“Easy come, easy go, Nkosi. Haven’t you learned that by now? By the way, this is the last of our money,” I say and slam thirty Rands on the table.

Nkosi gasps, “Tjo! The last thirty bucks? Damn, if only we still played dice. But you won’t do that any more. I suppose the best thing we can do is buy our three beers, drink, and go to sleep.”

“I can’t believe we only got thirty Rands. But it’s fine, go buy the beers and I will hold our table.”

“No, Seun, you get the liquor. Besides, the barkeep fancies you more.”

I shake my head, “I don’t care for that. I want money.”

Nkosi slaps me on the thigh, “Ahh, Seun, there you go again. When will you quit this foolishness and find a good woman and settle down?”

“Nkosi, you’re an idiot. Lost as I am, I don’t want a good woman. I want a woman who can look out for me.”

Nkosi chuckles a bit, “I’ve heard enough, go get the liquor.”

I nod, “Awe.”

I get up and head to the counter, “Three lion,” I say to the barkeep.

She turns around, “Oh, Seun! It’s you, my skat. Don’t worry, love, I will bring them to your table. Please keep your cash. Your money is no good here…just tell me when you leave,” she winks.

I blush, “OK, thanks, beautiful.”

I head back to our table.

The barkeep brings three cases of Zamalek plus two bottles of Autum harvest. I protest, “No, beautiful! This is way too much, I can’t accept all this liquor!”

She smiles, “It is OK, sweetpea. They are all from an old friend who wishes to share a drink with you.”

“I wonder who it is,” I murmur.

“There’s a lady. She claims she knows you, Seun, she wants to come sit with you.”

I scowl, “What?!”

Nkosi, still all smiles, says, “Damn, Seun, wampona? Owakho lo, my brother!” Nkosi exclaims and walks away from the table.

The mysterious lady walks over to my table with her head tilted down. She’s dressed in a black cocktail dress and red high heels. She has long dark hair accompanied by smooth caramel skin.

She takes a seat opposite me, “Hi, Seun, it’s been a while.”

“I am sorry, but I don’t know you.”

She laughs, “After all this time you forgot about the one person who inspired your passion for the hustle. And taught you easy targets,” she reaches for my hand, “‘Don’t koppel feelings’ — or have you forgotten our oath?”

I look closer into her hazy brown eyes; I recognise her. “‘Don’t get attached’. God no, Khethiwe?!” I caress her hand, “It’s been 12 whole years. I thought I’d never see you again. How long have you been in town?”

“Yeah, I know. But I always knew I’d come back someday. I am here with my boyfriend. And before you ask, it’s nothing serious. I am just passing through to Vooslo for Christmas. I am here for the weekend, that’s why I tracked you down. I miss you.”

I look deep into Khethiwe’s eyes, “I miss you too. No one could fill the void you left in my heart after you left. I closed that chapter of my life forever.” I let go of her hand.

She sighs, “Seun, no…Can we at least be friends? Let’s hang out this whole weekend, starting today. I wish to spend my time with you. My jerk of a boyfriend is attending meetings in Kinross.”

I look away, “OK, tomorrow you may accompany me to Nkosi’s family house. They are celebrating the festivals by slaughtering a sheep. I’ve been invited, you may come along as my plus one.”

Khethiwe gets excited, “Oh, Seun, thank you so much!”

I frown.

“Don’t koppel feelings,” she adds mockingly.

We both laugh.

12 years is a very long time. I wish Nkosi were nearby to prevent me from this foolish mistake. But no…he’s nowhere in sight, probably outside smoking a blunt.

I am left to share increasingly shameful intimate moments with Khethiwe. In truth, I think she’s too good for me. “Damn if she ever hears that!” I say under my breath.

Nkosi joins us with a chick on his arm, “Time to party, abushe!”

Tell us: What do you think of Khethiwe?