The merchandise had been packaged. The delivery trucks were already fully loaded with all kinds of drugs to take to the harbour. The warehouse was emptying with every passing second after midnight as the illicit drug packers began leaving, ready to go back to their families in the informal settlements. Samkelo had already called the cars for them. He came out of his office.

“Great job everyone! Say hi to your families. We will be here tomorrow to make more millions,” Samkelo said to the workers.

“That’s about it, Grootman!” One of the workers said. Others were excitedly screaming and singing amagwijo.

Samkelo took his black briefcase as the night security guards arrived to guard the drug warehouse disguised as a scrap yard. He approached his pitch-black Mercedez-AMG model and disappeared into the black-tinted windows. It was not helping that he was wearing black short boots, black jeans, a black polo neck, and a pair of black glasses whose price would buy a house. The only thing that made him visible was the gold chain around his neck and light skin with a young patch of neat beard. His bulk muscle mass never went unnoticed, either.

Driving past the familiar night roads, different coloured lights illuminating the wet road, something caught his eye: “Why is that lady sitting by the road alone at night? Maybe it’s one of amaphara?” he thought to himself.

But as he drove past, she got startled and he realised that it was definitely one of the newbies in Johannesburg. He kept going.

***

For a minute she hoped that God had sent her help. But when the car accelerated past she panicked, believing that she would be outside for the whole night. She clenched her small bag tightly into her body to try to get warmth.

Just then she saw the car reversing. Instead of feeling hope, she became frightened as she remembered all the kidnapping scandals she heard on the news. The windows slid down.

Samkelo removed his glasses, mesmerised by the beauty in front of him.

“Hey lady. Do you need help?” Samkelo asked.

“Yes…. No. I mean no I don’t need help,” Siphe replied haphazardly. She too had not expected to see such a gorgeous face.

“Then why are you outside in the dark?” Samkelo asked with confusion.

Siphe was quiet for some time, but she finally spoke.

“In all truth wena bhuti, I am stranded. I just came into Jo’burg from the Eastern Cape. This is my first time here. The bus just dropped me off. My phone is dead. I don’t have a place to stay. I don’t know anyone here. I don’t trust anyone here,” she said, then started crying.

Samkelo was moved. He offered her a ride and a place to sleep for the night. Siphe refused the offer, remembering how her mother had warned her to be vigilant. Samkelo offered her his phone to call back home and tell them everything. He also gave them his car’s registration number. She accepted, and after the call, she got into the car.

There was silence. She was deep in thought. “Not only is this guy sweet and handsome. He smells good. His car smells good. He also smells of money! I can only dream of being such a person or even know such a person.” She silently thanked God for sending her the help she needed.

Meanwhile, Samkelo was thinking, “How would I have left such a gorgeous girl stranded? I would have never forgiven myself. I hope she will love my house. I hope we will get to know more about each other.”

The only thing preventing the ride from being awkward was the hip-hop music playing in the background. The driver and the passenger were in two different worlds, far away from this car.

Siphe was staring out the window as they approached the house. Her eyes were stunned. A remotely controlled black gate opened to a grey double-story mansion in front of her, with huge glass windows and some glass doors. The grass was neatly cut and there were four muscle men in black uniforms guarding the yard. The car slid in below the white garage door and the ride was over.