“We need to make some baksheesh today,” Bafana finally says after he’s had enough to eat.
“Ja, ja. What do you plan on doing?”
“But I thought we’re a team.”
“Voetsek! Don’t talk rubbish. You do this every day. When are you going to get it into your head that I’m not your mother? I’m only doing you a favour by letting you sleep by me. You know what would happen to you otherwise. You and your stupid drugs. Now you want me to work with you so you can buy your stupid drugs. You’re full of kak. Fuck off!” I push him and walk off towards the park and leave him to fend for himself.
I’m not his father, I say to myself. That laaitie is getting under my armpit, under my soft spot. I mustn’t let that happen, I tell myself. I’ve seen too many kids die and disappear. There’s no point in getting too close. Just now he gets an overdose from his stupid drugs. And then what? Now I must walk around crying because this stupid boy who has a home ran away to kill himself with drugs. I’m not stupid, man. If he wants to do grown-up things then I must leave him. He wants to play with fire, let him.
I walk towards a fountain near some toilets. Grown-ups are strange people. How can they put a fountain for drinking water outside a toilet? And I mean right outside the Men’s toilet. I drink some water and fill a plastic container, one of those fancy ones that sell fancy water. I wonder if that water tastes any different.
I walk further along the beach till I come to the moffie part of the beach. I sit on a bench and wait for a trick. I sit a long while before I hear someone whistling. Soon I’m walking back with a white man to his flat. When we get inside the lift he tells me to take off my shoes. I know the routine. Once inside his flat he will expect me to strip off at the door. We go in and I begin to take off my clothes at the kitchen door.
“What’s your name?” he asks as he stares at my nakedness.
“Azure.”
“Interesting name,” he says drawn by my blue eyes.
I grin while he strokes my face. He leads me through the house and we make our way to the bathroom. The house is clean and warm. I walk carefully as though careless footsteps might disrupt the cleanliness. He takes off his clothes and his piel bounces in front. I shudder to look at it and wait for him to lead me into the shower. But I know his type, he probably just wants to play, nothing else.
“Why are you so quiet?” he says while the water runs.
“I’m just listening.”
“To what?”
“Your house. It’s so quiet.”
“Oh that. Do you want me to put on some music?”
“No, I like it like this. Please.”
He rubs the soap quickly between his hands and slides his hands on my back and bum. I’m forced to smile. That’s what they expect. Grown-ups, I know their games. I smile. He slides his hands around my waist and touches my belly. Not so quickly, I say to myself before he goes any lower. I bend down to pick up the soap.
He gets out to dry himself and leaves me with a few minutes of heaven with warm water and fresh smelling soap. I slide the soap all over my body, blowing bubbles when I can, a silly grin that only I can enjoy on my face. The water falls on me with pleasure. I tingle with cleanliness.
“Are you coming? I’m waiting,” he says after a while.
They don’t like you to know their names, in case you bump into them in the street. Most times they don’t even nod or say hi, they walk past as if they don’t know you.
“Come now, I’ve got things to do,” he says in a serious grown-up voice.
I turn off the taps and shake off the water still clinging to me. He slides the door open and hands me a towel. A fresh-smelling light blue towel. I sigh with pleasure as I dry myself. His eyes follow my every move.
“Come now, we must get on with it,” he says a little anxiously and grabs the towel. I walk behind him as we both walk naked towards the bedroom. Morning light pours in through fancy curtains with slits. Above his bed there is a framed poster of a young boy taking a piss. There’s a dreamy look in his eyes as he looks towards us while pissing. I look around the neat room with awe while his piel begins to grow.
“Lie down,” he says and lays me beside him. Then he starts playing with me. I have to concentrate hard to get excited. I think of Toni Braxton and Mary J Blige. They usually do the trick for me.
We use a lot of baby oil. I close my eyes while he moans a lot.
“Tell me when you’re going to come,” he says politely, strangely.
“I can come any time. I was waiting for you.”
“In that case let’s come.”
He stands over me while I lie down and we both masturbate. After a while his eyes roll into their whites and I feel warm drops across my chest and face. He hands me a towel to dry myself.
With a wallet in his hand we go to the kitchen.
“You did good,” he says and hands me a twenty-rand note. Peanuts. I’ve earned fifty bucks from a single trick. But I know not to get greedy. He could become a regular. I get dressed quickly and let myself out. Just before going out the door to the flats another white man looks at me with come-to-bed eyes. A lot younger than the other guy. I decide to follow him. He stays on the first floor.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says as I start to undo my shirt. “You don’t have to take off your clothes. I just want to be sucked off. Don’t worry, I won’t come in your mouth.”
It doesn’t take long before I make him come on his bare chest. He pays me forty bucks and sees me out of the flat.
3
I need a new pair of shoes, I say to myself as I count the money. Joyce is not working, she only works nights. I decide to go to her small flat which she shares with another auntie. At the door she is only too happy to see me.
“Dankie vir die kos, Antie, ek was baie honger. Where’s Auntie Bertha?”
“She went home for a few days. You know how she gets homesick. Cape Town can be so lonely,” she says, walking around in her lazy flip-flops.
“Anyway, I’ve got some money and I thought maybe you could put it into my bank.”
Joyce understands banks and how they work. Me, I have forgotten even how to hold a pen, so how can I go to the bank myself? Grown-ups ask many questions there. You must remember when you were born and exactly how old you are. You must have an address and it must be one that doesn’t keep changing. Like you must stay in the same spot for say maybe five years and when you move you must tell the bank. They must know everything about your movements. Like how many homes you have and whom must they call when you want to do something with your money. If you ask me they are a bit like gangsters, they want to know everything so that you cannot run away from them. And you must have an ID and a job that pays you regularly. And every time you put in money they make money for you by lending out your money. They are very clever people who work at banks. That’s what Joyce says. She says she ordered a banking place for me at First National Bank and that all my money is going to be safe there. Every time I make money I give her some and she puts it away for me in the safe. It’s my plan to do something with it one day. I’m not sure what I can do with it or how much I have saved but I have a feeling that it will come in handy one day.
Today I give her twenty bucks and keep the rest. What I like about Joyce is that she never asks me how I make my money. In fact, unlike most grown-ups she doesn’t ask too many questions. She’s only too happy to be sitting at the window