CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

[DIAMOND]

One hundred grand got split between five people, twenty K each. Better than nothing. We need another job, and fast. I need a car soon; I can't keep riding taxis and Ubers.

I've been getting into safes and lockers since I was fourteen. Uncle Bob taught Sboniso and me. He showed us the ropes, everything we needed to know. Aunt Thembi still doesn't know; I didn't tell her because I knew she'd have left Bob the minute she found out.

Our first job with him was at the spaza shop four streets from home. Bob saw the owner put the day's takings in the safe. The key was hidden, so Bob didn't know where it was but that didn't matter. Keys were never the only way for us. That Friday, the township was loud and drunk; nobody noticed two teenagers moving like shadows. Sboniso and I stayed outside, keeping watch, making sure the coast was clear while Bob went inside. I was scared; scared he might get caught, scared he'd end up in jail, or worse, beaten by the community.

Bob walked out limping, carrying a plastic bag like he'd hurt his foot. I held my breath, thinking the worst, but the limp was an act, a mask he wore so no one suspected him or the two teenagers he'd brought along.
When we got home, we went straight into the garage instead of the house, Aunt Thembi didn't know about all this. Using one of her hairpins, Sboniso and I got the safe open. The loot was everything we'd hoped for. After that first score, Sboniso and I never really stopped. Bob? I'm not sure about him. We were lucky that day that the safe wasn't bolted to concrete, and one thing about luck is that it can run out. With new advanced technology now, there are fewer people who use safes and lockers with keys, so I had to learn more about tech, hacking, and all that.

"I scouted that mall. I think we'll be ready to move," Tk says, cutting into my thoughts. I just want to go home and sleep. I couldn't take that sick leave from work; that bitchy supervisor of mine said no. Honestly, she should be my next target.
"Isn't that mall too big for us to hit? We'll get caught, and we can't just bring new people on this," Tumi says. She's right; bringing more people is risky business.
"I did my research. We'll use the underground route, drill our way on top, and we'll be able to get into that shop. Easy peasy," Tk adds confidently.
"How sure is there money in that shop? People like that aren't stupid enough to leave cash in their safe," Sika says. Our biggest score was 900K from a Chinese warehouse. There was more, but the security almost caught us and we had to flee. That was four months ago.
Tk takes out his phone and shows us a girl.
"And this?" I ask, curious.

He doesn't answer at first, just swiping. A girl is busy taking selfies at the shop. Then he stops on a picture of her half-naked in a storeroom. He looks at us and smirks.
"So, you want to show us your naked girl?" Sika asks in disbelief.
"You guys disappoint me sometimes. This is where the magic happens, my beautiful people," Tk says. "This is where they hide their money and phones. This shop is laundering money, so they're criminals too. We get there, find a safe or locker, take everything. I mean, we'll clean this store empty. Sika will take the phones and sell them at his shop," he adds, gesturing to Sika. I laugh a little.
"It's an auto parts store, Tk, not a shop to sell iPhones," Sika says, flabbergasted.
"I see your vision, Tk," Tumi approves.
"Okay, okay, Tk, I hear you, but there'll be security, cameras. Even if we use that underground route, it's risky. I'm not saying no, I'm curious how we'll get in and bypass security," I ask. We can and we will get money, I'm sure of it, but the people outside will need to be compensated so they don't rat us out or alert the cops.
Tk just gives me a wicked smile.
"Don't worry about that, Diamond. I have a plan. For now, I want us to meet at Sika's shop on Saturday. Make sure Sbo comes, okay? I'll come with the blueprint of the underground route. If possible, we can hit two shops like this," he answers. Fair enough. Sounds promising.
"Okay, we'll hear from you, Tk. My shop closes early Saturday anyway," Sika says, approving the idea. I rise from my seat, taking my money and Sbo's money, I need to leave.
"Leaving already?" Tumi asks, disappointed.
I nod.
"Sbo is with Nikky at the flat. I'll give him his money there," I answer, exhausted and hungry.
Tk groans, unimpressed.
"I told you I like your friend. All you do is push Sbo to her," Tk whines. I roll my eyes.
"Nikky can't be dating a wannabe gangster, no," I answer.
"Eh."
"Come on, Dee, a little dinner won't hurt. I'll treat your friend well," he says. I chuckle softly.
"And ask for nudes from her like you did this girl? No, Tk. And if you want her that much, why can't you approach her?" I ask curiously. He's always singing about wanting Nikky but never approaches her.
"Eish. Your friend scares me. She looks well put together, serious. I need to get a suit the day I approach her," he says. Wait, what? "Sika, borrow me 10K, I need to buy a suit," he begs. I leave, shaking my head.

__

I find Sbo alone in the lounge, no Nikky in sight. The only low sounds come from the TV he's watching, a dull murmur that fills the quiet.
"Nikky is sleeping," he says before I can answer. I quickly take his money out and hand it to him.
"And Tk's little mission?" he asks. I sigh and sit down next to him. Nikezinkosi isn't aware of our little crimes, and it should stay that way. My paralegal job isn't paying much, just peanuts, and everything is expensive. I love nice things, so another income helps and comes in handy. And, of course, I do it for the thrill, for the love of the game. Still, I need to check out those shops and see if they're worth it. Overall, Tk's plan sounds promising.
"We'll see. We have to meet up on Saturday," I tell him.
He just nods.
"Nikky will be healed by then, and she won't need any babysitter," he says. I gasp softly.
"Come on, don't say it like that," I say, a little sharp.
He smiles, easy and lazy. "I was just saying. I enjoy spending time with her, you know that."
I know that. They're very close. I just hope they keep it platonic. I worry that if anything romantic happens between them, it could mess up their relationship, and I don't want that. My heart pounds at the thought of complicating something that's already working so well.
"By the way, she told me the man that knocked her with a car called her workplace asking for her number," he says, his voice deadpan. I frown slightly.
"Why?" I ask, curious and cautious. He shrugs and stands up, restless.
"All I know is I need to meet this punk and teach him a lesson," he says, serious and flat. I shake my head.
"You won't do that, Sboniso. Leave that man alone. If Nikky comes to us and says he's troubling her, then we step in," I advise, trying to sound level-headed but feeling a flicker of anxiety.
"So I should just wait until he does something?" he asks. He sounds like he means it. I stand up, determined.
"Sboniso, that man probably just wanted to pay Nikky for the accident, that's all. I assure you, if something comes up, I will tell you," I say. I'm pleading, really. The last time Nikky got hurt by a man, Sbo almost went to jail for beating him up. I don't want another mess.

He just stares at me for a long moment, then walks out without saying goodbye. The door clicks shut. I slump onto the couch and let out a long, tired sigh. The apartment feels emptier without him, and the worry about their friendship, about keeping it simple and safe, settles in my chest like a weight.

•••••••

[MNOTHO]

I stare at the Melanie & Co. Medical Centre paperwork.
I've been scrolling through the supplier folders.
Her name. On almost every document.

I ran. Yes, I ran. And didn't look back. I didn't go inside the bakery. Didn't buy that snack I was talking about. I just turned and ran away like a fool. Like a schoolboy. My hands fly to my face. What the hell is wrong with me? I have responsibilities, deals to manage, and a reputation. And yet… Here I am, heart hammering, stomach twisting, thinking about a woman almost half my age. I chuckle bitterly at myself. Embarrassing. Pathetic.

I rub my hands over my face, trying to calm the heat rising in my chest. I need to sort this out, fast and quick. I can't keep behaving like this, like a fool who just fell in love for the first time. I chuckle quietly.

I'm behaving like a child, honestly.

My eyes turn back to my laptop. How would I have noticed? I didn't even know her. Every time I went there, I barely paid attention. Or maybe… I just never saw her. Makes sense now. Everything was always in order, flawless. She handled it all perfectly. Even her paper trail is calm and meticulous. I never went to Brian to complain because everything looked okay. No wonder everything at Brian's clinic runs like clockwork. She's the reason.

I catch myself smiling. I should stop smiling like a fool.
What would I even say? "Hello… I noticed your paperwork… very… impressive?" No. Insane. And what if she sees me as some old fool creeping on her? I shiver at the thought, pacing again, running my fingers through my hair.
Nikezinkosi Nkabinde… What are her clan names? I click on Google, searching izithakazelo zakwa… I raise my hand from the keyboard, startled at myself. What the hell am I doing now?

.
.
.
.

I pour a glass of water instead of alcohol. I'm on a seven-day fasting, and honestly, I need something strong right now. But I promised myself. No alcohol, no distractions. I rise from my chair and sit by the window, gazing out at the garden. It needs work. I'll clean it tomorrow. Yes, that will help. Keep me busy, keep me sane, stop me from thinking about that girl.

I can't even tell anyone about this. Brian? He's too protective over Nikky. If I ask him anything, he'll read between the lines and won't like it. Bangizwe, my brother? He'll judge me. That one already reminds me how I'm forty-four and still not married. If he ever hears I'm in this kind of dilemma, he'll probably go and arrange a marriage for me himself.

A door swings open. Bonga steps in, paperback in his hand. Why is he here? Isn't he supposed to be with his mother?

"Why are you here?" I ask, my voice sharper than I intended. I'm already in this mess because of him. He frowns, blinking like he's trying not to roll his eyes.
"This is my home, Dad," he says, sitting down. "And I love Ma, but I can't keep going to her place every time we have issues."
What?
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"I'm just saying," he adds quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "And by the way, Ntate Khutso is busy with his church conference."
I nod slowly. Right, the conference he mentioned. Maybe I should go. I need some prayer, honestly, with all this temptation getting in my way.

Khutso is Bonga's stepfather, and truth be told, he's a good man. Julia is still happy being a pastor's wife. That man has been in our lives since Bonga was four. I remember the day Julia went to church and came back different. She told me she couldn't be with me anymore. Said a prophecy revealed that the man she was with wasn't good for her. We argued that night. How could the church tell her that?

We were living at Jules then. I was driving taxis, working hard, but I knew that wasn't where my life would end. I had dreams. I wanted to give her and Bonga a good life, a stable home, everything. But the taxi industry is not for the fainthearted. I had to let her go. Maybe that prophecy was right. The job I was doing was dangerous, and I didn't want to put her in harm's way.
A year later, still co-parenting, she came and told me she was marrying a pastor's son. I thought maybe one day we'd find our way back to each other. But she was gone. I had to accept it. Let her be happy. That's all I ever wanted for her to be happy. And she is. She truly is. Khutso treats her well. He's a good husband to her and a good father to Bonga.

Maphisa Medic Distributors. The name still feels good to say aloud, full of weight and purpose. It's not just a business; it's a reflection of who I am, the man I've built myself into. A legacy.

We supply medical equipment and pharmaceuticals to clinics, private hospitals, and health departments. But it doesn't stop there. Our reach goes to nursing schools, rehabilitation centers, and even corporate wellness programs. The bigger clients, government contracts, take patience, tact, and timing, but they pay off. And I'm thinking of stopping supplying to government hospitals and clinics, especially hospitals. A little delay, people die. This year I'm cutting ties with them. The government sector is too dangerous.
Then there are the smaller shops, private practitioners, and even the odd laboratory that needs that one rare piece of equipment no one else seems to stock. Each department, each client, teaches me something new and different about business, about people, about strategy.

I sometimes marvel at how far I've come. From a taxi driver with dreams too big for the streets to a man running a distribution company that keeps hospitals and clinics running smoothly. It's not just the money, although that's good too, very good. It's the sense of control, the feeling that I'm building something worth it, for my family and me. Although this idiot of a son of mine can act all spoiled and reckless, all the blood and sweat are for him, to continue this legacy, for the next generations to come.

He's the only child I have, and I…
"Baba!" Bonga says loudly. I blink, confused. Why is he loud now?
"Damn, your mind is miles away," he grins.
"Mind your business," I snap lightly.
"I was just saying, hey," he shrugs. "What are you thinking about? A certain person?" he asks with a mischievous grin.
"What are you talking about?" I ask.
He looks at me the longest time and smiles.
"By the way… there's nothing wrong with having a crush on a beautiful lady," he says and laughs a little.
I huff silently. A crush?
"Who are you talking about? I don't have a crush," I say quickly.
"You do, Dad. And I won't judge you," he's still smiling. "Dad, I saw you, and I think you should go for it. What worse could happen?" he adds. What the…
"What are you talking about?" I snap.
"It's okay, mid-life crisis, but I'm here to help. I will make sure Nikky notices you," he says confidently.
My heart pounds. How did he know? What…
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, lying of course. He rolls his eyes and stands up.
"No need to worry. As your son, I will help you. I guess I have to wait for her to get back to work. I tried to get her number but I was denied," he says seriously too. I blink. He did what??
"Wenzeni? Who said do that?" I shout. Oh, I have a dumb son.
"I'm trying to help," he says, sounding offended.
Who said I wanted his help?
"You are too forward, Syabonga. Stay out of it, and stop harassing that girl," I warn. "And I don't have a crush or like that girl. You are seeing things now. No more talking about Nikky or whatever her name is," I add.
"Okay, Dad. If you say so…"
Yes. I mean it. I have no time to run after girls.
Young girls, for that matter.

I have a company to run.

••••••

[KUKHOKONKE]

Celokuhle is already being taken by this family. Zenzele and his useless people don't give us a cent to raise Celo, and now Yibanathi thinks it's okay to be pregnant again. Not on my watch. They think I'm not angry because I didn't storm the house or shout at her and her family for hiding this from me. I'm disappointed and pissed off, bone-deep furious. How long were they going to hide this from me? Until the baby is born and we get stuck raising it? No. I'm not going to do that.
Today I'm taking her to a hospital in town and getting this child removed. Gone. My white garment can wait. Whatever Ndleleni wants can wait. This is serious business. I'll go to Zenzele's house too, and I'll deal with him. It's already eight; everyone is up, having breakfast. Cothoza didn't come back. I didn't bother asking Dad where he went. I'm too angry to talk. How could he allow this? How could he let Yibanathi be pregnant at twenty-two again?

I grab my car keys and my phone and step out of my room, my steps fast and purposeful. I head to the main house like someone walking to war. I find them all at the table, faces bent toward plates, voices light and casual. They look up as I enter and for a second, the calm in the room feels like a slap.

"Yibanathi, stand up. We are leaving," I say. My voice cuts through the air, and they all look at me.
She blinks, confused.
"Going where? And why didn't you greet us?" Mom asks, voice small. I have no time for this.
"Please, Ma, don't get involved," I say, steady and cold. "I need to take your daughter now. Do not stop me."
"Excuse me? We will not be pushed around by you, Konke. Leave your sister alone," Dad jumps in. His voice tries to be firm and calm, but it trembles a little. I chuckle bitterly because calm won't fix this.
"Baba, she's pregnant. For Christ's sake, the father must take responsibility for this baby. Not us. Not me, definitely not Fanele," I say, words rushing out like a dam breaking.
"Kukhokonke, just sit down and eat. We will sort this out as a family," my mother says softly, the plea in her voice like a hand trying to hold me back. I see the worry in her eyes, but I don't care about her worry right now.
"No. I'm taking her to an abortion clinic now." The words land hard. My mother gasps, standing so fast her chair scrapes. The whole table falls silent. The spoons drop against plates.
"No, no, that will not happen. You can't kill an innocent baby," she says in disbelief, hands pressed to her mouth. Her voice is small but fierce.
"Who will raise it? You?" I ask, incredulous. "Where are you going to find money? Pension? That small grant? Please." My voice rises. I can feel heat in my neck, my fists clenching.
"Kukhokonke, behave. Leave your sister alone," Dad says again, a warning this time. He's trying not to shout, but his fear is thin under his authority. He looks so tired. I can't believe this.

Yiba stares down at her hands as if they've betrayed her. She looks like a child. Her innocence embarrasses me and widens my anger because I know she is young and stupid and trapped, and I am the one meant to protect her. Instead, we are all sitting here with tea and steamed bread while she bleeds her future dry.

"You know what? I'm not sending money for her. She's a woman, a mother now. She should get a job and take care of her own kids. I am done. I will not sponsor her crèche," I say, each word measured and heavy. I mean it. I am tired of being taken for a fool.
"Konke, please calm down, boy," my uncle says gently, his tone worn. His pity stings almost as much as the slap I feel in my own head.
"Bab'mncane, no. I've been made a fool here. Mom and Dad are protecting their daughter, making excuses, tarnishing her future. They didn't go to that boy's family to demand maintenance for Celo. To this day, none of them have come to see the child. And your niece goes and opens her legs for.."

A hard slap cuts me off. Fire blooms on my cheek; the sound of the hand hitting skin echoes in the room. My mother's hand is on my face, trembling.
I stagger back, stunned, the air knocked out of me.
"Don't you dare disrespect us like that," she says, eyes wet and furious. You have to be kidding me. My mouth opens and closes like a fish.
"You will be responsible for these children, Ma. I am not going to buy shit for them. I am done." The words come out raw. I am not exaggerating. My hand still rubs where her palm hit.

They all stare at me; my mother, my father, my uncle faces lined with grief and something like betrayal. I want to say more, to make them see what I see: a pattern of letting things slide, of excuses, of protecting the wrong people. I want to yell about the first child, about the emptiness of their promises. I want to demand responsibility from Zenzele and his family. But the room is small and loud with a kind of grief that burns my throat and makes the next words taste like ash.

I don't wait for anyone to answer. I turn and walk out.

__

I meet Cothoza while I'm trying to get some fresh air and calm down. I didn't take my car because I'm afraid I might crash and get hurt. I don't know how Ndleleni will behave after my outburst.
We walk up a small mountain covered with big rocks. Cothoza stops and points at a plant.
"You need to take this plant. A person you'll meet soon will need it," he says calmly. "You'll have to put it with one of your plants," he adds.
I frown a little. I don't even have plants, but I don't say anything. He bends down and starts to unpluck it gently.
"Who is this person I'm gonna meet?" I ask curiously, mostly trying to distract myself from thinking about my family.
"Soon you'll meet that person, and you'll know," he replies, still focused on what he's doing. I hate when they talk in riddles, honestly.
I sigh and sit on one of the rocks. My phone rings. My uncle's name flashes on the screen. My heart sinks before I answer.
"Hello," I greet.
All I can hear are screams in the background. My heart skips.
"Where are you? You need to come back home!" he shouts, and there's more screaming, like someone's being chased. Panic rises in my chest.
"Bab'mncane!" I shout.
"Come home! We're being chased by bees here! I think…" the call cuts off.
What the…
I look at Cothoza, who stands there calm and unbothered.
"Mkhulu, I need to go home. Something happened," I say, my voice shaky.
He shakes his head and keeps working on the plant.
"You're not going anywhere, Mthimkhulu. We're here to get plants," he says.
"What? No! I need to go. My family is being attacked by bees!" I argue.
He chuckles.
"You're not going anywhere. Your family is being punished. Your mother wasn't supposed to hit you," he says.
I blink. Excuse me? Then it clicks. The timing, the bees, the sudden chaos, it all makes sense now. That's exactly how Ndleleni operates.
"Ndleleni did this?" I ask, half shocked, half amused.
"Yes. And if you leave me here, he'll do it to you too. So come, let's work," he says casually.
I can't help but chuckle softly, shaking my head. Ndleleni is actually not that bad.