Lwando Mbana

Chapter 24

A FEW YEARS LATER

I knock on his office door once and then let myself in. His PA quickly gets off him, fixing her skirt.

"Sniper," he says, and I nod, acknowledging him. The girl quickly walks past me, embarrassed.

"Isn't she like Ayola's age?" I ask, and he shrugs.

"That's not what you are here for. So what have you got for me?" he asks as I settle opposite him. He gets up and walks to pour us a drink. "So what have we got?" he asks.

"I've sent everyone the files, and they all know what they need to do," I say, and he nods, walking over to me and handing me a drink.

"And did you take a look at Aphiwe's proposal?" he asks. I take a sip before placing the glass on the table.

"Your son and whoever was involved in that proposal are mad. Trafficking people is out of the question!" I say, thinking of the potential danger to my daughter or wife.

"It would bring us money," he says, and I shoot him a look.

"Surely you don't think I would ever get on board with that. I'm not that desperate for money," I say, and he walks around the table and sits on his chair.

"Think this through, Sniper," he says, and I flat out shake my head no.

"If you get into trafficking, then consider me out of the $pritz. I can't believe you're even considering this. You're a father! How would you feel if your daughter was trafficked?" I ask him, and he chuckles.

"I didn't know Sniper had a heart," he says, and I don't respond. "It's not that deep, Sniper. We'll be using the girls to transport the drugs, that's all," he says.

"And what happens to the ones that are already transporting the drugs, huh? Look, if you're getting into this business, then consider me out. I'm a father and a husband. I would never want such a fate to befall my family, and I think you should worry about that yourself. What happens if you screw them over, and they take your daughter, or better yet, my daughter, huh? Get your son married already so that he can focus on more important things than this," I say, unable to contain my anger.

"Relax, would you! I've found someone for Aphiwe, and I've spoken to her parents. Things should be finalized in two months or so," he says, sipping his alcohol. I nod.

"Good, that should get him off his high horse. We don't traffick here," I say, then gulp down the rest of the booze and stand up.

"Heard you loud and clear," he says.

"I hope it doesn't come down to having to choose between him and me," I say, then walk out. I get inside my car and drive home.

I mostly work from home ever since Ayola fell pregnant. She's currently 7 months, and she's a pain, worse than when she was pregnant with Sino, but we're coping. She works for Bess Law Firm and thrives in her field, specializing in criminal law because she has me for a husband. According to her, I quit the $pritz after our last job three years ago, but we all know that I could never leave. The $pritz is home for me, and what I do for them is what I do best and know all too well. Being in the office wearing a suit is suffocating for me, and this job keeps my bipolar episodes in check.

"Sinokuhle, stop it!" Ayola shouts as I walk into the house. I make my way to where she is.

"Hey, let my daughter be. She's only playing," I say, picking up my little princess who lays her head on my chest, pouting.

Ayola huffs, "And I am trying to work," she says while typing on her computer.

"Don't mind your mother; she's just stressed, that's all," I say and kiss my baby's forehead. "I'm sorry, mommy," Sino says with her tiny innocent voice.

Ayola looks up at us and then walks over, feeling bad for yelling at her. Sino is a crybaby who doesn't take kindly to being yelled at.

"It's okay. Mommy is sorry for yelling, okay?" Ayola says, kissing her pouted lips. "Mommy is sorry for shouting." Sino doesn't respond but acknowledges the apology.

"What do you feel like eating, Mrs. Me?" I ask, placing my free arm around her neck. She smiles, making me regret even asking.

"Shawarma from KGC," she says, beaming with joy. I shoot her a look, frowning. "It's your son, not me," she says, touching her bump.

"Everything is my son's fault. Yoh hayi, this is not fair," I complain, pulling her in for a forehead kiss.

"Please," she pleads.

I huff because I know I'm going to regret my next question. "Fine. What else?"

"Maybe hot wings from KFC and mixed berries Krush juice," she says, and I don't even protest.

"Okay, fine. Let's go, my angel," I say, talking to my daughter as we head upstairs to have her change her shoes into something more comfy and better for her to wear. I leave her in her room to change out of my pants into something more comfy because KGC is in a real shady place. Not that I'm worried about anything, but I'd rather be comfortable. I left the office and went straight to Mr. Majola's office.

I walk out of my room wearing jeans and a T-shirt with sneakers. I pick up my princess, and we head on out. I strap her in and then drive out to these places. We have a light conversation while I play her songs and drive peacefully.

She's so much like her mother, her sassy attitude and everything. Let's not forget how adorable she is. My daughter is my life, and the thought of something happening to her breaks me into a million pieces.

We buy Ayola's things, I search for my phone and realize I must have left it at home. I drive us home and then park the car and take my princess inside; she's sleeping, must be tired from all that playing. I walk back out and fetch the food and then take it inside and place it on the dining table. Normally, she would be rushing to me. I head to her workstation.

"Majola," I call out going to the lounge, but I don't get a response. I call out again, "Majola," going through the kitchen to check in the garage, but I don't get a response still. I walk into the garage, and I meet her standing near the tool stand.

"Hey, you're back," she says, kissing me as if I just caught her doing something she shouldn't be doing.

I nod, "Yeah, what are you doing here?" I ask, looking behind her to see if nothing is out of place.

She picks up a hammer, "I was here to fetch this; I want to remove that picture in the lounge and put it in the hallway. I saw a prettier one yesterday at the mall," she says walking past me.

"Let me handle it. You should be resting," I say, taking the hammer and then wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me and kiss her forehead, "Pregnancy looks good on you."

"Thank you. Where's my baby?" she asks, pulling away from me as we enter the kitchen.

"She's sleeping. We have these few hours to ourselves before she wakes up," I say, wrapping my arms around and kissing her neck. She turns around to face me.

"My father said to call him back, and also another man with a deep voice told you to call him back," she says, handing me my phone and pushing past me. Shit! I'm in real trouble. It has to be work-related with the files I handed everyone today. We have a job to do, and the last

thing I need is arguing with Majola.

"Mamakhe, I can explain," I say, grabbing her arm.

She yanks it, "Don't you dare touch me! You're a liar!" She shouts, pointing at me with her index finger, clearly angry and very much disappointed in me.

"Majola, I'm sorry. Please, just let me explain."