Sugar Daddy

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Copyright and credits

  About the publisher

  Find out about FunDza

  Chapter 1

  Busi stared at the girls on the stage. They were her friends. Why wasn’t she up there with them? The answer was simple – because she hadn’t entered Hamony High’s talent competition. She couldn’t sing like Ntombi, dance like Lettie, or tell a joke like Asanda. No, the only talent she had was being late for school! A loud cheer went up around her: “Usebenzile!” In front of her Unathi leapt from his seat and punched the air. “Yes!” he shouted. “I knew they could do it!” He turned and grinned at Busi triumphantly. “Aren’t they great?” Busi looked away from Unathi’s stupid, grinning face. She turned her back to the platform where Lettie, Asanda and Ntombi stood smiling, waving and blowing kisses at their adoring fans.

  “Let’s give a round of applause for our dream team. We are proud to have three such talented students at Harmony High. They are going to go on to do great things!” Busi had never seen Principal Khumalo so excited. “Ntombi paved the way for Harmony High with the Teen Voice Competition. Now her two friends are proving that they are just as talented.” His words made Busi sick. She was Ntombi’s friend too – her third forgotten friend.

  There were more announcements – about the soccer game that weekend and the extra lessons that were being offered after school. One of the teachers found a pair of underpants in the girls’ toilets. “Could the person responsible please come forward,” the teacher said. The girls in front of her giggled. They were so childish, thought Busi. She couldn’t wait for assembly to end.

  Once the teachers left the hall everyone crowded around Ntombi, Lettie and Asanda, wanting to be their new “best friend”. When Lettie turned and smiled and waved at Busi, she couldn’t smile back. She picked up her bag and pushed her way to the back of the hall, where she told a prefect that she needed the bathroom. “Now,” she said. The prefect nodded.

  * * *

  In the girls’ toilets she stared at herself in the mirror. “Why?” she asked her reflection. “Why are you so useless? Why are you so ugly? Why aren’t you talented like your friends?” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  The clapping in assembly finally stopped. She dried her tears and washed her face. But she wasn’t ready to go back into the hall. What she needed was a way out. And there it was. One of the windows in the bathroom had been taken out to be fixed. She could see the blue sky through it.

  Her bag went first. She threw it out, climbed onto the toilet and squashed herself through the narrow window frame. Good! She landed in the sand and brushed herself off. Then she picked up her bag and ran for the fence. She lay against it, her heart thumping in her chest. No one had noticed. She stood up again and pushed her way through a hole and out onto the road. Freedom!

  * * *

  Then she heard music – the thump, thump, thump of a bass beat as a taxi slowed down and crawled along the pavement next to her. She stopped. Should she turn and run? But where? Back to school? She had no plan. And now the taxi was stopping and the driver was leaning over and opening the passenger door. He beckoned her to get inside.

  Busi looked back down the street. There was Mr Soci, the Life Sciences teacher, staggering in through the gates of Harmony High – late again, and drunk. He turned around and stared at the taxi. Before he’d had a chance to work out who she was, Busi jumped in.

  “Running away from school?” the driver asked, jokingly. His shirt was undone to show off a smooth, muscled chest and the gold chain around his neck glittered in the sun. He gave her a lazy, sexy smile. She knew the drivers who stopped at the school on their taxi route and she didn’t recognise him. Why had she never seen him before? She was surprised by how handsome he was.

  He turned the music down. “Hey, not everyone likes Loyiso. It’s not every girl’s choice,” he laughed.

  “What’s that?” she said, distractedly. She hadn’t heard him properly, she was worried Mr Soci had recognised her. Was he walking to Mr Khumalo’s office right now to report her? But then Mr Khumalo would smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “I said, Loyiso isn’t every girl’s fantasy. Is he yours?”

  “He’s okay,” she shrugged.

  The street ahead of them was empty. Where was he going, and why was she the only passenger?

  “Did you get bored with school?” He revved the engine and put the taxi into first. She still had time to open the door and jump out. “I don’t blame you,” he said softly. “You can have much more fun out here. How old are you? You can’t be more than fourteen?”

  “Fifteen. I’m fifteen,” Busi said quickly, suddenly wishing that she was older and that she wasn’t dressed in her school uniform.

  They were driving further and further away from Harmony High. He was taking a right, then a left, weaving between the narrow streets in the township. She would never remember the route.

  “Am I so ugly that you can’t look at me?” he teased. She smiled – she couldn’t help it. Driving around in his taxi felt so much better than some stupid English class. He had stopped to pick her up and he let her sit up front. She was somebody in his taxi, not the untalented nobody she was at school.

  “So, which lesson are you missing?” He reached over and stroked her cheek lightly with his finger.

  “English,” she said. “Romeo and Juliet, actually.”

  “Those star-crossed lovers – like us, baby girl …,” he said softly, his voice silky smooth. She stared at him. “How come a taxi driver knows Shakespeare? Is that what you’re thinking?” he laughed, and Busi felt herself blushing. “Well, I’m not just any old taxi driver. I own a fleet of taxis. And that’s not all …”

  So he was rich, good-looking and clever. But she shouldn’t be letting him drive her around like this. And she didn’t have taxi fare. “Never talk to strangers, Busi.” That’s what her granny always told her. “And if you are in trouble, call me. Day or night. Uyandiva?”

  “Ewe, Makhulu. Ndiyakuva,” she always replied. And here she was talking to a stranger and letting him drive her who-knows-where. She didn’t even know his name.

  “Parks,” he said, as if he had read her thoughts. “My name’s Thando, but my friends call me Parks.” He reached over to shake her hand. His hand was warm … and he held hers a little too long. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

  “Busi,” she said.

  Then she heard a rasping cough from the back of the taxi. She had thought they were alone. Swinging around, she saw a man lying across the back seat. Dirty jeans and a filthy old T-shirt covered his thin body. He coughed again and his whole body shook. Then he spat phlegm out onto his hand and wiped it over his pants. It was disgusting. “Don’t worry about him,” Parks said. “He’s got a problem. I’ll have to get a new gaadjie soon.”

  She wouldn’t look back again, not even if the gaadjie spoke, she thought. “So, what are you going to tell your teachers when they ask where you were?” asked Parks, as he pulled into a garage to get petrol.

  “I’ll tell them I’m not well,” Busi said. Right now that was true. She was feeling car
sick from the petrol fumes and the thought of the gaadjie on the back seat.

  When the tank was full Parks asked her, “So, where do you want to go?” And then, “Don’t look so frightened. I’m not going to kidnap you.”

  “Home,” she said quickly, suddenly fearful of what she had done. “Can you take me home?”

  “Of course.” He stared at her for a minute. “I mean, if that’s what you want?” She couldn’t look at him; she just nodded.

  “Here,” she said when they got to her street. She pointed to a house a block away from their shack. The last thing she wanted was for her granny to see her arriving in a strange taxi with a man old enough to be her father. She didn’t stop to think why Parks hadn’t asked her for directions, how he knew where she lived.

  “Bye, sweetie.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be watching out for you. How does a free ride sound sometime?”

  “Good,” she said, uncertainly.

  Chapter 2

  Busi stood outside the shack where she lived with her granny. She had to get her story straight before she went in. Her grandmother would ask her a hundred questions. Where were you? Why weren’t you at school? She would say that she had stomach cramps. Her granny would believe that. But when she finally opened the door and went inside, she wasn’t there. Something was wrong.

  Her grandmother was old and didn’t get out much. She went to the clinic on Wednesdays and she had umgalelo with her friends on Fridays. But today was Monday – she should be at home. Busi went out into the yard to check if she had fallen. But the yard was empty. If she went to ask the neighbours, rumours would fly. No, she would wait a while and see if her granny came home. Perhaps she had gone to visit a friend. If she came back after three o’clock she would never know that Busi had come home early.

  It was cold lying on her bed. Their shack was dimly lit and an icy wind was blowing through a hole in the zinc sheeting. They would have to fix it before the winter rains. If only they had more money. Her mother and father had gone to Jozi to look for better jobs, but they hadn’t sent any money back. Then she thought of Parks with his fleet of taxis. He was rich, and he liked her. He made her feel like a queen and he wasn’t awkward like the boys at school. Yes, that was the difference. They were boys and Parks was a man.

  She thought of his smile. What she had done was dangerous – she knew that. If she saw him again she would just keep walking. But what if he stopped and opened the taxi door? What would she do then?

  Parks had joked about kidnapping her. But it happened every day. She read The Sun. There were so many photos of children who had gone missing. She remembered one little girl’s trusting face. Her name was Cheryl and she disappeared the day before Christmas. She left to go to the shop and never returned. Where were those missing boys and girls?

  But Parks had taken her home when she’d asked him to, and he had opened the door for her. He was a gentleman. Busi fell asleep and dreamed of him.

  * * *

  When she woke up it was already late in the afternoon. She could smell the wood smoke from fires in the street, and the sweet smell of roasting meat on the fire drums. Then she heard the familiar sound of her grandmother’s cough, and the clatter of dishes. “I wondered if you were going to sleep until tomorrow,” her granny said when Busi pushed back the blanket that separated the bedroom from the kitchen. She wasn’t sure when her grandmother had returned. She wasn’t sure if she knew that she had missed school.

  “I was feeling ill,” she said, to be safe. “I came home early.”

  “I know.” Her grandmother put her hand against Busi’s forehead. “Are you feeling any better now?”

  “Yes,” said Busi, trying to see if her granny believed her. “Thank you.”

  “I was feeling ill myself earlier. I went to the clinic. On the way back I passed some friends of yours from Harmony High. That boy, the nice one, greeted me. You know, the one who helped me carry my shopping that time.”

  “Unathi?”

  “That’s it.” Her face lit up, remembering. “He told me you weren’t at school. He was worried, Busi.”

  Busi thought of how, not so long ago, she had written love letters to Unathi. And how upset she had been when he returned them unopened. He seemed so cool and sexy and all she wanted was to be his girlfriend. But now that she had met Parks, Unathi seemed so young and inexperienced – such a boy. Now she had met a real man.

  “Why should Unathi worry?” said Busi quickly. “He doesn’t really care about me.”

  “No? That’s not how it seemed to me.”

  “What did they say at the clinic, Gogo?” Busi asked, trying to change the subject. “Are you sick? Did they give you something to make you better?”

  “It’s just my blood pressure. I forgot to take my pills.”

  “I can help you to remember to take them, Gogo. I can even get a pill box for you. Asanda’s granny has one. It has a place where you put the pills for every day of the week. You can easily see if you have forgotten one.”

  “That sounds like a very clever thing. Thank you, Busi,” her granny said, taking her hand. “You know something, my child? I like to have you living here with me. I am lucky to have such a kind granddaughter.” Busi smiled and hugged her. “I’m sorry it’s sometimes boring for you,” her granny continued. “But I am blessed that you are such a good girl. I know you would never do anything stupid. Utata Nomama abanangxaki. They have nothing to worry about.” She looked at Busi closely.

  What did her parents care what happened to her, Busi thought. They had left her here with her grandmother. When last had they phoned her? It was easier for them without her. Hadn’t she heard her mother tell their neighbour that she wished she hadn’t had a baby so young; that Busi had ruined her chances in life?

  “I’ll go get us some meat for supper,” Busi said. “Before it gets too late.”

  “Come straight home,” her granny cautioned.

  Out on the street she felt better. Her head felt clearer. It had been dangerous climbing out of the window and getting into Parks’s taxi – dangerous, but exciting at the same time. She was lucky, she told herself. Things could have gone differently. He could have taken her away, raped her and left her for dead in a ditch somewhere. It had been dangerous. But she knew she would do it again.

  She heard a shout from the end of the road. It was Lettie and Unathi. They were waving. She waved back. This time when she came up to Lettie she gave her a big hug. “Well done for winning best dancer in the talent show. Mtsalane!” she said. And she was surprised to find that she really meant it. Suddenly it didn’t matter so much that her friends were popular. Now she had something of her own. Something exciting that her friends didn’t share. She had her own thrilling secret – and his name was Parks.

  “Where did you go?” Unathi asked her.

  “Why does it matter to you?” Busi said cheekily.

  “It doesn’t really,” he shrugged.

  “So, why are you asking?”

  “Mr Ntlanti wanted to know where you were. I told him you had stomach cramps,” said Lettie.

  “Phew, thanks,” Busi said.

  “Did you have stomach cramps?” Unathi questioned her.

  “Yes, I did. Do you think I’m lying?” she snapped.

  “How come you didn’t tell anyone that you were sick?” He wouldn’t leave it alone. He was like a dog with a bone.

  “Enough with the questions,” joked Lettie, seeing Busi’s face. “Uyadika!” Then, as Unathi walked away, she said quietly, “It’s just because he likes you.”

  “He has a funny way of showing it,” Busi replied.

  Where was he last term when I liked him, she thought? With another girl! Busi had bad luck with boys. She thought of Ebenezer. She had dated him until that day when they’d had a terrible fight. He’d pushed her and she had fallen hard onto the
tar behind the sports shed. At the sound of her screaming, Asanda and Ntombi had come running and Ebenezer had fled, leaving her with a broken arm. Parks was different, she told herself. He was a gentleman, and so funny and good-looking. He had taken her home when she had asked him to and offered her free rides in his taxi.

  “Are you coming to soccer tomorrow afternoon?” Lettie asked, interrupting Busi’s daydream. She put her arm around Busi’s shoulders. “You’re the best goalie our team has ever had,” she coaxed. “You know how we lose when you’re not there.”

  “Maybe.”

  “We can take the taxi together. I’ll wait outside the gate after school.”

  “Sure,” said Busi. But as she walked back with the meat for supper, she wasn’t so sure she would be going to soccer. She found herself thinking about Parks again. She couldn’t get him out of her head. Why had he come past Harmony High? Why had he changed his taxi route that day?

  Chapter 3

  “Something’s happened to you,” Asanda said at school the next morning.

  “Not that I know of,” Busi lied. They were trying to finish their homework before the siren went off, and it was Busi’s turn to press her book against Asanda’s back.

  “You could’ve fooled me,” Asanda went on.

  If there was anyone who could read people, it was Asanda. She always knew when something was going on with Busi – she would have to be careful. Asanda knew her too well. She could tell that Busi had a secret she wasn’t sharing. And Busi wasn’t ready for Asanda to know – not Asanda, or Lettie, or anybody for that matter. They might spoil it for her. They might try to stop her from seeing Parks.

  “Is something wrong? Are you upset because we were in the talent show? I know it must be difficult for you. You know you can tell me anything.” Asanda sounded concerned.

  “I do know that,” said Busi.

  “Good! Now, can you hurry up? My back’s going to break. I feel like a donkey.”

  “Finished!” Busi announced, shutting her Maths book.

  “Phew! At last!” Asanda replied, stretching. “Did you do number 5? It was so hard. I felt like my brain was exploding.”