Authors: Kate Metz
Stiletto Safari (6 page)
Nick walked me back to Emi’s. He was still insistent about not coming up to the party. As we approached the building, I started feeling very awkward about how we were going to part. Seeing him had left me feeling confused and unsettled. If he tried to kiss me, I didn’t know whether I’d be really pleased or upset.
Nick solved my dilemma. He didn’t try to kiss me at the door. Instead, he brushed my cheek and said earnestly, “Zara, I just hope you can forgive me one day. You don’t know how bad I feel about everything. More than anything in the world, I just want you to be happy.”
“I know, Nick; I want you to be happy too.”
We reached the lobby door and he gave me a playful little nudge on the shoulder. “So you need to get back to your party. Be safe and happy.”
“You too,” I said, giving him a little nudge back. “By the way, it has been good seeing you, Nick.”
His blue eyes stared back into mine as he earnestly said, “It’s been really good seeing you too. Who knows, maybe when you get back and I’ve sorted myself out we can work things out?” He gave a helpless little shrug.
“You know, Nick,” I said softly, “I’ll always have feelings for you, strong feelings; you’re a great guy in so many ways. But I’ve had a lot of time to think, and honestly, I don’t think getting back together is very likely. After what happened, I just don’t think I could ever completely trust you.”
Nick looked abjectly down at his feet.
“Definitely friends, though, okay?”
“Okay.” His attempt at a smile looked quite half-hearted.
As I entered the lobby, Nick called after me: “Zara, one last thing. The check: please bank it.”
“Uh-huh,” I called out over my shoulder.
That bloody check. I still hadn’t worked out what to do with it.
My party was in full swing when I returned. From the looks of things, everyone had had way too many Zartinis. There was some crazy dancing going on and Sal and Craig were looking quite cozy on the couch.
As I surveyed my happy friends, I couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. While it had been great seeing Nick, my mood had been materially flattened and I no longer felt like partying. I wished things hadn’t had to change and get so complicated.
Still, Emi had gone to so much trouble; I owed it to her to at least try to have a good time.
As if sensing my mood, Craig jumped off the couch. “Ah, the girl I’ve been waiting to dance with all night.” With that, he grabbed me by the arm and started swinging me around the room. It worked and I started to giggle as we came perilously close to crashing into one of Emi’s tables. Eventually I managed to wriggle free and joined Sal on the couch.
“Zara, you need to get me out of here. I’ve had way too many drinks and my already lousy judgment is seriously impaired. If I don’t go home right now, I’ll probably wind up leaving with your friend, and that would be a huge mistake.”
Craig was heading our way carrying three Zartinis. His wavy blond hair was dangling in his eyes and the glasses were pitched at a precarious angle.
“Martinis!” He squished his muscular body between the two of us.
Glancing across at Sal, I purposefully said, “One last drink, absolutely. After that we’ve got to fly, quite literally in my case. Sal is coming back to my place to help me finish packing and for some last-minute girl talk.”
Craig looked disappointed by this last remark, but masked it well by saying, “I’ve never understood why it takes girls so long to pack. When I go surfing I’m packed in fifteen minutes, tops. What is there to take, after all?”
“Ah, Craig, if only you knew,” Sal said, giving me a conspiratorial wink.
Thirty minutes later, Sal and I were on our way back to my apartment. Emi and I had exchanged a tearful goodbye and the promise to e-mail lots. I was going to miss Emi like crazy.
S
al and I stayed up chatting on the couch until sunrise. It made me realize how much I was going to miss Sal and Emi. I didn’t usually go two days without seeing one of them. I’d set up a mailing list so I could keep in regular contact with my closest friends (Sal, Emi, nice work Clare, Laura, Steph and Bec), but I wasn’t sure what my Internet access was going to be like in Namibia. Not that good, I suspected. This thought made me realize that I could be in for a really lonely six months.
As we sat there chatting, Sal admitted that she was at a bit of a crossroads in her life. She loved her job, but didn’t feel that she was being recognized for all her hard work. The girl basically lived in the office, was an absolute superstar, and yet had been told at her recent performance review that she was only average and had to get her billings up. How demoralizing when you’re already pulling over one-hundred-hour weeks! Law firms really know how to make you feel undervalued.
“Since you haven’t been around, Zara, work has totally sucked; it’s like my sanity has gone. I mean, I get in at 9:00 a.m. and work my butt off until at least midnight and then go home to an empty apartment. Not being able to at least catch up with you for coffee or dinner just makes the day really long and boring. Maybe I need a change, like going in-house? Who knows, maybe I’ll even find a nice guy…”
I was stunned to hear that Sal, Miss Career Girl Extraordinaire, was having such doubts. I suspected the doubts had more to do with a lack of relationship, but I kept these thoughts to myself.
“Sal, there’s always Emi to drag you to yoga,” I said trying to lighten her mood.
“Don’t remind me,” Sal rolled her green eyes. “Emi and Henri already pestered me into going this week. Have you noticed how totally annoying those two are together? They’re just so perfect it’s nauseating. Can’t you imagine Henri at yoga: ‘Sallee, just try a
petit
bit ‘arder to bend.’”
At this thought we both cracked up. Sal was without question the most uncoordinated person I knew, and she was horrible at yoga.
Once our giggling subsided, Sal tentatively said, “So I don’t mean to pry, but I’ve been dying to know what Nick wanted all night. Emi told me he turned up.”
I’d been waiting to tell Sal about Nick, but I didn’t know where to start. The truth was that it really was great seeing him. Too great. More than anything, I wished I could just hit rewind and erase the last few weeks. Nick and I had been so happy together. Even though I knew it was wrong, I wanted him back. Seeing him tonight had made me realize how not over him I was. Still, I knew I could never go back to him. He’d lied about something pretty major. And even though I understood his motive for helping Teddy and Josh, he’d shown really, really bad judgment.
Sighing, I said, “Let’s just say it’s lucky I’m going away for a while. It will give me a chance to think and to heal a bit. The truth is, I’m still in love with Nick.”
“You know, Zara, no one would think any less of you if you two got back together. I’m not excusing what Nick did, but we all make mistakes. Plus, it’s Teddy and Josh who are the real villains in this story.”
“True, but how can you be with someone you don’t trust, Sal? Do you know how sick I felt when I heard Nick had been arrested and I couldn’t find him anywhere? I never, ever want to go through anything like that again in my life.”
“What you need is a holiday fling,” Sal remarked. “Having wild sex with a hot stranger will definitely help you get over Nick. I’m sure lots of cute guys volunteer. The
Medecins Sans Frontieres
doctors are always totally gorgeous.”
“I don’t know Sal. I’ve never actually had a fling before,” I replied unsure.
Sal waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, flings are easy. It’s relationships that are hard. Just don’t fall in love and you’ll be fine.”
“So recreational sex only,” I said doubtfully.
“Exactly! Cheaper than therapy and it’s a lot more fun,” Sal laughed.
By 5:00 a.m. I couldn’t stop yawning and my eyes were involuntarily closing. I thought Sal should crash for the night, or what remained of it, but she was determined to go home and wake up in her own bed.
As soon as Sal left, I feel into a deep sleep that was only punctuated by my 7:30 alarm. I had exactly thirty minutes to take a shower and get dressed before heading to the airport.
At check-in I had the indignity of having to unpack my bags in front of the world because, despite my careful packing, I was “overweight.” Personally, I thought they should just weigh all the passengers with their baggage before determining who was overweight.
In the end it came down to a choice between my snakeskin stilettos, a travel guide to Namibia, or a $100 penalty for excess luggage. Needless to say, the travel guide didn’t make the flight. Namibia would have to remain a mystery for a bit longer. You just never know when a pair of snakeskin stilettos will come in handy!
A
fter a long and boring flight, I could finally see Jo’burg laid out before me like a giant dusty tapestry. The contrast between rich and poor was evident even from the air. Out of the right-hand window I could see impressive-looking mansions with succulent green lawns and sparkling blue swimming pools. As the plane banked sharply to the left, however, I could see a large shanty town with row after row of stifling-looking corrugated iron sheds leaning haphazardly into one another.
From my Googling, I knew the slum areas were dangerous places and best avoided. With people crammed into such a small area, it was little wonder that crime was a popular pastime. I couldn’t imagine living like that and could understand people’s sheer desperation to get out.
Looking around at my fellow passengers, I was feeling apprehensive about how I was going to recognize Asha’s friends and my hosts for the next day, Michael and JoJo. Asha had described Michael as athletic-looking with a big smile, and JoJo as a pretty woman of medium height with tightly cropped curly hair. Now that I looked around me, I realized that Asha had pretty much managed to describe half the plane!
After a few minutes we touched down. I had made it to Africa. Now all I had to do was find Michael and JoJo.
As it turned out, JoJo was by herself and was unmissable. She was holding up a bright pink sign with “Zara Hamilton” emblazoned on it. When she saw me head her way she gave a little squeal of delight and grabbed me in a bone-crushing embrace. “Zara Hamilton, I’m very pleased to be meeting you. Any friend of Asha’s is a big friend of mine.” JoJo had a cute sing song accent.
After the fridge-like cool of the airport, the heat as we stepped outside was gorgeous. My body instantly started to relax and stretch out and I let out a little sigh of happiness. So far I liked Africa!
JoJo was a gorgeously flamboyant extrovert. She positively bubbled with energy and enthusiasm. A former print journalist, she’d fallen into hosting the graveyard shift on a local radio station. Her show became so popular that she was now hosting the prime-time morning to midday slot. On top of that, she was about to release her first single and was the new host of African Idol.
Michael, on the other hand, sounded like a lovely, retiring introvert. He had worked his way through the South African public service and was now one of the most senior figures in the Department of Foreign Affairs. He and JoJo had met five years ago when she’d interviewed him on the status of Zimbabwean refugees in South Africa.
As we were driving through the streets of Jo’burg, I was struck by the number of armed guards patrolling residential complexes. When I asked JoJo about it, she merely shrugged her shoulders. “Unfortunately, crime here is quite high. We’re still a poor country, and poor people sometimes do desperate things. A small minority of the population lives very well while many people still don’t have enough to eat. This is Africa. Things are starting to get better, though, I think. It will take time, but we’ll get there in the end.”
We turned into one of the compounds and an armed guard saluted JoJo as he opened the security gate for our car. The grounds of the compound were amazing—gorgeous English-styled gardens manicured to within an inch of their life. JoJo’s condo was a luxe three-bedroom affair. The furnishings were simple, but beautifully crafted.
“So Zara, what do you want to do for the rest of today? I’ve got a work drinks thing this evening. If you’re not too tired, it could be fun. Please don’t feel obliged, though. There’s also a pool here if you want to go for a swim.”
As comfortable as my room looked, I was all for drinks and happily accepted JoJo’s invitation. And given that it was still morning, I had plenty of time to go and lie by the pool.
While I was planning on passing my afternoon blissfully by the pool, JoJo was off to the hairdresser for
hours of boredom
. Seriously, I couldn’t see how JoJo’s hair could take more than thirty minutes max. Maybe she was getting a mani and pedi too?
For the next few hours I lay on the world’s most comfortable sun lounge. It was so nice to be lying in the sun. I hate the cold, and New York winters are brutal.
As the afternoon wore on I wandered back to the condo. The place we were going for drinks was apparently just around the corner, so I had plenty of time to have a shower and decide what to wear. In the end, I decided to go with my short black dress and my black silk wraparound heels. Pleasingly, I’d already gotten a bit of color and didn’t look like I’d stepped off a plane only a few hours ago.
I could hear JoJo in the kitchen, so I wandered out to chat. Seeing her, I did a complete double take. She was dressed in a draped green dress which accentuated her dark skin, but the most amazing thing of all was her hair. She had beautiful long glossy black tresses. I couldn’t believe it.
I must have looked super surprised, because JoJo giggled. “You like it?” she said, tossing her hair. “A good hair weave is every African woman’s secret weapon.”
“JoJo, I don’t mean to sound dumb, but what on earth is a hair weave?”
JoJo laughed delightedly. “Great, isn’t it? Come and have a closer look.”
I went over, but honestly really couldn’t see how JoJo’s long hair had been attached. “See how my hair is a little bit bumpy here?” JoJo asked, getting me to touch the top of her head. “That’s where the weave is. They use a special adhesive to glue Swiss lace with real hair to my scalp. It’s just like having long hair. I can brush it, wash it, go swimming—even straighten it. After a couple of weeks, I get it taken off and either get a new weave or leave my hair short. Given that taping is due to start tomorrow for Idol, I’ll leave my hair long for the next few months. The only thing I don’t like is that the weave takes hours; this one took five hours—crazy, isn’t it?”