“I’ll do anything you want for fifty bucks,” I whisper to him.
“Anything?”
“Anything that I can do.”
“And what is it that you do?” he says softly in a mocking voice.
“Depends on what I’m asked.”
“What if I wanted to fuck you?”
“I can do that.”
“You mean I can do that.”
“Ja, you can do that if you want. For fifty bucks.”
“Fifty bucks. Don’t worry about that. What if I said I wanted to fuck you in my car?”
“You can do that too if you want.”
“Of course I want.”
We go to his car. His ring shimmers in the night.
“Do you always wear your wedding ring?” I say just so that he doesn’t take me for a fool and try and cheat me after the sex.
“If I give you sixty will you shut up?”
“I can do that. I can be quiet.”
The married ones are always the horniest and by far the roughest. He takes me in his family minibus to a dark beach near the V&A Waterfront. We are the only ones parked there. He takes me to the back seat and oils me with cooking oil before he takes me like a beast. I bite the seat in front of me while he grunts and moans. He goes at it at least for an hour before he comes into a condom. As soon as he is done he zips up his pants and takes out his wallet.
“It’s your lucky day. I’ve only got two twenties and a fifty.”
My face lights up even though my asshole is sore.
“Oh, but I’ve got coins,” he says. He couldn’t resist getting me back after I said he was married. Me and my mouth; I’m always on guard. He gives me a fifty-rand note and two five-rand coins.
“Do you want to do this again?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
“Well, I’m always at the park at night.”
“Great. It’s been a slice of heaven but now I have to go,” he says and opens the door for me to get out. He gets into the front seat and drives off. I walk towards the water and take off my pants. I sit in a shallow pool and let the cool water cover me up to my waist. I sit for a while until my bum feels numb.
7
I find Allen sitting at his usual place near the white girl. She’s got stitches under her left eye and you can still see some bruises if you look past her flashy make-up. I’m nervous because I didn’t see him three days later like he said and because he is wearing his dark RayBans. That means he’s either stoned on drugs, got an ugly bruise or that he is in a foul mood. I go up to him anyhow.
“Allen, can I sit?”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“You said I can . . . ”
“I say a lot of things. Do you always listen to everything I say?”
“Yes, Allen.”
“And that’s why you’re on the streets and I’m here. Stupid fuck, just grow up.”
“But I thought . . .”
“Did you really think I was going to get you shoes, motherfucker?”
I don’t answer.
“What, do I look like your mother?”
I shake my head.
“Listen, if you want to buy a TV or a hi-fi or something pricey I can get it for you at a hot price. But shoes, clothes, don’t fuck with me. Understand?”
“Yes, Allen.”
“See how I’m dressed?”
“Yes, Allen.”
“No. Really see. RayBan. Gucci, Armani and Nike,” he says pointing to his clothes.
I nod nervously.
“Now look at how you’re dressed and compare it to how I’m dressed. Fuck, you stink. Now fuck off. I’m not the Salvation Army.”
I get up and walk away quickly.
I walk towards town, all the time praying that Gerald and his rats won’t see me. I go to Long Street to a shop called Second Time Around. They sell good second-hand clothing. And the woman who works behind the till is not a vulture. She lets you roam around for a while and get what you want, no matter how you look. I spot a pair of veldskoene that look like my size. I take them to the till even though the price sticker says sixty-five.
“I need these shoes,” I say to her politely.
“How much have you got?”
“Sixty,” I plead and take out the money.
She looks at me out of glasses that sit nearly at the bottom of her nose.
“Okay.”
I give her the money. She rings it up on one of those old tills that make a lot of noise, like a toy.
“Thank you,” I say, relieved.
I take off my strops and put them in my jacket. I put on the shoes anxiously. She watches me.
“Here,” she says.
I stand up. A pair of socks is on the table.
“I don’t have any money.”
“I know. Take them,” she says.
I take the socks and unfasten my laces. My dry feet make crackling sounds as I slide the socks over them. I tie the shoes properly.
“I can walk forever in these shoes,” I tell her. “Thank you,” I say and leave.
I can feel her eyes on me as I walk out of her shop. I go to Bree Street, not far from the mosque. I know a guy called Vincent who usually hangs around there. At night he sleeps outside one of the shops. He’s also from Joburg.
“Mpintshi, I haven’t seen you for a while,” he says when he sees me.
“I’m in Sea Point now. Town’s too rough for me.”
“This is where all the action is. You know me, I like big cities.”
“Ja, but Cape Town? Come on.”
“It’s better than Sea Point. You have to put up with all those gangsters,” he says. He’s older than me.
“Nah. I stay away from them.”
“What’s with the shoes, bra?”
“Hey, I needed shoes, they were the only ones I could get.”
“I could have got you shoes, you know that.”
“Ja, but there’s Allen to think about.”
“Oh him, I forgot. Is he still terrorising the neighbourhood?”
“Ja, it’s his neighbourhood. I have to go through him first.”
We sit under a palm tree. He opens a pack of fish and chips and breaks half a loaf of white bread into two. We eat silently and finish the meal in no time.
“Ta,