Laced

CHAPTER THREE

Nambitha Zungu

There is music blasting on the speakers in the lounge, it’s so loud in this house I can’t hear myself think. Muzi is definitely drinking his poor liver away.
I leave the shopping bags by the door and make my way to where he’s sitting. He’s on the porch watching the sun set, and he has a glass of whiskey safely tucked in his hand. He looks like he’s far away in thought. I go back inside the house to fetch the remote and turn off the music.
That finally grabs his attention because he turns to look at me. His eyes are red, he’s intoxicated. Highly intoxicated.
“Have you eaten?” I asked drawing closer to where he was once again.
He shook his head and gave my puppy eyes.
“Do you want to feed me?” he asked placing the glass on the side table.
He proceeded to pull me to his lap. He reeks of alcohol, I’m guessing the reason he was calling me so much and demanding me to come home is because he is drunk, and possibly horny. Muzi develops like a thousand more personalities when he’s drunk, and I meet a new one everyday.
I think this is the lovey dovey one.
“I brought you some takeout.” I tell him.
I didn’t get it at the restaurant I was dining at because I had to leave, that Zama chick was weird. But I passed by one of his favourites and got him food because I’m not about to cook.
Yes I cook for the man, and I know his favourite restaurant. We have been living together for almost 3 years, I know him. It’s not weird.
“I wanted you to come home so I can bury my dick inside you. I didn’t really feel like finding random pussy today.” he slurred.
I just chuckled because he’s so drunk.
“What were you drinking?” I asked caressing his cheek.
He had a red pimple on it.
“My expensive brandy. I figured why not treat myself, I’m broke and useless already.” he said and patted the table for his glass.
He almost knocked it over, but I quickly saved it and took it for him. He cackled. I’ve never seen him like this. I know a drunk and high Muzi, but this Muzi, I’ve never seen him before.
“What did you find at the office today?” I know I’m wasting my time by asking him while he’s in this state.
He snatches the glass from my hand and drowns the contents down his throat. No wonder he’s so drunk, he’s drinking brandy at room temperature with no ice or dash.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. I’m fucked Nambitha.” his voice breaks.
He’s being vulnerable with me right now, and it’s hard to see through it because he’s kak drunk, but I know Muzi, he would never say any of these things while sober. I lift his face so he can look at me, there are tears forming in his eyes.
He quickly uses his hand to wipe them and pushes me to get off him and scrambles around for his bottle.
“Let’s take this to the bedroom.” he says picking it up, taking a swing before stumbling back inside the house.
It’s in between he’s going to pass out before I even make it to the bedroom, or he’s going to last a mere minute in the sac and I’m going to be left unsatisfied. I don’t think I want that right now.
I go take my shopping bags from the lobby, and head to the kitchen to drop off his food. I leave it on the counter before rushing to my room to leave my shopping bags. I’m surprised to find him passed out in my bed, once again. I fail to comprehend how he could possibly leave his own room and decide to come fall asleep in mine.
His phone is next to him and it’s unlocked. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I find myself taking it. I want to find out what the cause of this bankruptcy we are facing is, I know he has probably spoken to someone about it on the phone.
I start in his gallery, and I immediately regret it because I don’t know how many different vagina’s and boobs I see on this phone. I exit immediately and make my way to WhatsApp. The first chat I open is one between him and Julius, his business associate. I’ve met him a few times at these company parties, he’s a nice man, a little older than Muzi.
Julius: why the hell are the investors pulling out Muzi!?
What’s going on?
Are you going to answer me?
Muzi: I’m going to call you.
They literally hardly ever interact on this chat, but as I scroll down, more information appears.
Julius: can you identify these fuckers?
He sent a view once, shit! The conversation abruptly ended there, I’m assuming Muzi called him.
I look through more of his chats with other business associates, and there is literally nothing. It seems as though Julius is the only one in the loop about everything going on, he’s still trying to buy face with the other people.
This shit is deeper than I thought it was. Muzi is sinking in bullshit, and I’m right there with him.
I steal a glance over at him, he’s fast asleep. I slap his leg.
“Muzi, go to your bed.” I say.
“Mmmh.” he grunts before he stirs and farts.
Damn shit!
“Sies man!” I take his phone and leave the room before it’s infested with the horrible smell of a mans fart.
I sit in the pyjama lounge and continue scrolling through his phone in the hopes of finding some, anything.
And then it suddenly hits me when the name pops up on the screen.
We need help. I know he’s well connected, I mean his surname says it all, yeah sure he’s not his father, but he’s close enough. I can’t sit around and wait for Muzi to make the first move otherwise we are seriously going to go broke if we let him ‘take his time.’
I copy the number onto my cell and call it right away. He also answers right away.
“Mfusi hello.” is this how rich people answer the phone?
“Mvelo Mfusi, this is Nambitha, you might not know me but I’m Muzi’s wife.” I introduce myself before he can ask.
“Muzi’s wife? Muzi doesn’t have a wife.” he chuckles.
“If this is one of those scams and you are trying to get me to send you money it won’t work, goodbye.”
“Wait Mvelo wait please hear me out!” I beg.
I don’t like to beg, but when my riches are on the line, I’d grovel.
“Look I know you and Muzi are not on speaking terms right now, and you probably hate him, and I get it, I would also be mad. But it was such a long time ago, and he’s over it. It was a mistake on his part, and I apologize on his behalf. We need your help. I really need to talk to you about something urgent though so can you please just put the past aside and lend a helping hand.” I continue to beg.
“How can I trust you and what you say?” he asks.
“I can send you a picture of my wedding certificate, I’m Mrs Zungu, Muzi and I are married, and I promise he will never ever hit on your wife ever again. Can we please meet up, I can even fly up to Johannesburg.” I say.
“What is so urgent you can’t say it over the phone?”  he asks.
“It’s just important. So when are you available?” my patience is running thin.
“I’m in Durban, I’m leaving on Tuesday, but I’m only available tomorrow. If you can we can meet over breakfast.” he suggest.
“That’s okay, thank you so much, I appre...” he hangs up.
Rude if you ask me.
But I could care less, maybe I can get a chance to fix things!