Planned Coincidence

            Planned Coincidence

Her full lips glistened with lip gloss, and all this gentleman could think of was removing it with his own mouth later that night. This lady had noticed this man’s stolen glances at her. She too had her own plans. It was a Friday night—end of the month Friday—and as usual “STONE PHOLA” was packed to its full capacity. This pub-cum-club was very popular here in Mbabane, more especially with the working class, who now felt that the bars and pubs in the townships and ghettos, where they lived, were too grimy for them, and also dens for hobos and tsotsis. That notwithstanding, they still couldn’t afford the posh and ridiculously expensive places up-town like “Rockers”.

   So, a clever and business-minded chap had built something somewhere in-between, just to cater for them, the in-betweeners. Indeed, STONE PHOLA was a modest place situated in down-town Mbabane. At the entrance, overused neon lights flashed around the dust covered club’s name, as a thick tall man, who looked like he didn’t have a neck, stood officiously at the door. He always assumed his current position every last Friday of the month. He checked patron’s tickets, with a lot of zeal, to ensure that the entrance fee had been paid and the patrons got into the club legally. He was flexing his muscles, ready to whirl off the melee at the door, anyone who would try to sneak in unnoticed, especially the guys.

Muzi “Fixer” Shabangu took a gulp of his Hansa Pilsner and smacked his lips in satisfaction. He placed the can on the counter and, stretched a lazy hand to scoop some peanuts and raisins that were in a glass bowl on the counter and began to chew. Then he turned to his friend, Thapelo also known as “Thux”. ‘I’m telling you man, she’s been staring at me the whole time, and I’ll have to make a move very soon, before she thinks I’m a bhari (fool).’ Fixer loosened his neck-tie and took another sip from the can.

Thux waved his left arm carelessly, dismissing the idea his friend had just shared. ‘Which one?’ he asked. ‘You mean her…the one sitting over there, near the V.I.P section? Mf’ethu(brother), can’t you see that she is the kind of woman that can milk you dry? As for you, she can take every cent because you got half-pay.’ He laughed at his friend, as he concomitantly dipped a hand into one of his corduroy blazer side-pockets, and took out a loose Dunhill cigarette. He lit it up and took a long pull of the cigarette, proceeding to blow the smoke into the already stuffy and saturated air in the bar with a good deal of nonchalance. He watched it waft into the air, to add to the already unpleasant odour that filled the place: an acid odour of cigarettes and perfumes and colognes, plus a whole range of other smells.

   ‘Chief, I don’t want people reminding me about what happened at work—half-pay and kaak. If I wanted all of that nagging and whining, I would have gone straight home, and my wife would have done a great job of it,’ returned Fixer, a bit annoyed. The oily dark skin of his face shone in the dim-lit place, the white set of teeth contrasting it noticeably. He barked at the barman on the other side of the counter for another can of beer. It was quickly put in front of him. ‘All I wwant to do is to enjoy myself. I’ll deal with the talking when I get home.’

   Oh, ok…whatever man,’ Thux said. Do what you have to do, but let me tell you one thing; I’m giving no advances this month. No!’

   ‘Ja,ja,’ mocked Fixer, slightly angered by his friend’s lecture. ‘Now this is what I want you to do,’ he continued. ‘Just walk with me to them. I want you to distract her friend, chat with her, whatever, and I’ll do my thing. Look at those lips bra yam’, tjo!’

   ‘Man you’re really serious about this woman, eh?’ In spite of the fact that you don’t know her and, have never seen her here before.’ Fixer gave him a stern look. And Thux said he was in. ‘Ok, ok, I’ll help you!’ he said. His friend smiled.

   Several tables with chairs were arranged around the walls of the hall. These sat a minimum of four people, which could sit to six or above, with demand for space, in peak hours. At the bar were lined up leather-padded bar stools, preferred mostly by the men. The sat and ogled and flirted with the female bartenders, as the latter shuffled behind the counter, serving orders. At the centre was a dance floor where lights of different colours flashed hypnotically in the dim room, as the revelers danced the night away to the selection of the resident disc-jockey (DJ), DJ Wheeler. The speakers blared a song from a popular South African group, and more people surged to the dance floor. The women were screaming in the process; the men just there, hoping to get lucky that night.

   There was a cacophony of sounds. A mad din. The only way one could sustain a conversation now was to literally shout to the person was talking to. Although such a state of affairs may seem odd to those who are not used to such places, for the regulars, the switching to shouting, to communicate, comes naturally.

   ‘Zinhle,’ said Nos’milo to her friend, ‘I think that guy who was checking me out for the past half an hour or so, is coming here.’ Nos’milo stole a peek at him through the dancing crowd.

   ‘Ha! ha!’ Zinhle laughed out loud. ‘What does he want? I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re interested in him. Oh my God, he’s bringing his friend. I’m just not in the mood for small talk with a guy I don’t know.’

   ‘What am I going to do?’ asked Nos’milo. ‘Perhaps I gave him the wrong idea.’

‘I don’t know, you’ll have to sort him out. I’ve his friend to worry about.’

   Presently the two gentlemen greeted the two ladies who sat opposite each other. Thux sat next Zinhle, and Fixer next to the lady with full shining lips. He couldn’t look at anything else but them. Nos’milo was a very attractive woman and, she wore a hugging top that slightly revealed the cleavage of her big breasts. Her jet-black dreadlocks with streaks of blonde were neatly tied behind the back of her head, ponytail style, and she donned silver studs on her ears. She had full eyebrows that almost met in the middle of her forehead, and her eyes were clear, with a lazy stare. Zinhle, her friend, was not at all an unattractive woman, neither could it be said authoritatively that she was beautiful, and Thux found that consoling. There was nothing that he hated more than making small talk with an unattractive woman, especially in such an arrangement, where it is part of the plan and obligatory—a favour to a friend.

   ‘So what are you ladies doing here all by yourselves?’ asked Fixer self-importantly. The alcohl was now swimming in his veins and wafting in his mind. His tongue had loosened.

‘We’re just hanging out, you know,’ replied Nos’milo. ‘But we were just about to live, to go back home now, ‘cause it’s getting late.’

‘Really?’Thux added helpfully, for his friend, ‘but it’s so early!’

   ‘It’s not, for us, you know,’ said Zinhle. ‘We’ve other responsibilities.’ Thux nodded assent and Fixer let out a short dry laugh.

   ‘The party is just getting started!’ shouted Fixer. ‘What are you ladies drinking? Savannah? Storm? Name it.’ Zinhle glared at Fixer with a sort of disdainful eye, and Nos’milo slightly smiled.

   ‘We don’t drink alcohol,’ Nos’milo said politely. And, there’s no need for you to buy us anything. We’re sorted.’

   ‘Oh, okay, fine! We’ve got ourselves Miss Independents,’ he said in a sing-song voice.

   Fixer was not a patient man. The fact that these women had declined his offer for drinks, and that they didn’t even drink alcohol, was reason enough for him to now leave. He made eye contact with Thux, and gave him the “look”, which was their signal for leaving or aborting a plan because it was not working out.

No’smilo saw Fixer’s restlessness and suddenly said: ‘We can hang out with you guys for another ten minutes, if you want.’

   ‘Listen here,’ Fixer replied, ‘I didn’t come all the way here to hang out. I just thought you were a hot babe and just wanted to explore my chances of sucking away at those lips, and perhaps getting more!’ He then downed his sixth can of Hansa Pilsner and wiped off the beer froth from his lowly-cut moustache with the back of his hand. Thux let out an uncomfortable laugh, and tried to downplay his friend’s outburst, saying that he was quite a joker. Fixer told them that it was no joke: that is was the whole truth. Thux sat there with a plastered smile, waiting for the ladies’ reaction.

Zinhle shook her head, visibly annoyed, and pulled hard at her fruit juice with a straw, as Thux tried to ask her something inconsequential and irrelevant, which she ignored.

   ‘Ha, you haven’t even asked for my name, and I don’t know you, and now this,’ said Nos’milo. ‘Do you always do this to women you meet in pubs?’

   ‘Eh, I don’t like the sound of that,’ answered Fixer. ‘Thux let’s go man, we’re wasting our time here.’

A while previously, Nos’milo had excuse herself from  the company, on account of an important call she had had to make to someone. Presently, her phone rang again, and again she left the table. Fixer looked at her disappear into the crowd, towards the door, or perhaps the ladies’ room—he was not sure. He lamented that he wouldn’t have a piece of her. He sat meditatively, looking up at the ceiling with the flickering tiny bulbs, and opened a can he’d just ordered. Tonight had turned out bad, he concluded inwardly. It was time to go home. Thux himself was now tired of the useless small talk, and he too felt it was time to leave.

Nos’milo reemerged from the crowd with another, rather statuesque woman.

‘Hi again, Fixer,’ she said, emphasizing his name. ‘I just brought your wife here, to join us. By the way, she happens to be my cousin.’ Fixer and Thux sat transfixed, mouths agape, and their eyes fixed on the bustling and breezy Nos’milo and her demure companion in train. The two girls exchanged knowing smiles.