The night had been young.
Kev had appeared. He was like clockwork, this Kev guy. And it was Friday.
He always came on Friday – and we will ignore that pun.
He paid well too. Too well. More than he should.
But that was because he loved me.
Kev loved me.
Was he married?
Not that it matters, but yes.
His sweetness made me sad. I did not need a man to be sweet with me. And that is how he fucked. Sweetly. Like he had something to share but did not have someone to share it with. He cried sometimes.
A real turnoff.
He’d asked me to stop what I do once. I’d told him to mind his own business. He said that he was ready to provide for me.
Haha! Yes. Ha! Ha!
They always think we need rescuing. Don’t pretend you don’t think that too. And maybe we do. But then again, maybe we don’t. I am paying my campus fees quite comfortably. I live in a good house in Parklands…maybe I don’t need to be rescued.
Ok maybe now, this minute, in this godknowswhere place, where I hold a gun in my hands, I do need rescuing. The irony huh?
I might need that rescue before ‘Forth year university student found dead’ makes the headlines tomorrow. I might have needed the rescue five years ago too.
When my parents thought that getting a B+ in my KCSE exams was enough. More than enough. When they lamented (yes, lamented!) that I had gone far enough (too far even) with my education.
Thoughts, lamentations and suggestions.
I needed rescuing then. But where was Kev and his ilk? Where were you?
Nowhere, is where.
Campus? A beauty like me? (yea, I’m so vain) A Lemaiyan? (might as well share my second name now right?) A waste of money, they called it. And cows, they must have thought.
I was ripe.
A ripe fruit is plucked from the tree before it rots.
I had to be plucked.
An intervention happened. Future husband was pointed in my direction. I know. I couldn’t believe that shit either. What was this? The year 1920?
I chose to rot in the tree.
I packed my bags. I came to the city. Armed with my admission letter.
Make or break, isn’t that what they say? Since I am sitting my final exams next semester, you could say that the outcome is leaning towards ‘make’, isn’t it?
I would like to think so.
I would also like to think that you now understand my amusement when Kev suggested that I stop what I was doing.
Guys like Kev are not new. They always fall for us.
They convince you to stop “selling your body” (as if we don’t all lease out a small part of ourselves from time to time). They promise to give you money to start up a business.
Let’s give them the benefit of doubt and say that they would divorce their wives and wife you (highly unlikely but let’s just go with the flow).
But then they’d hang your history over your head for the rest of your fucking life!
Every argument would be laced with: “I rescued you, you piece of shit. Don’t ever forget that.”
And they would make sure you don’t forget that.
Kev could love me all he wanted! I wasn’t leaving nothing for no one! I wasn’t rejecting his money either. Against my better judgment, we kept hooking up.
We’d been at the bar drinking and talking about how Kev’s wife was cheating on him – or so he claimed. I think he just needed something to make him feel better about himself. A cheating wife was as good an excuse as any.
This guy then shows up at our table and requests to talk to me. Said he was sent to me by Mike.
Mike is my employer (so to speak)
Nothing strange with his request. Mike sent men my way every time. He said that I have a “golden touch”. Always insisted that I charge “good money”. That I was never to undervalue myself. Easy for him to throw around compliments when he was making a cut from what I charged.
But then again, we’d hooked up with Mike a few times. Let’s allow my head to swell a bit and agree that the guy knew what he was talking about. I’ve been through a lot tonight, surely you can give me that!?
I had excused myself from Kev. Asked that he wait for me, I’d be right back.
I had grabbed my purse and followed this man outside.
Kev had followed us.
He’d been bundled into the car with me.
A piece of cloth had been put over my mouth and nose.
I became dizzy.
I passed out.
I woke up to find a naked man on top of me.
As I point the gun at this naked man now, I realize that he is not the same person who spoke to me at the bar earlier. That must have been a “delivery guy” of sorts.
As I point the gun at this naked man, one thing occupies my mind. Something you might not like gentlemen, but which rings true to me at this moment in time. And it has to be said:
The nakedness of a burly man is not a pretty sight to behold.
That protruding tummy? That semblance of a 7-month old pregnancy? Not pretty. At all.
Another thing to note; it really sucks when you are holding a gun, pointing it at someone and feeling all powerful and shit, yet the said person is not fazed. Not his protruding tummy, not his big nose nor his ‘privates’ could be bothered that a gun is pointed at them.
He gets up.
I grip the gun more firmly.
“I don’t remember you paying, rapist!”
“Hehe. I don’t pay for sex”
“Why did you kill him?”
“He was getting in the way”
“He wouldn’t go back to the club when I asked him to. I think the kid likes you”
He puts both his hands up mockingly.
“Ok. I think he liked you. Can I at least put on my clothes bosslady?”
He walks slowly to the closet.
My armed hands follow him.
He takes his clothes from the closet.
“Because your boss said you have a ‘golden touch’”
He unfolds a blue shirt that had been folded with utmost precision.
“You did not have to kill him”
He unbuttons the shirt and wears it.
“I had no choice sweetheart”
He pulls up black boxers to cover his manhood.
“He didn’t do anything wrong! You didn’t have to kill him!”
Tears threaten to spill again.
“You were passed out. You don’t know that”
Navy blue trousers are pulled to cover the boxer.
“…thanks to you!”
The anger shakes my voice.
“He gave me no choice”
He buttons his shirt slowly. His eyes not leaving mine.
“I know Kev. He wouldn’t hurt a fly”
He tucks in his shirt and buckles up his belt.
“You loved him too?”
Now he is smiling. The nerve!
“Don’t forget I am holding a gun fool!”
Now he is taking his hat from the closet and wearing it.
He stands in full uniform.
Gives me a mock salute.
His appearance has altered right before my eyes.
“You really don’t expect to get away with shooting a cop, do you sweetheart?”
To be continued.