***
I dragged myself out of bed at ten the next morning. Mitchell was already up, sitting on the front veranda soaking up the morning sun and eating something that looked like one of Melito’s filo pastry creations from the night before.
“Is your stomach made of cast iron?” I asked, appalled. He turned to face me, grinned and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.
We sat on the raised veranda, dangling our legs over the edge and gazing at the uninterrupted view of the ocean ahead. The veranda was the only redeeming feature of the shack. Some days, when the ocean was a millpond and we weren’t working, we’d waste the entire morning out there.
“You just missed Bernie and Will,” he said. “They were on their way home from the sleek Greeks. It turns out that the party got a whole lot rowdier once we left.”
“What did they have to say for themselves?”
He shrugged. “Not much. They said they’re thinking of heading up the coast next weekend. I wouldn’t mind a weekend up north. Too bad we’re broke and trapped like rats.”
He bumped my shoulder and I looked across at him. I couldn’t help smiling at his goofy expression. Mitchell was back to being carefree, content and sober. Nothing fazed him – not even the prospect of being a broke, trapped, rat.
That’s where we differed. I was beginning to feel as though I was failing, and it was starting to weigh me down. The whole purpose of this journey was to find my place in the world. We’d travelled thousands of miles. How far was I supposed to go, for crying out loud?
I had to consider that I’d been wrong all along. What if happiness wasn’t a place? What if it was enough just to be with the person who made you happy? Surely then I’d be content wherever I was – even if it was New York City.
I looked at the bigger picture. There was a possibility that I had thrown away the best love I would ever know. And going through the daily grind of surfing, working and sleeping was doing nothing to get it back.
“Mitch, do you remember our conversation last night?”
A smile crept across his face. “Refresh my memory.”
I rolled my eyes. “We talked about me going to New York. I think I’m going to do it.”
“It’s about time,” he teased. “I was beginning to think I’d be stuck with you forever.”
I nudged his shoulder, faking annoyance. “Don’t get too excited. It’s going to take months to save up.”
“Why don’t you just call Alex? He’d send you money if you needed it.”
The mere suggestion bordered on lunacy. As far as Alex knew, I was comfortably living on the proceeds from the sale of Adam’s boat. If he ever got wind that we were broke he’d have a coronary.
“I’m going to work it out for myself.”
“I’ll find extra work, Charli. I’ll do what I can.”
“You don’t need to do that. I only need one thing from you.”
“Name it.”
“Don’t let me talk myself out of going. No matter how long it takes.”
Mitchell slung an arm around my shoulders. “You got it, sister.”
2. Crazy Brave
The midweek markets in Kaimte had to be seen to be believed: vendors selling everything from local crafts to fresh fish and vegetables crowded into a row of tin humpies lining the main street. I loved the atmosphere.
I roped Zoe and Rose into coming with me. I usually went with Mitchell, but true to his word he’d found extra work that week, labouring for a landscaper.
“It’s so grotty,” whispered Zoe, much too loudly.
Rose shushed her, grabbed her elbow and quickened her pace.
“It’s all really fresh,” I told her.
“Of course it is,” she agreed. “It’s all still covered in dirt.”
Zoe was a mixed bag. I’d always suspected that backpacking was more Rose’s bliss than hers. She was a girly girl who liked her creature comforts far too much to be completely content living in the cardboard village. On the other hand, carrying out a torrid affair with a beach bum surfer like Mitchell showed that she wasn’t totally averse to slumming it once in a while.
Mitchell’s attraction to Zoe was much easier to define. She was part Beautiful, just like his sisters. She was prissy, although her penchant for tiny bikinis and matching sarongs bordered on trashy. But Zoe would never graduate to full Beautiful status. She was far too smart and too kind-hearted, even if scrubbing dirt off vegetables was beneath her.
“Can we sit for a while? It’s hot,” she complained.
I looked around, trying to see somewhere suitable to dump her for a few minutes while I finished browsing.
“There,” suggested Rose, pointing to a small shed over the road. The makeshift café only traded on market days. Patrons sat outside on dirty plastic chairs, drinking lukewarm cans of Coke.
“Will you be okay here for a minute?” I asked hopefully. “I just want to check out the stalls over there.” I pointed further down the street, but she paid no attention.
“We’ll wait here for you,” promised Rose.
I had walked only a few metres before the crowd swamped me. I couldn’t even see the café when I turned around. All I could do was keep pace with the flow of traffic. Some days I hated being short. I walked for a few minutes, seeing nothing but people’s backs before finally breaking off to the side. I had no idea where I was. I didn’t seem to be in the markets anymore. The buildings were permanent structures but still ramshackle and dilapidated.
To my left was a fabric store, overflowing with bolts of brightly coloured cloth. A heavyset African woman stood in the doorway calling me inside with a flick of her head. “Come and see, little girl,” she coaxed.
“No, thank you.”
I began walking again but got no further than the shop next door. A man tugged my backpack as I passed his doorway, yanking me inside. “Little girl,” he purred. “Come inside.”
It was hardly an invitation. I was already inside. The relative safety of the road might have been miles away.
To regain control, I turned around, pretending to browse. Crooked wooden shelves lined the corrugated tin walls, displaying dodgy-looking electrical items and bric-a-brac. The man followed closely behind me as I walked, but he wasn’t the scariest one in the shop. Another two men sat near the back wall, leering at me.
Playing it cool was not an option. I was terrified. No one knew where I was. I didn’t even know where I was.
“You have a nice shop,” I complimented shakily.
He looked past me to the other men, speaking in a language I didn’t understand. Unnervingly, they all laughed.
I didn’t dare look at the thugs behind me. All my attention was on the one blocking my exit.
“Find what you like,” he instructed. “We buy and we sell.”
I nodded, unable to swallow the lump in my throat so I could speak.
They weren’t typical villagers. Their clothes were western style. The ringleader wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt – totally inappropriate, considering the hot weather. Around his neck was the thickest gold chain I’d ever seen. The necklace looked authentic, but the huge kitschy gold Rolex he wore looked like a prize out of a gumball machine.
“We have phones. Do you need a phone?” he asked.
His question reminded me that my phone was in my bag – albeit useless. Who was I going to call? Mitchell’s phone had been stolen during the mugging. I could call Alex. If he hurried, he could catch the next flight out and come to my rescue in about three days.
Quickly, I hatched a plan. Mitchell needed a phone. I’d buy one, thank the scary men, and hopefully be on my way in one piece.
“I will buy a phone,” I told him, trying to sound strong.
Rolex man clicked his fingers twice. “Get the box,” he ordered. I heard the goons behind me shuffle to their feet.
Please don’t let it be a Charli size box, I prayed.
I contemplated making a run for the bright light
of the outside street but wasn’t sure I’d make it out before he grabbed me again. When he called me over to the counter, I went.
The smaller of the henchmen upended a cardboard box on the counter sending at least fifty phones tumbling in all directions.
“I’ll give you a good price,” he assured. “Choose one.”
They all looked the same to me – with one exception. Mitchell’s phone had a distinctive bright orange cover, just like one of the phones in front of me.
I picked it up, moving quickly to hide the fact that my hand was shaking.
“I like this one.”
“A very good choice,” praised Rolex man. “It’s only just come in.”
I was certain it was Mitchell’s phone. My potential murderers were also thieves. Fear quickly gave way to anger. Standing in front of me were the men who’d knocked the stuffing out of Mitchell and left him bleeding in an alley. Convinced that my fate would soon be the same (or worse) I realised I had nothing to lose. “I have something to sell,” I announced, shrugging my off my backpack.
The men watched silently as I took out my camera and unscrewed the lens. If there was a chance I might live to continue my trip, I didn’t want to do it without my beloved camera. Parting with one lens was bearable.
Rolex man studied it closely. “This is no good without the camera. I will take both.”
I shook my head. “No. Just the lens.”
“No.” He handed it back to me.
I actually felt deflated. For a second, I’d been hopeful of solving all of our money problems. I saw no point in haggling with him. He was calling the shots and I’d just revealed all my cards. The thieving would-be murderers now knew I had a valuable camera in my possession.
“What else do you have?”
I tried to think quickly but came up blank.
“The stone,” he said, pointing to my necklace.
I brought my hand to my throat, clutching my black opal pendant.
“No.” My rough tone made them laugh.
“Black opal is rare and valuable,” said Rolex man, amazing me with his knowledge of gemmology. “Give it to me.”
I wanted to put up a good fight. He was probably about to rip it off my neck at any second anyway. “I want five thousand for it. U.S. dollars,” I declared.
A huge grin swept his face and I could hear the other men snickering. “You are a very funny girl.” Funny was good. Funny meant they might not kill me.
“Five thousand,” I repeated.
Rolex man paced around, rubbing his chin while he deliberated. “I will give you three thousand.”
It was actually a pretty fair offer – much less than what it was worth but not altogether unreasonable. I had to consider it. Three thousand dollars was a ticket to New York and back again if I needed it. I tried to focus more on the bigger picture and less on the heartbreak of parting with the opal Adam had gifted me.
“Fine. Three thousand… and the orange phone,” I agreed. “And I want U.S. dollars.”
“I do not keep that amount of money here. There are many thieves around.” I almost laughed out loud but thought better of it. “I will have to go and get it.”
“I’ll wait.” I truly was an idiot.
More than an hour and a half passed before Rolex man returned. I had no choice but to wait for him. I got the distinct feeling I wasn’t free to leave. He strolled in as if he’d been gone only minutes and dropped a tattered manila envelope down on the counter in front of me. “Count it,” he instructed.
I thumbed through the notes, counting silently in my head. I was glad I counted silently. Unbelievably, there was an extra four hundred dollars in the pile.
“Three thousand dollars, right?” I asked, confused.
“That is what we agreed.”
I quickly tucked the envelope under my arm, hoping that the smugness wasn’t evident in my expression. With a heavy heart, I undid the clasp on my necklace and handed it to Rolex man.
“Come back any time,” he said, focusing all his attention on the necklace in his hand.
I didn’t bother answering. I turned and walked as fast as I could, straight out into the safety of the crowded street. It had been almost two hours since I’d left Rose and Zoe at the café. Knowing they’d be long gone, I began walking home, oblivious to how frantic Mitchell would be.
“Where the hell have you been?” he yelled, running down the beach toward me. “The girls said they lost you. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, bracing myself as he threw his arms around me. It wasn’t a tight hug, just badly executed. Perhaps he forgot that he was a foot taller than me and that’s why he hugged my head.
He looked me up and down, inspecting for damage.
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
“Where have you been?”
I was excited to tell him. Doing business with gangsters wasn’t an every day event for me. Mitchell didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm, but to his credit, he let me finish the tale before berating me. “You sold your necklace to thugs? Are you out of your freaking mind?”
“You’re the one who told me to get brave.”
He wrinkled his nose at the reminder of his drunken remark. “You weren’t meant to take it so literally! What if something had happened to you? Imagine that phone call to Alex.” He groaned in absolute disgust.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m done. Don’t talk to me.” He quickened his pace, knowing there was no way I could keep up with his long strides.
Mitchell didn’t go home. He trudged through the sand to Zoe and Rose’s hut, disappearing through the front door as soon as it opened. I didn’t really care. I was still flying high, exhilarated by my rare rush of courage. The feeling remained long after I arrived home. I sat on the floor, counting out the hundred dollar bills and stacking them in a neat pile, elated to confirm there was indeed an extra four hundred dollars in my bounty.
I, Charli Blake, had successfully crossed into the big leagues. I’d ripped off my very first gangsters.
The money was safely tucked away under the loose floorboard when Mitchell arrived home. He thumped down beside me on the beanbag, throwing me aside like a rag doll. I waited for him to speak first, unsure if he was still angry.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. You deserved it but I’m sorry. I’m not your keeper. It’s not my job to look after you.” His speech was obviously well rehearsed. He spoke slowly and precisely.
“But you do look after me. I would never have made it this far without you. Today turned out to be good for me. It’s my turn to look after you.”
Mitchell tilted his head, staring at me like I was crazy. “How do you figure that?”
I reached in to my bra, retrieved his orange phone and held it out to him.
“I think this belongs to you.”
He snatched it from me, shaking his head in disbelief. The colour literally drained from his face. He realised what I already knew. I’d spent the afternoon in the company of the men who put six stitches in his forehead.
“Did you see what they did to me to get this phone?” he asked, gritting his teeth. “If they’d cut you up in to tiny little pieces and chucked you in a dumpster, you would have deserved it. And you think today was a good day for you?”
Seeing Mitchell angry was completely foreign territory. I had no idea how to handle him. “The end justified the means, Mitch. I’ve got enough money to go to New York now.”
He wasn’t the least bit impressed by my sketchy reasoning. “You’re never going to see sense, are you? I can’t let you go off on your own, Charli. It’s not going to end well.”
“You can’t stop me.” I regretted the childish comment instantly. I’d just made him more furious.
Mitchell quickly stood. “I don’t want to stop you. It’s not up to me to stop you. You get yourself in to the worst scrapes purely because you don’t think.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “H
ow much thought have you put in to your trip to New York?”
“Enough,” I uttered.
“Great. So you’ve contacted Adam to tell him you’re on your way.”
“No,” I admitted. But where was the romance in that?
Mitchell leaned down close. “You know why you haven’t called him, Charli?” He didn’t pause long enough to let me answer. “Because you’re winging it, just like you always do. Leaving things up to the universe isn’t always going to work in your favour.”
I didn’t feel as though there was an alternative. If I put any real thought into it, I’d talk myself out of going. I desperately wanted Adam back in my life. I craved the happy ending I’d been dreaming of for over a year. But in the back of my mind was one constant thought: he might not want me any more. No amount of planning would prepare me for that. I had no choice but to throw it out to the universe. Whatever would be would be.
It was that philosophy that got me through my encounter with Rolex man and his henchmen. Explaining to Mitchell was impossible. I saw no point even trying. “I think we should agree to disagree.”
“Fine, crazy weirdo.”
I’d heard him call his sisters a mountain of names far worse than that. Crazy weirdo I could live with.
3. Lessons
New York in November was not a place I wanted to be without winter clothing. There wasn’t much call for winter coats in Kaimte – or anywhere else we’d been in the past year. One phone call to Gabrielle solved that problem, and another one I hadn’t even considered.
Within days of speaking to her, Mitchell and I borrowed Melito’s jeep and drove down to the parcel depot at the small airport. Waiting for me was a huge suitcase filled with enough winter clothes to see me through several New York winters.
“She was supposed to just pack up my stuff,” I grumbled, pawing through the mass of clothes on the floor in front of me.
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Charli,” teased Mitchell, pulling on a very chic grey wool cap.
I didn’t recognise a single item. I couldn’t even consider them hand-me-downs. Everything was brand new, including the shiny brass key that tumbled out of an envelope I’d just found.
Mitchell waited until I’d read through the accompanying letter before asking me what it was for.
“This,” I said, waving the key in front of him, “is a key to an apartment Gabrielle owns in Manhattan.”
Of course the Parisienne owned real estate in New York. Nothing about the idea was shocking to me.
“You really do have a way of falling on your feet, don’t you?” he asked, donning a scarf that matched his hat.
“I have connections,” I replied, snatching the hat off his head. It was almost embarrassing. I was hardly able to claim independence when I’d been gifted a roof over my head and a complete new wardrobe to boot.
“Can I ask you a question?” Mitchell’s tone matched his suddenly serious expression.
“Sure.”
“What are you going to do if it doesn’t work out with Adam? A lot can change in a year.”
I paused only momentarily. “I’ll be sad.”
Truthfully, I’d be devastated. I’d probably just curl up and let the despair have me. At least I’d look good, courtesy of my new designer wardrobe. But all Mitchell needed to know was that I had enough smarts about me to be able to survive. Alex had demanded the same reassurance. He’d never understood my need to have Adam in my life. Needing him was never a term he was comfortable with.
“He might not feel the same way, Charli,” he’d said gently.
When it came down to it, it didn’t matter. I wanted to see his face – even if it was to be for the last time. I had thought of nothing past that point.
Once all loose ends had been tied, there was no point in staying in Kaimte any longer. Letting go of Mitchell was going to be hard, so I drew it out as long as I could. We made a weekend of it, borrowing Melito’s jeep again and driving south to Cape Town. Two days passed quickly and before I knew it, we were saying our goodbyes at the airport.
“If it doesn’t work out, you come back,” he instructed.
“I will.”
Excitement bubbled within me, preventing me from standing still. Mitchell grabbed my hand to keep me stationary while he rattled off his list of rules. “Don’t let anyone near your bag, make sure you keep some money in your pocket, call me as soon as you get there and don’t forget to wind your clock back.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.” He released my hand and slung his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t talk to strangers.”
“Mitch, everyone will be a stranger.”
“Okay, don’t talk to strange-looking strangers,” he amended.
There were a million things I wanted to tell him, none of which I could articulate well enough.
Mitchell Tate had saved me. At the lowest of the low, after my best friend Nicole had betrayed and deserted me, he’d picked me up and dusted me off. We hadn’t spent longer than a few hours apart in over a year. Mitchell had never needed me. I, however, wouldn’t have survived the first week away from home without him.
There was something very cathartic about leaving him behind. Mitchell was free to make his own way without having to worry about me.
He wouldn’t have to worry about the rent for a while either. I’d used some of my gangster loot to pay his rent up until the end of summer. It’s not something he would have approved of, so I held off telling him until the last minute.
“You’re going to need that money,” he scolded.
“You can’t miss what you don’t have.”
“I know for a fact that’s not true. I’m going to miss you, crazy weirdo.” He grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me hard on the lips. “Now go. You’ve got a plane to catch.”
I fought against turning back to look at him as I made my way through to the departure lounge. The only way from here was forward.
Second Hearts, available now!
Connect With G.J Walker-Smith
Facebook
Goodreads
Email
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends