Dear Deceit: A Short Story by Sihle Kheswa

Chapter IV: The Fateful Night

In no time, I found myself at Peppergrove Mall, a bundle of nerves coursing through me as I stepped into the bank. The cool breeze from the air conditioners welcomed me. Patiently, I stood in the queue, anxiety bubbling within until, at last, "Next customer please," the teller's soft voice broke the hushed atmosphere. Nervously, I approached the counter, greeted by a lady who divided her attention between the computer and a keyboard. "Good morning, Sir. How may I help you today?" she inquired.

Retrieving the bank confirmation letter and my ID from my pocket, I handed them over. Clearing my throat, I spoke, "Good morning, Sisi. I found this letter in my late grandmother's belongings. It was given to me after her funeral, and I only recently opened it. I wanted to verify its legitimacy and if the money exists." The teller examined the document, flipping open my green identity book. Her eyes flicked up briefly before returning to the book. "Mr. Miya, yes, this letter is legitimate, and the account is in your name. The total amount is R17,825.00. Would you like to make a cash withdrawal, sir?" she asked.

After a brief hesitation, I replied, "No, I don't want cash. Could you transfer it to a card that I can use when needed?" She continued typing, focused on her task."Okay, Mr. Miya, we can do that for you. Just give me a moment. I'll be with you shortly." Seated in the designated stall, I received a nod from the bank teller, who handed me a black pen along with a couple of forms. Minutes trickled away as I filled in the forms with careful precision, each stroke of the pen an acknowledgement of the newfound financial journey I was about to embark upon.

Once the task was complete, I handed the documents back to her. With a brief retreat into the backroom, the teller returned cradling a white envelope. Delicately tearing it open, she extracted an ATM card, a sleek sliver of plastic representing my access to newfound financial avenues. The journey continued as we ventured to the ATMs on the other side of the branch. The teller, now in possession of my bank card, handed it to me, the PIN concealed beneath a sealed barcode.

Eager to confirm its functionality, I inquired if I could make a withdrawal. "Yes! Go ahead, Mr. Miya," she encouraged. R200 emerged from the machine, a modest sum but a symbolic confirmation of my financial independence. Gratitude flowed as I thanked the teller for her assistance and patience. With my ID book, the original bank confirmation letter, and the newfound card, I left the mall swiftly. I dialled Jongikhaya's number, however, frustration seeped in as my attempts to reach him through a series of calls proved futile.

A blend of confusion and excitement coursed through my veins, should I indulge in a feast of delicious food or adorn myself with a fresh wardrobe? As I arrived home, strolling past the parking lot, my attention was snagged by the arrival of Yolanda in an all-black Mercedes Benz, pulsating with the rhythm of loud Afrobeats music, again. Despite my brother's stern warning to keep my distance, Yolanda appeared harmless. Her friendliness and warmth during our chance encounter outweighed Jongikhaya's cautionary words that echoed in my mind.

Weeks had passed since Yolanda persistently extended invitations to the nightclub where she worked. Tonight, it seemed, could mark a departure from the ordinary. Spotting me from a distance, Yolanda greeted me, "Hey M-zee! There's a different bounce in your step today. What's going on, baby boy?" Chuckling, I evaded her probing questions, suppressing the urge to spill the secret of my newfound 'wealth'. "No, Sis Yolanda, nothing new. Just in a good mood, I guess," I deflected, swiftly changing the topic to divert further inquiry.

Curiosity fueled my desire to attend the nightclub's party. "Is the nightclub having another party tonight, if so, can I please attend?". Taking a casual drag from her cigarette, Yolanda responded, "You don't have to ask twice, baby boy. Tonight's the party of the year. The club is celebrating its anniversary, and the crème de la crème of entertainment will be there. Big celebrities from Jo'burg, gorgeous Instagram influencers, an open bar—everything you can imagine baby boy."