Sugar Daddy Read online

  Their room was on the third floor. As they got into the lift another couple squashed in. They had a suitcase and two smaller travel bags. Busi suddenly felt awkward. She and Parks didn’t have any luggage. It must be so obvious to the couple why they were coming to the hotel. She was relieved when the man and woman got off on the second floor.

  Now they were alone, Parks started kissing her passionately. They almost fell out of the lift when the door opened. “Let’s see our room, and then I’ll take you out for supper,” said Parks. He was so confident. He knew exactly what to do, like he’d been to many hotels in his life.

  The room was small, but the bed looked new with clean white sheets and a nice duvet. They had their own shower, with hot and cold water! Parks laughed as Busi turned the hot tap on and off, excitedly. At home if they wanted hot water they had to heat it on the stove. Here it was flowing from the taps – as much as you wanted.

  * * *

  After supper they sat in the hotel lounge and Parks ordered them drinks. He asked her how school had been and she told him about Unathi. He laughed. “The boy’s crazy about you. You shouldn’t be so mean to him. You’ll break his heart. And anyway,” he said, blowing a cloud of smoke from the cigar he was smoking, “Unathi’s right, baby. You’ve got to think of your future. You’ve got to be someone. Look at me. Where would I be without an education? A successful entrepreneur? No! I’d be like that useless gaadjie.”

  Maybe Parks was right. But Busi didn’t want to think about Unathi now. This was her night. It was just her and Parks.

  As soon as they got back to the hotel room Parks held Busi close and started kissing her neck. He was gentle at first, but as he began to fumble with her clothes she could sense his urgency. “Wait,” she said, suddenly shy of him seeing her naked. It was all going too fast and the light was on. “I need the toilet.”

  “Hey, don’t be long…. The bed will get cold without you.”

  Alone in the bathroom Busi took off her clothes and wrapped a towel around herself. She felt nervous, but she had come this far – she couldn’t go back now. She wouldn’t. When she opened the bathroom door she was relieved to find that Parks had turned the light off. Now only the moonlight shone through the window. It was better in the dark. “Come here, my sugar baby,” he said softly. She unwrapped the towel quickly and slipped under the sheets. Was she doing the right thing, she wondered? What was he expecting? And then their bodies touched and he started kissing her again and she was lost in the moment.

  When it was over Parks held her naked body against his. She lay with her back to him and looked out into the night. “Why so quiet?” he asked her. “It’s all right, baby. The first time always hurts a bit, then it just gets better and better.” But it wasn’t that. She was in his warm arms, and yet she felt sick with fear. She had brought a condom in her bag – she had wanted to be responsible. But she hadn’t had the courage to insist that they use one. And now it was too late.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  “We didn’t use a condom,” she said softly, expecting him to be angry. But he just chuckled.

  “Is that all?” he said, kissing her forehead. “Don’t worry, baby – I don’t have Aids,” he reassured her. “Relax. I promise you nothing bad is going to happen.”

  “What if I fall pregnant?” She shouldn’t have said that. Now she was ruining the whole night in the hotel. But he wasn’t cross. He just pulled her closer to him. She turned around in his arms. In that moment the moonlight streaked through the flimsy curtains and picked up the hazel colour of his eyes. He looked honest, sincere.

  “You worry too much. I know what I’m doing.”

  “But …” she stammered. Then he laughed, rolled her over, covered her body with soft kisses, tickled her.

  “You’re a woman now,” he said, lighting up a cigarette and settling back into the pillows.

  She curled up and hugged herself. He felt so far away, smoking his cigarette like that. She found she was crying. She didn’t know why she was feeling like this. She should have been over the moon. This is what she had wanted – to be a woman for Parks, not a silly child. So why then did she feel so sad? “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Busi whispered into the dark. But Parks didn’t hear her. He was lying back, his eyes closed, a smile on his face.

  Busi listened to the sounds of the night: the creaking beds in the room next door, the hum of traffic in the distance, someone’s shrill, drunken laughter. And suddenly it all felt so cheap.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” she said. But she was talking to herself.

  Sitting on the toilet she wept, longing for the child who had slipped away. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, looked to see what had changed. Where was the young girl? Who was this woman? Then she saw Parks’s reflection come into view. He was standing behind her.

  “We must go,” he said, “I must take you home now.”

  * * *

  Parks flirted with the receptionist when he paid the bill and Busi felt hurt and jealous. It was so soon after they had sex. He should have had eyes only for her. And why did the receptionist know his name?

  Then another man, about Parks’s age, walked into the hotel. He came over and greeted Parks. Busi could smell utywala. On his arm was a woman wearing a wig, very high stilettos, and a dress that showed off more than it covered. It was obvious that she wasn’t his wife, or his girlfriend. The woman looked at Busi and smiled knowingly. And Busi felt cheap again, umthatha lula.

  * * *

  When they got back to the taxi Parks took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, baby. I love you so much.” That was better. It was about love, not just sex, she thought.

  “Forever?” she asked. Then he laughed.

  “Nothing is forever, not even love. Soon you’ll get tired of me. You’ll want a younger man.”

  “Never!” Busi said with certainty.

  He laughed again. “Even when I’m old and grey?”

  Why couldn’t he understand that he was all that mattered to her? He owned her, body and soul. He opened the taxi door and was about to get in when he remembered he’d left his wallet at the desk. He ran back to fetch it.

  Busi turned around to look for him. That’s when she saw the woman. She was sitting in the driver’s seat of a big, shiny black car that was parked in front of the hotel. The car window was rolled down and she was staring at Busi.

  Chapter 9

  “So, did you do it?” was Asanda’s first question as Busi got off the taxi on Monday morning. Busi nodded. “And?”

  “It was the best,” Busi said, and hoped she sounded convincing. All weekend she had thought about it. She had gone over it in her mind. She had felt Parks’s hands, his kiss. That was nice. But she had also felt lonely and cheap. She had tried to push that part away and only remember the good things. And then there was the woman waiting in the black car at the hotel. Who was she waiting for? And why did she stare at Busi? Part of Busi wanted to tell Asanda these disturbing thoughts. But she couldn’t. She needed them to think she was still flying high from her night with Parks …

  “So, you’re bringing Mr Parks to the school dance on Friday?” Lettie asked. Busi had forgotten all about the school dance. She thought how different her life was now from her friends’. They wouldn’t understand how small and childish a school dance seemed. But she didn’t want to disappoint them. And she could see that some of them didn’t believe that Parks existed. She would show them.

  “Of course,” she said. “He’ll add a bit of class.”

  “That’s if Mr Khumalo lets him in,” said Lettie.

  “He’s old enough to be your father,” Unathi added. “And you’re still a minor – until next week, is it?”

  Busi wished he would stop saying Parks was old enough to be her father. She didn’t want to think of him like t
hat. Nobody wants to think of their father like that. It made it all wrong! It wasn’t like that. Parks was her boyfriend.

  “It won’t be a problem,” Busi told Unathi. “Wait and see.” But she wasn’t so sure. She hadn’t even asked Parks if he would go to the dance with her. He hadn’t met any of her friends, and she didn’t know if he would want to. Besides, they might embarrass her in front of him with their stupid girlish talk.

  * * *

  “She definitely has the love bug,” joked Asanda quietly in Chemistry. Busi had caused a minor explosion at the back of the class because she wasn’t concentrating. When the air cleared of smoke, the teacher went with Busi to get a brush and pan to clean up the mess. Left alone, the class could talk more freely.

  “More like the Parks bug. It’s incurable, so I’m told,” said Xoliswa.

  “What do you mean?” asked Asanda.

  “Xoliswa means she isn’t the first schoolgirl Parks has taken for a drive,” Vuyo chipped in. “He took a friend of mine’s sister from Brookland High for a drive one day. Luckily she jumped out of the taxi before he got his dirty hands on her. That’s why he’s moved on to cruising by Harmony High. The principal at Brooklyn found out about him and threatened to have him arrested.”

  “They should have arrested him,” said Unathi. “That’s why this shit keeps happening. People turn a blind eye. We have to do something.” He looked at Asanda.

  “Busi is our friend and she needs us now.” He sounded worried and angry.

  “Busi only wants one person in her life now,” Lettie said sadly. “Mr Parks.”

  Chapter 10

  So Busi was in trouble – that’s what everyone thought. Her friends had warned her, had grown tired of covering for her. There was not much they could do or say to save her any more. But Busi didn’t care. The love bug had bitten her and Parks was all she could think about. When she thought of him it made her pulse race. The next day she missed school, and the next. It was a joke between them – how she left the house every day dressed for school, her hair tied up and her books in her school bag. Her granny would call after her, “Your lunch, child, you’ve forgotten your lunch!”

  She didn’t need the lunch, but she would run back and take it from her grandmother’s trembling hands. She’d give her a peck on her hollow cheeks to show her gratitude. And she’d give the lunch to some hungry child along the way. These days she feasted regularly on the most expensive KFC on the menu, or Steers burgers with extra cheese that she downed with a lime milkshake – double thick, of course. And every Friday, as a special treat, she and Parks would try out a new fancy restaurant. Money was no consideration at all.

  “Order what you want,” Parks would say to her. And it didn’t end there. He was generous. “And get yourself more airtime.” Life was so good. She had almost forgotten how alone she had felt at the hotel. But at night in her bed darker thoughts would creep back in and she would feel lost and lonely. And sometimes, just as she was going to sleep, she would see the woman’s face staring at her from the window of that smart black car.

  * * *

  “Busi, is that you?” her grandmother called from the back yard as Busi came in from another lunch with Parks. She had changed back into her school clothes in his taxi.

  “Yes,” she called, as she pulled off her grey skirt and white shirt. Should she wear the new dress he had bought her to the dance? The dance!

  In the taxi on the way home she had plucked up the courage to ask Parks. It had taken guts. What if he said no? What if he didn’t want to hang out with schoolgirls and schoolboys?

  “Parks, there’s a school dance on Friday and I’ve told my friends you’re coming,” she said as they approached her street. Silence. Then he laughed and she could breathe again.

  “So, you’ve been telling your friends all about me.”

  “Well, I’m so proud and happy to be with you. And you’re so good to me. I wanted them all to know.”

  “Of course I’ll come to your dance. Friday, you say? Just SMS me the address. I’ll meet you there. I’m sure you’ll want to go along with your friends. I know you girls – you like to get ready together.”

  “Are you sure? That’s so kind of you, Parks. I knew you’d understand. I’ll see you there,” she’d said, and kissed him goodbye.

  “Sure thing,” he replied, winking at her.

  Chapter 11

  “Orange!” Lettie shrieked excitedly. “I want the orange!”

  “Orange nail polish?” Busi laughed. “Where did you get it?”

  “It belongs to my mum,” said Zinzi. “She has many other colours …” Ntombi had brought her sister Zinzi along to help them dress at Asanda’s house. They were primping and preening, doing one another’s hair and nails and trying on each other’s clothes.

  “Busi! Where’s your head, girl?” Lettie exclaimed, blowing on her freshly painted orange nails. “Get done, or we’ll be late.”

  “I can’t wait to meet your mystery man,” laughed Asanda.

  But Busi was worried. She had SMSed Parks the directions five times and he hadn’t replied. “Trust me, I’ll be there. And I’ll never let those girls laugh at you. I’ll charm them all. Just wait and see.” He would be there. Of course he would.

  “Why are you so quiet?” Ntombi asked in the taxi on the way to the school hall. “Is anything wrong?” She too had noticed Busi withdrawing from their group of friends. Ntombi knew that Busi was in trouble with Parks. She recognised the signs. It had been the same with Mzi – the lies you told yourself and others, the promises that were broken.

  * * *

  When they got to the hall there was a bustle of activity. Everyone was commenting on everyone else’s choice of clothes and how this one and that one looked.

  “Ujongeka kakuhle!”

  “Kwenzeke ntoni ezinweleni zakho.”

  “Is that really …”

  “Oh my god, what is Selwyn wearing!”

  * * *

  Busi waited outside. It was getting cold and the rest of the girls and boys had gone in. She could hear the music starting. It was Malibongwe – one of her favourites. It used to get her onto the dance floor, no matter what. But not tonight.

  “Are you okay?” Mr Khumalo asked Busi. “Are you waiting for your date?” He had come to check that all the students were in the hall.

  “Yes, he’s been caught in traffic,” she lied.

  “You can wait for five minutes more. Then you’ll have to come in,” he warned. “There are quite a few girls and boys who have come on their own. It doesn’t matter at all. We can all dance together. You don’t have to have a partner.” It was kind of Mr Khumalo. But it did matter to Busi. She had told all her friends that Parks would come. She had boasted about her smart, rich boyfriend who was a man, not a boy.

  Eventually she was forced to go inside the hall, but she didn’t dance. She waited by the door, nervously checking her cell phone for messages. When she could, she ran out to check the parking lot. “Of course I’ll come, baby. I’ll be there after ten,” he had promised. So, where was he? Her friends were losing patience with her.

  “Come on, Busi, you haven’t danced all night – come and join us,” Asanda pleaded with her. Then Unathi came up and held out his hand. “May I have the pleasure?” he asked her. She hovered between going with him and running outside again. He looked very handsome in his suit and she knew what a good dancer he was. But if she went with him she might miss Parks.

  “The night is young, Unathi. You’ll see – I’ll dance with you later.”

  So he too stopped asking her, dancing instead with all the girls who wanted to dance with him. There were many of them, as he had long legs and good moves. But still he kept watching Busi out of the corner of his eye. Why couldn’t he talk some sense into her?

  * * *

  It was midnight w
hen Busi tried Parks’s phone for the last time. This time it went onto voicemail.

  The number you have dialled is unavailable. Please try again later.

  Busi was close to tears. Where was he?

  “What if something happened to him?” she asked Lettie.

  “Something like what?” Lettie wanted to know.

  “Something bad, like an accident …”

  “Or something like, maybe he’s married. Or maybe he’s too old to come and dance with a lot of teenagers.”

  “But he could have said so …”

  Asanda laughed. “I can just imagine the look on Mr Khumalo’s face if he pitches up and wants to come in.”

  “Yes,” Unathi added, “Mr Khumalo said admittance strictly for schoolchildren.”

  “He’s not coming to dance,” Busi argued now, changing her tune. “He’s coming to fetch me.” Her friends looked at one another and rolled their eyes.

  “How well do you know him?” Lettie wanted to know. “Did you meet his family? Do you know where he lives?”

  “He lives in Milnerton,” Busi answered proudly and, as an afterthought, “His family lives in the Eastern Cape.”

  “Conveniently!” Lettie snapped. “You know what, Busi? You hardly know this man. I only hope you use condoms.”

  “I know what I’m doing, Lettie,” said Busi. “Mind your own business. Besides, he isn’t HIV-positive. He said so.”

  “Hmm, yes, and he’s so reliable, Busi!” retorted Lettie.

  Busi decided to ignore this hurtful remark. Anyway, she had something more urgent to think about. Where was Parks?

  The music had stopped. Happy young teenagers came tumbling out of the hall while the team who had organised the dance stayed behind to clean up and pack away the plastic chairs. Busi saw this as her opportunity to get away from her friends. She took off and ran all the way home. She wanted to go and look for Parks, but where would she begin?