Two o’clock in the morning and the Mozarella Club was still pumping. The entrance was full to the core while the DJ inside made sure everyone was up on their feet.

Gomolemo and three of her friends occupied a table not far from the bar counter. They were taking lots and lots of selfies and not forgetting to post some on Facebook. While they were busy posing and pouting, a waitress arrived with a note and an ice bucket, placing it on their table.

“Sorry, we only ordered one ice bucket, only ciders!” Said Bella, one of Gomolemo’s friends.

“The drinks are from the gentleman at the corner. He said the note is for all of you, he would be very glad if you read it and responded in time.”

The girls couldn’t believe their eyes and ears. The bucket had four expensive wine bottles of Moet. They always had men buying drinks for them, but a bottle of Moet each? They all jumped in glee, eager to read the note addressed to them:
Couldn’t help but notice how enchanting all four of you are. Care to join my table? Sebata Mogotsi!

“Oh my God it’s him, it’s him. I knew I recognized him from somewhere,” said Masechaba.

“It’s who?” They all asked curiously.

“He is one of the richest young entrepreneurs in the country. I saw a picture of him in a magazine article. You guys, he has numerous modelling agencies not only in the country but across the globe.” Masechaba explained.

“Then what the hell are we all waiting for?” Gomolemo said, picking up her purse. “Glenda, Masechaba you bring the ice buckets!”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Gomolemo was like their god; what she said went and neither one of them ever dared to go against her wishes. She was the leader of their group, the mastermind, the organiser. But most of all, she was the prettiest of them all and every man they met always showed interest on her before showing interest in all the others. And that was exactly what gave her so much power over all of them.

“Ladies! Ladies! Hmmm, looking so fine. My name is Sebata Mogomotsi and…”

“Oh we know you very well Mr Mogomotsi. I am Gomolemo and these are my friends.”

“Please sweet thing, I would prefer it if you called me by my name Sebata, my friends call me Prince…”

Just as always, Gomolemo made sure to get closer to the famous business mogul. By dawn she had made sure to acquaint herself as the centre of attention. She didn’t only flirt with Sebata but also touched him in the right places while the others were not looking. It was a tactic she excelled in and the aim was to make him want her, take her to fancy holidays, shower her with gifts. If her friends were lucky maybe she could convince her Blesser that they tag them along.

Just as the others predicted, Gomolemo asked them to go without her, a smile at the corner of her lips.

“Don’t look so surprised, it’s not like you didn’t know he would choose me,” she said following Sebata outside.

Since the early hours of the morning, little Hlogi, Gomolemo’s youngest, hadn’t stopped crying. Miss Thibedi had tried everything in her power to try and calm him, soothe him, sing to him but nothing worked. Her big sister, Naledi who was three years older, starred confusedly in the dark, holding her little teddy closer.

“Oh Jehovah Gomolemo, Gomolemo ngwanaka why are you punishing me like this? Three days! Three days and you never returned home, knowing you left a six month-old boy who still needs his mother’s care. Oh Modimo waka!”

Miss Thibedi left the fifth message on her phone, throwing the phone across the room in frustration. She placed Little Hlogi on her back, picking up Naledi who was starting to cry as well.

“It’s okay my babies, it’s alright, mommy will be home soon, everything will be okay.”

Even as she said that, she herself didn’t believe what came out of her mouth. When Naledi was just two months old, Gomolemo had left for almost two years without bothering to keep in touch. A few weeks after her return, her mother realised she was pregnant again.

Now she was pacing the kitchen after realising the baby’s formula tin was empty. She couldn’t help but wonder if history was repeating itself!

While here babies were crying, Gomolemo had her head rested on Sebata’s chest, her imagination running wild with her. She could already imagine herself somewhere in Paris, in her sexy swim wear, soaking in the sun with her Prince charming taking pictures of her. He would show her off to the world with the headlines flying around: Mogomotsi’s goddess, queen of style and fashion!

***

Tell us what you think: Tell us what you think: Do you know girls like Gomolemo who only care about the limelight?