Prince for Me, A

Dedication

To Seipati who moulded me,

to Tumi who showed me the path to love,

to Gao who opened my eyes to my possibilities,

to Keba who revealed to me the beauty of duality – even my own . . .

thank you for sharing this journey with me.

Chapter 1

1

Orefile More – File to her friends – twirls on the dance floor of the trendy up-market club Vibe in the Joburg suburb of Rosebank, a smile of abandon on her face, her body following the beat as the lights flash around her.

File is a dark beauty with large hazel-coloured, almond-shaped eyes framed by luxuriously long eyelashes and set off by beautiful cheekbones, luscious lips and longish hair blow-waved into a silky curtain that sways to the rhythm of her perfect hourglass body. As she turns this way and that, she sees the loving, happy faces of the friends she has made over the past few years. File wonders how she is going to cope without them over the next six months to a year.

The beat changes and Orefile indicates she needs a bit of a breather. Her friend Reitumetse seems keen to join her and they navigate through the crowd hand in hand. File is just turning back to say something when she sees Tumi’s eyes go wide as she points frantically in front of them.

File spots the man she broke up with a year ago looking around the club surreptitiously. She knows he is checking to see if anyone recognises him from his TV show The Lwazi Effect. File hopes that he has finally given up on them getting back together, as he hasn’t called her recently. Once upon a time he avoided the club – he mistakenly thought she was pining for him while he was busy womanising, seen with a different woman on his arm every week in the pages of the Sunday rags. But since then he has changed his mind and decided that they would make a perfect couple after all, so he comes here all the time again. He knows she and her girlfriends love Vibe.

Swiftly File changes direction, pulling her hair over her face and turning away from Lwazi to avoid his overbearing charm. It is the kind of charm that makes your skin quiver if you are a groupie, but if you are an ex who wants nothing more to do with him, it makes your skin crawl. She grimaces and hopes that he has finally given up on the idea of their being together again. With relief she remembers that she will be leaving town tomorrow and that he won’t be able to get hold of her. She would change her phone number if she could, just to avoid him, but it is also her work number, and in this financial climate no one can say no to work, even a SAFTA award-winning art director like her.

For how long are you still going to try to avoid him? Tumi asks, looking exasperated.

Only until tomorrow, File says cheekily. After that I’ll be deep in the bundu where his celebrity status doesn’t shine quite so brightly and there’s no one to take a picture of the famous Lwazi.

Monna, don’t you think you should just tell Mister Big Head that you don’t want him back? Tumi asks.

I’ve told him! File snaps. He just has got it into his head that we’re the perfect celebrity couple and that I’m good for his image. He calls it a financial agreement, like an arranged marriage. She snorts in irritation as she shakes her head. I can’t bear having one more meaning­less conversation with that delusional egomaniac. Hopefully he’ll meet someone else and leave me the heck alone.

Did you see him rotating his hips in that contrivedly nonchalant way as he looked around the room to see if anyone was ogling him? Tumi asks with a mocking laugh in her voice. God, I can’t believe you fell for that guy!

Don’t remind me of that! File says. I was young and bored, and looking for some eye candy to decorate my arm. He seemed like uncomplicated fun that wouldn’t stalk me once we’d taught each other what we needed to.

At Tumi’s look, File rolls her eyes, agreeing that she had been utterly foolish. Reitumetse heads for the bar and File walks back to their group of friends, throwing her hands up and singing along at the top of her voice, thus drawing the attention of a trail of men who can’t help but admire her well-rounded shape draped in a tight-fitting, multicoloured chiffon dress finished off with killer red heels.

File doesn’t seem to notice the admiring stares and when she is dragged into some man’s arms, she is about to slap him when she looks up straight into Lwazi’s face. The girly part of her is secretly pleased that he is still so determined to get her back, but the cynical part is irritated by the self-satisfied look on his face. She responds with a sarcastic smile, which goes right over his head.

Lwazi gives her a pleased look and says, File, baby . . . Howzit going?

It was going fabulously until I wound up in your arms.

Ao, File! he says, genuinely surprised. Are you still on that It’s Over trip?

She shakes her head incredulously and wonders if he really is so full of himself that he thinks she would be willing to fall back into his arms despite all her protestations to the contrary. She takes a long, hard look at him, trying to figure out what’s actually going on in his head, and realises that he really doesn’t see anything wrong with what he is doing.

File sighs and shouts above the music, I have to go!

But Lwazi pulls her closer and screams into her ear, Aw, come on, can’t we even have one dance? He puts on the pleading look of a puppy dog.

She starts to shake her head, but then capitulates and they begin to dance. File gradually lets go and starts to have quite a good time with him, as he knows how to make her feel really special. Her heart is about to melt when she notices that whenever Lwazi pulls her closer, he takes a surreptitious look around to see whether anyone is watching them. Feeling disappointed, she decides to give him this one dance and then extricate herself from this obvious publicity stunt.

She’s come here to have a final night of fun with her girlfriends before she leaves for the bundu the next day, definitely not to raise Lwazi’s public profile. She used to find it amusing that he was so desperate for attention, but after a while it started to grate on her as she realised that he was just using her in his quest for popularity. She’s happy to have helped him on the road to who and what he has become, but being a trophy girlfriend is not a role she enjoys or aspires to.

The DJ mixes in the song with another, and File sees Lwazi is scanning the crowd for admirers. She pats him on the shoulder, momentarily distracting him, and waves goodbye as she turns to leave. He grabs her arm and shouts above the music, Awww, come on, baby!

No, Lwazi, I’m here with my girlfriends, not with you . . . I really have to go. File turns away determinedly and walks towards her friends, rolling her eyes at his nerve.

As she approaches her group, she sees Tumi and the girls frowning and pointing behind her. She looks around and sees that Lwazi has followed her.

File grits her teeth and hisses, Can I talk to you outside?

Without waiting for him, she heads for the door, swaying her hips with annoyance and turning many a man’s head. Lwazi notices this and tries to put a possessive arm around her waist, but she flicks it off her like a smelly insect as they step through the door. Lwazi covers by grimacing at the onlookers, who seem to agree with him that she is a difficult customer, at which his face shows relief.

As soon as they are outside and the music is softer, File turns on him, furious. What the hell are you doing?! What is this all about?

Lwazi can see that she is exasperated with him and says sheepishly, It’s about you and me, baby.

She tries to answer him, but he places a finger on her mouth to stop her. I know we’ve been apart for a while, but we’re so good together, File.

She slaps his finger away and says matter-of-factly, Good for your career, you mean.

No, for each other’s careers . . . And other stuff, he stumbles, taken aback by her frankness. I’m no good without you and I think you may need me a little too, he says hopefully.

Stop this, she says. "You should know that sometimes there are no second chances when it comes to romance. And anyway,