed.

      When he’d hired Patty, John had said that she was just what they needed to sell their wine. Jen had been a little concerned, especially since her friends had warned her to “keep an eye on that one”. But she had decided it was better to be friends than enemies with the devil, and once she got to know her, she quite liked her. She especially liked her now. Her girlfriends could say what they liked about Patty: that she looked like a whore (she certainly dressed like a stripper) and that her boobs were fake (so were most of theirs) but she secretly admired her; she was afraid of absolutely nothing and no one. Despite her humble roots, mingling with the Stellenbosch elite – notorious snobs – never fazed her. Well, it looked that way.

      John pulled his wife towards him for a conciliatory kiss then handed her the mic. Now, embarrassed at the attention drawn to her outfit, Jen surreptitiously buttoned up her shirt. She stood in front of the sea of faces, a fixed smile supressed her seething. She was angry with everyone. They had encouraged John to make her the butt of his jokes.

      She looked down at the prepared speech. Where would I have been without you, John? You were and still are my knight in shining armour.

      Oh my God! Really? I can’t get these words to leave my mouth. Not now. She had wanted to speak before John, but Brigit had insisted on the order of things. She inhaled deeply before she began, and now other words spilled effortlessly from her. “As John said, we’ve been happily married for a number of years. That’s no paradox, John. I’ve obviously been happy, and you’ve been married.” This elicited loud clapping and cheering from the guests. John laughed and squeezed Jen’s hand gently. “And for the most part, it’s been absolutely scintillating for me. Let’s see: John expects his breakfast at nine every morning. Nothing too heavy, maybe an egg or some oats, but definitely two cups of coffee to kick-start the day.”

      Somebody shouted, “After your morning shag, I hope!” It was Larry, of course. He’s such an asshole. Jen freed her hand from John’s and crumpled up Brigit’s speech. She threw it at Larry. It bounced off his head and landed at his feet. Everyone laughed.

      “No, Larry, John chooses to mount his tractor until twelve thirty, which is unequivocally lunch time.” More raucous laughter. It felt good. Jen was on a roll. “John likes to have a cooked lunch, don’t you, darling? Because being a farmer and working the land works up an appetite. And before you allow your dirty minds to wander, it’s not sexual; that appetite’s usually for chicken and a salad, or fish and chips.”

      John stood there, mouth gaping. Where was Brig, Jen wondered. She began to feel unsteady on her stilettos. “We have many hobbies, don’t we, John?” The guests seemed to be hanging on every word. “You love to gym, cycle and run, and I enjoy complimenting you on the results of your gyming, cycling and running.” Only light laughter from the guests. “My aim was to look hot in these pants, I confess.” The guests were silent. “Clearly Brigit, they’re a huuuge fail. Where is Brig?” A sea of faces turned in unison to look for Brigit.

      John stepped forward.

      “I haven’t finished, John,” Jen said firmly. “Everyone needs a good laugh and I’m glad I could oblige.” A few claps. Then her eyes locked on Lecherous Larry and his group of friends. “You guys need a laugh, thanks to your buddy, Jooste. It ain’t easy watching shares plummet. I guess it’s the same for me, I took a gamble on these very expensive pants and boy, did I lose.”

      Total silence.

      Frankie signalled to her to wrap it up. Jen reached out her hand to John, but he ignored the gesture. Okay, if that’s how you want it. “Well, they say that growing old means becoming set in your ways. For John, his passage to sixty will be a breeze, as he has been set in his ways for the last twenty-four years. As for me? Well, it seems you’re right, John; our marriage contract guarantees that I’ll be by your side or in the kitchen until rigor mortis sets in.”

       Boom!

      Jen couldn’t remember much after that, except for her friend Frankie standing in front of her, hands on her hips.

      “Jesus, Jen,” she spat. “What got into you?”

      “John pissed me off!” she said defensively.

      “No shit? Reminder: It’s his birthday!”

      “Ya, well I don’t enjoy being the butt of his jokes.” Her breath caught in her throat. Why doesn’t Frankie get it?

      “Maybe you should’ve tried laughing. You’re obviously insecure about shit or you would’ve just taken it for what it was, a little comic banter.”

      She looked at Shelley for support. “Come on, I was hysterically funny.”

      “Sorry, darling. I have to agree with Frankie” Shelley shrugged. The rest of the group looked on, saying nothing.

      “Why?”

      “All I know, is if I had said what you said, Frans would throw me out.”

      “Did none of you hear what John said?” Jen’s voice was shrill.

      “You overreacted. And then you got mean.” Frankie turned and walked away.

      “Some of us’ve lost millions on Steinhoff shares. You wanna talk about insensitive!” That was Anne. She hated Jen and the feeling was mutual.

      “I didn’t know. Sorry!” Jen lied.

      As if that wasn’t enough, Brigit had marched up to her mother, spewing under her breath, “You couldn’t have stuck to the speech we wrote, could you?”

      Sounding like a belligerent child, Jen said, “We didn’t write it. You did!”

      “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mom! I give up with you.”

      She felt the tears well in her eyes. What had she been thinking? And what now? Too embarrassed to face their guests, she opened a bottle of the farm’s renowned Chenin Blanc and crept, unnoticed, into their bedroom, locking the door behind her.

      The party continued despite her absence. The music blared. She could hear the guests clapping and laughing. As she got drunker, so the music seemed to get louder.

      Jen vaguely remembered Gladys knocking on her door to tell her she was off to bed and that she would be in to tidy up in the morning.“Thank you, Gladys,” Jen managed to say cheerfully before she heard someone shout over the music, “I feel like a fucking thirty-year-old!” It was John. The guests cheered. She knew she was in deep shit, but at that point she was too drunk to care. Anyway, she was feeling very sorry for herself. Her absence didn’t seem to matter to him, or anyone else. The Stellenbosch ranks had closed in; so, she sucked the last drop of wine straight from the bottle and passed out.

       Four

      Brigit, beyond furious with her mother, had grabbed her overnight bag and her keys from her childhood bedroom and stalked out of the party, hoping to miss the revellers. She was intercepted by Lee on her way out. All she bloody needed; she had successfully avoided him thus far.

      “Brigit!” He moved in to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away. He pretended to ignore her paltry behaviour. “I’ve been trying to get your attention